What do you think is the reason for this?"

Dumbledore looked at him, behind his half-moon eyes, a glint of wisdom.

"It looks like something has been taken away, it can't be a soul, and the soul will be very different from people, just like Voldemort's stupid hair will lose his hair, and it doesn't look like magic, if it's magic, it shouldn't be weak for so long."

The little wizard didn't cast spells to the point of fainting from exhaustion.

Most go to the school infirmary for a night's sleep, and then get a pair of Madam Pomfrey's sticky, smelling potions that smell of rags, and they'll be back to life the next day.

Like Weasley, who continued to be weak for more than a month.

"yes!" The old headmaster muttered.

In an inadvertent moment, he looked back at the petrified old goblin over there, and a trace of anger flashed in his blue eyes.

Did the goblins mistake him for the Blake?

"We'll find out soon."

Following Dumbledore's gaze, Owen also looked that way, and he saw Snape walking over, his eyes full of disgust, because there seemed to be several elven corpses there, shriveled corpses, emitting a foul stench, as if he had been dead for a month.

He pulled out his wand and cast a levitation charm on the old elf, then with a flick of his finger, he shifted it to the black wall.

Owen could probably have guessed what was going to happen to the old guy if Ludo Bagman was to be forced to drop a few drops of truth spit.

Then this goblin must be injected with a truism through the meridians

Hehe-just kidding.

The elixir is such a precious potion, if there is another way to pry its mouth open, it is better not to use it.

It doesn't deserve it.

"But we're not ignorant." Just as Owen was pondering how Snape was going to pry the two guys apart, the old headmaster suddenly spoke.

He took out an ampoule from his wide robe.

"Mr. Victor's research on ancient magic is astonishing! I'm afraid he's surpassed all of us in this regard."

As he spoke, he opened the bottle, tilted slightly, and a bright red liquid flowed out of it, dripping down the wound on Ginny's arm.

"Huh?"

Owen's eyes widened.

The moment the red liquid touched the wound, he actually saw that the wound was slightly bright, and it was a faint silver glow. Flowing blood began to seep into her skin at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Then a miracle happened.

Ginny's skin, which was as pale as paper a second ago, looked like she was about to die, but it was actually flushing again at a speed visible to the naked eye.

It was as if someone had filled her with color with a paintbrush, and in the blink of an eye, the girl looked like an ordinary person just by looking at her appearance.

The wound on the arm also healed in the blink of an eye.

The little girl seemed to be stung, and in the process of healing the wound, her brows furrowed slightly, and her eyelashes trembled.

But it was only temporary, and soon her expression returned to calm, as if she had fallen asleep.

"What the hell?" Owen exclaimed.

"This" Hermione looked at Dumbledore, she thought it was some kind of cure.

Harry followed the professors here. He leaned in, his face also full of surprise.

For what happened to Ginny, he suddenly didn't know why he was a little inexplicable, and his eyes were fixed on this side from beginning to end.

When Dumbledore took out the potion to heal Ginny, Harry looked at the old headmaster with admiration and thanks, but also a little more complaint.

If Professor Dumbledore has a magic potion to heal this wound, why not give Ron some.

Is this a punishment for him?

Harry couldn't help but tilt his head to look at Ron, who was standing side by side with him.

I just saw Ginny covered in blood

As he lay there, he went crazy and was about to pounce, but he was stopped by himself.

Because Harry felt that Dumbledore would have a way.

Now that I look at it, it really is.

For Ron, Harry was in favor of teaching his bewildered friend a lesson.

But, on the other hand, he couldn't help but wonder if Cho Chang was a Hogwarts Warrior, would he tell her about the game?

Whenever he thought of this, Harry couldn't help but come to his senses, he didn't dare to think about it, because he didn't think he would hold back.

On the other side, as Harry was thinking.

Owen looked at Dumbledore with surprise on his face.

Of course he knew what was in the ampoule in the old headmaster's hand.

Because that ampoule was the one he gave Dumbledore yesterday.

"This is the Shenma principle? It's not scientific, it's not magical!"

When did his blood still have this effect?

Owen was stunned!

Then I slashed myself, why didn't I see the wound heal quickly? Co-authoring this miraculous effect is only useful for others and useless for yourself, right?

Uh- no, it should only be useful for the Weasleys, he guessed.

And just when Owen was thinking about it and couldn't figure out the situation, Ron on the side came over.

