A ruined Hogwarts

The time has entered October, a damp and cold air permeates the venue, and the continuous rain is even more freezing to the bone.

A cold suddenly broke out in the school, leaving the school nurse Madam Pomfrey in a hurry. Fortunately, her refreshing potion had an immediate effect, but the rain in recent days still made people's mood less clear. Even Professor Snape was more diligent in deducting points from Gryffindor.

Owen accidentally fell into the trap. When he sneezed in the auditorium, he was caught on the spot by Madam Pomfrey, who was incompatible with influenza, and forced to drink a glass of refreshing potion. Smoke poured out of his ears for the next few hours, and his pale cheeks turned a bright pink.

It stands to reason that after undergoing a dark magic transformation last year, coupled with the influence of Voldemort's weird potion, Owen's physical condition has undergone some kind of change, and he should be less prone to colds. This situation now makes him wonder if the diary has secretly absorbed his life force, but he usually guards it closely, and Tom should not take advantage of it - whether it is him or not, Owen has silently recorded it for him in his heart. One stroke.

During this time, Owen and Tom's relationship "heated up dramatically" and they seemed to have become good friends who talked about everything. The two of them really got along well with each other. Whether Owen asked about study problems or talked about boring trivia, Tom could always pick up the conversation, make pertinent suggestions, and be just right informed and interesting, making people feel very comfortable.

It has to be said that Tom is really good at making himself liked by anyone. If Owen hadn't already known his true identity, he might have been deceived and regarded the other person as a confidant - just imagine, who can refuse a considerate friend who can be carried with him?

Of course, Irving has always had a popular charm. He showed Tom the image of an excellent little Slytherin wizard, smart and studious, elegant and calm, calm and self-possessed, knowing how to assess the situation but not being timid and afraid of getting into trouble, and he would give the other person full understanding and respect, just like the most caring person. friend.

As a result, the two guys with their own thoughts showed each other their most charming sides, carefully hiding their sharp claws, dancing gorgeously in the music called falsehood, just waiting for the moment when Tu Qiongdeng saw them.

Owen's life is very peaceful, but that doesn't mean that others are too. To be honest, the wizarding world has been making headlines recently, and the entertainment life of wizards has become more colorful.

Ever since that confinement, Draco had been obsessed with fighting Lockhart. After writing a lot of letters home to get his father to fire Lockhart in vain, he began to use his pocket money to bribe some newspaper writers and let them spare no effort to write black articles under the guidance of Owen's unintentional words. Lockhart.

With Draco's interference, wizarding publications such as "Wizard Weekly" and "Magic World Today" are full of Lockhart's black material, and even the "Daily Prophet" has begun to appear some unclear information. Chu rumors. Some people who were already dissatisfied with Lockhart or had competitive relationships jumped out to add fuel to the fire, and the momentum gradually began to unstoppable.

Lockhart's fans were naturally not to be outdone, and the two sides launched vigorous scolding wars in relevant publications, which enriched the wizards' lack of entertainment life and greatly stimulated the sales of various newspapers and periodicals. Even the number of owls flying in the sky every day has increased several times. It is said that the owls that were tired from delivering messages had a rare "crash" accident in the sky.

The Quibbler, which has always been filled with all kinds of bizarre remarks, is not to be outdone, claiming that Gilderoy Lockhart is actually the drummer of a goblin band, and he infiltrates the wizarding world in order to subvert the rule of the Ministry of Magic and lower the reputation of wizards. IQ... Interestingly, this rhetoric was unexpectedly popular with many wizards, causing the sales of "The Quibbler" to surge. It has to be said that goblins are indeed unpopular.

Lockhart, who is surrounded by all kinds of dirty information, has been in a state of distress recently. Letters are flying into his office every day, including letters of comfort from fans, questions and threats from scumbags, and a lot of yelling. letter. The disgraced Lockhart began to refuse to receive any letters for the first time, and even the shining smile that had always been on his face dimmed.

Draco became more and more complacent, leading Crabbe and Goyle around in front of Lockhart's office all day long. It's a pity that Lockhart always locked himself in his office and didn't notice Draco's show of force, otherwise he would be so angry that he would recite dozens of oblivion spells to him.

Harry, who had been entangled for a long time, finally got rid of Lockhart's mental pollution. His campus life finally got back on track, and he did not hear any unexplained whispers in the castle. Just when he was happily preparing to embrace a peaceful and peaceful daily life, he was unexpectedly admitted to the school hospital.

During a Quidditch training in early October, Harry's broomstick suddenly lost control in mid-air and took him straight into the wall at the edge of the Quidditch pitch. His cheek made close contact with the stone wall, and an emoticon was printed on the wall. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey's wonderful rejuvenation finally saved his nose.

But the broomstick he had only used a few times did not survive the disaster. It smashed into pieces on the wall and was too rough to use for sweeping the floor.

