I, Hogwarts Second Week

Chapter 570 Heroic Spirits - Meet Dumbledore Again

The personality and memory of a portrait need to be constantly injected by the wizard. A portrait of a wizard drawn when he was young can keep pace with the person as long as new magic is continuously injected.

This kind of loss can only be caused by the wizard no longer injecting magic into the portrait.

And the most likely reason for this is the wizard's death.

"Death," Principal Dexter's words echoed in the empty hall, with an indescribable solemnity and sorrow, "For those wizards who set out on the journey to the God-granted Tower, it is both the end and the test. Every step they take is on the edge of life and death, using their flesh and blood to build a defense line to prevent the wanton expansion of darkness.

Regulus, the brave child, is one of them."

Owen listened quietly, with complex emotions flashing in his eyes, but not fear. Several years of growth and experience have long taught him the courage to face the unknown.

Moreover, not all wizards who entered the God-granted Tower lost their lives. At least her mother came out alive.

"Sir." He said slowly, "Has Principal Dumbledore been here?"

"Well - did you guess?" said Principal Dexter. "He came here three times. Two of them were with a wizard named Grindelwald."

"Grindelwald? My grandpa too." Owen repeated the name in a low voice, and an inexplicable emotion surged in his heart.

He had never told himself.

"The headmaster of Hogwarts fulfilled his responsibility. Just like the first time you came here - his promise - before I fell, my students would never embark on that absurd fate alone."

Owen took a deep breath and tried to calm the waves in his heart.

"Well, now it's my turn." He said.

"I'm ready."

"Ready to live, or die."

In the hall, there was a dead silence, as if even time had frozen at this moment.

Principal Dexter stared at Owen quietly, and his eyes, which had experienced vicissitudes and seemed to be able to see through the long river of history, were slightly tearful at this moment. These tears are not only a reluctance to the young people who are about to embark on an unknown journey, but also a deep remembrance of the countless heroic sacrifices in the past.

His heart was filled with complex emotions. Those young wizards who once shone in front of him and had infinite possibilities were like the brightest stars in the night sky, desperately throwing themselves into the torrent of fighting against darkness.

Some turned into brilliant fireworks, illuminating the sky; others were like weak flames, which still flickered tenaciously despite the wind and rain, but the light was no longer dazzling, and even shaky, and could be extinguished in the endless darkness at any time.

He had figured out a long time ago why Ms. Hufflepuff would ask him before her death that a Hufflepuff wizard be stationed here.

Watching young lives go to death. To save the world in the unknown darkness, year after year, until the end of time, this is not glory at all, but a torture.

Only the gentle Hufflepuffs can persist for so long without going crazy.

Only Hufflepuffs would foolishly keep their original intentions, even after going through hardships.

Badgers are stronger than lions, snakes, and eagles.

"I wish you good health." Principal Dexter finally spoke, with a hint of sob in his voice.

Then, the sapphire-like ground under Owen's feet seemed to be stirred by some force like ink.

The light flowed and gathered delicately like running water, and finally woven into a brilliant galaxy, spanning the sky, as if pouring all the mysteries of time and space here, as if the secrets of the entire universe were condensed here, ready to be revealed to him.

The light of the galaxy became more and more dazzling, with stars twinkling like countless eyes in the night sky, gently and mysteriously wrapping Owen in it.

Suddenly, he felt an irresistible force rising from the soles of his feet, as if being pulled by an invisible vortex, and his body sank involuntarily.

At that moment, he seemed to have crossed the boundaries of time and space and fell into the abyss of another dimension - it was a lonely, dark, and deep world, like the unknown area hidden under the Black Lake.

When Owen opened his eyes again, the scene in front of him was completely different.

Everything around him was no longer familiar to him.

Owen stood up slowly, the sand under his feet was soft, with a hint of coolness penetrating through the soles of his shoes and reaching his heart. The air around him was filled with a faint, indescribable smell, neither the salty and humid sea breeze nor the dusty smell of the land, but a strange smell mixed with antiquity and decay.

He looked around and found that he seemed to be on a small island.

The area of ​​the island was very small, much smaller than the Black Lake.

It was dark outside, like ink and smoke.

There should be a large-scale building on the island, but now it has become a ruin.

And it seems that there has been a fierce battle here, and the ruins are full of scars.

Just as he was immersed in his thoughts, a faint sound of wind broke the silence of the night, bringing a distant whisper, the sound was sometimes far away, sometimes near, like a ghost whispering in his ear.

Owen involuntarily walked in the direction of the sound, passed through a ruined area, and came to a relatively intact stone staircase.

The stone steps lead to the highest point of the ruins. Every step on the stone steps seems extremely heavy. As the height increased, the whispers became clearer, until he stood on the top of the ruins, and his eyes suddenly opened up - in the middle of an open space, stood a half-ruined stone tablet with ancient runes engraved on it. It shines with a faint blue light, like the brightest star in the night sky.

Owen approached the stone tablet and stretched out his hand to gently touch the runes. A warm and powerful force instantly poured into his body, followed by a series of memory fragments, flooding in like a tide.

He saw many illusory figures.

There were many he could name.

Headmaster Brigid, Chronos Stewart, and the young sixteen-year-old Weasley heir, Galahad Weasley.

There were more figures he couldn't name.

What these people have in common is that they possess ancient magic power. No matter how they obtain the ancient magic power, whether they inherit it, rely on magic props, or other methods. And they all sleep here.

These memories are the summary of their short lives.

Full of sacrifice.

Owen didn't have time to digest any more.

Because the malice from the darkness has surged forward.

"call--"

As Owen sighed, the Phoenix Crystal Wand appeared out of thin air in his palm, as if responding to some kind of call, exuding a faint warm light.

