A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

"It's myrtle!"

"Shh—" Nick, who was almost headless, said nervously, putting his transparent finger to his lips. From Harry's perspective, both Nick in front of him and Myrtle in the distance looked furtive.

Myrtle was a poor ghost, and although Harry's brief encounters with her were not pleasant, he still felt sorry for her.

It was Voldemort's doing again. He stared at Myrtle's departing figure, thinking, "This is Voldemort's first murder, only this time through the Basilisk's eyes."

Harry's expression turned somber. Throughout May, he tried his best not to think about Voldemort's life or death, focusing all his energy on preparing for the third project. But when he was alone and lost in thought, he couldn't help but recall the information about Voldemort. He had inadvertently come across Hermione's notebook, which mentioned Voldemort's childhood—he didn't know where Hermione had learned this, and he didn't want to ask; perhaps it was Professor Hyp.

If Hermione knew he was interested in these things, she would definitely tell herself not to think about it so much.

But Harry could not forget the entries in his notebook: he had shown exceptional magical talent even before enrolling; he was feared by his peers; he was aloof and cold; and... one day in 1937, he met a young Dumbledore and was granted permission to study at Hogwarts.

Why didn't Dumbledore see through Voldemort's disguise? Harry thought angrily. If he had just stayed in the orphanage, perhaps none of this would have happened. Wood's Orphanage, is that the name? Harry tried hard to remember. Thanks to his Uncle Vernon's repeated threats to send him to an orphanage, he was familiar with the names of orphanages in Surrey.

But then he thought that Voldemort probably didn't live in Surrey, and he couldn't help but feel a little deflated.

Suddenly, he felt himself fall into an ice hole—Nick had reached out to pull him back in his haste. He quickly backed away from the ghost's outstretched arm. "What's wrong?"

“You almost got caught,” Nick said apologetically, his head nearly gone. They were hiding in the thick fog as he explained, “Listen, the appearance of Classroom Seven is a blessing for all the ghosts. We can taste food again, although it can’t compare to when we were alive, since our tastes are limited… but… it’s already very good…”

"What does this have to do with Myrtle?" Ron asked, puzzled, quickly poking his head out of the thick fog. "She's gone."

“You know, as a ghost, she doesn’t participate much in group activities… She’s too introverted and obsessed with her death…” Nick, who was almost headless, said. “We had a meeting, and the fat monk suggested that we avoid her when she comes to classroom number seven to prevent her from becoming too depressed and not coming.”

“You guys are so considerate,” Ron said ambiguously. He had been startled by Myrtle when he was in his second year and fell right into the entrance to the secret chamber. Of course, he later claimed that he jumped down on his own.

"Thank you," Nick said happily, waving goodbye.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked outside, still discussing the matter along the way.

“They did the right thing. I mean, Room 7 belongs to Hogwarts, and all ghosts have that right, right?” Hermione said.

“We just have some disagreements about Myrtle’s personality,” Ron said. “Introverted? She’s quite bold in some ways…” He looked at Harry, who immediately understood what he meant.

It is said that one of Myrtle's great hobbies was sneaking into the prefects' bathroom to peep at the male prefects bathing. Ron once asked Cedric and Roger Davis about this with great interest, and yes, it's true.

They walked out of Room 7 and into the Great Hall, luckily arriving just in time for the last bit of the meal. Roger Davis waved to them across the Hufflepuff table, and Ron suddenly chuckled, "Oh my—I just think of Myrtle—" Harry grinned too, feeling much better.

Hermione watched them, puzzled. Just then, a flock of owl messengers flew in, and a brown owl landed in front of Hermione carrying the Sunday Prophet's Paper. Hermione opened the newspaper and quickly glanced through it.

"Any news?" Harry asked.

“Oh, let me see…” Hermione said, looking down. “I would actually prefer to see news about the ‘future world,’ but given the bad news so far, no news is better than nothing… Oh! Rita Skeeter’s new book is out, a biography of Regulus,” she said, looking up at Harry. “I should buy a copy and see what it says.”

