I, Hogwarts Second Week

——Hogwarts————

In the heavy rain, on the mountains, a wizard wearing a black leather coat and a bowler hat was staring with blazing eyes. looking at Hogwarts Castle in the distance.

He held his wand high in his right hand.

The black veil is flowing out from the tip of the stick.

"Huh~" The man exhaled a breath of hot breath.

Turn around and look at the other end of the mountain. There is an invisible railroad track between the rolling mountains.

That was the only line of communication between Hogwarts and London.

"Yu" time and space distorted, and the man disappeared on the top of the mountain.

The cold rain instantly swallowed up the clearing he had covered.

----London----

Dementors are everywhere!

From heaven to earth.

From forest to lake.

Sirius wrapped himself tightly in the unknown Muggle's coat that he had snatched, and hid in the corner, sticking his head out to look at the dark creatures vigilantly.

There are too many.

Too much.

He frowned.

Azkaban sent so many dementors, wasn't it afraid that the Death Eaters would collectively escape from prison?

"Huh~"

He leaned against the wall. Rain fell from his shoulders.

Running and running all night long had exhausted his energy.

Now he was hungry and tired.

And there are wanted posters for him posted everywhere on the streets, even in the Muggle world!

This made him unable to stop running away for a moment.

"Damn it!" Suddenly a dementor seemed to notice him.

Sirius, who had a premonition of crisis, immediately transformed his Animagus, got into the fence around the corner and disappeared into the heavy rain.

——Diagon Alley——

On the other side, heavy rain poured down.

Owen and Harry all returned to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Merlin's beard, she is so pitiful." Ron sighed with emotion, and then started chattering again as if he had never heard about Hermione's suffering: "Firebolt, Malfoy, Owen, you know what I mean. Right!"

"Boring, what's so good about this thing?" Owen didn't like getting on a broomstick very much, which is why Professor Sprout tried his best to invite him to join the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, but he refused.

"The wizard has to fly by himself! Besides, the Firebolt was originally designed for Quidditch competitions. Do you want to become a professional Quidditch player in the future?"

"Harry has this idea. He is the best seeker. He will definitely join the club after graduation." Before Ron could finish his words, Owen raised his hand and interrupted: "Graduation? What kind of career did you graduate? You didn't kill Voldemort. Did you still want to graduate before?"

"."

Owen's words were like pouring cold water on Harry and the others.

In the second year, due to Dumbledore's intervention, none of the three met Voldemort again.

The shadow that the most dangerous Dark Lord of all time left behind in their first year seemed to have dissipated. Without a strong sense of urgency, they have already begun to imagine the future.

"By the way, Ron, where's that stupid rat?" Owen seemed to suddenly think of something. After asking the owner of the Leaky Cauldron for a glass of lemon juice, he reached out to Ron and asked.

"What are you doing?" Ron stood up warily and retreated behind Harry.

Both hands were firmly covering the right pocket.

"Hylok has lost his appetite recently. I think he may need a toothpaste."

"Are you kidding?" Ron asked with a panicked expression.

"Nonsense, bring it quickly! Be careful, I'll beat you up!" He clenched his fists, looking like he was about to drop a sandbag fist.

"Don't~" Everyone knew Owen's reputation. Faced with his power, Ron had no choice but to submit.

Immediately, he reluctantly took out the limp, dead rat from his pocket.

"Hey, young man, sooner or later you will regret it!" Owen smiled slyly and said to Ron in an old-fashioned tone.

He was suddenly very curious about Ron's expression after seeing Peter Pettigrew.

"Little guy, your lemonade." Old Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, handed a glass of light green, thick lemonade to Owen with great disgust.

This is a bar!

If it weren't for Jin Gallon's sake.

Owen took the lemonade from Old Tom. The water was turbid and there was a lot of lemon pulp floating on it.

It looks pretty good, of course - the prerequisite for swallowing is if you can ignore the cup full of dry and yellow pulp.

"Bring it to you!" After saying that, he snatched the dead mouse from Ron's hand.

Then he stood up and walked past the young wizards towards Diagon Alley.

————

It's raining harder and harder in London. The once busy streets were now deserted.

The merchants even took back the signs, tables and chairs placed outside their doors.

This made the whole street suddenly look much empty.

Owen squeezed the dead rat's head.

My mind gradually became active.

Well, the only reason he's allowed this stinking gutter bastard to survive until now is because he's not a Gryffindor. Nor was he in the same dormitory as Harry.

No need to squeeze into the same bed with some wretched man every day.

Otherwise, he would have died ten thousand times.

In fact, Owen rarely saw this dead rat in school.

