A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

“It makes sense when you think about it,” Ron said. “Professor Hyp is only, well, in his early twenties.”

“Twenty-four years old,” Hermione said immediately.

“That’s right, that’s exactly it.” Ron said, pretending he already knew. “He’s so young, I mean—he’s a genius, but even geniuses need time to grow, right? To be honest, I can’t think of a wizard stronger than Dumbledore. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup, Dad has said he might be able to take over from Dumbledore.”

“You mean Professor Hyp will become the Headmaster of Hogwarts?” Harry asked in surprise. He had never thought about this before, but upon reflection, it seemed very likely. He stared wide-eyed, imagining the scene—decades later, Professor Hyp, with his silver hair and beard (somewhat resembling Dumbledore, except with a intact nose), welcoming new students in the Great Hall. He wondered what the professor would say in his welcoming address.

“No,” Ron interrupted his thoughts, “Dad said he might become the greatest wizard after Dumbledore.”

Harry suddenly felt a sense of relief. With Dumbledore around—and Professor Hyp—even if Voldemort were to be resurrected, he wouldn't be able to cause much trouble, right? However, Dumbledore's repeated confirmation of his dream in the university hospital last night still cast a shadow over him.

Hermione sat on the cushion with her knees drawn up to her chest, remaining silent for about ten minutes.

“Do you think,” she said slowly in a very soft voice, “Voldemort… could he have been resurrected?”

……

“I’ve had my suspicions, Felix,” Dumbledore said, wearing pajamas and with his long, silver beard tied up. “I can’t rule out that possibility.”

"Is he really in such a hurry?" Felix frowned. "Doesn't he need Harry anymore?"

“Perhaps we were all wrong before. Harry wasn’t the key to his resurrection,” Dumbledore said softly. “Or perhaps he wasn’t a necessity—like you guessed before, Voldemort might have known that a piece of Harry’s soul was inside Harry’s body, and he planned to retrieve that piece of soul at the same time as his resurrection. Crouch Jr. came for that purpose… but clearly, he failed.”

“Other possibilities cannot be ruled out,” Felix said.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded slightly, then sighed. “I know of some extremely evil dark magic, or more precisely, curses. They all require the blood of an enemy. I’ve speculated that Voldemort’s target was the blood flowing in Harry’s veins, and Lily’s protective magic might have held a special attraction for him. But—”

“But we interrupted his plans,” Felix added. His mind raced, trying to deduce Voldemort’s thoughts from his perspective: “The experience of Crouch Jr. and Voldemort’s narrow escape must have left a deep impression on him. Voldemort thought that no one would know him as he hid in the shadows, so he naturally had the patience to wait and calmly arrange his resurrection plan… But his sense of security was shattered that night—once he thought his chances of getting Harry were slim, in order to avoid any unforeseen complications and the loss of his only helper, Crouch Jr., he was very likely to immediately begin the resurrection process!”

“Before his resurrection, his eyes might have only been on Harry, but after his resurrection—if that’s really the case—his gaze will encompass the entire wizarding world.” Felix paced in Dumbledore’s circular office, his thoughts becoming increasingly clear. “No summoning of servants, no contact with allies, Albus, he’s preparing to launch a fatal blow!”

“This is also what I’m most worried about.” Dumbledore stared at Felix with a serious expression. The wrinkles on his face were deep in the light, making him look old and tired.

……

“That’s impossible!” Ron exclaimed in surprise.

“Why not?” Hermione shrieked.

“He lacks the conditions for resurrection!” Ron blurted out, looking uneasily at Harry and Hermione. “You know, he got Crouch Jr. into the school, and Crouch Jr. has done almost nothing but put our names in the Goblet of Fire. But we all know who his real target is. It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

Harry felt a wave of nausea. He strongly resented Hermione's question, but he had no evidence to refute it. Deep down, he even vaguely agreed with the idea: yes, Voldemort had a capable accomplice; almost four months had passed since Crouch's escape on Christmas Eve, he couldn't have done nothing…

But Ron's idea wasn't without merit, Harry thought. Voldemort must have had a more important purpose in sending Crouch Jr. into the school, and although he didn't want to admit it, Harry believed their target was him. He had initially thought Voldemort wanted to torture him, but he shouldn't have been so foolish.

