A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 173 Coronation

The frenzied shouts were deafening, and as far as the eye could see, the stands of the Quidditch stadium were packed with people.

Having escaped the frenzied crowd, Melete darted off with a "whoosh," meowing restlessly. Nyx, flapping its wings, tumbled to the ground, then ran off with comical gait, occasionally leaping and emitting disorienting cries. Clearly, they too hadn't escaped the contagious influence of the mood, but thankfully, they weren't out of control.

Owen ignored them, raised his wand, and cast the Summoning Charm again. The black box "whooshed" through the bustling crowd and landed in his hand, the lid open, the diary inside gone.

Horcruxes cannot be summoned by the Summoning Charm, nor can they be detected by spells like the Tracking Charm. In other words, Tom's diary is not going to be found for the time being.

Irving clicked his tongue softly, watching the fervent gazes following the box. He casually tossed the box aside, returned to his original spot, and thoughtfully pulled his friends out from the crowded throng.

First, he pulled Daphne out of the crowded throng, then freed Draco from a group of people who were tied up together, and then smoothly waved his wand to find Blaise and the others.

Several others, also out of control, howled and pounced on Irving, only to be mercilessly tied up like dumplings. Well, Irving was considerate of his friends, not tying them all together.

While doing this, he had already analyzed the current situation.

After calming down and thinking it over, Owen roughly guessed the reason. Voldemort had clearly used the phenomenon of emotional contagion to break free from the limitations of his original methods of control, allowing the seeds of controlling people's minds to spread to each student through emotional contagion.

The fact that so many people were being controlled at the same time was indeed beyond Owen's expectations. He had anticipated various countermeasures Voldemort might take and was prepared to retaliate, but despite his strong defenses, he was still caught off guard and lost his diary.

Looking back now, the crown itself possessed a similar ability, capable of causing intense emotional fluctuations and ultimately leading to a loss of self and temporary control. In other words, the crown's ability to incite emotions aligns well with the phenomenon of emotional contagion.

Irving was indeed negligent in this regard. So the strange events caused by the Wallfacer Space were just a trap for him? The fax machine had already gotten rid of Dumbledore, so who will be affected by this emotional contagion this time?

Irving's lips curled into a slight smile, his emotions stirring. His opponent's move... was quite impressive.

That's what makes the game interesting; how boring it would be if everything were predictable. The joy of competing with others is endless, because people always create infinite variables.

"But... Tom's diary is lost. Now I'm in a dangerous situation." Owen touched his lips, his smile both beautiful and dangerous, like a gorgeous poppy.

It's easy to imagine that once the two Horcruxes meet, Owen's lies to Tom Riddle will quickly be exposed. Voldemort in his crown will discover that the one who attacked him with the Killing Curse was Owen, and Tom will find that the so-called Helbo was all a hoax against him...

The two Voldemorts who were utterly fooled must be furious.

Yes, he's firmly established his aggro; Voldemort will definitely stop at nothing to kill him.

"It seems my plans will have to be drastically changed..." Owen squinted and pondered.

His mind raced as he scanned the crowd several times, but he couldn't find Harry anywhere; he was completely lost in the sea of ​​people.

He wasn't surprised; Voldemort had created such a grand spectacle, it couldn't have been just to steal the diary from him.

Owen didn't encounter a strong attack just now. After all, Voldemort in the diadem couldn't communicate with himself in the diary for the time being, so he wouldn't know what Owen had done and therefore didn't have much hatred for him yet.

Since it wasn't targeting Owen, then Voldemort must have had other plans... like Harry Potter.

However, even with such a commotion, Voldemort couldn't escape unscathed with Harry. So what could he possibly do to Harry?

Irving stopped overthinking, glanced at the Marauder's Map, and then put it back. There were too many people here; all the black dots were crammed together into a dense blob of ink, making it impossible to discern the names on them.

He focused intently on tying people up one by one while searching for Harry. If the Summoning Charm weren't ineffective against wizards, he would have chanted "Harry, come here!"

While Irving was enthusiastically devising various ways to tie people up, the professors also joined in.

Most of them remained conscious, and even though they were affected by emotions, they were still able to control themselves. Realizing something was wrong, the professors suppressed their agitation and took timely countermeasures.

