A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

Felix easily determined that it was an ordinary card, probably from some newsstand in the Muggle world. He turned it over, and the back was blank.

Who could have sent it? Is it possible that it really is a malicious prank?

But Felix sensed goodwill in those words, and since it was a matter of life and death, no one would be careless, at least not him.

He tentatively believes it to be true: someone witnessed his death and risked going back in time to warn him.

At that moment, the golden clock pointed to eleven o'clock. He took the golden clock and placed it, along with the postcard, on the small table in front of the sofa. Then, he gently waved his finger, and a row of sound-transmitting mirrors on the shelf, the heated Nate in his ring... everything that could communicate with the outside world was placed on it.

Felix leaned back on the sofa, waiting quietly like a silent statue, occasionally glancing casually at the small golden clock. Time passed slowly, midnight came, and no one contacted him. The quiet night was occasionally punctuated by the chirping of insects, but no one suddenly appeared to send him to an unknown battlefield.

When the clock hands stopped at four in the morning, he finally moved. Five hours had passed since he received this special gift. Felix knew exactly what this meant—the maximum duration of time travel without causing any potentially serious damage was about five hours.

Someone has taken a long-distance time trip!

Felix looked up at the ceiling. The white light from the magic lamp wasn't blinding, but it made him feel a little dizzy. He slowly closed his eyes and the next second he found himself in the bronze armchair in the Mind Chamber.

Felix still held that memory in his hand. He tossed it again with force, and the familiar scene appeared in mid-air, until—

"Avada kendawa!"

The voice was cold and shrill; he recognized its owner as Voldemort.

“So this is a warning from the future, at an uncertain time, when Voldemort has already been resurrected,” Felix muttered to himself. He stared at the recurring image in mid-air. The memory had clearly been manipulated, obscuring the perspective of its original owner, but the method was extremely crude. For a memory master like him, the flaws were immediately apparent.

But seeing through the flaws doesn't mean he can recover the real memories, nor does it mean the information in the memories is fake.

The only thing Felix was certain of at this moment was that the owner of the memory did not want to reveal his identity. He was meticulous and not unfamiliar with memory magic. He must have studied, practiced, or at least frequently come into contact with this type of magic.

What else can we analyze? Felix stroked his chin. "Of course, perspective is also important."

He crossed his right leg over his left, sitting on the bronze chair and looking at the illusory images below the steps. Inside the thought chamber, apart from the chair he was sitting on and the dozen or so steps below it, there was nothing around him. It was as if he were sitting in a huge square.

At this moment, the sound of Voldemort chanting the Killing Curse echoed continuously across the square.

"Avada kendawa... Avada kendawa... Avada kendawa... Avada kendawa..."

"If Voldemort had been resurrected then, would the person who witnessed all of this have been a Death Eater? No, not necessarily... they could also have been Voldemort's enemy."

Felix wanted to find this person and obtain more information.

Based on the available information, this person—regardless of gender—should be someone with whom I have a close relationship, someone meticulous in thought, someone I may have discussed memory magic with, and someone whose identity must be special enough to participate in a sudden battle, perhaps a Death Eater, an Auror, or something I haven't considered yet. Most importantly, this person must possess a time-tamper.

But even as dawn broke, Felix still had one question he couldn't understand: if there was plenty of time, why did that person risk embarking on a dangerous long-distance time travel?

Was he courting death? Or was he forced to do it? What special significance did he have in doing this?

Felix's feelings were very complicated. If all of this was true, and he really died at Voldemort's hands—or if the person who sent out the memories believed it to be true—then this action was tantamount to changing history, and the backlash from time would be unimaginable.

Altering known history is dangerous enough, and as far as he knows, no one has ever truly succeeded and escaped unscathed, let alone adding long-distance time travel.

Don't rush to make a decision... Felix told himself he needed to clarify a few things first.

On the morning of June 22nd, Felix arrived at the Great Hall early. He spent a considerable amount of time eating, as he was waiting for several people. When Snape appeared in his black robes, Felix smiled slightly and moved to sit next to Snape.

“You have a time converter,” Felix said confidently.

Snape stared at him blankly for a moment. "Your joke-telling skills have deteriorated," he said coldly.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood, Severus,” Felix said with a shrug.

It wasn't him. Felix thought, staring at Snape's departing figure.

The second person was Dumbledore, to whom Felix asked if his "trick" of flicking spells away with his fingers came from an ability he gained after his metamorphosis.

"Have you finally come this far, Felix?" Dumbledore asked softly, seemingly lost in thought. He looked up after a long while, and Felix was still waiting for his answer. Dumbledore nodded gently. "The so-called metamorphosis, or the transformation into a 'magical creature,' though the terminology differs, is, in my understanding, a process where you delve into a field to an unbelievable degree, and then, in a flash of inspiration, achieve a complete understanding."

