A certain broken Hogwarts

A loud "pop" suddenly rang out in the dark, narrow alley, as if someone had thrown a lit firecracker there. Two figures appeared out of thin air on the dirty stone pavement along with the sound.

The air was filled with the stench of something rotting, and the windows on both sides of the alley were dark and sealed with broken wooden planks.

The two people who appeared in the alley simultaneously looked around to make sure there were no threats. A mournful barking came from afar, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

"The surrounding area is relatively safe," Lupin said calmly. "This should be Knockout Alley, right?"

"Hmm." Owen toyed with his wand, his eyes slightly narrowed, his black-haired, black-robed figure blending harmoniously with the surrounding dark environment.

He raised his hand to cover his nose, and the two walked side by side out of the alley.

"It seems those people's target is us, or more precisely, you," Lupin recalled the situation. He had also noticed something was wrong with those people when Owen Apparated him.

"I spent a long time alone in the bookstore today, and if they were targeting me, they wouldn't have missed such a good opportunity to make a move," he added.

Irving nodded in agreement, a dark and unreadable look flashing in his eyes.

"Could it be the same group from last night? Are they still watching us?" Lupin frowned slightly, a deep furrow forming between his brows. "I just don't understand what their purpose is." He looked at Owen with his deep, melancholic eyes, trying to get an answer from him.

"I'm confused too." Owen pursed his lips, blinking innocently and blankly. "Before this, I always suspected someone was eyeing something in the bookstore. But I think if that were the case, they would definitely have gone in and searched the bookstore while you were out today..."

Lupin thought for a moment, then shook his head and said, "I checked when I was taking stock of the damages, and there were no signs of a break-in or search. Of course, we can't rule out that their actions were very secretive, but that doesn't fit their style of breaking into the bookstore and causing a ruckus last night."

"That's strange," Owen said, resting his chin on his hand. "Did they somehow confirm the item wasn't there and then turn their attention to me? Or are they not even working together?"

These successive attacks left him completely baffled.

Lupin stopped speculating wildly, but instead reminded her with some concern, "No matter what, you absolutely must be careful. The fact that those people tried to attack in front of so many Muggles shows they're a very dangerous bunch..."

Owen nodded sullenly, feeling unhappy about being targeted for no apparent reason: "Don't go back to the bookstore for now, we'll talk about it later. Remember to tell Natasha."

"Alright. You should go home quickly too, don't take any risks," Lupin gently advised. "Also, at your age, you definitely haven't obtained permission to Apparate yet, it's a very dangerous thing to do. You...use it less."

"I understand." Owen smiled innocently. He agreed quickly, but he was humble and determined not to change his ways.

Lupin smiled helplessly, clearly understanding that his words would have no effect.

After the two emerged from the dark, narrow alley, they parted ways. Owen decided to go home first. Although he really wanted to grab someone to interrogate for information, there were quite a few of them, and he didn't know how many more were hiding in the shadows. If he acted rashly, he might be surrounded and end up in trouble.

He needs some time to properly review this matter.

With a cold gaze sweeping over the surroundings once more, Owen raised his wand and vanished with a "snap."

Instead of borrowing the fireplace from the Leaky Cauldron, he planned to Apparate directly home. If he was being watched, the Leaky Cauldron likely had spies there too; going there would be like walking into a trap.

After Owen regained his footing, he was standing outside the wrought-iron gates of Shafiq Manor, entwined with rose vines. The hot summer breeze carried the rich fragrance of white roses, which eased his discomfort considerably.

The feeling of apparition is like being squeezed into a thick rubber tube, unable to breathe, with every part of your body being compressed. No matter how many times you try it, this feeling remains unbearable.

Owen shook his head, looked down at himself, and was quite satisfied to make sure that nothing was missing. This was his first time attempting to apparate from such a long distance, and judging from the ease he had just displayed, this was far from his limit.

He pushed open the manor gate and went inside. Nyx poked her beautiful head out from the flower bushes, her bright red eyes reflecting a ruby-like light in the sunlight. She opened her long, pointed beak, gave a soft chirp to Owen, and then turned her head to nibble on a brightly blooming white rose.