"Calm down, what are you doing!" Professor McGonagall frowned, her voice amplified by the Loud Voice Charm, echoing across the arena.

But the students around her still flocked to her enthusiastically, and many even raised their wands at her, trying to use their bodies and spells to slow her down and trap her in place.

Upon seeing the identical, sinister smiles on everyone's faces, Professor McGonagall immediately realized the gravity of the situation. She flung aside the lottery box and, using a method similar to Owen's, waved her wand to conjure ropes from each chair, binding the students, who had lost their minds, securely to them.

The referees beside the ring also rushed to the stands, doing their best to prevent the situation from escalating further.

Professor Snape approached the Slytherin stands with a grim expression. Upon seeing the students bound together, the rage in his eyes subsided slightly. He muttered a spell, calming the students and reducing their violent struggles.

The diminutive Professor Flitwick disappeared into the crowd in the blink of an eye. Then, one after another, the students around him stopped in their tracks, their smiles softening and becoming serene, their eyes slowly closing as if immersed in beautiful music.

Professor Sprout tossed a black sack into the densest part of the crowd, striking it mid-air with his wand. The sack exploded above the students' heads, covering a large area with yellow pollen that caused the young wizards to collapse and fall into a deep sleep.

But not every professor is so adept at it.

Hagrid waved his large, fan-like hands and gently pulled the students who were lunging at him aside. But people kept surging forward, some even casting spells at him. Hagrid was afraid of hurting anyone and took many spells, but luckily he was thick-skinned and didn't get hurt at all.

The other professors huddled together, defending against the randomly thrown spells while knocking out the out-of-control people one by one. Lockhart was among them, occasionally casting a defensive spell, his eyes darting around as he silently went about his business.

Professor Trelawney screamed with wide eyes, indiscriminately throwing crystal balls around, only to be knocked unconscious by Professor Victor of the Arithmetic and Divination class.

For a moment, the Quidditch pitch was in complete chaos, and no one paid any attention to any one individual.

When the surge of emotion overwhelmed him, Harry was no exception. A wave of excitement filled his mind, making it difficult for him to think calmly.

He found himself spontaneously joining the crowd in their enthusiastic shouts, and then an even more fervent and restless emotion surged into his heart. It was as if a raging fire had been ignited in his mind, and his remaining rationality teetered on the brink of collapse.

This feeling of being out of control filled him with fear and disgust, and he fiercely resisted the invasion of this emotion. Because he had been practicing Occlumency with Irving recently, he instinctively tried to shut down his brain, barely maintaining a shred of rationality. But his thoughts still became chaotic, and his brain, like a rusty gear, slowly and creaked.

He felt the crowd pressing in, their smiles eerily fixed on him. They instinctively parted to make way for him, creating a narrow passage for just one person, and stretched out hands to push him in a certain direction. But his chaotic thoughts prevented him from thinking clearly, and he couldn't perceive how suspicious this scene was.

"Thank you," Harry said, his words slightly mumbled, to the classmates who politely made way for him.

Soon, he spotted a familiar figure at the far end of the crowd. A red-haired girl stood in the center, her long, fiery red hair billowing like waves, which made Harry relax instantly.

"It's Ginny," he thought vaguely. She's a friend.

But Ginny shouldn't have had that mocking and greedy expression on her face, and her eyes, which were always warm and shy, shouldn't have been flashing with evil and coldness. Harry didn't notice any of these abnormalities.

Harry was dazed and pushed in front of Ginny, staring at her blankly. A tall wall of people surrounded them, engulfing them.

He couldn't think about what was happening; he just felt that the older students around him were too tall, like the retracted tentacles of a sea anemone surrounding him, and he was the prey about to be eaten.

"No, it's too crowded..." Harry mumbled.

Ginny reached out and tugged at him, her slender hand cold and strong, forcing him to bend down. The throng of heads blocked out the sky above. At the same time, the scar on his forehead suddenly throbbed with intense pain, clearing his mind slightly. He saw Ginny pull her hand back as if she'd been electrocuted.

"What are you going to do?" With a bit of his senses returning, Harry began to sense that something was wrong.

