I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 577 Unveiling the Secret

"Yes!" Hermione nodded.

“I’ll come into the castle with you,” Neville said, standing up. “I’ll be in the Room of Requirement. If anything happens, I can create a disturbance so you can escape.”

"And me," Justin said.

"I'll go too," Hannah said.

Hermione felt a surge of warmth as her friends offered to help. "Thank you, but please don't take any risks. Just stay in the Room of Requirement."

She took out a medal and said, "Let's use the DA's medal to make contact."

"Okay," everyone responded.

Everyone nodded in agreement, and then quickly and orderly left the kitchen, before heading through the underground passage to the Hog's Head and eventually to Hogwarts.

A dozen minutes later, Hermione stepped into the Room of Requirement again, and the sight before her made her heart skip a beat.

The room was brightly lit, with hammocks and makeshift beds densely packed together, where young wizards who had gathered to escape persecution by Death Eaters were lying or sitting.

Their faces showed exhaustion and fear.

"They were all fleeing persecution from the Death Eaters," Neville explained. "Luna was in charge of taking care of them."

"Hmm—" Hermione's heart burned with passion. There were more little wizards here than when she last came.

It is easy to imagine how many people have been persecuted recently.

After a brief and heartwarming exchange with the tired but resilient young wizards, Hermione quietly donned the Invisibility Cloak and left the Room of Requirement.

Protected by this Deathly Hallow, no one, except a wizard like Dumbledore, could possibly discover her.

Hermione arrived at the library very quickly.

She spent the next few days in the school library.

During the day, Hermione would hide in the Chamber of Merlin on the lower level of the library.

They only come out at night to look for information.

For several days in a row, Hermione maintained this routine, leaving faint traces of her presence in every corner of the library. Apart from occasionally returning to the Room of Requirement to quickly replenish her necessary food and water, she almost never left the library.

However, despite her tremendous efforts, searching through almost all of Hogwarts' books, including those precious texts that were later moved from the distant city of Ionia and were said to belong to the chosen ones, Hermione still could not find any clear record of the Blade of Prometheus.

This made her feel frustrated and confused, as if the legendary weapon was just an unattainable phantom, existing only in the imagination of mortals.

Hermione's mood grew increasingly heavy and anxious.

There was no gain whatsoever as expected.

When she was feeling agitated, she would choose to read Dumbledore's poetry collection.

The poems and verses left by the old principal, full of life's philosophy, are her remedy for calming her mind and a habit she has recently developed.

Sometimes she would flip through her book, "Hogwarts: A History of the School," immersing herself in the stories of her older classmates, which was also a way for her to relax.

Before we knew it, 1996 was coming to an end.

On the last day of December, a faint twilight hung in the sky, heralding the end of the year and the beginning of another journey.

This is the fifth day of the Christmas holiday, a delicate moment of transition between the old and new year, filled with an atmosphere of both nostalgia and anticipation.

Although this year has been exceptionally difficult for the young wizards of Hogwarts—they lost their kind and great headmaster, whose passing was like a sudden snowfall in winter, cold and heavy, plunging the entire wizarding world into endless grief.

The young wizards also spent some time decorating the alchemy workshop.

Hogwarts Castle was also filled with a festive atmosphere.

Although this year's Christmas may be the hardest for many, even the Death Eaters lurking in the darkness, deep within their twisted souls, still retain a faint memory of the holiday.

Their celebrations are naturally twisted and cruel, such as treating innocent Muggles as prey and exchanging their suffering for a moment of twisted pleasure.

On the night of the full moon, as the silvery moon hung high in the sky, the young wizards sat around the warm dining table, enjoying a sumptuous dinner, yet their hearts were still filled with worry for Hermione. She had always carried an extraordinary burden of pressure and responsibility.

At the insistence of Harry, Ginny, Fred, and others, they decided to take advantage of this rare holiday night to take Hermione away from the workshop, allowing her to temporarily forget all her troubles and enjoy a moment of peace and freedom.

