A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

He had met Granger once before he started working there, and he remembered that she walked there, which seemed to indicate that her home was not far from the clinic…

Felix searched patiently and said softly, "I told her myself that there are no exceptions to long-distance time travel. If she believes she is destined to die... where will she be in the last moments of her life? I should have thought of that sooner."

Felix stared at a barely visible point of light in his field of vision, a slight smile playing on his lips. It didn't take him long to reach the street where the small townhouses were located. This was a favorite spot for the middle class and the newly rich—each townhouse was 150-200 square meters, two or three stories high, with a private garden and garage.

Felix cast an illusion spell on himself, stopped in front of a house, stared at the "Granger" on the house number for a while, then went into the restaurant across the street with a "24-hour open" sign, ordered a few dishes at random, and re-examined his plan.

He didn't plan to meet Hermione, at least not until he was able to resolve the side effects of long-distance time travel.

Time travelers are protected by the Time Converter. If they only travel back one or two hours, this "protection" is not obvious. However, if they travel back several years, decades, or even hundreds of years, their fate would be absolutely tragic without the power of the Time Converter.

The most obvious example is the witch who unfortunately traveled back five centuries. When she returned to her own time, she aged instantly, going from being in her prime to being very old. Saint Mungo tried almost everything, but the witch's body was like a sieve, and all means of replenishing her vitality were ineffective.

Felix could only pray that the flat-topped hourglass taken from "the despicable Herpo" contained enough energy.

As darkness fell, Felix sat in a corner of the restaurant, rhythmically tapping the table with his index finger. The passing customers ignored him, and ripples spread outwards. His magic and thoughts quickly enveloped the restaurant and continued to extend outwards until they covered the houses across the street and the nearby blocks.

He used his Mind Hut magic to replicate and overlap everything around him—much like how he constructed the Snowflake Corridor at the Quidditch World Cup. He looked up at the clock on the wall; it was already nine o'clock at night.

A car pulled up across the street, and a middle-aged couple got out. Felix closed his eyes, as if he were standing right in front of the Grangers. They opened the door, chatting and laughing, and then parked the car in the garage. The curtain on the second floor moved slightly.

Despite the dim light of the night, Felix could still clearly "see" a hairy head.

After waiting a few minutes, just as he was about to stop the spell, the second-floor window suddenly opened, and an owl flew out. Under the cover of night, no one noticed its presence. Like a ghost in the night sky, the owl circled twice above the house before flying away into the night.

Hermione stared at the owl for a few seconds before it disappeared behind the curtains. But she didn't notice that after flying for a while, the owl seemed lost, circling high in the sky before flying uncontrollably in one direction. Suddenly, the restaurant door opened, and the owl landed directly in front of Felix.

“Sent to me.” Felix stared at the envelope and muttered to himself. He opened the letter and saw the familiar handwriting of “Ms. Jane”.

"...I probably won't be writing anymore; I'm moving to another place. I read in the newspaper that you've become the coach and safety officer for two Hogwarts teams...that's amazing...I saw the footage of the second project...the warriors have to handle a lot of pressure, and I suggest you give them a hug before the game..."

Felix put down the letter and said expressionlessly, "It's a pity I can't grant your wish, Miss Granger."

Chapter 477: One Night at the Ministry of Magic

As night fell, the 24-hour restaurant was unusually quiet. The waiters were dozing off in the chairs behind the bar, and the hands of the clock on the gray wall had already pointed to ten o'clock.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, gazing out the window at the bright, clear night sky. She estimated the time; the owl would deliver the letter around noon tomorrow, wouldn't it? This unexpected time travel would also come to an end tomorrow.

She looked down at the time converter tied around her neck. The dark golden sand had turned pale white, only occasionally emitting a faint glimmer of light. Hermione remembered clearly that this phenomenon had been going on for some time.

