A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

“I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time, to meeting the ‘great savior’ Harry Potter…” Voldemort said softly. Harry’s eyes followed his slender, pale fingers, where a wand was lightly held, as if a simple disarming charm could make the wand slip from his hand.

Harry was itching to do something.

Voldemort was too arrogant. He was completely unprepared and thought he was powerless to fight back. Could this be his weakness?

“…I hoped to be reborn through his bloodline, to break the dictates of fate, and then kill him in one fell swoop. But I failed,” Voldemort said regretfully, his bare feet rustling through the mud and weeds. “Hogwarts is more dangerous than it was thirteen years ago. Besides that Mudblood and Muggle protector, Albus Dumbledore… there’s now Felix Heap, who is even more radical and proactive than the aging Dumbledore…”

“I had to abandon the best option—after nearly losing my only loyal servant.” Voldemort paused, his snake-like eyes narrowing, and said unhappily. Harry tried to keep his eyes on Voldemort's hand movements from being too obvious—

"So I settled for second best... You have no idea how frustrated I was, Harry Potter, I tasted defeat once again..."

"Exterminate you—" Harry shouted, and Voldemort suddenly waved his hand—

"Clap!"

Harry's wand fell to the ground. Harry's eyes widened; he hadn't seen it clearly at all. Voldemort's movements were too fast, as if he had been prepared all along. Then Voldemort slowly turned around, stared at him for a few seconds, raised his wand, and whispered, "Crunch in the Heart!"

Harry felt like every bone in his body was on fire. His head must have split open along the scar, his eyeballs bulging out, as if they might burst at any moment from the immense pressure. His body was contorted in the opposite direction, as if it were about to break him in two. He wanted it to stop... he wanted to pass out... and die...

Harry noticed the pain lessening slightly, and a warm sensation emanated from his thigh—the amulet in his pocket! Two forces were protecting him: Occlumency and the knot Nona had given him. Though each effect was weak, they were indeed working.

Voldemort's snake-like face twisted in a cruel, satisfied smile, his wand still pointed at him. How long had passed...

The torment is finally over.

Harry was limp, his back soaked with sweat, breathing heavily. His head was still pressed against the ground, but he could still feel Voldemort's ecstatic joy. Why was this happening? Did torturing himself make him happy?

Harry couldn't understand this emotion, but he was quite certain of one thing: he wasn't mistaken—after all, he felt absolutely no joy right now.

"Tie them up," Voldemort whispered.

A person walked over, Harry's face was pressed to the ground, his wand was not far from him, but he couldn't reach it. A rope was wrapped around him, and he was dragged along the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Ron and Hermione were in the same situation. Ron's legs were twisted unnaturally, and his face was pale. Hermione looked like a corpse, her chest not rising or falling at all.

He was then hoisted up by ropes, his back pressed against the cold, flat surface. He paused for two seconds before realizing it was a black tombstone. He also saw who was in front of him: Barty Crouch Jr., one hand wearing a silver glove.

“Did you find it, Potter?” Crouch Jr. licked his lips nervously. “It’s the Dark Lord’s reward to me.” Harry glared at him, but this feeble threat did nothing to affect Crouch Jr.’s movements. The rope wrapped around Harry again and again, from his neck to his ankles without leaving a single gap.

Crouch Jr. turned and left.

“Stretch out your arm,” Voldemort said lazily. Yaxley and Crouch Jr. simultaneously extended their left hands, and Harry saw a bright red tattoo. Voldemort pressed his long, pale index finger onto Crouch Jr.'s arm, turning the mark black. Crouch Jr. let out a soft gasp.

Voldemort straightened up, raised his head, and scanned the dark graveyard.

"After sensing it, how many people will have the courage to come back? And how many will be foolish enough not to come?" he murmured.

Voldemort began pacing again, glancing at the graveyard every now and then. Harry didn't know what was happening, but he felt it couldn't be anything good. He racked his brains for a solution. Apparition? No, he had lost his wand and couldn't perform Apparition without a wand like Professor Hyp, especially since there were two people with him.