It's not too late to do this after the resurrection, is it? Harry didn't think that torturing himself was more important to Voldemort than the resurrection. Unless his mind had gone mad, and he'd gone insane while repeatedly cutting his soul and creating Horcruxes.

“Dumbledore will take care of everything,” Ron said uneasily, glancing at the silent Harry and Hermione. “We’d better think about a third project. I’ve almost mastered Apparition; I succeeded several times today in the Room of Requirement. Collins is furious; her eyebrows are constantly falling…”

Chapter 469 May

After the Easter holidays, the weather became clearer day by day. Standing on the top of the castle, one could see a vast expanse of lush greenery overlooking the Forbidden Forest. The Black Lake had also come back to life, and on weekends, students would gather on the grass by the lake and under the green willows to enjoy the warm sunshine.

Of course, this leisurely lifestyle only applies to students who have finished their homework.

"I've had enough! We're only in fourth grade, why do we have to do so much homework?" Seamus complained loudly. "Professor McGonagall must be mistaken, right?"

“No,” Dean said pessimistically. “She said in the last class that career counseling for fifth graders should be moved to fourth graders, so that we would be more motivated to learn.”

“Oh…” Simo let out a strange cry. “Spare me.” He said with dissatisfaction, “We still have three whole years until graduation.”

“Actually, the professor is doing this for our own good,” Neville said, swallowing hard. “Don’t forget that next year the school is going to implement grade-level assessments for fifth and seventh graders. Fifth graders must master Follower visibility, and seventh graders must master Apparition—”

"What if we don't pass?" Simo asked anxiously.

“Naturally, it means sacrificing the Christmas and Easter holidays, as well as the last period after the annual exams,” Dean said, counting on his fingers. Seamus’s expression changed, but Dean continued, “Also, the professors are still discussing putting the Disarming Charm and the Armor Charm in other grades, but it’s not confirmed yet.”

Seamus breathed a sigh of relief; he had mastered both spells. He thought for a moment and asked, "Has Harry not organized a dueling study group in a while?"

“Yeah,” Dean said. “There’s no way around it, they’re preparing for their third project. To be honest, they’ve already pulled ahead of us. Ron has even mastered Apparition.”

……

The sun shines brightly on the shore of Black Lake, where the water ripples gently, but inside classroom number seven, the scene is quite different.

The sound of a sharp blade slicing through the bushes echoed in the deep Forbidden Forest. Ron proceeded cautiously, occasionally tripping over twisted tree roots on the ground. The feel of the leaves under his feet was so real that he had long forgotten that it was all an illusion, his nerves taut to the limit.

A rustling sound came from behind him—he turned sharply, “Obstacles!” he shouted, the spell freezing the suddenly appearing eight-eyed giant spider in place, and Ron turned and ran.

“You should use a banishing spell,” Felix’s memory said, floating in mid-air. At that moment, Ron was hiding behind a large tree, cautiously observing his surroundings, when he was startled.

“I know,” Ron muttered, “but you might as well tell me where Harry and Hermione are.”

“Oh, you mean that? They’re in another direction.” Felix’s memory pointed him in a direction.

Ron looked suspicious. "You're not trying to trick me, are you?"

"I'm a professor," the memory said with a cold smile, arms crossed.

“It’s just a memory,” Ron muttered to himself. “Okay, I’ll trust you one more time.”

Ten minutes later.

"Ahhhh-"

Ron stumbled out of the mist, followed by a swarm of eight-eyed spiders the size of carriages. He kept throwing spider-repelling spells behind him, shouting indignantly as he ran, "You lied to me!"

"I don't have any, look ahead," the memory said with a smile.

Ron, caught up in the chaos, looked up and saw a faint light ahead. A surge of hope rose within him, and the clicking sound behind him no longer seemed so frightening. A renewed strength coursed through him, propelling him to run the final stretch. Finally, he saw Harry—

Harry was leaning against a large tree, standing on a protruding black stone, chanting spells in all directions. White flames—the Brightfire Charm—formed a circular ring of fire around Harry, helping him fend off the approaching giant spider.

