A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 489: Testimony of Death

Chapter 489: Testimony of Death

"Professor, how are you—"

"I'm fine." Felix struggled up from the ground, Harry quickly fetching him a chair to sit. He closed his eyes, panting lightly. The three looked worriedly at Felix; the professor seemed to have recovered from a dreadful state earlier, but not entirely—his face, neck, hands... occasionally turned into intricate runes, then reverted to normal skin the next second, repeating this process.

"I'm not quite familiar with this condition. To avoid alarming others, I'll stay put for now... You all go find Headmaster Dumbledore and explain what happened to him."

Felix opened his eyes, startling Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The professor's light blue pupils were replaced by numerous runes, like small, shifting orbs within his eye sockets. After speaking, he shut his eyes again, his body starting to flicker once more.

The three exchanged glances.

"Clearly, the professor needs time to master this new power. Someone has to stay here during this time," Hermione suggested.

"I'll go, you and Ron stay," Harry decided after a brief pause. "You both are injured—"

"As if it wasn't you who got hit by several piercing curses," Ron smirked.

Harry returned a smile. "At least my legs are intact, and besides—" He hesitated, not entirely sure. "Towards the end, I felt like Voldemort's curses weren't affecting me as much. It was as if... my body was gradually adapting to the harm caused by the curses..."

"Harry, you better see Madame Pomfrey. I heard enduring multiple piercing curses could have serious side effects—" Ron uneasily suggested.

"You think I'm losing it?" Harry widened his eyes. Ron looked away from their eye contact, muttering softly, "It wouldn't hurt to confirm at least."

"Perhaps it's... um... the protective magic in Harry's blood," Hermione cautiously worded, "Let's not jump to conclusions. Honestly, with Dumbledore not here, I'm a bit anxious." She glanced carefully at Felix, her hand covering the pocket where she kept the ring he entrusted to her.

Earlier, the professor claimed the ring contained prohibited items, handing it over temporarily to avoid scrutiny from the Ministry of Magic. She hadn't thought much about it then, but now, out of danger, she began pondering: Did it really warrant such caution for a routine investigation?

Harry nodded, heading towards the door. As he prepared to draw back the tent's curtain, Hermione halted him.

"Wait, Harry—"

He turned, seeing Hermione looking at him earnestly.

"You know what to say, right?"

"The Time-Turner," Hermione reminded.

Harry suddenly realized. Yes, Hermione had gone back in time, altered history... no, according to the materials he recently read, using the Time-Turner had only two outcomes:

Either it fails—resulting in backlash for the user and a threat to the 'time' from the past to the present;

Or it succeeds—the user's actions during time travel become part of history, like a predetermined event. Hermione explained that what seemed destined was the result; if they succeeded, and if they failed, it would lead to severe consequences, akin to Eloise Mintumble's case.

How should he say it? Harry thought deeply and quickly found a solution. It was quite simple, omitting Hermione's use of the Time-Turner. As for how the professor managed to "come back from the dead," he didn't know. Maybe it was a special kind of magic he wasn't meant to know about?

Suddenly, a detail struck Harry. Barty Crouch Jr. obviously recognized the Time-Turner and wanted to expose the secret... so the professor chose to eliminate him right away? Harry felt a repulsion towards killing but immediately chastised himself; this was war, he reminded himself, and besides, Crouch had done so many wrongs. Professor Moody's loud recital of Death Eaters and their deeds in class was vivid in his mind...

He had never realized how close the war was to him. Harry felt oddly sentimental. He still had another month before he turned fifteen.

The night sky was filled with stars, a looming maze castle to his left, silently standing in the darkness. To his right, a high arc-shaped stand, figures moving all around.

He saw two burly figures, much larger than the rest, almost as if they had been enlarged by an Engorgement Charm. They had to be Hagrid and Madame Maxime. Not far from them, Harry spotted a tall, thin silhouette, translucent silver beard swaying in the cool night breeze... Dumbledore. Harry's heart calmed as he made his weary way towards him, step by step.

"The Forbidden Forest has been thoroughly searched, not a trace found!" Hagrid waved his arms in frustration. "I even asked the centaurs for help, no word yet..."

"You've heard it too, Cornelius, we're still in the dark about specifics... I'm afraid all we can do is wait." Dumbledore spoke calmly.

"How can I relax, Dumbledore?" Fudge protested, "Three champions who just won the Triwizard Cup disappeared collectively. We still have no idea of their fates... How will the reporters spin this tomorrow?"

"Cornelius, it's not about how the reporters write it, it's about the significance behind this—" Dumbledore explained.

"What significance?" Fudge immediately demanded.

"Isn't it obvious enough!" an angry voice roared near Fudge's ear. Startled, Fudge turned to find Mad-Eye Moody standing next to him, his heavy body leaning on his staff, his magical eye fixed on him.

"Sorry, I can't see it," Fudge coldly replied, while glancing disapprovingly at the Death Eaters behind Moody, who had clearly failed their duties.

"Think about why I was made a puppet? Who put Harry Potter's and his friends' names into the Goblet of Fire?" Moody growled, tapping his staff on the ground, creating a loud impact.

"You mean Barty Crouch Jr.?" Fudge furrowed his brow. "But he's escaped; a third of the Death Eaters have been tracking him all this time, except tonight—"

"So you think it's over? Crouch and his backers went to great lengths to get Harry out of the school. Do you think they'd just give up so easily? Tonight's events haven't made you vigilant?" Moody spat on the ground, leaving Fudge red-faced.