He couldn't possibly escape alone.

Wait, Professor Hyp? Harry's eyes widened as he desperately chased after that glimmer of light, racking his brains for anything related to Professor Hyp... He finally realized it: the Ouroboros Ring.

In his third year, Professor Hyp told him that his, Ron's, and Hermione's Ouroboros rings had been specially modified so that they could contact the professor, in order to guard against Peter Pettigrew, who could transform into Animagus.

But Harry was disappointed again; he didn't have the Ouroboros Ring with him at all. However… there was someone else who might have.

He strained to turn his head to look to his left, where Hermione remained unconscious.

“Hermione…” Harry whispered. He and Hermione were separated by the gap between the tombstones, but he was bound tightly and could not even kick her. To make matters worse, his struggles attracted Voldemort’s attention.

"Concerned about your friend? Potter?" Voldemort said softly, pacing over. "Despite being just a lowly Mudblood, she's more useful than you think..." His gaze swept over Hermione, Harry, and Ron, and he said maliciously, "Muggle, half-blood, and pure-blood, what a dramatic combination!"

"Recover quickly!" He pointed his wand at Hermione, who slowly opened her eyes weakly. When she saw Voldemort so close to her, she stared in fear, leaning back, which aggravated her injuries, causing her to groan in pain.

But Voldemort nonchalantly turned his head away and looked at Harry.

“I think it would be better for your two best friends to witness your death.” A cruel smile appeared on his face. “After that, should the pureblood kill the mudblood, or the mudblood kill the pureblood? Or should they both die at the hands of that kid… I haven’t decided yet, but I believe it will be a good show.”

“You…you’re dreaming,” Ron said, his face contorted.

Voldemort looked at him and sneered twice, "The Weasleys? Disgusting family—Crunch in the Heart!"

Ron screamed in agony.

"Do not--"

"don't want--"

Harry and Hermione, who had just come to their senses, started shouting, but Voldemort's smile grew even wider. "I like this feeling, the feeling of having control over life and death..." He continued to point his wand at Ron, making him howl in pain. However, this torment didn't last long. Soon, Voldemort stopped on his own and looked around.

Suddenly, the air was filled with the rustling of cloaks. Wizard apparitions appeared in every shadowy spot. They were all hooded and masked. They approached cautiously, and Voldemort took a few steps forward, standing there silently waiting.

A Death Eater knelt down, crawled to Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robe.

More and more Death Eaters did this, including Barty Crouch Jr. and Yaxley. The only people standing there besides Voldemort were Harry, his two companions, and himself.

“Welcome, Death Eaters,” Voldemort said calmly, beginning his return address. Harry wasn’t paying attention; instead, he winked at Hermione, not daring to be too obvious. Hermione didn’t notice—she was injured.

“I smell guilt… No one has tried to reach me… Didn’t you all know a long time ago that I had taken measures to prevent death? Yes, perhaps you believe that a greater power has defeated Voldemort, defeated the master you serve… Like that old man hiding in Hogwarts? Or the boy who has survived this ordeal?”

The Death Eaters, kneeling on the ground, shakily raised their heads, and when they saw Harry, they all gasped.

“Lucius, are you surprised? I heard your son is in the same grade as Harry Potter?”

“Master,” Lucius Malfoy’s voice came from the dense ranks of Death Eaters, “The Malfoy family has always been loyal to you. Draco, Draco and Potter are mortal enemies at school! He hates Muggles, hates Potter, and hates Dumbledore just like I do.”

Lucius looked up. "Master, it's so good to see you back—"

“Lucius,” Voldemort said lazily, “my cunning friend, hypocrisy is etched into your bones. You, like everyone else, have never tried to find me… However, your performance at the Quidditch World Cup was quite amusing, and I believe… you are still willing to lead the torment of Muggles, aren’t you? Even though you disappointed me at one point… I hope you will serve me more loyally in the future.”