He craned his neck, his eyes falling on Ginny's, "Professor, my sister. Ahh

Before he could say a word, he was kicked to the ground by Owen in the air.

Taking advantage of this troublemaker to fall, he pressed directly on his knees.

"What are you doing?" Ron is still struggling, but unfortunately Owen is indifferent to it, call it - cut your throat and come back to save you.

Then, taking advantage of his unpreparedness, he urged the Transfiguration Technique, and the seaweed around him suddenly twitched wildly, and then stretched out to tie his hands and feet firmly.

Then, with a thud, he ripped off Ron's clothes.

The wand slid across his palm, and when a few drops of blood oozed slightly, a punch — uh—no—was a blow to his waist.

"Ah————h

Someone screamed like a pig. The miserable voice seemed as if Owen was going to drop him.

The body twisted and struggled, like a caterpillar.

"What's it called!" As he spoke, he slapped him again, ahem—the kind that doesn't have any personal grudges.

"Daddy is giving you a lesson!"

"Your uncle, Owen." Ron cursed, and a cry of pain came from his mouth at the same time, as if the Dark Lord had given him a Heart-Piercing Curse.

"Oops! It's a living tiger!" Owen raised an eyebrow and slapped him again, "It seems to be a little useful!"

「.」

The scene was very spicy, and Owen was just short of that lower whip

Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout both looked away with the corners of their mouths twitching.

The rest of the people present, except for Dumbledore, were smiling all the time, and it was possible that the Headmaster was very experienced in this area, but they might not have used a small leather whip.

As for the other professors, they hid their faces and turned their heads, and an embarrassing atmosphere spread here, and several professors couldn't help but sigh in their hearts, what a young man nowadays - what a bold.

The wizarding world has changed.

The wind is going down, it's really the wind is going down!

Owen didn't pay attention to the professors' gazes, he 'smacked a few slaps, oops—what a relief!'

"Huh? It doesn't work!"

Ron's waist was still bruised, and he was jet black and not at all restored to his original state like Ginny.

"That's the !! you beaten." Harry hurriedly pulled Owen away, and at first, although Ron screamed, his face was becoming normal at a speed visible to the naked eye, and a flush appeared.

Harry thought it was some kind of special treatment.

But it soon became clear that Owen seemed to be only

It's just beating Ron.

Look at what his [True Heroine] has been beaten into.

"Oh! It really works!"

Taking a few steps back, he glanced at Ron's half-dead face, stained with pear blossoms and rain

Then, Owen looked down at his palm very unpleasantly, the wound was slowly healing (he was casting a spell on himself: fast healing), but there were ten thousand grass and mud horses galloping in his heart.

Why?

Why can't you melt with Miss Granger?

Why a bunch of rough guys?

He's on the same page as the Weasleys, isn't he?

On the other side, after Owen finally stopped, the professors began to take a closer look at the hidden place under the lake.

There had never been a legend about the Black Lagoon in the castle, and even the Slytherin Chamber had a few words left, but it was the first time they had seen such a magical place.

"Look there."

Where the old goblin had been, several professors walked side by side.

They were very sure that it was an altar.

A very rudimentary altar.

But the objects that make up the altar look very precious, and in the center is a silver pillar that has been erected, about a dozen feet high, narrow at the top and thick at the bottom, and the professors have reason to believe that it may be a whole piece of Mithril.

This pillar is carved and painted. It is depicted from top to bottom with knives or other things, densely depicted in ancient runi.

At the top, where the Runi script converges, depicts a vague portrait in an abstract style that makes it look more like some kind of terrifying monster.

The monster's body was visibly widened, its eyes were large and disproportionate, and its feathers leaped like flames.

When Owen's eyes were fixed on the monster, his head suddenly ached, as if someone had struck him with a hammer.

Fine sweat seeped from his forehead. In the next second, he seemed to be suddenly obscured by something, as if he saw something, but that moment was very fast, probably only a few frames, and he jumped over at once.

By the time he looked back, Owen was a little untenable.

"What's wrong?" Miss Granger beside her quickly helped him. Worry was written all over his face.

As clever as she certainly saw that the contents of Dumbledore's bottle were Owen's blood, she guessed it when he slit his palm to heal Ron.

She looked up at the statue on the silver pillar, but didn't notice anything unusual.

So she just thinks that Owen has spent too much time trying to heal Ginny and Ron.