After all, Ron couldn't just kick a mouse in his arms, especially when they were taking risks.

So this mouse, it spends most of its time locked in the dormitory. Only on rare occasions would Ron take it out for air.

It was only at this time that if Irving passed by with his hands in his arms, he would bump into this dead rat.

But...

Now that he's been caught, he has to think about it. What value can be squeezed out of this guy.

It is obviously too cheap for him to eat the big melon at once.

Waste can also be reused.

A bastard who knows Animagus is better than trash, right?

Owen used his wand to conjure a transparent umbrella.

The glass of lemonade floated behind him.

Hmmmm - think about it carefully.

This stupid thing stayed with the Weasley family for a good ten years. He was completely destitute, not to mention a gold galleon and probably not even a copper nat.

The only thing Owen could think of was that Peter seemed to know where Voldemort's wand was?

But - what does he want Tom's wand for?

Oh, he has another use, Owen suddenly remembered.

Become his own spy by Voldemort's side.

No, no, no - in just a moment, Owen rejected his idea.

With Voldemort's Legilimency, it was impossible for this guy to hide any secrets.

To go is to give someone a head.

Hmm - but someone seems to be able to.

It seems that his experiment is still in Azkaban.

I had some thoughts in mind.

Owen quickly grabbed the dead rat.

The dead rat is a little depressed!

He knew that Sirius had escaped from prison, so he was uneasy and lived in fear all day long - huh, no wonder he felt depressed.

Well - in this case, why not wake up now!

With this in his mind, Owen sneered, grabbed the lemonade glass behind him, and stuffed the mouse directly into it.

"Zhi Zhi Zhi"

The sudden feeling of suffocation made Peter Pettigrew struggle like crazy.

He wanted to jump out of the water, but the mouth of the cup was blocked by Owen.

Looking at the rat struggling in the transparent water glass.

Owen suddenly had a sense of fun that he had as a child.

It's like watering an ant's nest.

But ants are much more loyal than this mouse, and they will always obey their queen. Rather than a half-hearted betrayal.

"Haha - it's so fun!" He smiled cruelly, holding the wand tightly against the bottom of the cup, and the powerful transformation technique continuously controlled the ups and downs of the surface of the cup. No matter how much the mouse wanted to recover, it couldn't.

"Zhizhizhi~" Inside, the little mouse's struggle became more and more intense.

The fragile glass was like a balloon, constantly inflating, and then returning to its original shape under the suppression of his powerful magic.

The heavy rain in the sky was even worse.

The raindrops fell on the ground and made a rapid drum beat.

This constant pulling lasted for dozens of seconds.

As the struggle in the quilt gradually weakened, Owen gradually reduced the magic power.

"Hmph~ Isn't this full of energy?" The evil ghost from Sphynter showed a bright smile, and his gray eyes were full of ferocity.

The whole body exudes a strange beauty from hell.

The turbid water wetted the evil spirit's hair.

A dirty stream flowed beneath his crotch.

"Click"

Suddenly there was a thunder.

This greasy, dirty, endless alleyway is illuminated clearly.

The rain shimmered, and the walls reflected darkness.

The intertwining of light and shadow, coupled with the drumbeat of rain falling on the ground, and the subtle ferocious laughter, the intricate composition makes this alley seem like a foreground of the gates of hell.

"Why So Serious?"

The evil ghost stretched his head and whispered at the mouth of the bottle.

The cynical tone was like joking with an old friend.

"hey-hey!"

Evil laughter echoed in the alley.

And the mouse finally exhausted his last bit of strength, and his dirty claws hooked feebly on the wall in front of the mouth of the cup. Immediately, he stopped struggling and gradually turned his belly up in the water.

"Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Sure enough, mice are very good at holding their breath!" Owen said with a smile, and then he suddenly loosened his left hand holding the cup.

With a sound of "Bang!", it fell to the ground.

In the next second, the mouse quickly grew in size like an inflated balloon.

First the head, then the body, and finally even the limbs changed from beast to human.

Owen watched the drama of such a dramatic transformation into a living person very carefully.

Until a man with thin hair, many bald spots on the top of his head, dirty body and short limbs appeared.

He has a mouse-like face and a pointed nose, and is missing a finger on his right hand.

"Cough cough cough!" A violent cough resounded in the dim street corner.

It went on for a long time.

It was to the point where Owen was a little impatient.

"If you don't stop, you can die!"

He held the wand and leaned against the wall, speaking softly.

The sudden warning made Peter Pettigrew, a naturally cowardly man, subconsciously hold his breath.

His cheeks were flushed from his rapid breathing.