"When you reach this stage, your magic begins to change spontaneously, matching your understanding of magic... As for what each person will gain, it should be related to their field of study. My ability to deflect spells is essentially a higher level of human transformation."

Felix suddenly realized something.

Previously, Dumbledore had performed a very sophisticated transformation on his hand, closer to the essence of magic, thus simulating the abilities of some magical creature. A series of powerful creature names flashed through his mind: dragons, sphinxes, serpents, chimeras, basilisks…

Moreover, this seems to mean that Dumbledore can break some of the consensus in the magical world, such as the fact that wizards cannot transform into magical creatures, not even Animagus can do that, but Dumbledore has undoubtedly touched on this area.

Magical creatures... is that what it means? Felix wondered.

He couldn't help but wonder what abilities he would gain after his transformation, related to ancient magic runes... He began to ponder the characteristics of ancient magic runes, but he found it difficult to give a precise definition because there were too many magic runes, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that they were ever-changing.

A thought struck him. "A thousand transformations..." Applying that word to him meant he was essentially transforming into ancient runes? This idea seemed to match a scene from his memory—Voldemort using the Killing Curse, and him using runes to dodge.

It's truly fascinating to think about.

However, a new problem arose: if he wasn't going to die, why would that person risk time travel? Also, he hadn't completed his transformation at all; he was still far from finished. Felix estimated that there was no hope until at least the end of summer vacation and the start of the new school year.

Does this mean that what he saw will not happen for at least two or three months?

Felix put down his knife and fork, and left the Great Hall full of confusion. Just then, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked in, and they were having a heated discussion.

“Granger, Potter, Weasley,” he hesitated for a moment, then called out to them, “how is your research on the Time-Turner going…?”

Harry and Ron instinctively looked at Hermione.

“Oh, Professor, uh, we haven’t started yet,” Hermione said sheepishly. “We plan to do it after the competition.”

"I see, I understand."

He nodded to the three of them and turned to leave. The timing seemed to be right, provided, of course, they actually succeeded. It seemed he needed to keep a close eye on things. A new question popped into his head: of the three, who was more likely to have used the time-tamper?

If it's just a matter of repair, Granger is naturally more likely to be the culprit. However, it's really hard to determine who the 'user' is.

Felix's heart sank; he had warned her.

However, nothing is certain yet; he still has time to gather more evidence to verify his conjecture. After the second-year exams tomorrow, until the end of the semester, he'll have little to do and can closely monitor Granger and his team's progress in repairing the time converter.

This continued throughout the summer. It was a real shame, as Felix was also planning a trip to Azkaban during the summer. He had obtained several names from Lucius, all of whom were Voldemort's most loyal followers, and perhaps some of them knew the secrets of the Horcruxes.

This conjecture came to him while he was at the Ministry of Magic. Initially, he went astray until he connected Dumbledore, Voldemort, Azkaban, and the Death Eaters, which triggered a true flash of inspiration: if Voldemort had suffered multiple serious injuries, he must have had a constant assistant, who was likely a Death Eater, and an extremely loyal one at that. Therefore, the memories in this person's mind would undoubtedly be a treasure trove—a treasure trove containing Horcruxes—waiting for him to excavate.

Especially Bellatrix, whom Lucius described as insane, a fanatical worshipper of the Dark Lord. Felix suspected she had suffered severe confusion or memory manipulation. But that wasn't necessarily true; Lucius believed she was inherently cruel and malicious, and the Dark Lord's presence simply fulfilled her morbid desires…

the other side.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just come out of the Owl Hut, and Hermione looked upset.

Chapter 475 Repairing the Time Converter

“Don’t worry, Hermione, Hedwig will send the letter to your parents on time,” Harry said confidently. “It has never failed before—and Professor McGonagall said that she will come to your house to pick you up on the day of the match, so it won’t take up much time.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about… I… sigh.” Hermione sighed. “They mentioned in their reply that they went to Diagon Alley to exchange coins—”

“That’s normal,” Ron said.

“You don’t know them,” Hermione said, shaking her hair in frustration. “Changing money is just an excuse. I bet they went to Diagon Alley to find out about the tournament.”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Neither of them shared this worry. Ron's entire family were wizards, and Harry didn't believe the Dursleys would secretly go to Diagon Alley to gather information out of concern for his safety. They would only pray that something bad happened to him and that he would never return. Besides, Harry's only family was Sirius Black.

“These things can’t be avoided,” Ron comforted her. “They’ll find out sooner or later—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Hermione took a deep breath. “Is there any information in all of Diagon Alley more tangible than the Tournament footage released by Futureworld Corporation? I can imagine that Dad will buy a Magic Projector and the footage of the second project without hesitation. Maybe they’ve already seen it, but they just haven’t told me!”

They went to the Transfiguration classroom that Professor McGonagall had lent them to practice spells, especially those that might be used in the maze, which was how they had been spending the past month.

