In the guest room of the Mage Tower, Harry stood awkwardly, glancing at Augustus, who was not far ahead. Tonight's events had been surreal: Voldemort's resurrection, the shocking appearance of a nuclear weapon—an almost unimaginable occurrence even among Muggles—and finally, the descent of the majestic Cloud Tower. It felt like the climax of a dreamlike night. Undoubtedly, without Augustus's intervention, Harry knew he would not have survived.
"Mr. Augustus, I truly don't know how to apologize to you. During that time, I was blinded by pettiness, harboring baseless suspicions about you. If I had heeded your advice during the final moments of the third task, none of this would have happened. Looking back, I see how childish and foolish I was." Harry hesitated, swallowing hard before bowing his head. "No matter what punishment you decide, I'll accept it. I only hope you can forgive me."
Augustus smiled faintly. "It wasn't a fundamental mistake, so there's no need to talk about forgiveness." To someone of his psychological age, the idea of holding a grudge against a child seemed trivial. As for forgiveness? He had never taken offense in the first place.
Harry nodded with a troubled expression. "Even so, my apologies to you run deep. When we return to school, I'll make a public apology to you. I'm truly sorry."
Sitting in a soft chair by the window, Augustus looked out at the deep blue, star-studded sky. "Look at the world outside, the stars. There is so much in this universe waiting for us to explore. The journey is endless, with limited time but infinite pursuits. Whether in life or in dreams, persistence and consistency are what matter most. As long as one's ambitions do not harm or negatively affect others, I believe they can be called worthwhile aspirations."
Dreams. From the heights of the Mage Tower, gazing at the boundless heavens, Harry's face showed a trace of confusion. What is my aspiration? From the moment of his birth, his path seemed preordained. Entering Hogwarts, thwarting Voldemort's plans, becoming a champion in the Triwizard Tournament—everything seemed arranged by others. He felt like a puppet on a stage, reacting to the strings pulled by others, with no thoughts or goals of his own. Dumbledore, Hermione, and others' expectant gazes nearly drowned him in a mire of goodwill. No one had ever told him that a person should have their own dreams, or the courage to pursue them.
"Thank you, Mr. Augustus," Harry said, a hint of gratitude flickering in his pure green eyes.
The Mage Tower pierced through the clouds, sailing with the wind. Under the dark night sky, the purple Cloud Tower glimmered with a mysterious sheen as it hovered over Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch. Augustus and Harry descended from the clouds to the ground.
Before them was the starlit night sky. From the stands, Albus Dumbledore stepped onto the pitch, surrounded by a pressing crowd of dark silhouettes moving toward them.
The pair reached the edge of the maze, where they could see the tall stands around them and figures moving atop them, with stars twinkling above.
"What happened? Why did you leave the competition grounds, especially you, Harry? According to our judges' records, you vanished from Hogwarts almost instantly!" Dumbledore's deep blue gaze fixed on Harry before shifting to Augustus.
"The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey," Augustus stated flatly. "It took us to Riddle's graveyard."
"A Portkey? To Riddle's graveyard?" Conelius Fudge, pale-faced and trembling, stood nearby, his expression stricken.
Dumbledore's face, hidden in the shadow of the night, was unreadable.
"He's back," Harry murmured. "Voldemort is back."
"What nonsense is this?!" Fudge's usually round face contorted with rare anger and fear. He pushed through the crowd to Harry, grabbing his hand and shouting, "He needs to rest in my office!"
Harry shook off Fudge's hand and, looking at the confused faces around him, raised his voice with force. "Voldemort has returned! He's been resurrected! Flesh of the servant, bone of the father, and blood of the enemy. It's an ancient resurrection spell, and my blood was used as a material." He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a crimson wound.
For a brief moment, Augustus thought he saw a flicker of joy in Dumbledore's eyes. Was it an illusion? Or something else? Augustus's expression darkened with thought.
"Enough! Potter needs rest. Everyone, disperse." Moody approached from afar, placing a firm hand on Harry's shoulder and steering him toward the castle.
Augustus smiled slightly. The rest of this affair was for them to handle. He turned and made his way back to his quarters.
On the last day of term, the Great Hall was decorated in shades of green, as Slytherin had, unsurprisingly, won the House Cup once again. Augustus looked toward the staff table.
The real Mad-Eye Moody now sat among the faculty, his wooden leg and magical eye restored to their rightful places. He seemed jittery, flinching every time someone addressed him. Karkaroff's seat was empty—evidently, Voldemort had already sent his followers after the once-loyal ally.
Madame Maxime remained, sitting beside Hagrid, engaged in quiet conversation. Further down the table, seated next to Professor McGonagall, was Snape.
"Another year," Dumbledore said, surveying the hall. "Has ended."
"Tonight, I have much to tell you," Dumbledore continued, "but you must all know this truth: Voldemort has returned!"
A ripple of uneasy whispers spread across the hall. Students stared at Dumbledore with expressions of fear and disbelief.
"The Ministry does not want me to tell you this," Dumbledore said. "Some parents may even object—perhaps because they cannot accept Voldemort's return, or because they feel you are too young to know such things. But I believe the truth is always better than a lie."
"In speaking of Voldemort, we must also speak of one other person." Dumbledore paused, his deep blue eyes meeting Augustus's. "Of course, I mean Mr. Augustus. On the night Voldemort returned, he risked his life to bring Harry back to Hogwarts. In every way, he demonstrated unparalleled courage—a rare quality among wizards in the face of Voldemort's tyranny. For this, we honor him."
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