"It's fine." He grabbed the little witch's hand, "Maybe she didn't sleep. I've got a cold."

He smiled and didn't say anything more.

On the other side, the professors had come to the edge of the altar.

<divcss=&ot;ntentadv&ot;> Professor Flitwick, wand raised.

Faint blue lights flashed from the tip of his wand, like a searchlight turning on and off.

Everyone knew that he was looking for any magic traps around him.

No wonder the professor was so careful, it was just that altar that was too evil.

The silver pillar, in addition to the evil runifin itself covered with it, also had a chain of iron sticking out from the top.

It was an iron chain about two fingers thick, and the chain passed through the ribs of a dozen elves, hanging them from the pillars, their bodies free of blood, and one of them turned into dried corpses.

The corpses clinged to the pillars, giving the impression that the silver pillars had sucked their blood dry.

The impending evil can't help but be careless on Professor Flitwick's part.

Continuing downward, on the ground is a more complex magic circle.

Hexagonal patterns are intertwined, surrounded by circles of equally esoteric ancient runi scripts.

The magic text shimmered, and a pale blue light shimmered in it.

"Evil! Wicked!"

Professor Flitwick pinched his nose, he was in a terrible mood.

Unlike Hagrid, who hides his bloodline, everyone knows that Professor Flitwick has a bit of goblin blood.

Although the Professor appears to be almost indistinguishable from a human in other respects, such as his appearance, he does not have a large head, a pointed nose and ears, or slender hands and feet.

However, after seeing this group of such evil goblins, the professor's heart still rippled, even if he was as wise as him, he couldn't help but worry that the little wizard would have a grudge against him because of this matter.

"The smell of ancient magic."

Behind him came a lame young man.

"Most of the surrounding magic patterns mean convergence, extraction, and condensation." Victor frowned and said, "Someone pulled something out of these goblins, I guess it's flesh, and gathered it for something."

"Sacrifice?" Professor Flitwick immediately pronounced the word in understanding.

"Come to think yes, that's how they can open the altar."

"Where does the altar connect?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"I don't know, that's not my research direction, in fact, the extremely evil and dark magic of demons, altars, sacrifices, etc., was completely burned at the time of the founding of the International Federation of Wizards, and all books and research reports on this magic were destroyed.

I don't think there are any books like that in the wizarding world today, even if they are long-established wizarding schools like Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, their libraries don't have the slightest information about the magic of sacrifice in the Dark Ages."

"What about the pure-bloods?" Professor Flitwick said.

"I don't think they have either." Victor pulls a booklet out of his pocket, and the booklet floats, as does the self-recording quill, which had been sleeping in a certain piece of paper.

It began to write down all the runi scripts on the earth.

"After so many years, they couldn't have suddenly come up with such an evil magic book at this time, and if they really had, they should have taken it out during the First Wizarding War, when Voldemort was so powerful."

"Hmm!" Professor Flitwick nodded. "Seal this place, we'll just have to study it slowly."

Then he looked to the side again, and looked beyond the altar to a field of abundant water and grass, with a large pile of rubble scattered on the ground.

They are regular in shape, and at first glance they are formed by the cracking of sculptures.

Immediately, the professor cast a repair spell, and sure enough, these were parts of a certain statue, and they had just been destroyed. It's not the years that knock them down.

The stones began to reassemble.

It's as if you pressed the back button, and everything changed to what it was.

"What is this?"

Professor Flitwick looked surprised.

And then the other professors noticed it too.

They walked over, gathered together, and countless pairs of eyes fell on the four statues.

Hogwarts Founder Statue!

And it's a statue of the founder of Hogwarts in his youth.

The statue must have cast a powerful protective charm, and it has not been weathered for more than a thousand years, and the texture of the face, clothing, and even skin is clearly present.

They looked to be in their twenties.

At that time, the founders had not yet established Hogwarts, and they were working together, just like the adventure party in a fantasy story. Traveled throughout Europe.

Four gifted wizards, four young but ambitious wizards.

It's like Dumbledore meeting Grindelwald, connected with a fiery connection.

The four statues, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw walked in the middle, one holding a golden cup and looking happily at the girl on the side, as if about to discuss with each other what to eat for the evening, and the other with a calm face and a book manuscript in his hand, full of helplessness

looked at the girl who was looking down on herself, twittering the recipe.