After spacing out for a while, she pulled a black notebook from under her pillow and finished her daily record:

"Day 72 of time travel, day 7 of the current timeline: The closer we get to normal time, the more real our senses become. It's so much better than wandering aimlessly like a ghost at the beginning... The feeling of being abandoned by the whole world is terrible. The time converter keeps flashing, and I can't touch any physical objects. If it weren't for the food I prepared in my beaded bag, I wouldn't have been able to survive that initial period... Today, two new cracks appeared on the time converter, the reason is unknown..."

Hermione stopped, stared at the words for a moment, and placed the notebook on the bedside table. She quietly slipped out of the room, and as the door closed, the black notebook rustled open, and a phantom image murmured, "The third project, the trophy, the door key, and the root of it all... It was you, Crouch."

Meanwhile, Hermione cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself. She stood at the top of the stairs on the second floor, gazing at the couple in the living room. They were sitting on the sofa, watching television and chatting.

“When I see Hermione tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask her properly. Is that what she calls helping? She’s even helping on the field!” Mr. Granger said angrily.

“She’s always been very opinionated, and you even praised her for being smart—” Mrs. Granger said, looking at him.

"Using your intelligence to lie to your own parents?" Mr. Granger fumed. "You have no idea what a wizard told me when I mustered up the courage to ask him about the tournament! He said it was discontinued for centuries because the mortality rate was too high. Just listen to that!"

“Hermione said in her letter that the safety measures this year are very thorough… and it’s already the last event, I saw a safety officer in the video, didn’t I?” Mrs. Granger advised. “Why don’t we ask what the third event is tomorrow, and if it’s too dangerous, we can talk to the school…” She pursed her lips, unable to contain her anger, “This little girl has gone too far. We’ll teach her a lesson after the competition!”

They chattered on and on for a while, then turned off the TV and went upstairs. Hermione brushed past them at the corner, reached out her hand, only to grasp at air. In the silent stillness, her arm slowly fell to her sides.

A 24-hour restaurant.

The silver light in Felix's eyes gradually faded. After a moment of silence, he took out two glass bottles, one large and one small. The larger one contained a viscous liquid that resembled mud, which was slowly bubbling up. The smaller one contained a small tuft of gray hair.

This is Polyjuice Potion and a hair from Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. Felix smiled slightly; the hair's origin was quite dramatic—two years ago, Fudge was accidentally poisoned while visiting the Basilisk's corpse and was taken to the school hospital for treatment.

He took the opportunity to pluck a handful.

His deliberate action at the time saved him a lot of trouble.

Felix unscrewed the cork and poured the ash into the large glass bottle. The liquid inside immediately boiled and turned an ugly bluish-gray in the next second, like a bottle of boiling cement.

"Clerk, please settle the bill," Felix called out, while tucking the compound decoction into his sleeve.

When he walked out of the restaurant, it was 10:30.

The London night was eerily quiet, yet not without its share of noise. Felix walked alone down the street, his footsteps echoing in the darkness. His figure flickered several times before appearing in front of a dilapidated red telephone booth.

He opened the phone booth door and went inside, skillfully dialing the number 62442. A cold, indifferent woman's voice came from inside the phone booth.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit."

“Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, have the guards verify my identity,” Felix said calmly. His body had been transformed by Polyjuice Potion into a short, stocky man with messy gray hair and a large belly.

He waited a few seconds, and then a noticeably more energetic wizard's voice came through, his tone filled with undisguised surprise: "Minister Fudge? It really is you! What brings you here so late?"

“This is not something you can know,” Felix said in a deep voice.

"Oh, of course... but why don't you use your own fireplace?"

“I’m visiting a friend’s house nearby, and I suddenly remembered that I have an urgent matter to attend to. Do I need to complete a formality tomorrow?” His voice became stern.

“No need, I’ll let you in right away…” the voice said fearfully.