“Yeah.” Ron slapped his head, and the Light Rune and Fire Charm combined in his hand to form a long flame. He followed behind the flame, shouting, “Harry, I’m here—” Harry looked up and chanted a spell in his direction, and the Spider Repelling Charm sent the eight-eyed spider behind Ron flying.

Ron scrambled up the black rock.

“You’ve found a good place,” Ron said, calming himself down and beginning to use a banishing charm to help Harry fill in the gaps in his knowledge.

“There are good spots up there,” Harry said sullenly.

“Hey, Ron.” Hermione’s voice came from above them. Ron looked up and saw Hermione sitting sideways on a branch of the tree behind them, smiling mischievously. He suddenly realized—the white flames were controlled by Hermione.

“Why did you get up in the tree? That’s not a good place to escape,” Ron said.

“Oh, my banishment spell is going pretty well, perfect for practicing the spells you’ve discovered—” Hermione said, standing on a high point, her hand on her forehead as she gazed into the distance. “I think I see Collins and the others, dealing with a big guy. We need to hurry!”

She released the spell, and the tip of her wand deftly released beams of red light. Harry and Ron followed suit and used the Stunning Charm. Soon, the giant spiders were piled up on the ground.

Hermione used a shock-absorbing charm to land smoothly. Then they continued in the direction Hermione had just pointed out, encountering all sorts of magical creatures along the way. "Wow!" Ron exclaimed in surprise after freezing a group of Cornish elves with a freezing charm, "I'm starting to like this place more and more."

Harry grinned. That made sense; he definitely couldn't stand the monotony of practicing spells. The times he improved the most, aside from Professor Hyp's intense training and Sirius's dueling games, were in Room Seven.

They continued walking and came across a venomous horned beast leisurely strolling along the way. This large, rhinoceros-like beast had thick gray hide that could defend against regular spells, and its horns were not only sharp but could also be injected with an explosive liquid. The three of them immediately hid behind a rock.

“Oh, get away quickly,” Ron whispered, while keeping an eye on the small creature next to the giant horned beast—it must be a cub, much more lively than the adult horned beast, kicking and banging against a sales counter.

After staring for a few minutes, the mother venomous horned beast finally left with her baby venomous horned beast. They emerged from behind the rock and each picked out a refreshing drink from the unmanned vending machine.

“I absolutely love this design,” Ron said, grabbing two more bottles of butterbeer and stuffing them into his pocket.

“It’s fake,” Harry reminded him. “It’s just a memory that will disappear once you leave. And the original purpose was to supply the ghosts in the school so that the kitchen wouldn’t have to keep a special supply of rotten food.”

“I know,” Ron shrugged, “but you can’t ask for more in Room Seven. I mean, while Professor Flitwick’s memory provides uniquely flavored gummy candies after a duel, well—you’ll feel like an idiot every time you come out of there.”

“It’s a baboon that can only swing a stick,” Hermione said with a smile.

After some time, they used directional spells to locate Cedric's squad.

"Need any help?" Harry called from afar.

“That would be perfect,” a voice said at their feet, startling them. Harry stared at the greyish-green thing before him—it was Roger Davis lying on the ground. “What happened to you?”

“It’s obvious I was poisoned by the stinger of the Sphinx,” Roger Davis said, lying on the ground surrounded by a cloud of gray-green mist.

Harry and the others exchanged bewildered glances. They rushed over to help. Cedric and Collins were in a sorry state. The skin of the manticore was almost immune to all known spells. Cedric kept using Transfiguration to create chains, trying to entangle its legs, while also carefully dodging its tail hooks that slashed through the air.

Collins threw out puffs of black mist, simultaneously using the Eye Strike Charm and the Slide Flat to try and restrain the extremely dangerous beast.

Harry cast a powerful disarming spell, a dazzling red light striking the manticore. He wasn't sure if it would work, but he liked the spell and had been trying to incorporate runes into it recently, though without success. The manticore took two steps back, then swung its tail hook, the spell grazing Cedric's hair.