Irving looked at the fallen roses, now ruined, with a hint of regret. He thought Nyx had been having too much energy lately.

As a black phoenix with an inherent destructive urge, keeping it confined here all the time isn't a good idea. Looks like I need to find a chance to take it out for some exercise, let it vent its frustration with a fire, lest this guy burn the manor down one day.

With that thought in mind, Owen strolled back into the house at a leisurely pace and entered his study. He sat down at his desk and began writing and drawing on a piece of parchment, analyzing all the possible reasons why he was being targeted, and he had quite a few ideas for solutions.

It wasn't until dinner time that he stretched his arms and slowly made his way down to the dining room. The house-elves had prepared a sumptuous dinner, and Mr. and Mrs. Shafik were already seated at the table.

Owen deftly pulled out a chair without making a sound, and overheard Albert speaking to Adeline: "...I could tell at a glance they were planning to attack me. But don't they realize that with Azkaban fugitives at large, how could I not increase security in the store?"

Irving had just sat up straight in his chair when he heard this, he turned his head sharply and asked with a serious expression, "What happened?"

"Your father was attacked today," Adeline said calmly, gracefully cutting a piece of steak with her knife and fork.

Owen's expression sharpened instantly, a hazy mist appearing in his clear black eyes, obscuring the candlelight reflected in his pupils. He lowered his gaze, concealing the coldness in his eyes, and said softly, "Who did this?"

"I don't know. Don't listen to your mother making it sound so serious. If you ask me, this attack was as careless as a prank," Albert said casually, staring at Owen suspiciously for a long time.

For a fleeting moment, he seemed to sense that his child had become extremely dangerous, giving him a chilling feeling. To be honest, he hadn't felt this way even during that pointless attack earlier in the day.

"What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" Owen suppressed the malice surging in his heart, raised his eyelids and threw a questioning look at him.

"Let's see if you're emitting any black aura or anything," Albert joked, his expression relaxing.

Adeline, however, continued to gaze at Owen, her deep green eyes unfathomable, her expression thoughtful.

"Uh, can you tell me about it?" Owen took a sizzling steak and a bowl of cream of mushroom soup, trying to get his parents' attention away from him.

Mr. Shafiq took a bite of steak and said casually, "I left the Ministry of Magic this afternoon—"

"Ugh, I'm fed up with continuing to 'sponsored' those incompetent and stupid politicians. After all these days, all they've done with those two escapees is send some employees around aimlessly and let Dementors into Hogwarts!" he complained.

"Okay, back to the original topic. After leaving the Ministry of Magic, I suddenly had the urge to visit my family's potions shop, see Mike, and talk to him about our future plans."

"As I walked out of the potions shop, two men, completely covered up, pulled out their wands and pointed them at me from among the passersby." Albert's lips twitched.

"I really didn't expect anyone to attack me in Diagon Alley, but I have some defensive alchemical items on me, and I'm not some wooden puppet that just stands there and lets others shoot at me... Isn't it a bit of an underestimation of me to send only two lousy guys to deal with me?"

Irving looked at his father, who seemed to enjoy making things worse, speechless. He felt from the bottom of his heart that the guy hadn't learned his lesson enough.

"Then, before I could even make a move, Mike led the security guards I had placed in the store out. Those two got away pretty fast..." Albert clicked his tongue with a hint of regret, "I think they could have intervened later. I haven't really fought anyone properly in years."

"If you're really disappointed, I can spend more time practicing with you, Albert," Adeline glanced at him gently.

"Well, let's forget about it... It's too much trouble for you," Albert said sincerely and with concern.

"It's settled, we'll start tonight," Adeline said with a smile, her gentle and beautiful demeanor like she stepped out of an oil painting.

Albert's face turned slightly bitter. He turned and glared at Owen, who was watching the show with his lips tightly pressed together. He shrugged slightly and said, "Alright, I'm looking forward to it."

"But to be honest, something's still a bit strange about what happened today," he added. "While the attack seemed like something some brain-dead idiot came up with on a whim, ridiculously clumsy, how did they know I was going to the potions shop? It was a spur-of-the-moment decision."

"My family hasn't offended anyone recently. It's impossible that they just suddenly didn't like me on the street," he pondered. "Or maybe they just think I'm rich?"