“Of course, Master, of course… You are so kind, thank you…”

Next, Voldemort called out names one by one, including those who hadn't come. The Death Eaters kneeling on the ground seemed to await their fate. Harry took the opportunity to repeatedly signal to Hermione with his eyes, and he succeeded. Hermione gave him a shrewd glance.

“The Ouroboros Ring,” Harry muttered softly.

Hermione stared at him, not hearing him clearly.

“The Ring of Ouroboros.” Harry raised his voice slightly, and this time Hermione heard him. She nodded gently to Harry and moved her arm slightly. At that moment, Voldemort finally finished judging the Death Eaters, and they regrouped under Voldemort’s banner.

"Next comes the climax of my return night, the show I've carefully prepared." Voldemort turned around, his narrow nostrils slightly widening. Hermione immediately stopped moving. Voldemort raised his wand: "Let us witness the death of Harry Potter together."

All the Death Eaters raised their wands and shouted in unison, "We witness the death of Harry Potter."

Harry felt the ropes binding him suddenly loosen. On a whim, he fell towards Hermione, using his body as cover, and tugged hard at the ropes binding Hermione. Hermione quickly reached into her pocket.

A low chuckle rose from the surroundings.

"Please forgive me, but I must admit—the boy who survived the ordeal suffered some torment before this." Voldemort held his wand, a cold smile spreading across his face.

The crowd laughed even harder.

“Come here, Potter, and face your destiny,” Voldemort said softly.

Harry dawdled, trying to buy Hermione time. So much time had passed; the school must have realized they were missing. No, they should have known from the moment they were holding the trophy but not appearing outside the arena, but the school couldn't find them... This was precisely the effect of the Ouroboros Ring.

"Oh?" Voldemort drawled. "Harry Potter seems a little nervous. Move aside a bit. I remember you should have studied dueling?"

The Death Eaters laughed and dispersed further. Harry limped over to his wand, picked it up from the ground, and also picked up Ron and Hermione's wands, putting them in his pocket.

"Children's tricks," Voldemort scoffed.

“Let’s bow to each other, Harry,” he said, giving a slight bow, but his snake-like face remained fixed on Harry. “Come on, etiquette must be observed… Dumbledore would certainly expect you to behave with grace… Bow to Death, Harry…”

Harry stared at him stubbornly, and Voldemort gently pressed down with his wand, bending him over. To humiliate him, Voldemort deliberately kept him in that position for a while. Laughter filled the air.

That's not bad... Harry thought, at least it bought them some time.

"Then, let the duel begin."

Harry quickly raised his wand, red light gathering at the tip, but Voldemort struck him even faster with the Crucifixion Curse. Harry fell to the ground in agony, feeling the white-hot blades cutting into his body. He screamed in pain and stumbled towards the wall of Death Eaters. He saw a Death Eater with light blond hair under a mask, one hand in his pocket.

What is he doing? Harry couldn't help but wonder, before he was pushed back by the Death Eaters around him.

"Does it hurt a lot, Harry?" Voldemort said, his nostrils flaring with excitement. "Need a rest? You'll have to learn to be patient, because I'm going to keep using this spell... the Cruciatus Curse... until the very end of your life."

The surrounding sounds were hushed, and the Death Eaters looked at Voldemort with awe, which pleased Voldemort greatly.

Harry noticed something amiss. If you disregard the blow that knocked the wand away, Voldemort had only used one spell on him the entire time, and coupled with the wary expression on his face as if he'd misread it… Harry suddenly realized what was happening.

“You’re afraid of me! Voldemort, you’re afraid of me!” Harry shouted.

“What did you say, Potter?” Voldemort asked softly.

"You're afraid to use the Killing Curse on me, aren't you!" Harry shouted, voicing his suspicions, whether true or false, at least to buy some time. "You're wary of the magical protection my mother gave me with her life, worried that the curse will bounce back on you, and then you're finished! You'll become a complete joke!"