"Alastor has a point, Cornelius. You cannot turn a blind eye to the approaching danger. I can almost ascertain we're part of a huge conspiracy," Dumbledore said softly.

"A conspiracy?" Fudge repeated, Harry standing behind the crowd. The moon wasn't particularly bright tonight, casting shadows over Fudge's face. He looked far from as affable as he did during Harry's second-year summer, despite discussing Harry's illegal incident with Aunt Marge.

"I know what you're about to say, it's the same old story retold... I already mentioned during the banquet, I've dispatched an elite team, and we're awaiting their findings," said Fudge impatiently. "If we're talking conspiracies, I'd like to know, where did Felix Harp go? You've been evasive, Dumbledore..."

"I believe," Dumbledore spoke calmly, "Felix might possess a unique insight into the whereabouts of Potter, Weasley, and Granger. He's adept at crafting various gadgets and often proves pivotal in crucial moments... For instance, the protective charm he gifted me during Christmas was of immense help."

"I don't have time for your circumlocution—"

"I'm merely giving an example," Dumbledore gently intervened. "Conversely, I'm equally curious—there seems to be one less guard emerging from the maze castle. Where has he gone?"

Fudge turned to his two Aurors behind him, one nodded and murmured, "Yaxley is missing."

"That doesn't prove anything," Fudge immediately replied. "Maybe he noticed something amiss... Add him to the search list," he instructed the Auror who nodded and departed.

"You're looking for Yaxley, who happens to be a Death Eater!" Harry couldn't contain himself, shouting from the back.

People in front were startled, the nearest—Jacqueline, one of Beauxbatons' champions—jumped, accompanying Madame Maxime. Her eyes widened, staring at Harry, covered in dust, as she retreated.

The onlookers stirred. "Harry's back!" a voice exclaimed, "He's back alive!" The news spread like wildfire, drawing more people closer. Footsteps converged from all sides.

Wands were raised, the multitude of lights overwhelmed Harry. Gasps and shrieks echoed. Amid the cacophony, he discerned Mrs. Weasley's distinct voice and Hagrid's excited roar.

Soon, strong arms enveloped him, Dumbledore. "You're all back?" he swiftly inquired.

"Yes," Harry replied, glimpsing Sirius and Lupin trying to edge closer.

"So, Felix succeeded?" he continued in a low tone.

"Yes—what?" Harry looked bewildered at Dumbledore. He mischievously mouthed: Time-Turner.

Harry was too shocked to speak. But Dumbledore seemed to read the answer from his expression, his voice regaining composure as he asked aloud, "Did you encounter Voldemort?" The question startled everyone; their forward motion ceased as all eyes fixed on Dumbledore and Harry.

Fudge's eyes widened like saucers.

"Yes! Dumbledore, we saw Voldemort; he returned months ago! He orchestrated tonight's conspiracy, and—Harry suddenly remembered something—Yaxley! He altered the Cup's portkey destination!"

The approaching crowd erupted again, spreading further. Hundreds gasped collectively.

"Are you sure?" Fudge barged forward, grabbing Harry's collar, spittle flying. "Are you sure? What about Harp? What did Felix Harp do?"

"He saved us!" Harry retorted in frustration.

"Is everyone alive?" Fudge demanded, his nostrils flaring.

Harry didn't want to answer Fudge's question, but he saw the fearful hope in the eyes of the Weasleys and Grangers. So, he declared loudly, "Yes! Ron and Hermione are alive, they're both fine! Except for that Death Eater, I don't know if he perished in the aftermath of the battle."

Mrs. Granger screamed and fainted, Mrs. Weasley fared slightly better, sobbing loudly, their loved ones soothing them.

"Madam Pomfrey, please come here," Dumbledore said firmly, grasping Harry's shoulder, causing Fudge's grip to loosen, "Some here need treatment. Miller, attend to the Grangers."

Professor McGonagall nodded.

Hagrid squeezed in, followed by Sirius and Lupin, finally reaching Harry.

"Are you hurt? Harry, are you hurt?" Sirius tried to glean something from Harry's appearance, but he was covered in dirt, impossible to decipher.

"It's nothing," Harry whispered, "just a few curses..."

"What! Those are curses!" Sirius exclaimed, "Why didn't you say so earlier?" He scolded Harry, who felt warmth despite Sirius' outburst, then Sirius attempted to lift him.

"Let me do it." Hagrid's gruff voice intervened, cradling Harry in his arms.

"No, wait," Harry struggled in Hagrid's embrace, "Professor Dumbledore, Professor Harp and Ron, Hermione are still in the tent, Professor Harp... he's, uh, tending to injuries, doesn't want others disturbing..."

"I understand," Dumbledore said, "I'll set up another tent nearby."

Hagrid, Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, and the others headed towards the temporary tent, the crowd silently following, all seeking a definitive outcome... Fudge remained, his expression hesitant.

At that moment, the Auror who left returned, whispering to Fudge. His eyes widened in astonishment, his mouth opening and closing several times.

"Wait, Dumbledore!" he called out.

"Fudge," Dumbledore, showing impatience for the first time tonight, said, "You've seen their condition—they need treatment, not interrogation by the Ministry. If you want the truth, perhaps stay tonight, and tomorrow morning we can—"

"No, Dumbledore, you better hear this," Fudge appeared perplexed yet relieved, pointing at the Auror, "Repeat what you just learned."

Under everyone's gaze, the Auror stammered, "Just got word, Yaxley's been found, he, he's dead—before he died, he told us... he said it's all Felix Harp's conspiracy, he's the mastermind!"

>

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