A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

Chapter 485 The Labyrinth Castle (The End) - The Beginning

Harry grinned, about to say something, when he suddenly heard Ron scream. He turned around and saw Ron bursting out of the bushes, clutching his face, followed by two furry, spiky balls—cloaked squirrels. Only their feet and noses were visible as they leaped high into the air and slammed into Ron's back, causing him to scream again.

"They've all turned to stone!"

"He collapsed to the ground, completely unconscious!"

Harry and Hermione chanted the spell at the same time, and the two cloaked rats were hit.

"What's wrong with him?" Cedric looked at Ron in confusion, who was groaning in pain.

“I got slapped twice by the tail of the cloaked rat,” Hermione said, reaching into her pocket and rummaging around for a while before pulling out a vial of potion.

“You have some little thorns on you… I need to remove them first, I don’t know if it will hurt—” Hermione pulled a small thorn from Ron’s neck.

Ron let out a loud shout.

“Bear with it—” Hermione’s fingers trembled as she pulled out another thorn. Ron screamed even louder. She looked at Harry helplessly, and Harry went over to her.

“I’ll help too.” Cedric picked up his wand and stood up.

“The wall trophy,” Ron mumbled.

"What?" Harry asked in astonishment.

“I think he’s talking about the trophy,” Cedric said with a smile. “The trophy is flying here!” He pointed to the trophy in the distance, and it immediately flew into his hand. He looked at it for a couple of mixed feelings, then reluctantly handed it to Harry.

Harry hesitated for a moment.

“Take it, you deserve it,” Cedric said.

Harry took it, thought about it seriously for two seconds, and said to him, "You are a very good opponent."

Cedric laughed happily. "You too, Harry."

Hermione, who was busy trying to help, said impatiently, "You two, could you please do something? We're still in the game, and it's been so long. Why hasn't the others arrived yet?"

Cedric touched his nose somewhat awkwardly.

"Uh, I guess they're trapped by the tufted grass..."

"What's going on?" Ron slurred.

Cedric explained, “Roger and I met on the fourth floor, and then we found Collins on the fifth floor, so we worked together. That floor is full of strange terrain—” Harry nodded; they had encountered several others as well.

"As we approached the entrance to the next level, we unexpectedly stumbled into the territory of the fluffy plants. These magical creatures have no blood or bones, and at first glance, they look like a large ball of fluff that can split at will... But this is actually a misconception. They are gregarious, often rolling around in large groups, and are said to be closely related to the fluffy plants. Like plants, they roll wherever the wind blows. Their hunting method is to wait for prey to take the bait. Once other creatures approach, they will rapidly lengthen and swell their fur, completely enveloping you in the fluff, and the more you scream, the tighter they wrap around you..."

"So Collins and Roger are trapped?" Harry asked quickly, seeing that Cedric was about to launch into a long explanation.

“Only Roger,” Cedric said, “we didn’t take it seriously at first. The fluffy hairs of the tufted grass are extremely tough, but as long as you don’t struggle or make noise, the hairs won’t continue to shrink, which is somewhat similar to the Devil’s Web…”

“Something must have happened in the middle,” Harry said confidently.

“Yes,” Cedric sighed, “actually, if you were willing to spend some time soothing it, it would calm down. But then the other two from Vargadu came along, one turned into an elephant, and the other sat on it, stomping all over the floor… Collins went up to them and tried to persuade them to stop, but they wouldn’t listen, because there was barely a narrow passage, and they thought we were deliberately blocking their way…”

"...Their suspicions were justified; the trophy's song had everyone on tenterhooks..."

Harry could already picture what it would be like.

"They were naturally trapped, and because they struggled so fiercely, some tufts of grass were blown everywhere, filling the nearby corridors and blocking all possible routes. Collins and I were forced to separate; Collins was grooming the tufts at one end, while I went to the sixth floor..."

So, now all the warriors except them are grooming the fluffy grass? Harry imagined the scene and found it incredibly bizarre.

A little while later, the thorns on Ron's body were removed, and Hermione applied medicine to his face, causing the wounds to heal quickly. During this time, the trophy sang twice more, seemingly oblivious to everyone else, forcing Harry to temporarily set it aside.

……

“Well…see you in a bit,” Cedric said, sitting on the ground, leaning against a statue with Nona Ripper and Krum asleep beside him. Ron and Hermione held the trophy on either side; the Portkey would activate if Harry placed his hand on it.

Harry stopped and invited Cedric, "Why don't we go out together? The rules only require a team to be assembled to activate the Portkey, they don't say we can't add other people."