The Death Eaters around were completely silent, with only the cold, howling wind of the night breaking through the silence.

Voldemort was silent for a moment, then revealed a cold smile. "I just want to torture you—the Crucifixion!"

The spell struck Harry, but this time he didn't fall—he trembled, his eyes fixed on Voldemort. "You're afraid, Voldemort! I wasn't sure before, but now I'm absolutely certain. My mother's protection is in my blood. You've had enough of this pain, haven't you!"

“Thirteen years ago was one time! And three years ago when you possessed the back of Professor Quirrell’s head was another! You were in such a sorry state back then, these people should see you looking like that!” Harry shouted mockingly. Voldemort looked furious, and his pale, slender hands trembled for the first time.

"Heart-piercing, bone-scraping—heart-piercing, bone-scraping—"

Harry fearlessly spread his arms, giving up the fight. Just then, a crimson light descended from the sky, crashing heavily to the ground and blocking Harry's path. "Clang! Clang! Clang!" The Crucifixion spell missed its mark.

Harry's eyes widened. Standing before him was a steel knight. He couldn't tell if it was a magical puppet or a spell. All he could recognize was that the knight was wearing medieval armor, covered in blood, as if he had just been in a battle, and he was holding an enormous shield in his hands.

"What—" Voldemort suddenly turned around, looked up at the sky, and said through gritted teeth, "Felix Heap!"

“It’s me,” Felix said calmly, standing in mid-air with a pair of shimmering silver wings swaying gently behind him.

“You’ve come at the perfect time,” Voldemort said with a sneer. “I’ve been suppressing the urge to find you, but I didn’t expect you to come here on your own—Avada Kedava!” Green light blotted out the sky, and Felix’s silver wings flashed as his body abruptly disappeared into the air.

When he reappeared, he was already standing beside Harry and the knight, a ball of black lightning in his left hand. With a swift motion of his other hand, the ropes binding Ron and Hermione loosened, and they staggered to their knees. "Take Ron and Hermione first. Use the Trophy Portkey; the knight will protect you for now," he told Harry.

A surge of intense hope welled up in Harry's chest.

"Stop them!" Voldemort's snake-like face twisted, green light filling his vision. The knight grabbed Harry and pulled him aside, while Felix deftly turned to avoid the spell. He reappeared in mid-air, unleashing hundreds of black lightning bolts that struck the earth.

The Death Eaters scattered immediately, but a few unlucky ones were still struck.

Felix noticed Crouch Jr. moving toward Harry, but his eyes darted around as he pretended not to see.

Harry found himself being led by the 'knight' to Ron and Hermione. "Thank you—" He didn't know what to say, perhaps there was a wizard hiding inside the armor, but he was suddenly stunned, because the knight's body had been partially destroyed by the green light of the Killing Curse. His shield and right shoulder were gone, and the clean cut was being corroded by something green.

“Harry, the trophy—” Hermione said weakly, helping Ron to his feet.

"The trophy—that's right, the trophy is coming!" Harry shouted, raising his wand. But the fighting around them was too intense, and even though they were on the edge of the battlefield, they were still affected by the aftershocks. Large amounts of soil were overturned, and black tombstones shot into the sky, crashing down on Felix under Voldemort's control.

“Dude, I think the trophy is in that direction,” Ron said, grinning.

“Oh, right!” Harry said hastily, turning his wand around. “The trophy is coming!” He heard a whooshing sound, and this time he was right. Suddenly a figure rushed out. “Shatter to pieces!” he shouted with a savage grin.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched helplessly as the Shattering Charm shattered the trophy.

"Follow me, let's deal with Potter and the others! Master will take care of Hyp!" Crouch shouted at the top of his lungs. A dozen dark shadows responded to him, and colorful spells came flying at them. The knight stepped forward, placed his broken shield on the ground, and all the spells were deflected.