I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 87: The Locked Room Adventure - Professor, what are you doing?!

That scene.

Harry, along with Hermione beside him and Hannah, Ron, Justin, and others behind him, were beyond words.

Amidst the flames, Owen stood in place, wand in hand, like a living demon king.

At his feet lay a wild beast, its body charred black, its skin marked with burn marks, smoke rising from its body and white vapor emanating from its surroundings.

The head is completely separated from the body.

The water on the ground transformed into a blurry mirror, reflecting the interplay of heaven and earth, turning the entire corridor a fiery red.

And Irving stood there, next to the giant eight-eyed spider and its pile of rotting flesh.

Call ~

His robes fluttered, and his face was stained with ashes.

His gray pupils seemed to spew fire.

All of this is beyond words; it was such a breathtaking and exquisite scene!

"Irving~"

Hearing the voice in his ear, the Demon King lazily turned around.

"Yes!" he said.

The voice was as calm as a gentle breeze passing through a castle.

"Don't you recognize him?" He smiled knowingly, then waved his hand. "Hagrid, I'll trouble you to move him to the school infirmary. I'm going back now."

After saying that, he turned around and disappeared alone, along with the swarm of spiders, at the end of the corridor.

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.

That evening, news about the Defense Against the Dark Arts class spread like wildfire throughout the castle.

Professor McGonagall personally intervened, investigating and collecting evidence.

Furthermore, traces of transfiguration were found among the clutter scattered on the fourth floor, which corroborated the words of a small group of junior wizards.

Hagrid was moved to the school hospital by Harry and the others.

Mrs. Pomfrey personally prepared an antidote for him at twice the normal dose.

A few days later, he returned to normal.

As for Lockhart, although it's unclear why Dumbledore didn't expel him, the headmaster still suspended him from class as punishment.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts class was cancelled, and Professor Flitwick, a former dueling master, took over teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts spells.

As for Irving...

After Professor McGonagall verified the facts, he neither gained points for defeating the eight-eyed spider nor lost points for maliciously frightening his classmates.

In a way, the good deeds and bad deeds have balanced out once again.

But none of that matters.

Importantly, when the young wizards learned that it was Owen who used the "Illusion Charm"—no one believed that a second-year wizard could use Transfiguration on such a large scale.

They prefer to believe that Irving used a "magic spell".

Things like illusion spells are just for scaring people.

After numbing themselves, they were all unusually angry at Irving.

The clamor to "teach Kyrie Irving a lesson," which started in first grade, has begun to rise again.

"Let them come," Owen said sarcastically as he read in his notebook in the Hufflepuff common room.

"All they do is bark and howl. Let them all come at me! I don't need a wand!"

"But, I think—" Hannah wanted to say something more, but Owen had already looked down at Tom's message.

Go ahead! Go to the girls' restroom on the third floor.

What you want is right under that sink.

Got it!

Here comes the excuse!

"I have something to do tonight, I need to see Professor Dumbledore." He suddenly jumped up from the sofa and ran out without looking back.

"Hey—wait a minute!" A concerned voice came from the lounge, but before she could say anything, Owen had already disappeared into the oak barrel.

"Irving~"

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.

On the eighth floor, Owen, who guessed the principal's office password after only two tries, twitched his lips slightly. Heh—the password changed from a pile of cockroaches to Lemon Snowball. You're really creative!

Push open the oak door.

A cacophony of sounds—Fox's barking, the Sorting Hat's shouts—rose and fell.

"Huh? It's so late? Irving, is something wrong?"

The old headmaster, dressed in a gray-white bathrobe, was sitting in a chair, writing and drawing, seemingly writing a letter.

Upon seeing Irving enter, he intentionally or unintentionally shoved the parchment scroll he was holding into a pile of books to the side.

Hmm—the behavior is highly suspicious. It's safe to say it's definitely not a legitimate letter.

Irving glanced at it and paused when he saw the pile of books, because there was one he recognized; he had just read it last night.

"Cough cough."

Once he regained his composure, his gaze returned to the old principal.

He wasn't there to pry into the old principal's privacy.

After all, given Dumbledore's limited privacy, Owen could easily recount the entire story of your 18+ intimate moments on the haystack when you were sixteen and he was eighteen!

"Professor, you've changed your clothes."

He held up the notebook, a slight smile on his face, and said, "Ready for an adventure?"

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.

A dozen minutes later.

The grandfather and grandson, one big and one small, quickly arrived at the girls' restroom on the third floor.

This place is under renovation.

I heard it was because the troll—no—Hermione broke some of the plumbing in the bathroom.

The old headmaster, being rather stingy, sought donations to renovate the place.

But—it's been almost a month since school started, and this lousy place hasn't even started construction yet.

The floor was covered in sewage. Various kinds of debris were piled up in the corner.

Even the washbasin at the entrance to the secret room had been cut in half.

"How come Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets is in the girls' restroom?"

The old principal asked with some doubt.

"How would I know? Anyway, there aren't many normal people in the Gaunt family. The previous heirs had some peculiar habits—we have to understand."

"But, Professor, I have to say..."

Owen glanced at Professor Dumbledore beside him.

At this moment, he was wearing a tight-fitting gray robe, with an unnamed leather breastplate that offered little protection on his chest.

Thanks to Irving's reminder, the Basilisk was immune to most spells—and the old headmaster was still wearing the Sorting Hat around his waist.

In his left hand he held the legendary Gryffindor sword.

He wore boots made of fire dragon leather, and his wrists and trouser legs were also covered with tight-fitting leather armor.

Even his pet phoenix, Fox, was brought along.

It landed on his shoulder at that moment.

Forehead.

The Elder Wand, the Sorting Hat, the Sword of Gryffindor, and Fawkes the Phoenix

Three legendary magical items plus top-tier pets.

Irving's eyes welled up with genuine drool.

What are you doing?

Wearing this gold suit, anyone who didn't know better would think you were going to challenge Sauron, the Demon King, to a duel!

"Professor, is this really necessary?"

His cheek twitched.

Dumbledore, with that outfit—you still dare to say you're not Gandalf!

"Didn't you say we were going on an adventure?" The old headmaster smiled shyly. "This is my armor from my youthful adventures. Back in the day, I and—"

"Stop!" Owen quickly interrupted Dumbledore's long-winded speech.

I don't want to know your honeymoon story with Grindelwald.

"We're just going hunting, it's just a small monster, not a one-on-one fight with Voldemort, do we really need to be so cautious?"

"Be careful in everything, child." The old headmaster winked at him.

"Then I suggest you don't wear this out in public; it could easily cause panic in other countries!!!"

There was absolutely no one at work today, not a single person.

I'm all alone, staring at the data with nothing to do. There's just a mistake, but as long as I'm here, that's fine. Damn it! Why can't I go home for this little bit of work?

My home computer is miles ahead of the office computer. Wow!

(End of this chapter)