Cedric smiled and shook his head. "I'm waiting for my teammates."

“Alright then,” Harry said, turning to look at Ron and Hermione, who were covered in dirt. He guessed he must be a mess too, though they both had excited expressions on their faces. “Ready? The Portkey doesn’t taste good.”

"Is this the last bit of hardship before receiving the award?" Ron asked with a grin.

Harry grinned as well, placed his hand on the trophy, and as if a hook had pulled on his navel, the seventh level of the maze vanished before his eyes. The last thing he saw was Cedric smiling and waving at them.

The competition has come to a successful end, and they have won the championship. Harry just wants to sleep soundly now, and hopefully wake up to find that summer vacation has arrived.

……

“Finally…” Felix said with emotion. He clutched his top hat and abruptly disappeared. When he reappeared, he was walking on a dilapidated path in a remote village. Not far from him, a small church stood in the darkness; he could only make out its outline.

In the distance, there were indistinct shadows.

"That's the cemetery?"

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione said, hidden inside the top hat. Felix placed his hand on the hat, bent down, and turned it upside down. Hermione carefully jumped out, wearing a gold chain that looked more than ten times larger than her. The Time-Turner was almost as tall as her.

Under the effect of the Scaling Charm, Hermione gradually grew back to her original size.

“Here’s your beaded pouch.” Felix took a small pouch out of his pocket and handed it to Hermione. “The Scaling Charm still affects these kinds of magical items, as does the Time-Turner… Let me think… Oh, right, and the ring.” He took the ring off his hand and handed it to Hermione as well.

"I'll leave it with you for now."

"Professor, do you really think the Ministry of Magic would lay a hand on you? How dare they do such a thing?"

“It’s just better to be safe than sorry,” Felix shrugged. “We’re going to be separated. You can estimate the time yourself, use the Disillusionment Charm and those Concealment spells to hide, and then come over when the time is right… You can do it, Miss Granger.”

"understand!"

Felix smiled slightly and turned to walk towards the cemetery.

Chapter 486 Felix's Death and Return (10,000 words)

The howling wind and swirling colors surrounded Harry, Ron, and Hermione, dragging them forward. When Harry's feet touched solid ground again, they were in a completely unfamiliar place.

This is a cemetery.

The three people sat on the ground, utterly shocked.

“Where is this?” Ron asked. “I don’t see anything familiar. Is that… is it a cemetery?” Overgrown with weeds, black stone tablets stood around them. Harry shook his head and looked around. He saw a tall yew tree, and behind it was the outline of a building.

To the left was a hill. Harry could make out a charming old house on the hillside.

“It seems there’s a problem with the trophy’s delivery,” Harry said, looking around. The trophy was about ten feet away from them.

"The Ministry of Magic would make such a basic mistake?" Ron asked in surprise.

“Oh, Harry, look over there—” Hermione said nervously, pointing in a direction.

"The sound of wind?" Ron guessed; the wind had already picked up during the night.

“It’s people. Grab your wands,” Harry said. They squinted nervously into the deep darkness as three figures approached them step by step among the graves. Were they Muggles from the neighborhood? Harry wondered, but he quickly dismissed the idea; they were all wearing wizard cloaks.

“Stop! Who are you?” Harry shouted at the group.

A few scattered jeers drifted by on the wind, hardly a sign of friendliness. Harry raised his wand, but they stopped a dozen feet away, reaching for their hoods. Harry, Ron, and Hermione relaxed slightly; Harry only noticed that the person in the middle had an unnaturally pale complexion, as if suffering from some terrible disease.

The person on the far left revealed their face. "Barty Crouch Jr.!" Hermione shrieked. Harry was startled, forgetting about the person in the middle, his gaze shifting to the left as memories of Christmas night six months ago flooded back. "It really is you!"

“Potter,” Crouch Jr. grinned, “you should call me Professor, after all, I’ve taught you so much.”

Ron, standing beside him, tugged at his sleeve. "Ha, Harry—"

Without him saying anything, Harry noticed a pair of malicious eyes coming from the person in the middle. He had just unfastened his cloak, revealing a nose as flat as a snake, with nostrils that were just two thin slits... Harry felt that this makeup looked very familiar. The person touched his forehead with pale, slender hands, and a pair of scarlet eyes peeked out from between his fingers.

There was no warmth in those eyes.

"Voldemort?" he shouted.