The phone booth began to descend slowly, and the sidewalk outside gradually rose above the window. After a period of darkness, Felix regained his vision. He calmly observed his surroundings. The light in the main hall was much dimmer than on his previous visits. The fireplace on the wall was not lit, and the statue in the distance stood silently in the pool, its blackness masked by the sound of the fountain.

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps approached from a distance. Felix's gaze passed over the statue and landed on the wizard running from the security checkpoint.

Coincidentally, he happened to know this person.

“Eric Munch,” Felix said.

“It’s me, Minister,” Eric Munch said with a smile, clearly honored.

“I’m glad you weren’t sleeping in that chair.” Felix looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze.

“How could I—of course I wouldn’t—be loyal to my duty—” Eric stammered, his face flushed.

“Go back to your seat, Mr. Munch! I’ll leave through the fireplace after I’m done,” Felix said.

“I understand, Minister.” Eric didn’t dare to breathe.

Felix nodded to him, took a few steps, then stopped. "By the way, is anyone still in the department?"

“I, I’m not sure… Mr. Minister,” Eric looked at him cautiously, “I guess Ms. Burns, Ms. Marchban and Mr. Ogden should be there… and those weirdos in the Department of Mysteries, uh, I mean, those Silencers, I never know where they are.”

“It’s so late—” Felix began, then frowned and looked across at Eric, knowing he would give an answer.

Sure enough, Eric's words became even more respectful and humble. "Mrs. Machiban and Mr. Ogden are working overtime to finish the Wizarding Level Examination papers. They are always very busy at this time of year. As for Ms. Burns," he raised his eyelids and glanced at Felix, "you transferred a group of Aurors to guard the third project, and there aren't enough people there."

Felix paused for a moment, then snorted, "I understand."

He turned and stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the ninth floor, and the gate slammed shut. The elevator made a screeching sound, and Felix slowly exhaled inside; the first step had gone smoothly. When the elevator stopped, a cold, female voice said, "Department of Mysteries." Then the gate opened, and Felix stepped out steadily.

He walked down a dimly lit corridor and stopped before a black door. The flickering firelight cast shadows on his face, making his expression appear uncertain. Through his magical perspective, he saw vast expanses of magical light, almost blinding him.

Just as he hesitated whether to force the door open, it suddenly opened from the inside. A middle-aged wizard stared at him in surprise, stunned for a few seconds, and said stiffly, "Minister? How come you..." As he spoke, he secretly reached into his pocket, and the next second, a Confusion Charm struck him.

"your name?"

“Sol Crook,” the wizard mumbled in a daze.

"Could you be my guide for today?" Felix asked politely.

"Minister, this is against the rules—" The wizard suddenly clutched his head, a pained expression on his face.

“Alright, let’s change the question. Are there any other people inside?” Felix didn’t force the wizard to continue answering, for fear of triggering the secret covenant on the Silent One.

“Bod is still inside, in the Hall of Prophecy,” the wizard replied, his face regaining its composure.

"Thank you."

A beam of red light struck the warlock, and the Silent Thor Crook slowly collapsed to the ground. Felix slipped in from outside, the black door closing behind him. Felix took out an Echobird, the little bird shaking its fiery red feathers and hopping around in his hand.

"Stay here. Notify me immediately if any outsiders appear or if this gentleman unexpectedly wakes up," Felix instructed softly.

The tiny bird, no bigger than a palm, nodded to him, hopped onto the wizard on the ground, and slipped into his pocket.

Only then did Felix have time to look around. He found himself standing in a huge circular room where everything from the floor to the walls was black, with a few candles flickering with blue flames on the walls, providing dim lighting.

There were no windows here, only black doors neatly inlaid on the walls, exactly the same as the one behind him, twelve in total.

"Where is the Hall of Prophecy?" Felix muttered to himself. He wanted to deal with the "Bod" the wizard had mentioned first, but he couldn't see any difference. After hesitating for a few seconds, he pushed open a black door.

Inside the door was a deep, sunken pit. In the center of the pit, on a stone platform, stood an ancient archway, with a tattered black curtain hanging from it, moving without wind.