"When did you start paying so much attention to her?" Ron asked, puzzled.

“Oh, how should I put it,” Hermione smiled brightly, “I found out she did do some research, maybe about a tenth of the truth? You need to pick out the useful parts.”

Harry had to admit there was some truth to that, because the 'Futureworld' company had been suddenly investigated by the Ministry of Magic for "misuse of Muggle items," "illegally modifying Muggle items," and "a tendency to expose the wizarding world."

They were frantic and kept writing to Ron's father, Percy, Remus, and Sirius to inquire about the situation. However, the matter disappeared after a few days. Instead, Fudge was exposed for accepting large bribes involving several pure-blood families.

During that period, news of Fudge clarifying false information and the emergence of new evidence could often be seen in the same newspaper, after which news about the 'Future World' company became less and less frequent.

Chapter 470 Time and Hourglass

During the last week of May, Professor McGonagall kept them behind after her Transfiguration class.

“Potter, Weasley, Granger, go to the room next to the Great Hall downstairs at nine o’clock tonight,” Professor McGonagall told them. “Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the warriors what the third project is.”

Emerging from the Transfiguration classroom, they stood in the corridor gazing towards the Forbidden Forest, where a group of staff members were crossing the area.

"What are they planning to do?" Harry asked, puzzled. "They're heading towards the Quidditch pitch."

They lingered for a few minutes, then turned a corner in front of the Quidditch pitch and headed towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. With ten minutes to go before History of Magic class, they hurried to the classroom.

When the school bell rang, Professor Binns, the ghost, floated in through the wall and began lecturing in his monotonous voice, just as he had for decades.

“Even the delicious food in Classroom Seven couldn’t save him,” Ron said.

Harry seemed agitated. He was now eager to know what the third event would be. Having prepared for so long, he was more confident than in the previous two competitions, but his focus had undoubtedly shifted elsewhere.

Should he ask Hermione where she got her information about Voldemort? He couldn't help but ponder, imagining that once he knew the source, he could investigate during the summer vacation. Sirius would certainly not refuse this request; he could help him cover for himself, so the Ministry of Magic wouldn't be able to determine whether he was using magic off-campus…

Harry glanced at his watch; it had stopped. He turned to Ron, wanting to ask him the time, but Ron looked blank, nodding his head. Not wanting to disturb Ron's reverie, Harry took off his broken watch, stuffed it in his pocket, and his fingertips touched a hard object. He pulled it out and saw it was a dull gray hourglass.

It was given to him by Valen, and he had hidden it deep in his pocket at some point, having completely forgotten about it.

Harry stared at the solidified dark gold sand in the hourglass, lost in thought.

He suddenly had an idea. Harry was surprised by the idea, and he looked around—no one was looking at him. So Harry quickly took out a piece of parchment, wrote a line on it, and handed it to Hermione, who was engrossed in taking notes.

This was something Harry admired; although Hermione also found the History of Magic lessons tedious and boring, she always managed to listen and apply her knowledge appropriately. At that moment, Hermione noticed the parchment that had suddenly appeared in her History of Magic textbook, and she puffed out her cheeks in dissatisfaction.

Harry gestured for her to look at the words on the cover. Hermione looked down and read them. The small print read: "Do you have that abandoned time-twister with you?"

Hermione nodded slightly, lowered her head further, and pulled a thin gold chain from her collar. Harry stared wide-eyed as she placed a gold timepiece on the parchment and gently pushed it toward him.

“Thank you,” Harry muttered softly, eagerly picking up the golden timer. According to Hermione, a properly functioning time-twister would glow, but this one looked quite old. At its core was an hourglass with spherical ends, surrounded by several metal rings, and with adjustable knobs at the edges.

Harry took a deep breath, held it, and placed the gray hourglass and the Time-Turner together. To his surprise, the two hourglasses were almost exactly the same height. Exactly the same… Could they be swapped? He tried to pry the Time-Turner off, attempting to remove the hourglass, but it wouldn't budge.

He had no choice but to stop, not daring to exert any more force. Harry guiltily looked up, only to meet Hermione's shocked gaze.