On this day, Owen and Draco came to the school hospital to visit him. As soon as they opened the ward door, they saw Harry sitting on the hospital bed, caressing his broken broomstick with a sad look on his face. and melancholy, with moist eyes, as if remembering a lost lover.

After hearing the sound of the door opening, Harry instinctively turned his head and looked over. Facing the people standing blankly at the door, his resentful and affectionate idiot expression suddenly turned expressionless. He flipped the broom fragments in his hand to the floor as if nothing had happened, then lay down smoothly, pulled up the quilt and covered his face, pretending that no one saw what happened just now.

"Hahaha..." Blaise laughed on the spot, holding his stomach, "Don't hide it, Harry, everyone knows that you treat your broom as your lover!"

"Look, don't you want to use the broomstick my father sponsored for the hospital team?" Draco raised his chin, "You can use it as your own...but remember to take good care of it, otherwise I will find you." You lose money."

"My broomstick won't go out of control for no reason. Someone must have put a curse on it!" Harry stopped pretending to be dead, lifted up the quilt covering his face, and abruptly changed the topic.

"I guess it's the Gryffindor team's revenge." Draco said slowly, "You know, they were defeated by us not long ago..."

"Impossible, the person who plotted against me definitely wanted me to die!" Harry said, "Those people in Gryffindor wouldn't do such a heavy trick." He raised his hand and touched his strong nose. At one point he would lose it completely.

"And it's not easy to interfere with a broomstick. It requires profound magical attainments, which ordinary students can't do." Blaise nodded in agreement.

"Owen, can you do it?" Harry looked at Owen, who was leaning silently against the door, and suddenly asked curiously. He never understood Irving's level of strength, as if nothing could stop him.

"Why are you asking me this?" Owen raised his eyebrows, and then said nonchalantly, "Probably." He does have many methods to do it, such as his "Gathering as One" and what he recently learned A few spells.

"Instead of being curious about this, it's better to think about who wants to harm you." He waved his hand with a smile.

Several young wizards in the room began to speculate on this matter, until they were interrupted by a "click" sound. I saw Colin Creevey leaning outside the window, holding a camera to secretly take pictures. When he noticed that everyone was looking over, he immediately ran away without looking back. His movements were so skillful that it was not the first time he had done this.

"Colin..." Harry slammed the bed silently. He really had no idea about this little fan.

When Owen and the others walked out of the ward, they met Ginny in the corridor who came to visit. The little girl was wandering outside hesitantly with a bouquet of flowers in her hand.

"Harry, your little girlfriend is here to see you!" Blaise shouted with a smirk.

Ginny froze suddenly and glared at him, her cheeks turning as red as her hair.

"Hmph." Draco snorted arrogantly, raised his chin and commented without saltiness: "Harry's eyesight is really not that good."

"It's better than someone just grunting like a pig all day long." Ginny retorted, flicking her hair and striding into the ward.

"Her!" Draco's eyes widened in annoyance.

"Okay, let's go." Owen shook his head in amusement, and he and Blaise dragged Draco away.

After returning to the common room, Owen stood in a daze facing the flames in the fireplace for a while, then took out Tom's diary from his pocket and started writing in it.

"Tom, I want to ask you something." It's time to show off.

"I'm more than happy to answer your questions, if I know." Tom's answer was still so understanding.

Owen put his left hand on his chin, smiled and pondered for a moment, and then wrote in beautiful handwriting: "Tom, I want to ask you if you know... Horcruxes."

This time, Tom was silent for a long time, so long that Owen almost thought he would never speak again. It wasn't until Melete, who was lying on the table, started to yawn and scratch her neck with her hind legs that heavy words slowly appeared on the blank page: "This is not a Defense Against the Dark Arts subject."

"Ah, I saw it in the book, but I didn't quite understand it, so I just wanted to ask you." Owen wrote slowly, with a faint smile on his lips.

Tom was silent for a while, and the black font that appeared again seemed stiff and cold, not as graceful and smooth as before: "When did you first know about it, Owen?"

"what do you know?"

"Don't pretend to be stupid!" The diary suddenly started to flip as if being blown by a strong wind, and a wave of magic suddenly burst out, seeming to suck in everything around it.

However, the surrounding environment did not change at all, and the suction of the diary seemed to only appear in Owen's senses. He felt a strong pulling force pulling his consciousness forward, and his body seemed to leave the chair, falling headfirst into a swirling circle of colors, lights and shadows.

Owen's body suddenly fell down on the table, his head resting on the diary, as if he fell into a deep sleep. Melete on the side suddenly jumped up and rubbed her head against his cheek, but did not wake him up. Kitty Tanuki hesitated for a moment, looking at the diary on the table with her golden eyes. Then she bit a corner of the diary and threw it into the flames of the fireplace...

After feeling his feet touch the hard ground, Owen opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings, and found that he was standing in a huge, empty space, with darkness in all directions. There was no light here, but it didn't affect his ability to see everything around him clearly.

