Chapter 201: The Dark Revival
Augustus was only a step away from the trophy. With just a slight stretch of his hand, he could claim what others viewed as the ultimate honor. However, he merely frowned at it, making no move.
"A Portkey? When did the trophy gain such a function?" Augustus mused, rubbing his chin. "Could this be leading to another stage of the competition? But what about the other champions? That would be illogical."
With a flick of his wand, Augustus performed a minor divination spell to trace its trajectory. The results were vague, only confirming that the destination was somewhere in Britain but far from here.
"Is this April Fool's Day? Could this tournament be nothing but a prank? Impossible. Where did things go wrong?" Silver pupils reflecting a glimmer of contemplation, Augustus knew that to a mage, the unknown was the gravest danger. Acting rashly in the face of uncertainty was a death sentence, a mistake no one past the apprentice stage could afford.
"Finally caught up!" came an odd voice from behind Augustus. Turning, he saw Krum panting as he ran toward him.
Augustus nodded at him. "Good evening."
Krum returned the nod with a calm smile. "Mr. Augustus, I'm here to inform you not to touch that trophy. I just learned that the judges accidentally enchanted it with a Portkey spell. The tournament is temporarily suspended, and the officials have decided to resume the final task the day after tomorrow."
Augustus gave a small nod of acknowledgment. "You arrived just in time. I only just discovered the anomaly with the trophy."
Turning back to the golden prize, Augustus added casually, "So, the judges will notify all contestants through amplified magic? Why hasn't there been an announcement yet?"
Krum stepped closer, stopping about a foot away. A strange smile crept onto his face. "Don't worry. Just wait a little longer. You'll get your answer."
"Avada Kedavra!"
A burst of green light erupted from Krum's wand at point-blank range, slashing through the night. It struck Augustus's black robe squarely in the back.
"Ha! A young genius, heir to an ancient family—what does it matter? In the end, you fall at my hand. Rotting aristocratic scum... This world needs a fresh start." With his strike landing, Krum's eyes gleamed with a sinister smile.
"You're far too naive," Augustus sighed, turning around slowly to face Krum's shocked expression. "If I couldn't spot the obvious flaws in an Imperius Curse, my enemies would laugh themselves awake in their sleep."
Krum's face grew blank. He raised his wand toward the dark maze behind him and shot a blue flare into the sky before collapsing unconscious.
Tapping Krum's fallen form with his wand, Augustus invoked a white hexagram around him. Whispering a soft incantation, the hexagram flared brightly. Moments later, glowing letters spelling Barty Crouch appeared midair.
"A Traceback Hex... fourth-tier mysticism... for identifying the caster of a spell on an enchanted subject," Augustus muttered. Crossing his arms, his expression turned complex. "So, tonight's events—Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire—none of this was coincidence. Every step to this point was meticulously calculated. A masterpiece of scheming."
As Augustus contemplated signaling Dumbledore and the others, he caught a glimpse of a small figure nearing the trophy.
"Wait!" Augustus shouted at Harry. "That trophy is cursed!"
Harry's gaze locked onto the trophy, momentarily dazed by its glow. He imagined himself holding it high, walking triumphantly out of the maze to the cheers of the crowd. He saw Cho's admiring smile, clearer than ever before.
Cursed? He didn't care. After tonight, Cho would know he was Hogwarts' true champion. These so-called aristocrats could rot. Before Augustus could lift his wand, Harry reached out and seized the Triwizard Cup.
A sharp tug at his navel. Harry's feet left the ground as he was whisked away through the whirling wind and spinning colors.
Augustus's face darkened with rare anger. A single lapse had sent the situation spiraling into chaos. Fortunately, he had made some modifications to the Cup beforehand.
With a flick of his wand, Augustus's body turned transparent. The next moment, a gust of wind carried him upward into the sky. Suspended above the indigo expanse was a massive cloud fortress. Floating into its interior, Augustus accessed a central control panel. Commands entered, the vast citadel shifted direction, racing toward a distant location in Britain.
In a remote British countryside, five figures astride pure white unicorns galloped at full speed.
"We've just been issued the task," said Yang Fan, worry etched across his face. "We're to ensure Harry's safe return to Hogwarts. If we follow the original timeline, he should make it back, but the real risk lies in the Nordic team, now allied with Voldemort. This mission is a matter of life and death. I hope everyone gives it their all."
He sighed. "We'll be facing Voldemort, a world-class boss, and the Nordic team, said to surpass even the Demon Squad. If only we'd chosen Augustus's neutral faction back then. We could've coasted through this world mission. But alas, there's no undoing poor decisions in the Main God Space."
Harry felt his feet hit the ground, his injured leg buckling beneath him. Letting go of the trophy, he looked up.
He was far from Hogwarts now—perhaps even hundreds of miles away. No trace of the surrounding mountains or castle could be seen.
Before him stretched a dark, overgrown graveyard. To the right, the black silhouette of a small chapel loomed behind a tall yew tree. To the left, a hillside held an elegant, ancient mansion.
A cloaked, short figure approached, cradling a bundle. Behind him stood three figures in refined attire. The small man lowered the bundle, drew his wand, and conjured a rope that easily bound Harry.
Fear flickered across Harry's face. His lips quivered as he stammered, "W-Where am I? Who are you?"
The short man let out a sinister chuckle. "Welcome to hell."
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