A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

He screamed shrilly, his whole body turning into fuel for the raging fire. Felix stared at him as a vague, ethereal shadow rose above the flames, looking as if it were formed from smoke, without any substance.

If he is in flames, he takes flames as his body; if he is in water, he takes water as his reflection.

"You can't kill me, and I'll come back at any time—" the phantom writhed and roared in agony.

"Whoosh!"

A dazzling green light pierced through the afterimage, as if striking thin air; the Killing Curse had no effect. Then, a silver glint flashed in Felix's eyes as he used Mind Hut and Legilimency in turn, but their effects remained negligible.

Trouble.

Felix pondered this thought; his magic was utterly useless against Voldemort's phantom. He then recalled that phrase:

Even worse than the lowest wandering soul...

But his hand remained steady. This was his first meeting with Voldemort, and both were slightly surprised. Voldemort preemptively protected his Horcrux, while Felix feigned ignorance. He didn't know if Dumbledore had succeeded; if he had, he could set a deadly trap for their next meeting.

Meanwhile, Voldemort himself had no choice but to stay behind, using himself as bait. However, in his current state, he was completely powerless against Felix, and he had long been prepared to lose this body. This meant nothing to him; on the contrary, he could take the opportunity to talk to Felix, and if he could sow discord between Dumbledore and him, all the better.

Felix skillfully used this rare moment to cast spells—distorting suction, black lightning, green mist, milky white light, golden flames… powerful spells were unleashed throughout Crouch's mansion, the magical light exploding into countless dazzling rays.

He was testing the weaknesses of Voldemort's remnant soul, but Voldemort ignored all the magic, passing straight through the silver shield and floating above the ceiling with a large hole in it, mockingly saying:

"You have so many tricks up your sleeve, but when it comes to killing, one spell is enough!"

He left with a hazy, malicious look, rushed into the gray sky, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

After a moment of silence, Felix let out a soft breath.

"Once I finish the Book of Runes and develop a rune array specifically for you, let's see how you run then." He said with a hint of dissatisfaction, but he had already realized that he would have a hard time dealing with Voldemort in this state.

Voldemort was far from being a true living being at this point, so far that normal methods were simply ineffective, and there was no magic in history specifically designed to counter this state.

Perhaps this is why Dumbledore knew that Voldemort's remnant spirit lingered in the Albanian forest, yet took no action.

"Magic...memory...emotions...a projection of existence, is this his true face? In the gap between life and death, he left a trace by relying on the positioning of the Soul Weapons. If we destroy all the Soul Weapons before he is reborn, will we be able to make him lose his support in reality?"

Felix pondered that he had thought of similar questions when he saw the despicable Horcrux decaying.

Although Voldemort ignored his many spells, this was due to Voldemort's special state; neither could gain the upper hand. Judging from Voldemort's hasty escape, he must have some unknown weakness.

He was lost in thought when a silver shadow suddenly appeared and descended upon the ruins.

Felix raised his arm, and the silver phoenix guardian spirit landed on his long fingers. Dumbledore's gentle voice came through: "He escaped and burrowed underground... but I intercepted Barty and the snake."

After the phoenix finished speaking, it transformed into silver mist and disappeared.

“You’re something else,” Felix said, staring at a framed photo on the table. In the photo, Barty Crouch had his arm around his wife, and on the other side was a handsome young man.

He already knew who the spy in the castle was.

Felix turned and walked out of the house, the flames behind him like dragons, surging and roaring as they devoured the house in one gulp. He threw the picture frame into the sea of ​​fire as well, and stood in the cold wind of the night, staring at the raging flames.

"How can no one publicize your name, Voldemort?" he said with amusement.

Felix raised his wand high and chanted the spell he had received from Lucius Malfoy, "Bone Reappears!" A beam of green light shot out and leaped into the sky.

It was an enormous skull, composed of countless emerald green, star-like things. A large python emerged from the skull's mouth, like a tongue. The skull rose higher and higher, emitting a dazzling light within a cloud of emerald green smoke, standing out against the dark night sky like a new constellation.

In the distance, Dumbledore's figure was faintly visible. He shook his head, not quite agreeing with Felix's actions, but he did not stop him. It was time to put the Ministry of Magic on its guard.

He turned and left. There were too many things to deal with tonight. At least, there was still a spy in the castle, and he wasn't sure if he could catch him in time. Barty's injuries were also serious. The only pity was that the snake had died too quickly; it was actually a Horcrux, and he hadn't heard this information at all through the communication mirror.

Felix waved his hand, extinguishing the raging fire and leaving behind only ruins.

He strode away, disappearing abruptly into the shadows of the mountains and forests, leaving only a deep voice echoing in the black night sky.

"When we meet again, Voldemort, I hope you've recovered your strength..."

……

A few minutes ago—

In his Gryffindor bedroom at Hogwarts Castle, Harry suddenly woke up with a splitting headache.

Chapter 417 A Heart-Pounding Cold Night

"Harry, Harry! What's wrong?"