“A very good way to greet him,” Cedric said. Harry grinned and used a water spell to create streams of water that hit the manticore like cannonballs. “That won’t do any good—” Cedric was only halfway through his sentence when Hermione used a freezing spell to freeze the manticore.

"Are you alright?" Ron had just run over and was supporting the swaying Collins. Collins shook his head and was about to say something when he suddenly opened his eyes wide.

"careful!"

A gleaming, cold hook pierced Ron's chest. Ron blinked in disbelief; he felt no pain, yet the hook had indeed pierced his chest. Harry and Hermione cried out, watching Ron slowly fall to the ground…

Two minutes later, Ron sat on the ground, gray-green mist emanating from his chest—similar to Roger's earlier appearance—and said to Collins with a wry smile, "Thank you for keeping me company."

Collins rolled her eyes at him, but she didn't refuse the butterbeer Ron offered. They watched together as Cedric, Harry, and Hermione continued their battle in the distance.

Hermione used ancient magic, transforming golden flames into a fiery phoenix that swooped down to peck at the manticore with its sharp beak. The manticore groaned in fear from its abdomen, constantly tearing at the chains beneath its feet, its tail hook lashing wildly. But with the combined efforts of the three—Harry using a superb Mud Smash Charm—the manticore's range of movement was further reduced.

The tide was turning in favor of victory, and Roger Davis, who was some distance away, climbed over to watch the spectacle up close, ready to cheer when the victory was won, until another man-headed sphinx emerged from the depths of the Forbidden Forest, accompanied by a smaller man-tailed beast.

What followed was horrific. First, Harry was trampled to death by the rampaging Scorpion Mother, then Hermione. Just a minute later, the six of them sat on the ground, enveloped in a gray-green mist, watching the swaggering Scorpion family walk away with their heads held high.

“It’s not our fault,” Ron reassured them. “That was a creature we couldn’t handle. It’s rated 5x by the Ministry of Magic and is far more dangerous than the Octopod. One of them is worth a whole group of those spiders.”

“I hope the judges from the Ministry of Magic think so too,” Roger Davis said. “But, well, I’ve heard that these things exist in the Forbidden Forest, deep within it…”

“That’s right,” Hermione said. “Hagrid bred the Blasttail from a Sphinx.”

Cedric and Roger Davis looked very unhappy.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think the Ministry of Magic will let us face an uncontrollable manticore,” Hermione said confidently. “It’s too dangerous. The books say that a single sting from it can kill you without giving you time to react. The Ministry of Magic will definitely learn from past competitions, like the one in 1792…”

"Has she always been like this?" Collins asked Ron in a low voice.

“Oh, uh.” Ron shrugged, stubbornly saying, “That sounds pretty reasonable, doesn’t it?”

No one except Hermione thought so, even though what she said was indeed true historical fact. They rested for a while, and when the mist on their bodies dissipated, they went their separate ways. Cedric planned to ask Professor McGonagall's memory about Transfiguration, while Collins preferred to discuss spell combinations with Professor Flitwick's memory.

Harry and his friends stayed in Room 7 until evening, until a group of ghosts passed by them.

“Hello, Nick,” Harry greeted Nick, the Gryffindor ghost “almost headless.” “Is it time for dinner?”

The ghost stopped. "Yeah, you'd better hurry, or the food will be gone," he muttered to himself, glancing at the tail of the ghost column. "I need to hurry too."

“Let’s get out of here right away,” Ron said immediately, and he took the lead. At that moment, Nick, who was almost headless, grabbed him—or rather, went through his arm—and Ron shuddered.

“Oh, sorry, we’d better hide and wait for her to pass…” said Nick, who was almost headless.

“Waiting for whom—” Ron was about to ask when Harry and Hermione grabbed him from either side and hid him in the mist. Two seconds later, a short, plump ghost passed in front of them. She wore thick, pearly-colored glasses, which Harry guessed were used to cover the pimples on her face—when she was still alive.