How did you come up with that idea?

Hermione couldn't wait to ask as soon as get out of class ended. They had just come out of the History of Magic class, and for the last half hour, Hermione, unusually, forgot about Professor Binns on the podium—"Giants are inherently cruel, and they kill each other more than any other cause combined..."—and was only focused on examining the hourglass in Harry's hand and the broken Time-Turner, her eyes sparkling.

"I don't know either. It was just... a sudden inspiration?" Harry said innocently, while Ron looked at the two of them with some confusion.

They finished their meal quickly and walked through the door to the common room, where Fred and George were pitching a new product to their good friend Lee Jordan—a hat-shaped thing that Harry would normally have gone over to take a look at. The twins' products were usually quite amusing—as long as they weren't used on him.

But today they walked straight through the crowd, ignoring the gasps of astonishment around them, and went directly to a secluded corner. At Hermione's signal, Harry took out the hourglass and the golden timer, deliberately placing them together, especially the two different hourglasses.

"Hiss~" Ron gasped. "Could it be—"

“Yes, that’s what we thought too,” Hermione said excitedly. “I hadn’t even noticed before! Although they’re about the same size… but… who would have thought to put them together? One is from an ancient Greek dark wizard from thousands of years ago, and the other is from the late alchemist Nicolas Flamel.”

Ron picked up the gray hourglass and shook it vigorously. The dark gold substance inside solidified into a lump, sticking firmly to the inner glass wall. "Except for one thing," he said, "they're all broken. Hermione, you're wasting your time. You said it yourself, Professor Hyp checked it."

“Oh, oh…” Hermione said dismissively, “But Professor Hyp probably doesn’t know that Varen secretly took the goblin’s hourglass. In his mind, he has already made Varen return everything.”

Harry's heart pounded. He suddenly realized that if they could fix the Golden Timer, they would have a time-twister that was not restricted by the Ministry of Magic, even though he didn't know what to use it for, given the many restrictions Hermione had mentioned.

However, if an accident were to happen, like what happened on the covered bridge, if Hermione hadn't had the Time-Turner and found Professor Hyp in time to save the day, one or two of them might have died, and at the very least, Peter Pettigrew would most likely have escaped.

Harry seemed extremely interested in this, saying, "Let's give it a try! What if it works?"

“The problem is, how do we take it apart…” Hermione said, frowning.

“Yes, we don’t have the tools. Are there any shops in Hogsmeade that sell pliers?” Harry asked.

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione said. “It’s more intricate than anything you’ve ever seen. It can’t be fixed with pliers or a screwdriver… Let me think,” she said, examining the broken gold timer repeatedly. “No… this is definitely not something we can handle, unless…”

"Unless what?"

“Unless we can obtain previous research data,” Hermione said decisively.

“You mean—” Ron stared at her.

"This broken time-turner once belonged to Nicolas Flamel. The professor mentioned that Mr. Flamel left behind quite a few things. I think, well, if the professor allows Valen to give the broken time-turner away, he probably won't mind us looking through some of the documents..."

"Why don't we just ask Professor Hyp for help?" Ron asked, puzzled. He reminded him, "That's the fastest way."

“Of course,” Hermione said seriously, “but we’d at least need to provide some evidence, wouldn’t we?”

At 8:30 p.m., they left the lounge and headed downstairs towards the Great Hall. Along the way, Ron asked Harry about screwdrivers. Harry first explained the uses of screws, then explained the different types of screwdrivers, "There's a toolbox with tools of various sizes inside; they can even loosen nuts—"

"What's that?" Ron asked in surprise. "Dad will love it. He's collected a whole drawer full of switches."

In the foyer, they encountered the Beauxbatons' champions. Fleur greeted Harry warmly and bent down to kiss each of his cheeks. Ron looked expectant, while Hermione snorted in dissatisfaction; both boys looked dazed.

When Harry came to his senses, he found himself sitting on a sofa in the room next to the Great Hall, with the big guy from Vagado grinning at him. How strange, how did he get there? He had no recollection of ever walking through the Great Hall.