But today, Hermione is completely out of sorts.

"No, I can't concentrate," she said dejectedly.

“Let’s take a break,” Harry said. “We’re well prepared, so there’s no need to work so hard for the next two days.”

Normally, Hermione would have been the first to jump up and object, but today she acquiesced to Harry's statement, sitting on the cushion with her knees drawn up to her chest, looking utterly helpless.

Harry and Ron didn't know how to comfort her, so they stood silently for a while. Harry took out the magic book from his bag. He had already read it from beginning to end. The professor said that the book had a very weak effect on him, and the magic in it would probably last for a few more months. He decided to give it to him as a souvenir.

"Do you think it could be the influence of this book?" Ron leaned closer and whispered. "Hermione read it too, didn't she?"

“That happened last week,” Harry replied in a similarly low voice, not believing it was due to the book. “The magical effects don’t last that long.”

“You’re right,” Ron said, pulling a magic journal from his bag and reading the short stories, occasionally glancing up at Hermione in the distance. He raised his voice deliberately, “No matter how many times I read it, it’s still so scary… I doubt if Hermione had read these stories in her third year, would she have dared to use the Time-Turner? I mean, what if she’d gone through a few more loops…”

Hermione suddenly stood up, took a few deep breaths, and picked up her schoolbag.

"You're right, I'd better find something to do." She said and walked out of the classroom.

Ron paused, then turned to Harry. "Did I say something?" Harry shook his head. They followed Hermione to the Room of Requirement. "I need an alchemist's laboratory... I need an alchemist's laboratory... I need an alchemist's laboratory..."

An ancient-style door appeared before them.

Hermione exhaled slowly, pushed open the door, and entered the room. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance; they knew what she was about to do. "I'm looking forward to this too," Ron muttered, and the two followed closely behind.

The room was very spacious, with several huge workbenches in the center. On the workbenches were all sorts of strange devices, oddly shaped glass bottles, casually placed wooden toolboxes, golden scales, weights, crucibles, etc. Two bookshelves stood against the wall, filled with common alchemy books.

Hermione put down her bag, took out the Time-Turner, glanced back at Harry, and Harry tactfully handed her the gray hourglass.

"You're planning to fix it now?" Ron couldn't help but ask. "I thought it would be another month or two."

“There’s no need to drag this out any longer,” Hermione said calmly. “Besides, it’s not about repairing it, it’s just about taking it apart and replacing a part… I have a lot of confidence in my experience with Nicolas Flamel’s success.”

“I hope it’s as simple as she says,” Ron said hopefully.

Harry thought he would see a screwdriver or something, at most a screwdriver that could tighten screws by itself... but Hermione just held her wand, chanting long spells, occasionally tapping the golden hourglass, or drawing a few runes and alchemical symbols, imprinting them onto the hourglass. A layer of fine sweat appeared on Hermione's forehead, and her expression was serious. Harry and Ron didn't dare to breathe, afraid that their breathing would affect her.

After about an hour, Hermione was exhausted, but her eyes were still bright.

"Quick, Harry, Ron, do me a favor."

"What do you need us to do?" Harry asked hastily, as he and Ron moved closer to the Time-Turner—the thing was flying in mid-air, spinning around and emitting a soft white light.

"Grab it, take the original hourglass off, and replace it with the flat-topped one! Hurry!" Hermione said, her face flushed as she struggled to maintain the magic.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, then nervously reached out. Harry grabbed the spinning timer like he'd caught a madman, while Ron tried to pry open the round-headed hourglass inside. "I can't get it off!" Ron shouted.

“Then use a little more force!” Harry said, his face contorted in pain. The thing was incredibly strong and was desperately trying to break free of his restraints.

Ron gritted his teeth, placed both hands on it, and pressed hard—with a "click," the hourglass was successfully removed.

Harry immediately picked up the dusty hourglass with his other hand, found the right spot, and filled it into the gap. "Done!" At that moment, a sudden shockwave spread out from the golden timer, throwing all three of them away.

Harry sat up with a grimacing expression, his arm hitting the sharp corner of the workbench. He suspected it might be broken, and then he heard two gasps. Harry lifted his head from his arm; Ron and Hermione were both staring in the same direction, mouths agape. He turned his head, his mouth agape in equal shock.

The Time-Turner hovered in mid-air, radiating a dazzling golden light. Harry squinted, clearly seeing the hourglass's dull surface seem to have been wiped clean by an invisible hand, regaining its luster. The matter inside the hourglass—those dark golden clumps—continued to melt, twist, and deform, while simultaneously radiating a beautiful metallic sheen.

After an unknown amount of time, all the golden light disappeared, and the time converter fell from mid-air, rolled twice on the ground, and remained motionless.

"We succeeded?" Ron found it unbelievable.

“Yes, thankfully it worked,” Hermione smiled. “If it had failed, we would have spent the whole night looking for the scattered parts.”