On the other side of the two, next to Hufflepuff, stood Gryffindor, carrying a sword, his eyes looking away, wondering if he was looking for grass or something

Beside Ravenclaw stood Slytherin, clutching a parchment scroll in his hand, but instead of keeping his eyes on it, he tilted his head and looked at Gryffindor like an idiot, the corners of his mouth raising into a mocking smile.

Lifelike, the statue seems to come to life.

You can still hear the laughter of the four of them.

It's like the dappled light shining through the leaves, just as it was thousands of years ago.

"This Sculpture"

There has never been a portrait of the four founders in Hogwarts when they were younger.

They had the impression that several of the founders seemed to be the same as when they were in the sixtieth year, and perhaps Ravenclaw was luckier, as the first of the four founders to die, she did not leave her gray-haired appearance to posterity.

Other than that, the rest of the portraits, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are mostly middle-aged, and Slytherin, the only portrait of him hanging in the Slytherin common room, looks like an old dragon clock.

Today, sculptures of the four founders from their youth appear in front of you.

Suddenly, the wizards present realized that the legendary wizards of the legendary legend and the founders of Hogwarts were also young, frivolous, and like the wind, they could go wherever they wanted.

"Here—"

Professor Flitwick frowned, he couldn't guess what this place, this underwater chamber, was, who created it.

The statue in front of me must have been carved a thousand years ago, because at least someone who had seen the founder when he was young could have carved such a sculpture with such charm. Imagination alone can't be so vivid.

The other professors, Professor McGonagall, couldn't guess what this place was.

Snape looked calmly, as if he wasn't interested in any of this.

Only Owen, he noticed.

This is a mountain-wide, inconspicuous hint.

"This is Helga Hufflepuff's final resting place." Owen took Hermione's hand and walked slowly, with Dumbledore, Harry, and Ron hunched on his back.

Ginny's breathing had stabilized and her body had recovered as before, but she was probably mentally frightened and did not wake up for a while, Dumbledore investigated, and the girl was just asleep.

"Owen—"

Hearing Owen's words, Professor Sprout's eyes widened, and he looked around incredulously, at the seaweed swaying in the wind, and at the big tree.

Gradually, she came to her senses.

It's-

The professor crouched down slowly, his fingers brushing over a seaweed.

"It's not seaweed." She said, "This is wheat without ears of wheat."

Then she pointed to the tree, "Is that—the apple tree?"

The professor had never seen such a huge apple tree before, and he hesitated for a moment.

"It's an apple tree." Owen replied earnestly. "The cheapest fruit in Europe – because everyone can afford it."

Suddenly, a solemn wind blew from this resting place buried deep under the black lake.

"The great Hufflepuff, the last legacy of Hogwarts."

"It's a field of wheat and an apple tree."

Countless branches and leaves swayed in the wind, and the shiny leaves shone brightly, like mirrors on the branches.

It's as if they're telling a story from a thousand years ago.

The story is like a low musical instrument, the sound of the rustling of leaves is whispered, accompanied by sadness and brilliance, giving birth to bursts of sound.

It spread, and the sound seemed to pass through the dome, through the Black Lake, and resounded throughout Hogwarts.

"Oops!"

At some point, a dark-toned branch stretched out from the top of Owen's head, and the young shoots swayed slightly

, and then an apple fell from the trunk of the tree and smashed right on his head.

It was as if the Hufflepuff lady was rewarding him for his ingenuity.

In a trance, he even heard a soft, hearty laugh in his ears, and a phrase, 'Hufflepuff plus five points.'

In an instant, the concern that spanned the millennium fell on Owen's shoulders, and time blew that simple emotion into an inflated one, and then suddenly exploded, and people's emotions were like this balloon, as if they had reached a certain peak, and then burst out.

Let everyone be moved.

Miss Granger even had a sour nose.

After a while, Owen held the apple, rubbed his head, looked at the apple tree with a smile, and whispered, "Thank you, Professor."

Soon, the wind became stronger, the foliage began to swing violently, and the rustling sound became louder, as the waves crashed against the shore.

It was also the Hufflepuff lady who gave him a response.

"Oh my God—"

"Incredible."

Harry and Ron spoke with shocked eyes.

They felt as if their bodies and minds had been purified.

The professors, led by Professor Sprout, including Dumbledore, all looked solemn.

They faced the apple tree that Ms. Hufflepuff had incarnated incarnate and took off their hats—bowing slightly in salute.

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