There seemed to be someone behind the curtain…someone he knew, as if he would see them if he lifted the curtain. Felix circled the archway, but there was nothing behind it. Then he heard a murmur, a very distinctive voice.

It sounded like the voice of a young child. Felix's expression was dazed as he recalled his memories of the orphanage. But he might have misheard, because the voice now belonged to a woman, who murmured softly. Felix took a step closer, wanting to hear more clearly.

The voice grew closer, the murmurs becoming clearer; it must be a very gentle woman, Felix thought.

"Unfortunately, it's fake."

His Occlumency spell activated spontaneously. He stared at the black curtains for a long time before slowly leaving the room. The moment the door closed, a deafening rumble erupted, and the walls began to spin rapidly. He swiftly drew his wand, leaving an archway mark on the door. When the walls stopped, he glanced at the mark he had left and walked toward the door beside it.

The second room was empty, except for a table against the wall and a huge glass tank in the center of the room filled with dark green liquid, with some translucent brains floating around inside. Felix glanced at it and quickly left.

The third room was a dark room filled with planets. Felix stood at the door, looked around for a moment, and then ran into the other rooms.

He then entered an exceptionally tall room, its ceiling almost as high as a cathedral. Rows of towering shelves pierced the ceiling, filled with dusty, gray orbs of prophecy, large and small, shimmering with a faint silver light. Felix mused, "The Hall of Prophecy… so, Bald is here."

"Thor? Is that you?" a voice asked from afar.

Felix remained silent, approaching stealthily—"Thor?" The voice rose noticeably in volume, and the dim room was suddenly illuminated by the glow of a wand. A pale-faced, gloomy-looking man emerged from behind a shelf, pausing for a moment when he saw Felix.

"Minister?"

“Sorry.” A flash of red light, and Bode slumped weakly against the shelf. Felix took some time to move the unconscious wizard from the foyer here to keep his colleague company, while the Echo Bird hid in the shadow of the chandelier above the foyer.

As he walked out of the Hall of Prophecy, his vision blurred for a moment, and a strange sense of familiarity welled up inside him, as if something closely related to him was hidden here... Felix closed his eyes and, guided by his senses, walked to a shelf.

He opened his eyes, and at eye level lay a gleaming silver glass sphere. It was brighter than the surrounding prophecy spheres, and clearly far less dusty. As he approached, the sphere's shimmering rhythm quickened noticeably, as if welcoming him.

Felix saw a date from two years ago on the label, followed by a string of characters: . h.. (to be verified). After taking precautions, he reached out and took the prophecy ball from the shelf, only to find to his surprise that there was no resistance.

Felix stared at it; the feel of the prophecy ball was completely out of place in the cold room. It was warm and bright, and holding it felt like sunbathing for hours. At the same time, a hoarse voice appeared in his mind—

"An unprecedented upheaval... a legendary drama unfolds... Ho—the clown returns to the stage to the beat of the drums, the warriors are ready for battle, the lion grows old, the phoenix is ​​reborn... Time! Time!"

Felix couldn't help but grip the prophecy ball tightly and listen to it again.

“Clown, warrior, lion, firebird… what do they all refer to?” He didn’t spend much time thinking; time was of the essence. Almost twenty minutes had passed since he appeared at the Ministry of Magic. He strode away, tracing a circle on the black door.

Felix went straight to the next room, and the moment he pushed open the door, he realized he had finally found the right place—amidst a cacophony of hundreds and thousands of ticking sounds, and amidst beautiful, dazzling light that shimmered like diamonds in the sunlight, he saw all sorts of clocks: alarm clocks, clocks, travel clocks, grandfather clocks, and ancient things that looked like sundials… They were either hanging on the walls, on the floor, or placed on long tables and bookshelves.

On a closet with a glass front door, the wall on which the closet is located is covered with all kinds of hourglasses.