He stared at Ginny, watching the girl clutch her hand in pain, horrible blisters forming on her fair, delicate skin. Ginny glared at him, her brown eyes filled with anger and disbelief, her expression twisted in a grimace.

Harry felt this scene was familiar, as if it had happened sometime before, and it seemed dangerous. His body acted before his sluggish brain could, instinctively raising his hand to grab it, but before he could touch the other person, his body stiffened, as if filled with sand, completely unable to move.

He could only watch helplessly as Ginny stopped chanting, her annoyed expression turning cold and mocking again. A strange red light began to flicker in her familiar yet unfamiliar eyes, making her beautiful face appear ugly.

Harry suddenly felt a chill run down his spine; he'd seen that expression before, during Ron Weasley's attack on them…

Although his mind was slow, he was aware of the terrible danger and that no one could help him now... He gritted his teeth and tried his best to move his stiff body, but to no avail; he couldn't even make a sound.

Harry stared fiercely at Ginny's movements, his pupils suddenly contracting. In extreme tension and fear, amidst the stinging pain of his scar, Occlumency successfully drove away the manic energy invading his brain for the first time, instantly clearing his mind considerably.

He saw Ginny pull a crown out of her pocket! A tattered, eagle-shaped crown, its silver exterior now dull and blackened, but the sapphire set in the center still shone brightly.

Harry instantly realized that this was the crown he had been searching for, Voldemort's Horcrux... What was she going to do?

He didn't have to wait long. Ginny glanced at the crown in her hands with a half-smile, ignoring the blisters on her hands, and solemnly placed the crown on Harry's head with both hands.

Harry was powerless to resist; he felt his scars burst open, as if a red-hot iron had been plunged into his head, and his brain seemed to be boiling.

His face suddenly turned pale, his pupils dilated, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead. His expression became painful and distorted, as if he had fallen into a hallucinatory nightmare.

Ginny looked down at him coldly, then suddenly raised her eyebrows, her expression one of disbelief: "Who are you?"

She glanced at the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead, her expression shifting from surprise to suspicion, from existential doubt to deep contemplation, and finally to utter ecstasy: "So you are...."

She abruptly shut her mouth, removed the crown from Harry's head, gave him a deep look, and then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Harry was left gasping for breath, his body regaining its mobility as he knelt on the ground, clutching his head tightly with both hands, his eyes filled with pain and deep confusion.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but suddenly the surroundings became much more open. The frenzied crowd was tied up, and the sunlight shone on him again.

"Harry, how are you?" Owen squinted at Harry, who looked dazed, his eyes filled with caution and assessment.

"I..." Harry opened his mouth and then collapsed to the ground.

Professor Snape also rushed over, glanced at Harry who seemed a bit off, and frowned deeply.

"I...I'm fine..." Harry's eyes flickered slightly, his tone as if floating on clouds.

Snape lifted him up like a chick, waved his wand to examine his body, and after a moment, released him with a look of disgust, saying sarcastically, "It's a shame you weren't trampled to death, Potter. Now is truly a perfect time to contemplate important matters of life..."

He flicked his cloak and strode away.

"Are you really alright, Harry?" Owen toyed with his wand, his dark eyes fixed on Harry's.

"I...don't know..." Harry's face scrunched up. "Give me some time..."

He looked up, his expression calming down a bit, but his gaze would occasionally drift off into a daze, as if he were lost in thought.

Irving stared at him intently for a long time before looking away and continuing to help the professors.

Less than ten minutes later, the students' fervent emotions subsided in an instant, and the deafening shouts disappeared.

One by one, the young wizards returned to normal, looking at the ropes binding their hands and feet with confusion and unease. Some of the injured were sobbing softly, while many others began to shout and scream. The cacophony of sounds rose again, like a hundred thousand ducks being herded into a stadium.

The professors breathed a sigh of relief and busily loosened their control over the students. Mrs. Pomfrey was frantically treating the injured, her feet barely touching the ground.

The students had no idea what they had done. They were all bewildered when Professor McGonagall announced the end of the duel, watched as Mrs. Pomfrey led away several of the more seriously injured students, and then returned to the Great Hall full of suspicion.

(End of this chapter)