The night was as dark as ink. The group quietly passed through Hogsmeade Village. The town under the moonlight appeared exceptionally peaceful and serene, as if isolated from the hustle and bustle outside.

The group wandered out of Hogsmeade Village and arrived at Hogsmeade Station, where they strolled along the railway tracks.

Compared to the Death Eaters' elaborate trap set up in Hogsmeade in the original story, Hogwarts was on high alert.

This time, the Death Eaters, who had mutated into monsters, paid no attention to these things.

After all, from the perspective of outsiders, and even from Voldemort's perspective, his advantage was too great.

There are almost no rivals.

Even the boy who survived the ordeal is now pale in comparison, seemingly no different from ordinary people.

Their arrogance prevented them from sealing off the entire Hogwarts area.

Their arrogance allowed them to act with impunity in the castle, completely unaware of the hidden forces of resistance.

Arrogance clouded their judgment, causing them to completely ignore the unusual aspects of the place.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The sky seemed to be gently stained with deep ink, and the moon emitted a tender light. Under the cool moonlight, the mountains were draped in a silvery-white veil, their outlines distinct yet mysterious.

At the foot of the mountain, a tranquil lake lies quietly, like a giant mirror, reflecting the sparse stars and the bright moonlight in the sky.

The lake surface rippled gently, the traces of the night breeze, carrying a touch of coolness yet exceptionally refreshing.

Most of the trees around had shed their summer splendor, leaving only bare branches that swayed gently in the cold wind, making a rustling sound.

The railway tracks gleamed faintly in the moonlight, like two parallel silver ribbons stretching into the distance in the darkness, with no end in sight.

"Still no clue," Hermione said, utterly frustrated. She held the two books, stepping on the stones that formed the railway tracks, feeling a slight stinging sensation under her feet. This feeling of being alive was exactly what she needed after being numb for over a week.

"Sirius's negotiations with the fairies also failed. As most of the fairies in the fairy kingdom were healed, their ingrained cunning began to awaken again," Fred said with disgust. "Rocher's medical team was driven out of the city and relegated to the outside of the city walls, next to the elevator."

"The mysterious man will do everything he can to get what he wants. The fairy is in danger," Ginny said.

"They're essentially shutting out foreign aid," Fred said.

"What can we do?" Ginny shook her head. The members of the Anti-Voldemort League had already done everything in their power, but the fairy insisted on taking her own life. What could the others do?

"Withdraw our people." After a long silence, Hermione suddenly spoke up. "Send a message to the head of Rosier's Magical Injury Hospital and have him order the withdrawal of the healers in the Fairy Kingdom."

"Hermione?" Harry looked at the girl.

“The Mystic will definitely lead an attack on the goblin kingdom; it’s only a matter of time. The attack on Gringotts might be a harbinger—Gringotts is still in goblin hands now, but it will soon be gone—once the Mystic attacks the goblin kingdom, do you think they can stop him? Those healers will only be wasting their lives sitting there.” Hermione explained, “We’ve done our best. There’s no need to add to the casualties.”

"That's absolutely right," Fred agreed. "The fairies are courting death, and we've already tried to persuade them. We can't exactly drive them away, can we?"

"Harry," Hermione suddenly looked at him, "Is the only treasure the Manhunt is looking for the Blade of Prometheus? Nothing else? I remember you said you heard that man kidnapped the rod makers of Europe."

"Yes, that's right." Harry nodded. "After Bill's wedding."

"I think he's still looking for the Elder Wand from the Deathly Hallows."

"The Elder Wand?" Fred exclaimed in surprise. "That legendary death wand, the staff of fate? I thought it was just a story. You know the 'Poet Pidou's Tales'."

"That's more than just a story," Hermione said.

"Yes, the Deathly Hallows exist. They may not be creations of death, but they must be some kind of powerful magical artifact," Harry added.

"Oh! Merlin's beard!" Fred exclaimed incredulously. "That's amazing!"

"Wait—you mean that person is looking for the Elder Wand! Good heavens! If he finds the Elder Wand, then no one will be able to defeat him anymore?"