"Could it be related to the person who was spying outside the manor that day?" Owen asked casually.

"I did consider that possibility. But like I said, this attack was far too frivolous. I find it hard to imagine that the most cautious people would pull off something like this." Albert shrugged.

"Maybe they just want to lower your guard so they can find another opportunity to make their move?" Irving said seriously.

Although he also found it very strange and was unsure whether the attacks that happened to him and his father today were related, it was always better to be cautious, especially since he couldn't figure out his opponent at all.

Faced with the enemy's various confusing behaviors, Irving could not find the logic behind them.

There was the furtive caution outside the manor, the unbridled ruthlessness inside the bookstore, the meticulous encirclement at the hospital entrance, and the clumsy and laughable attacks outside the potion shop... It seemed like he had a split personality, or that several organizations were pulling the strings behind the scenes.

"What's going on?" Irving thought expressionlessly.

If the opponent was only targeting him, he wouldn't mind playing a fun game with them. But since they set their sights on his parents, the nature of the situation changed.

Yeah, it went from being an interesting game to one I don't like.

"If this really was my fault, then I need to find a way to resolve it as soon as possible," Owen thought expressionlessly. He never liked to involve his family in his affairs, no matter how big or small the matter was.

Adeline was also deep in thought, but when she looked at Owen's tightly stern and handsome face, her attention was distracted, and she couldn't help but want to reach out and pinch it... Unfortunately, the dining table was too big for her to reach.

"That makes sense. So I plan to assign a few people as bodyguards," Mr. Shafik said casually.

Owen nodded slowly, took a sip of the fragrant mushroom soup, and then said casually, "Actually, someone tried to get back at me today." He decided to tell them this to avoid influencing his parents' judgment.

"What?" Albert slammed down his knife and fork, the fork scraping against the plate with a harsh sound. His eyes widened in disbelief. "Such a big thing, and you're only telling me now?"

Adeline paused in her movements, her eyes narrowing almost to slits, like an elegant and alluring black rose revealing its sharp thorns.

"If your father hadn't also been attacked, were you planning to keep this a secret?" she said with a half-smile.

"How could that be! Am I that kind of person?" Owen opened his innocent eyes wide, but the Shafiq couple were already somewhat immune to his act.

Under the persistent questioning of the Shafiqs, Owen was forced to reveal the details of the bookstore. However, he refrained from sharing his own speculations, lest he mislead them.

He finally got some peace and quiet after the main course on the table was replaced with brightly colored desserts.

After enjoying a strawberry pudding, the Shafiq couple went outside to duel. Owen watched with great interest as Mr. Shafiq was thoroughly thrashed, and cheered for his mother's impressive performance.

Then he returned to his room and saw Melete feeding a beetle to Puff.

A long, pink tongue emerged from the pink woolly ball, wrapped around the beetle, and then bounced up and down twice, emitting a satisfied buzzing sound.

"Meow—" Melete turned to look at Owen and meowed earnestly.

"You're planning to call it 'tuanzi'? Hmm... that's quite fitting." Owen smiled indulgently.

He played with the cat and the raccoon for a while before lying down on the bed, closing his eyes, and entering the meditation space to finalize his next plan.

He has never liked being passively attacked; his forte is actively setting traps to lure his enemies in. If the other party hasn't given up on targeting him, making the story unfold according to his own script isn't difficult.

After considering contingency plans for various unforeseen circumstances, Owen opened Tom's diary and wrote "Good evening, Tom" in it.

"Good evening, Owen. Is it already evening? I keep falling asleep and waking up here, I can't tell anything apart." Tom's neat handwriting appeared, looking calm and composed. After accepting reality, he had reverted to being the understanding, gentle, and elegant friend he used to be.

"What's up, Owen?" he asked.

"I've been going through some things lately, and I'd like to hear your thoughts..." Irving wrote simply, "Let's talk in person."

The pages of the diary rustled as Owen ducked and fell into a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. When he came to his senses, he was already standing in Slytherin's Chamber, the enormous Slytherin statue with its emerald-encrusted eyes looking down at them.

"Tsk, speaking of which, Tom, do you remember the contents of the legacy left by Slytherin?" Owen suddenly recalled those destroyed legacies and said in a low voice.