He lowered his head and gently held his other hand on his frown, trying to sort out the chaotic memories.

These memories came in like a tide, mixed with fragments of the past, unsolved mysteries, and deep emotions, making his heart turbulent and unable to calm down.

Until he saw the countless wands lying at his feet, beside the half-ruined stone monument, his heart suddenly calmed down.

"Yuanliu·Creating Star Rain."

"Illusion Body Illusion Spell."

"Yuanliu·Creating Star Rain."

Two Owens suddenly appeared on top of the ruins.

They all held their wands high.

Staring coldly into the boundless darkness.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew up in this strange place. Perhaps it was because the Phoenix Wand spit out too many galaxies and squeezed the sky, causing the air pressure to be affected in some way.

Those winds, carrying the dust that had been silent for a long time in the ruins, shuttled between the mottled carvings of the stone tablets, blowing through Owen's long hair as pure as snow, and seemed to blow through the remaining memories of countless able people and lofty ideals over the past thousands of years. Thoughts and dreams.

Vaguely, Owen seemed to hear the whispers of the surrounding stars.

He heard a familiar voice.

"You can't help them."

Owen turned his head sharply, his almond-shaped eyes tightened in surprise, and Albus Dumbledore suddenly appeared beside him at some point.

The old principal stood straight and wore a flowing dark blue robe.

"Professor?" There was a hint of confusion and confusion in Owen's voice. He wanted to say something, but he was speechless. The sight in front of him was so shocking that he almost forgot how to organize his words.

But then, his gaze crossed Dumbledore's shoulder and fell on the half-destroyed stone tablet.

The stone tablet was emitting a soft milky white light at this moment, like the gentlest moonlight in the night sky. Light balls kept jumping out of it, and then condensed into specific human shapes in the air - those were all familiar faces in his memory. Those ancient able men and women who sacrificed their lives here to resist the spread of darkness. Among them are successors and wizards with powerful magic. Every name is qualified to be engraved on the monument of history.

"I didn't want to help them." Owen retracted his gaze, glanced at the heroic souls rushing into the darkness like sparks, and said calmly.

"I just"

"I'm a little unwilling. I'm a little painful. I feel like it's not worth it." Dumbledore said calmly.

He stretched out his illusory hand and patted Owen's head gently.

"Owen."

"Do you know why Professor Quirrell can't accept Harry touching him?" Dumbledore suddenly changed the topic and asked a seemingly irrelevant question.

Without waiting for Owen to answer, he continued: "Because of his mother. Lily Potter, she sacrificed herself because her love was stronger than Voldemort."

"You have known this truth from beginning to end."

Dumbledore looked at him, "Child, do you really understand?"

Owen was silent, his eyes following the ancient souls that shuttled between the ruins and the darkness. They were fighting against the malice of the darkness.

Those transformed monsters, those abominable beasts beyond his imagination, were dissipating one by one.

Above the sky, the creative star shower cast by Owen is still continuing, and the starlight is like rain, falling on this forgotten land.

That was the galaxy created by his spell.

However, at this moment, Owen felt an unprecedented throbbing.

He suddenly realized that compared to the empty galaxy, the milky-white heroes under the galaxy seemed to be brighter.

"Why did they show up?" Owen finally spoke, breaking the silence, with a hint of eagerness and desire in his voice.

"Why did you show up?"

"Is this just my imagination?"

He did not answer Dumbledore's question directly, but threw out all the doubts in his heart in one breath.

"This is certainly not a fantasy," Dumbledore said gently.

"Because those who love us never really leave us. You will always find them."

"As for why I am here." The old principal said, then looked around, "Hey, I was just about to ask you, why do you say we are here?"

Hearing this, Owen frowned, and after thinking for a while, he said, "Because of ancient magic? The ancient magic left by the heroic souls who died here bravely was stimulated by me? The specific reason may still be related to the principle of causality. You are here because some of your magic is left here. I heard from Principal Dexter that you came here three times. More than those heirs in the past. Although you left this place alive, you also left magic behind?"

"When did you become as boring as an old man?" Dumbledore suddenly said. "Think about your age, you are only seventeen years and two months old. Child."

"." Owen was silent.

After a moment, he raised his head again, "You are here, they are here. It's because of love. The heroes who save the world love everyone in this world. I need them, so they appear?"

Hearing Owen's answer, Dumbledore's smile became more obvious, "Good answer."

"Remember, child, be full of love for stardust.

If you can do this, you can reach the other side of the stars.

Don't make the same mistake again."

"What do you mean?" Owen frowned. He hated Dumbledore for treating him like Harry the Riddler.

Riddler is the most annoying thing.

"You will understand, but not now. I gave the most important thing to others."

"." Owen rolled his eyes at his headmaster. Before Dumbledore became more annoying, he asked again: "About Grandpa, about the old wand and Harry. You"

"Oh-Deathly Hallows." Dumbledore's face changed slightly when he mentioned this name, and Owen was happy to see that the smile on his face disappeared.

"Yes." The old headmaster's expression was indifferent and full of sadness.

"Hallows, Hallows! Bait for fools. I used it as bait. Hid the really important things.

And Gale."

"Child. We are all old." Dumbledore said, he took a deep breath, "He agreed. We all made our own choices."

"So he will lose his life?"

"I didn't choose him originally."

"You chose Snape originally." Owen blurted out.

Dumbledore opened his mouth, surprised that the child in front of him knew all this.

He had no way to answer this question.

Because someone has to sacrifice.

Someone's soul has to sink into the abyss.

"After this, will it be my turn?"

"To die in the right way?" The boy said bitterly.