Harry was breathing heavily when he heard familiar voices. He forced his eyes open and saw two blurry, concerned faces—Ron and Neville. They looked terrified, their arms outstretched in disbelief. Harry realized he had fallen out of bed and was lying on the cold floor.

“I’m fine, Ron, and Neville too, thanks,” Harry said, seeing Seamus and Dean groggily lift their heads from their beds. “I’m fine…” he emphasized.

“You don’t look like you’re alright,” Ron said.

“I… oh, it’s just that my scar hurts… it’s an old problem,” Harry stammered, getting up from the ground. Ron handed him his glasses, and after Harry put them on, the surroundings in the room became clear.

Neville carried a magic lamp; its light wasn't blinding, but it made Harry feel dizzy. He felt as if he were back in that vivid dream, sitting in a chair, talking to someone… but it didn't seem like him. He wasn't so fragile that he needed to be fed medicine…

He tried his best to immerse himself in it; the feeling was so real. The viscous medicine, like ice cubes, slid down his throat and down his esophagus, then churned in his stomach...

“Are you sick, Harry?” Seamus looked at him in alarm. “I think you need to go to the school hospital.”

The scenery in his dream seemed to be drifting away from him. No, this can't be... Harry thought. He made an excuse for himself: "I'm going to the bathroom... Don't worry, I'm fine..." He stumbled out in his pajamas.

“I’ll go check on Harry. You guys go to sleep,” Ron said after thinking for a moment. Neville handed Ron his little lion magic lamp. “Oh, thank you, Neville. Harry must be having nightmares. Go to the bathroom and wash your face…”

Ron explained, following Harry out of the dormitory.

After he went out, he didn't see anyone in the direction of the door. He looked around and, as expected, saw Harry in the familiar corner of the lounge. Harry was sitting in a gold and red armchair, head tilted back, one hand rubbing his forehead and the other hand covering his chest, his brows furrowed.

Harry desperately tried to recall, pretending he was still in that dimly lit room, straining to remember the sticky smell of the potion—it was disgusting, worse than a pot of overcooked toad soup… He was furious. What had he messed up? He'd mentioned someone's son, who was right there, silently serving him—how awful… No, that wasn't him. It must be Voldemort. Sirius had analyzed it for him; it must be because of the scar on his head. Dumbledore had explained it back in their first year…

Voldemort was very weak and needed to take medicine constantly, and Harry sincerely hoped that medicine would taste even worse… But Voldemort had a body, and there was good news… Voldemort was attacked, but he reacted quickly and blocked that… black lightning? That sounds familiar… It's Professor Hyp! How did he get there? Did he get a clue about Voldemort from one of his many dance partners?

Harry dismissed the far-fetched idea; he needed to recall more details… After a brief exchange, Voldemort let someone leave first. Who was it? The one who had been scolded? Harry couldn't remember the name, but he knew it was a three-syllable pronunciation… Professor Hyp used powerful fire magic, unlike Hermione's; it was a deep white flame… They continued their conversation, but Harry shook his head. He couldn't remember clearly; his mind was like a drained sink, details from his dream leaking out…

They mentioned Professor Dumbledore. Hypocritical? A surge of anger welled up in Harry's heart, but he quickly tensed up. He knew what was about to happen; the memory was too vivid. In his dream, he almost thought he was dead... Professor Hyp conjured a flaming sword and pierced his chest, screaming desperately... No, he was mistaken again. That was Voldemort, not himself.

Harry thought with delight. Professor Hyp began his attack, countless dazzling spells flashing... Voldemort floated in mid-air, mocking Professor Hyp for his futile efforts... But Harry felt that heart-wrenching hatred; Voldemort's malice was too intense, far from being as effortless as he appeared... Harry felt as if he had entered Voldemort's perspective, not in a dream, but witnessing this very moment, right now!

Had I somehow entered Voldemort's mind? Harry thought with a mixture of excitement and fear. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling as if he were floating on clouds, moving forward rapidly. The darkness blurred everything around him, and then a dazzling silver light illuminated him, flying close to him. It was a silver phoenix, just like Fawkes. He found himself gritting his teeth and shouting, "Dumbledore!"

He plunged into the ground, frantically navigating the black soil and brown rocks. He had to act quickly; there was something very important to do. He broke into a basement and possessed a hapless rat. The rat squeaked a few times, and when it opened its eyes again, they were blood red. It climbed onto a table, triggering some mechanism. A brilliant purple light exploded in the air, and the rat was propelled several feet into the air, crashing into the wall. It twitched a few times and then lay still.

Then Voldemort's phantom emerged from the rat carcass. He stood there silently, without making a sound, but Harry still felt a heavy sense of oppression...

Harry opened his eyes, and Ron was sitting across from him, looking at him with a complicated expression. "You dreamed about that person again, didn't you?"

Harry took a deep breath and said with certainty, "Voldemort informed his spy in the school."

“What?” Ron looked at him in surprise. “Dude, do you know what you’re saying?”