"I didn't expect Tom to have such an ability?" He frowned and instinctively reached out for his wand, but found nothing. He looked down at his right hand, and wisps of black mist emerged from his palm along with his will.

Owen clenched his fists, closed his eyes again and felt the space facing the wall. A relaxed smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, and then Shi Shiran looked at the environment here with his hands behind his back.

A slender and tall figure slowly walked over from the distance. Only when he got closer did Owen see his appearance clearly. He looked about sixteen or seventeen years old, wearing a Slytherin school robe, with shiny black hair, pale complexion, and handsome enough to make little witches scream.

"Tom?" Owen smiled and waved. Sure enough, only such a villain can make the Yangou people want to rebel against the camp.

Tom just squinted at him quietly and said softly: "Now, continue our conversation, Owen. When did you first know about this?"

"Know what?" Owen asked innocently.

"Horcrux." Tom looked him up and down with cold eyes.

"I'm just asking if you know this term. Why are you so impatient? Wait, could it be that your... diary is a Horcrux?" Owen looked at him in horror and took a step back. Although acting may not seem necessary in the current situation, teasing the other person always puts people in a good mood.

Tom's expression was still cold, with a "see if I believe it or not" look. He paused and suddenly said: "Forget it, no matter how you know it, you won't remember anything after today."

"Can you erase my memory?" Owen tilted his head, "Are you sure you can do it in your current situation?"

"This is my world, you can't use any magic." Tom smiled elegantly and arrogantly, and a magic wand slowly appeared in his hand, "Although I don't have much power now, and the means I can use are limited, I can only Roughly tear apart your consciousness, maybe you will forget more things, and I will fall into a long sleep..."

"But it's all worth it to keep the secret, right?" Tom's voice was low and magnetic, with a hint of coaxing.

"Then why don't you kill me? Dead people can keep secrets best." Owen suggested with a serious face, "Oh, I understand, if I die, your diary will definitely be sent to Dumbledore ...In fact, you don’t even have the ability to kill me now.”

"You are very smart, Owen, I admit, you are very similar to me." Tom looked at him with some regret, "It's a pity, it's rare to meet someone who is not so stupid."

"Then why don't we cooperate? What's the benefit of losing both sides?" Owen said with a smile.

"It's a tempting offer, but the secret of the Horcrux cannot be known to another person." Tom said slowly, raising the wand in his hand towards Owen.

Looking at the tip of the staff so close at hand, Owen showed a bright smile. What he is least afraid of is the magic of consciousness. Of course, this does not mean that he wants to experience it.

Cold and ominous black mist emerged from around him, and almost instantly condensed into an evil black shadow in front of him, suddenly rushing towards Tom. The wide back hem of the black cloak fluttered in mid-air, seeming to cut open the surrounding space and make this dark world unstable.

Tom was caught off guard but quickly moved aside, looking at this scene with a surprised expression. Owen did not control the Black Demon Guard to continue attacking, but let it float beside him. The two people looked at each other, and the atmosphere gradually turned from tense to calm.

"Dark Guard..." Tom finally looked seriously at Owen, as if he had just met the little wizard in front of him on the first day. "I didn't expect you to have completed this magic. It's amazing. It seems that I have always underestimated you."

"Do you want to continue to deal with me? I don't mind trying it to see if it can destroy you." Owen said jokingly with a smile, his dark eyes seemed to be filled with endless malice, "After all, it is very good at dealing with souls, and you seem to It won't take long." He had already reached a closer connection with the Black Demon Guard, whether it was at the level of consciousness or soul, which is why he was able to summon it here.

Speaking of which, he also wanted to thank Voldemort for his teachings.

Tom's expression hardened, then became calm again. He dissipated the wand in his hand into the air and said softly: "Very good, then we can have a good talk. I have always believed that only equal parties are qualified to negotiate. Maybe you don't know, without me With my permission, you can never leave here..."

Before he finished speaking, Owen waved to him and said, "Sorry, I have to go out and comfort my cat first. We'll talk later. Bye..." His figure disappeared into the space in the blink of an eye, politely and politely. The playful voice was still faintly echoing around.

Tom was stunned for a moment, and his expression turned completely gloomy.

Owen entered the space facing the wall without any hindrance, and then returned to his body. Being able to sense the space facing the wall was his biggest reliance on being confident just now. He opened his eyes, held Melete in his arms and comforted him for a while, and then remembered to take the diary out of the fireplace.

After cleaning the ashes-stained diary, he slowly opened the pages, and Tom's handwriting emerged impatiently: "What do you want to do?"

"Just asking you a question, Tom, you're just too impatient," Irving wrote. "I thought we were friends. Maybe I should have asked a different question: Do you know the despicable Herbo?"

"He's the creator of the Horcrux-making method," Tom responded.

"Yeah, I think he's not dead yet," Owen playfully wrote, "and at Hogwarts."