"I remember, but I've only seen part of it." Tom sat leisurely on the stone platform below the statue, his bright black eyes fixed intently on Owen, revealing sincerity and joy.

"How long has it been since we had a conversation like this?" His bright eyes dimmed, making him look incredibly pitiful.

"Hey Tom, are you still trying to seduce me?" Owen said with a grin, lounging on the other side of the stone platform. He was quite relaxed; in his mind's eye, Tom couldn't possibly cause any trouble.

"How can you call it seduction? Aren't we friends, Owen?" Tom said affectionately. "I've always thought we were confidants, true friends who could trust each other wholeheartedly."

Irving gazed intently at him, then suddenly broke into a bright and beautiful smile: "That's right, no one is as compatible as you and me, Tom."

The two exchanged pleasantries in a harmonious atmosphere, each more affectionate and friendly than the last. If an outsider had witnessed this, they would have no doubt that they were best friends.

After a while, they got down to business. Owen recounted what had happened to him, wanting to hear Tom's thoughts. With Tom's intelligence, he might offer some unique insights; even if Tom gave a perfunctory answer, Owen wouldn't lose out.

Tom pondered for a while and offered his own insights. But like Owen, he was utterly perplexed due to a lack of clues.

"You'd better find a way to capture someone and interrogate them, using yourself as bait; that's the easiest way," he concluded. "But be careful."

"That's what I think too," Owen nodded with a smile.

Tom smiled at him, his eyes crinkling slightly. He said softly, "Didn't you want to learn about the Slytherin legacy? Come with me."

He used a password to open the secret passage in the mouth of the Slytherin statue, leading Owen inside, and said, "It seems I really did destroy all the treasures in the Chamber of Secrets, didn't I? I'm also very sorry that we can't see the rest."

His voice echoed hollowly in the enclosed passageway.

Tom skillfully opened the door at the end of the secret passage, revealing a room that resembled a laboratory. Two rows of bookshelves stood against the walls, and the table in the middle was filled with strange and unusual instruments and grotesque specimens.

"These were the only books here originally; everything else I moved in later," Tom said enthusiastically, introducing some of his rather satisfying little inventions to Owen. Most of them were related to dark magic, and the consequences for wizards who became tainted by them were never pleasant.

Irving listened with great interest, expressing genuine admiration for some of them, such as a quill pen that devoured the user's intellect. No matter how cruel and vile they were, they couldn't overshadow Tom's brilliant ideas and extraordinary creativity, especially since Irving now appreciated this cruel beauty.

He also put forward some of his own ideas and creativity, discussing and debating them with Tom. It must be said that he was quite proficient in black magic.

Both were highly capable and had their own principles, and their debates often sparked brilliant ideas. This satisfied them both, and their gazes towards each other became more genuine. They truly had a lot in common.

"By the way, you might like this." Tom smiled mysteriously and took a book from the bookshelf next to him, handing it to him.

Irving took the book, looked at the densely packed books on the shelf, and asked, "Do these all have content?"

Tom shook his head: "Only those I've seen and remember are there; the rest are blank."

Irving nodded regretfully, opened the book in his hand, and found that most of the pages were incomplete, with only a portion being complete.

"A way to increase magic power?" he murmured.

"That's right, I think it's perfect for you." Tom said leisurely, his hands behind his back. "By drawing power from killing, and accumulating it to a certain level, you can trigger a magical surge, helping you complete a new leap in magical power."

He tilted his head slightly to look at Owen, his clear, bright eyes filled with childlike innocence.

"It's really good." Irving curled the corners of his mouth, his eyes somewhat misty.

"I knew you'd like it," Tom said cheerfully.

Owen carefully noted down this spell, which clearly belonged to the most evil category of black magic. After discussing it with Tom for a while, he bid him farewell and opened his eyes in the misty white space.

He took out a piece of paper to jot down the knowledge in his mind, and after carefully studying it, he found it quite interesting.

"Take some time to study it in the wall-facing space."

Owen stretched, gently closed Tom's diary, and returned to his bedroom.

At this moment, the night was tranquil, and the moonlight outside the window was perfect. (End of Chapter)