“I know!” Harry tried to keep his tone calm. “I know, of course I know…” He suddenly stood up and paced around the common room. “Voldemort is short-handed. He can’t afford to lose the servants in the castle… Professor Hyp and Headmaster Dumbledore launched a surprise attack, well done!” He clapped his hands.

Ron looked at him with a worried expression.

“But Voldemort has a way to contact that spy in the castle, the one… who threw our names into the Goblet of Fire!” Harry pondered, his thoughts becoming clearer. “He’s lost his body again, and if he loses his only servant as well, all his previous plans will be for naught, so he activated the emergency contact system…”

Harry stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed intently on Ron. "Do you know what we're going to do now?" he exclaimed excitedly.

“Tell…tell the professor?” Ron stammered.

“You’re half right. Give me your wand!” he said to Ron, who came out with both his and Harry’s wands.

Ron reluctantly handed Harry the wand.

Harry pointed his wand toward the dormitory: "Marauder's Map! Invisibility Cloak!" They heard the box suddenly spring open, Neville scream, and then waited quietly for a few seconds—

"Whizzing!"

Two whooshing sounds came flying by, and Harry nimbly grabbed the map and the Invisibility Cloak.

Ron pursed his lips, swallowed, and watched Harry unfold the Marauder's Map, his eyes searching. "Hurry up and show up...it must be there, if I'm not mistaken..." Harry said.

"What are you looking for?" Ron lay on the table, staring at the densely packed names on it.

"Ignore the static names, they must be animated! At this point, it's either a patrolling professor or a spy who's received intelligence and is trying to escape!"

Ron quickly bent down to help search.

“It’s moving, it’s moving… I’ve got it! Look, there’s someone named Eleanor Branstone!” Ron shouted. Harry looked over excitedly, then heard Ron say dejectedly, “Oh… maybe not, she’s going to the kitchen.”

“Then let’s add another one: those running out of the castle, focusing on people who move very fast but pause at the corners of the stairs,” Harry said, envisioning the spy’s escape route according to his own ideas.

“Good idea,” Ron said, glancing at it for a moment. “Peeves is really busy! Do you think someone might have stolen his name, like some kind of name magic? Peter Pettigrew knows the Marauder’s Map, he might have told the Voidman about it, and maybe that person was on guard.”

Harry was also in a dilemma. They discovered more than a dozen moving names, including professors, students, living people, ghosts, and even Filch's cat!

He had never realized that the castle nights could be so lively.

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "It's him!"

"Who is it?" Ron peered around, trying to see clearly, but Harry had already pulled him open the door to the common room. The Fat Lady was woken up and was about to complain when Harry and Ron ran off like the wind.

“Reckless young people! Don’t expect me to open the door for you!” she shouted at their retreating backs.

Harry and Ron rushed downstairs, their footsteps clattering on the stairs, startling the countless portraits hanging on the walls. But they paid no heed, leaping three or four steps at a time.

"Who is it?" Ron asked, staring at the steps beneath his feet.

"Barty Crouch!"

"The referee for the Triwizard Tournament?" Ron's jaw dropped in astonishment, and he instinctively followed Harry around a flight of stairs.

“It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? He was the referee, and also a Ministry of Magic official who organized the tournament. He had the opportunity to come into contact with the Goblet of Fire! And after the accident, it was he who insisted that the person whose name was called must participate in the tournament. He even took a long leave of absence afterwards... That’s how he had the opportunity to sneak into Hogwarts!”

"But why? He can come openly and honestly, can't he?" Ron asked, almost stepping into a trap on the stairs because he was so focused.

“In that case, he can only show up during the match, when countless eyes will be watching him,” Harry said breathlessly, staring at the Marauder’s Map. They rushed up to the third floor in less than a minute.

“Strange, Crouch is walking very slowly, and there shouldn’t be a road there,” Harry said, looking at the map with a puzzled expression. “That direction should lead to Professor Moody’s office…”

Ron caught up, panting. "No, anyway... we've caught up, haven't we? Quick, put on your invisibility cloaks and wait for him to come out. We'll follow him and either ambush him or warn any passing professors."

Harry didn't speak, focusing instead on the Marauder's Map, his mind racing with analysis. Crouch wasn't walking; he was dawdling. What was he doing? He had the audacity to infiltrate Hogwarts; he must be fiercely loyal to Voldemort. He would surely leave immediately upon hearing Voldemort's summons.

but why……

Harry couldn't understand it at all. They had arrived near the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, only seven or eight steps from the door. Ron activated his Invisibility Cloak, covering the two of them.

They stared at the Marauder's Map, and the name Barty Crouch matched the location of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. They exchanged a surprised glance. "He's going to ambush Professor Moody? Why?" Ron asked, puzzled.

Harry held his breath. The name belonging to Professor Moody was still motionless; he should be lying in bed asleep. Ron realized this too, and he muttered anxiously, "Get up! You're the greatest Auror, all that's missing is casting the Cruciatus Curse on us."

Harry pulled Ron a few steps forward and pressed his head against the door. They heard a series of clicking sounds, like armor struggling to move due to lack of lubrication.