“The Elder Wand isn’t invincible either,” Hermione said. “In history, the evil Egbert killed the villain Merrick and obtained the wand; Godrot died in his cellar after his son Hereward took it; and the horrible Lothias killed Barnabas de Vries and stole the wand. The Elder Wand’s bloody traces are stained throughout the entire history of magic. If it were truly as powerful and invincible as the legends say, how could its owner have failed and been killed?”

"So where do you think the Elder Wand is now?" Fred asked.

"I don't know." Hermione shook her head. "The clues get blurry when it comes to Acus and Livias. Who can say for sure which one actually defeated Lothias, or who took the wand?"

"The mysterious man's capture of the European Wand Maker is likely in order to find the whereabouts of the Elder Wand."

"Or he thinks the Elder Wand is in the hands of some wand maker!" Harry suddenly said.

"Think about it, a legendary wand, possessing immense magical power. This is the most irresistible temptation for a wizard who studies wandcraft. Perhaps that wand is in the hands of Gregorovich, a wand maker on par with Ollivander. If the Elder Wand isn't in Ollivander's hands, then it can only be in Gregorovich's."

"I saw a mysterious person looking for him, which confirms this conjecture."

"That's a good direction," Hermione said. "It's possible. But if the Elder Wand really is in Gregorovich's hands, then Mystic might already have it."

"No—he didn't get it," Harry said bluntly. "He used the same wand he had at the wedding when he attacked us in Godric's Hollow."

"Then the trail goes cold again." Hermione looked troubled. "Harry, it seems your guess was wrong. The Elder Wand isn't in Gregorovich's hands."

"Wait—I know, I remember now," Harry said abruptly, reaching up to cover his forehead.

Months earlier, when he invaded Voldemort's mind and saw Gregorwich captured, Voldemort had peered into Gregorwich's memories.

He only saw some fragments.

Since Voldemort's Horcruxes were destroyed one by one, he has never seen Voldemort's memories continuously again, and each time he only sees fragments.

Godric's Hollow was where Voldemort invaded his mind; it was a few years ago when Harry first saw a complete segment of Voldemort's memories.

"It was Grindelwald." Harry suddenly realized, "I remember, it was young Grindelwald who stole the Elder Wand from Gregorovich."

"Harry, are you sure?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I'm sure!"

"This is terrible," Hermione said with obvious concern.

Her previous assumption that Grindelwald could survive was that Voldemort wouldn't necessarily have to kill him.

But now that Voldemort had this reason, Hermione was at a loss.

Under the moonlight, Hermione's heart sank into her stomach.

If Irving learns this news after he returns...

She simply didn't know how to begin.

"Bang—" Hermione, lost in thought, dropped the book she was holding.

The sound of the floor hitting the ground startled her awake.

Hermione crouched down blankly, preparing to pick up the two books.

But just then she suddenly noticed that there seemed to be different handwriting on the pages of the book that had been blown open by the wind.

"Hmm?" Hermione quickly opened one of the books, "Hogwarts: A History".

The bright moonlight shone on the title page of the book.

Several strings of silver lettering suddenly appeared.

The Blade of Prometheus

A dagger shaped like a candlestick.

The blade burned with an eternal flame of soul fire, invisible to mortals.

That was the first flame that fell with the falling stars, possessing the power to dispel all darkness.

But it needs a soul imbued with the magic of stars as kindling to reignite it.

In the distant Age of Gods, the first wizard to discover the fundamental principles of ancient magic, the first to observe the Supreme Will, and was granted madness—Ionia Samothrace, the human who created the Blade of Prometheus and ignited the Soulfire to become the Goddess of Corruption.

"This is..." Hermione reached out and touched the words.

She discovered that the words would disappear once she blocked out the moonlight.

Of course, these things are not important now.

The important thing is the content recorded.

"Is the Blade of Prometheus a dagger that can ignite the soul and transform mortals into gods?"

"And now this treasure is in the hands of a fairy?"

"Oh my God!"

In an instant, Hermione knew what Voldemort's purpose was.

(End of this chapter)