I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 84 Defense Against the Dark Arts (Please subscribe to this chapter!!! I'm begging you all!!!)

After a while, seeing that the text still hadn't appeared in the notebook, someone added another sentence.

"Take it, Tom, may this ordinary life become the foundation for you to change the world."

Irving had no idea how much his passionate and impassioned words would affect a young man who had just turned sixteen, was committing his first murder, and was still hesitant.

No one has ever trusted him as much as the naive Gryffindor in Irving's novel.

Inside the dimly lit book, in a cloud of black mist.

A young and handsome figure stood alone above the boundless black abyss.

His pale soul emitted specks of light.

Like snow falling into the dark lake at Hogwarts in winter and disappearing without a trace.

Not even a ripple appeared on the water.

Tom didn't believe Irving, or a single word he wrote.

But the loneliness always compels him to keep thinking.

If, and I mean if, he really didn't become Voldemort, but continued to be Tom.

If Grindelwald's army really attacks Hogwarts.

If the old man who was wary of him really leaves.

Would I stand up and fight for the only bright spot in my memory: Hogwarts?

He may never be able to answer this question.

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 notebook that hadn't replied to Irving all day hadn't responded either.

Taking advantage of this time, Owen finished writing the observation journal that Professor Sprout had assigned.

An observation diary!

The most striking thing about it can be summed up in one word: pure fabrication.

Anyway, the professor knew he was making things up, and he knew the professor knew he was making things up.

That's an observation diary!

I write a ridiculous observation diary every day.

You mustn't make things up.

"Well written!"

The first class in the morning was Professor Sprout's Herbalism.

Inside the greenhouse, the professor is instructing the young wizards on how to change the soil for the mandrake.

The professor, covered in mud, glanced at Irving's short essay.

Hmm—the handwriting is very neat.

Let's consider this child's behavior acceptable.

As for what Irving actually wrote...

Postpartum care for sows—that's impossible, but there are real manuals on raising wildcat kittens.

Recently, my hair removal using the Sirocco method has been very effective.

The stiff hairs on its neck were falling off with a rustling sound.

Irving no longer carries it with him.

I just keep it in my dorm room.

This led to another interesting incident.

He pulled out the mandrakes that were baring their teeth and howling wildly in one go, and then quickly stuffed them into another flowerpot.

During this process, Irving's eyes quickly swept over his other two roommates, Zacharys Smith and Ernie McMillan.

These two have been grinning like idiots since the day before yesterday.

Geigei's laughter even reached into reality in the middle of the night, echoing in his dreams.

"These two idiots must have mistaken Sirocco's fur for unicorn fur!"

Irving recalled the unicorn hair blanket that covered his bed, which was warm in winter and cool in summer.

Two more fools blinded by money.

However, Irving didn't intend to enlighten them. You have to give people some dreams, right?

The thought of the two of them happily collecting cat hair throughout the semester and walking into the magic materials shop, only to have their dreams shattered and lose both their money and their love, is exciting to even contemplate.

hey-hey--

After lunch, the next class was Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Irving, who was already preparing his resignation letter on his first day of work, didn't have any excessive demands on me.

Just become his ruthless score-farming machine.

Don't cause so much trouble.

However, Mr. Lockhart probably doesn't understand his own position.

Although his first lesson was, in Ron's words, "I'm just doing my job to save Professor Quirrell from the dead."

Even so, he still couldn't bring himself to do it and desperately wanted to prove himself.

"Merlin's beard!"

"Oh my God!"

"My God!"

?

Throw out this believer of God!

In the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, all the tables and chairs were moved away.

An iron cage stood in the center of the empty classroom.

"Bang!"

A loud crash came from the cage, and the entire classroom trembled.

The young wizards watching also felt a tremor in their hearts.

"Hagrid, that—that can't be it!"

Although the iron cage was covered with a gray cloth, it had already tilted to one side due to the monsters' constant bumping against it.

Harry stared in shock at the terrifying creature with several black hairy feet, his voice trembling slightly.

He looked incredulously at Hagrid, who was calming the monster inside the cage.

"Your Professor Lockhart has begged me to find a magical creature for the young wizards to practice on." Hagrid didn't seem too happy either. Although his full beard obscured his expression, his tone revealed that Lockhart had definitely pulled some trick.

"Practice?"

"A plea?"

"He probably wants to kill us!" Ron exclaimed, because he already knew what was in the cage.

An eight-eyed giant spider!

And it was an adult, wild eight-eyed giant spider the size of a small car.

"Harry, he's definitely here to get revenge on you!"

Ron's legs went weak and his body trembled as he hid behind Harry.

"Heh—that's tough!" Irving expressed a completely different opinion from the others.

The instant I saw that eight-eyed giant spider.

Quirrell's image suddenly flashed into his mind.

Lockhart isn't really planning to learn from Quirrell, is he?

They deliberately lured out a monster to attract Dumbledore's attention, demanding that he see them. Their goals were just slightly different: one wanted to live, and the other wanted to resign.

The classroom was filled with the whispers of the young wizards.

Until the commotion—the argument between Lockhart's fans and ordinary people—was so loud it felt like the ceiling was about to collapse, Lockhart, dressed in a gorgeous, lace-trimmed, tight-fitting dueling suit, finally made his dazzling entrance.

"Clap clap clap!"

He first clapped to draw everyone's attention to himself.

Then he looked around and gave the little wizards a greasy, sickeningly sweet smile.

"About the last lesson." (The Cornish elves teased the professor, and Hermione eventually intervened.)

"To be honest, this is just a test for you all." He slowly walked down the stairs, uttering shameless and absurd words.

"I must warn you! My duty is to let you know about the most vicious creatures in the world of witchcraft, so that you can be mentally prepared for the future."

"The Cornish elves are just an appetizer." He walked up to the iron cage and tapped the bars lightly with his wand.

The feigned soft-spoken manner didn't last even a second.

The next moment, the eight-eyed giant spider suddenly charged, and with a loud "Bang!" the impact almost made him fling his wand away.

For a fleeting second, even his signature professional smile vanished.

However, after seeing Hagrid, who was as tall as a small mountain, the worry on his face was well hidden.

This mountain-sized wizard must be able to protect himself!

Lockhart thought so.

Moreover, he said that the eight-eyed giant spiders in the forest were all his friends.

So there shouldn't be any problem, right?

Right?!

(End of this chapter)