“How dare you address your master by his name!” Crouch Jr. roared, drawing his wand, but a hand blocked his path. A piercing, icy voice followed, “They are guests I had painstakingly invited back, Barty. I will allow them this rudeness.” Voldemort said.

“Master, why don’t you let me handle those two troublesome ones?” Yaxley asked humbly, bowing his head. “I came out of the labyrinth castle to contribute my strength.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still reeling from the shock. The night air was like a biting icy chill, and a penetrating coldness spread from their lungs to their entire bodies.

Voldemort, however, showed no reaction to Yaxley's words. His eyes were bloodshot, making it difficult to distinguish the pupils from the whites, but Harry could clearly feel a tangible gaze scrutinizing him—a gaze filled with greed, hatred, and a hint of… fear?

Standing on the far left, Barty Crouch Jr. reverted to his usual mild-mannered self, lazily toying with his wand and giving Yaxley a disdainful glance—did he know nothing, yet was he so eager to take his place? Crouch Jr. licked his lips, revealing a sickly smile.

"So, you've been resurrected?"

Harry stepped forward, shielding Ron and Hermione in front of him, and bravely met Voldemort's gaze. He had to try to draw their attention... to create an opportunity... so that Hermione and Ron could escape and tell the professor, tell Headmaster Dumbledore.

But his heart sank lower and lower, as if falling into an abyss. A voice told him that the chances were too slim. Crouch Jr. was stronger than all three of them combined a year ago, not to mention Voldemort who had been resurrected.

Harry stared into Voldemort's eyes, trying to appear fearless. But his scar suddenly throbbed with an intense pain, more intense than he had ever felt in his life; his head felt like it was going to explode. Harry clutched the scar with one hand, the other still gripping his wand tightly. The excruciating pain caused him to collapse to the ground, convulsing uncontrollably. His stomach churned, he kept retching, and he even wondered if he was going to die any second.

He heard Ron and Hermione shouting something, followed by several sharp whooshing sounds and the sound of bodies hitting the ground heavily.

At that moment, a cool sensation suddenly spread through his brain, quickly easing his pain. It was a brain block procedure.

"Tsk tsk, tsk tsk... Your friends really care about you." The voice said without a trace of emotion.

Harry opened his eyes, his vision blurred and staring, still lingering from the excruciating pain. Several seconds passed before he could make out Voldemort's face, which was right in front of him—the color of a corpse, the color of bones. His head was completely bald, and his vivid red eyes looked sinister and terrifying in the darkness, the pupils reduced to slits, like the eyes of a snake.

What did he just say? My friend? Harry had a terrible thought. No… please don’t… He struggled to get up, each movement excruciatingly painful, but even so, he didn’t put down his wand.

If Ron and Hermione really were... He couldn't bear the thought; his stomach churned again, and his fingers, cut from gripping his wand, were bleeding from the stone. Harry gritted his teeth, the pain offering some relief. He struggled to his feet, glaring at Voldemort with hatred.

His response was a cold and sharp, sinister laugh.

He staggered to his feet, shook his head vigorously, and Voldemort silently took two steps back, still staring at him with that disgusting look.

Just then, Harry heard a faint groan—it was Ron! Harry was overjoyed; he wasn't dead! What about Hermione? He couldn't hear her; the area to his left was deathly silent. Harry didn't dare turn around to check.

“You went too far, Yaxley. That girl almost died,” Voldemort said softly. “Barty did a good job.”

“Master…?” Yaxley looked up in confusion, while Barty Crouch Jr. beside him let out a silent sneer.

“I can use all three of them,” Voldemort said softly, his eyes still fixed on Harry. “Those two…not only are they Harry Potter’s best friends, but—according to Barty, they’re both on good terms with Felix Heap?”

“Yes, Master,” Barty Crouch Jr. said respectfully, “especially that Muggle girl, who became Hyp’s assistant when she was in second grade.”

Voldemort chuckled coldly twice.

"The pure-blood family has completely degenerated, and their descendants have become useless, even allowing the despicable Muggle race to climb over them."

He started pacing back and forth in front of Harry. Harry stood there, staring wide-eyed, gripping his wand tightly. If he were to cast a spell on Voldemort now and then use the Summoning Charm to summon the trophy… no, Crouch Jr. and that Death Eater were both watching him.

Harry was frantic. Voldemort hadn't killed anyone yet, but he knew it wasn't out of mercy, but rather because he had a far more sinister plan. Harry's mind raced, and he was astonished to discover that even in his poor physical condition, Occlumency was still working on its own, preventing him from falling into despair.