Struggling to survive at Hogwarts

Chapter 341 Surrender

Hermione's learned the art of propaganda warfare too!

This was the first thought that popped into Thea's mind when she saw the thick stack of colorful magazines in front of her.

A closer look at the title revealed that Hermione did not disappoint Thea.

"An exclusive reveal of the past and present lives of the savior and the unspeakable!"

"Shocking! The truth behind the savior's disruption of someone else's wedding is actually..."

"The reason the wizarding world is beyond saving is that the savior fell in love with the Dark Lord!"

Thea: "...???"

When she saw the last headline, even Thea, who prided herself on her extensive knowledge, was stunned for a moment.

Harry and... Voldemort?

Who came up with this title?

How can you come up with such a catchy title? Are you out of your mind?

Just as Thea's thoughts were drifting further and further away, Voldemort's cold snort instantly brought Thea back to her senses.

"Thea, is there anything you want to say?"

The blatant questioning and suspicion were undisguised, and the chilling killing intent made Thea feel as if she had fallen into an ice cave.

Fortunately, Thea had grown accustomed to his unpredictable moods over the years; after all, he wouldn't kill her outright, at most he'd imprison her.

Isn't that what he's doing now...?

Caught off guard by the tiny "office," Thea gritted her teeth inwardly:

"It's just a desperate act."

Thea's tone softened, "They should have received news of the Death Eaters' large-scale gathering as well. To weaken their forces, they naturally chose me—"

"This is the one who has incurred their deepest hatred... their adversary."

"As for—Blake's old house?"

Thea flipped through the magazines on the table and said sincerely:

"A trap specifically set for me, coupled with this media frenzy—this is a provocation tactic—"

"I want to go in and take a look."

As Thea spoke, she raised her head, revealing her face, which bore a striking resemblance to Voldemort, to him.

He saw Thea's face clearly now.

Thea also took the opportunity to see the weighing of options, hesitation, and the pitifully small amount of surprise in Voldemort's eyes.

Would he really let me step into that blatant trap?

Thea's mind was preoccupied with this question.

Can I trust her?

This work is somewhat similar to mine; it's my greatest work, the one closest to success...

At the same time, Voldemort was also asking himself the same question.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

While this seemingly artificial father and daughter were sparring, a large group of people were also busy at Blake's old house.

"Damn it! Put down that vase! It's far more valuable than what's around your neck!"

"And you! You rude redhead! Put down that bread! I won't allow anyone to stick jam on my favorite sofa!"

"You bunch of bandits! Is it so hard to even understand the phrase 'handle with care'?!"

"Shut up, Madam! Please rediscover your long-forgotten manners. Can't an old woman living in a picture frame stop pointing fingers at us living people?!"

The long-dormant Black once again welcomed a group of long-lost "bandits," and the person busier than Harry and his friends in cleaning was none other than Old Lady Black's mouth...

God knows why she was so energetic; her chatter never stopped from the moment Harry and the others came in, but thankfully, at least her tone wasn't as sharp as before.

But... it's still very noisy.

"Shut up, brat! My manners are reserved for those who deserve them, not for a bunch of clumsy thugs and wedding-crashers!"

A thug who ruins someone else's wedding?

rogue?

Disrupting someone's wedding?

A few highly suggestive words instantly pulled Harry back to that unbearable afternoon.

孽 孽!

He shouldn't have agreed to Hermione's unreliable "propaganda war" idea!

That's great!

Everyone in the wizarding world, including the portrait hanging on the wall, knows he's a rogue who destroys other people's happiness!

"Ahhh!"

As Harry screamed in despair, Hermione's movements became even more swift, as if she wanted to leave afterimages as she swung the rag in her hand.

“Ron—”

"Wrap that tattered portrait around the curtains!!!"

"Okay, okay!"

Feeling guilty, Ron immediately dropped the mop he was holding and pounced on the portrait like a hungry wolf.

"That's hilarious! Even a thug can feel guilty? I thought your skin was thick enough to stop Avada Kedavra!!!"

"—Ron!!!"

Old Mrs. Black kept calling him a rogue, which broke Harry's composure on the spot. But as a living person, Harry could only physically shut her up by wrapping the portrait around it.

Ron, sensing Harry's breakdown, suppressed his schadenfreude while frantically shouting:

"Right away! I'll do it as soon as possible!"

After the chaos, the old house finally quieted down. Ron, who almost burst out laughing, forced himself to remain calm.

"Hey bro, the second floor hasn't been cleaned yet—"

"Help! Just kill me already!"

The thought of the second floor, and even other floors, where portraits would pop up calling him a "pervert"—

Harry felt a little suffocated.

Harry even wanted to run out and fight Voldemort right now, at least his reputation after death would be better than "a scoundrel who ruined someone else's wedding"!

and many more!

wedding?

What kind of wedding?

Isn't this an engagement party?

"hey-hey!"

Hearing his good friend's question, Ron scratched his head sheepishly, "Isn't it pretty much the same—"

"What do you mean 'almost'! They're clearly very different!"

At least the word "engagement" doesn't sound so "heinous," right?

"Having two good friends like you is truly my blessing—"

"Hehe, no problem, no problem."

Whether Ron failed to catch Harry's sarcastic remark or was turning the tables on him, Hermione found herself with a savior who was practically driven mad with anger when she came downstairs.

“Stop fooling around,” Hermione said with unusual seriousness, her eyes even glancing warily toward the door.

"Someone's coming."

The words had barely left his mouth when the doorbell rang at the same time.

A short while later, Harry cautiously went to open the door, and the two behind him also found cover, their wands gripped tightly.

The moment Hareton opened the door and saw who it was, he stood frozen in place.

Yes—Thea.

She wore a light-colored cotton and linen dress, her eyes crinkling with laughter, just like when the two first met in Diagon Alley.

"Hello, I'm here to surrender."

As she spoke, she even waved the white flag in her hand in a very cooperative manner.

Harry was somewhat dazed, feeling that in any script, he should be the one who came to surrender.