“…My sister Gabrielle will be coming next month with Mom and Dad. A few days before the third project…” Fleur said cheerfully from the side. Harry looked around. Ron was sitting with him, also staring at Fleur with fascination. Where was Hermione? The next second he saw Hermione; she was sitting with Collins.

They waited until almost 10 o'clock, just before the lights were about to be turned off, before Bagman finally came in.

He was wearing yellow overalls that looked like an oversized baby outfit, and he looked quite tired, his short blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He forced himself to stand up and stretched out his hands, looking at the warrior in the room.

"Hello!" he said.

“First of all, I want to congratulate everyone. Yes, that’s right, the competition has finally reached the final stage. I think this is something to celebrate, both for you and for me.” Bagman wiped the sweat from his forehead. “To be honest, I’ve been exhausted lately. I just finished communicating with the staff about the competition venue today. There were so many problems, but luckily Hagrid helped come up with some ideas…” Harry and Ron exchanged a horrified look.

“Once the competition is over, I’m definitely going to ask for a vacation… Ahem, let’s get back to the point. The third project—” he winked, “is a maze. The third project is very simple and straightforward. The trophy for the three-way battle is placed at the very top of the maze. Whichever team can find it first will get full marks.”

"At the very top?" Krum asked in a low voice.

“Yes,” Bagman straightened the straps of his suspenders, “I never said the maze only had one level, did I?”

"So all we have to do is get through the maze?" Fleur said, confirming, "Find the right path?"

“Of course not, Miss Delacour,” Bagman shook his head, his voice becoming cheerful. “Hagrid provided a whole bunch of animals…and some spells that must be broken…things like that. It’s a race against time. The leading team of warriors will enter the maze first. We’ll post the scores and order of both races in the foyer. It’s too late today, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow…”

“Besides that, there’s one more thing I need to remind you. Attacking each other is not allowed in the labyrinth castle—we will supervise the whole process—but you can steal the trophy, of course, only if the same team isn’t all together.” Bagman looked at the warriors staring blankly at him, a smile spreading across his round face. “You’ll find that the trophy is a key to the door. When all three members of a team touch it at the same time, it will work and lead you out of the labyrinth.”

The room suddenly fell silent. Bagman waited a few seconds, then anxiously stood on tiptoe. "That's it! Warriors!"

……

“I can’t believe it! They actually allowed the warriors to do it!” Ron said incredulously. He couldn’t wait to express his opinion as soon as they came out of the Great Hall.

“It’s not about fighting, it’s about stealing the trophy,” Harry corrected him without thinking. He thought it was normal, and a faint voice inside him was eager to try.

“But—how can we get the trophy from him if we don’t attack him?” Ron asked.

Harry hesitated. "I guess there will be restrictions, like not being allowed to use evil curses or something... Bagman said he'll post the details tomorrow."

“I still think we need to be careful,” Ron said.

At this moment, Harry noticed that Hermione had been silent. He looked at her curiously and asked, "Hermione, what's wrong?"

“Oh, uh,” Hermione hurriedly smoothed her hair, “remember what Bagman said? The champions’ parents will be invited to watch the games, and I haven’t told them yet… Actually, well,” she glanced cautiously at Harry and Ron, “I made up a few lies. In my letter to them, I said… each school only has one champion, but Hogwarts has two due to an accident… the other one certainly isn’t me… Oh dear, I told them the second champion is Harry.”

Harry and Ron stared in astonishment.

Chapter 471 Undercurrents

“Yes, I know it sounds silly,” Hermione sighed, “but Mom requires me to send at least two letters back every month, and I’m having a hard time coming up with a proper reason. It’s not like this is your Divination class assignment—”

“How come I didn’t know about this? You’ve never borrowed Harry’s Hedwig or my little pig,” Ron asked.

“Because I used the school’s public owl—don’t interrupt!” Hermione stopped at the door of the common room. “Well—you know, the two of us combined aren’t as famous as Harry’s little finger, so I easily found a briefing that only mentioned Harry’s name and sent it home.”