"What... a maze? Like the one under the sea?"
After hearing what Ginny eavesdropped, several champions exchanged glances. Finally, Fleur was the first to speak. The girl asked curiously.
"No, it should be much simpler than that—"
Standing by the window, Hermione shook her head.
"How do you know?"
Cedric looked at Hermione curiously, somewhat puzzled.
"Because, if I guessed correctly, it's that thing—"
Hermione raised her hand and pointed outside the window. The floor of the hospital wing wasn't high, but they could still vaguely see an area at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was originally a small maze frame designed for the third task's dungeon. Yes, the champions who passed through the stone doors would enter the dungeon prepared by William, but unfortunately, it had been preempted by Helbo.
Now, it looked different there—
"Yes, it's there—" Ginny also walked to the edge of the window. "Professor McGonagall said the reason Minister Fudge chose that place is because it's 'quick,' 'safe,' and..." The girl paused, "and very economical—"
"Ah, that last part is probably the most important to that fat pig." Ron nodded and commented.
"Is there anything dangerous there? No... well, it's indeed safe as long as you stay away from the Whomping Willow—" George rubbed his chin and listed all the magical plants around the Forbidden Forest, finally finding that the Whomping Willow was the most threatening presence.
"But Professor Flitwick also said they might consider putting some magical creatures inside..." Greengrass, who came in with Ginny, suddenly spoke timidly, "for example, Explosive Snails..."
"...That's dangerous." Upon hearing this extremely "forbidden" name, the twins exchanged a glance and stood solemnly.
…
…
A week later.
Just walking in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Harry stretched his arms.
The smell of disinfectant in the Hogwarts School Hospital had never been so... nostalgic.
Harry took a deep breath of this familiar, slightly pungent air for the last time, instantly feeling much more awake.
He moved his shoulders and ribs—hmm, thanks to Madam Pomfrey's excellent medical skills and the special magic potion provided by Professor Snape, his healing speed was much slower than expected. Of course, Harry didn't think Madam Pomfrey was at fault.
...Tsk, damn Snape!
"How are you feeling?" Cedric stood next to the boy, looking equally relaxed. Other than his still slightly pale complexion, he was fine.
"Better than ever." Harry grinned and waved his arms, "I feel like I could swim three laps around the Black Lake."
"I suggest you save your strength—"
Fleur's voice came from behind the two. She was wearing a brand new silver-gray wizard robe, holding a small mirror to fix her signature smooth silver hair. The haughty tone in her voice was back—but after spending many days together, everyone knew she had a pretty good personality.
"Save us from fishing you out of the water later on. Believe me, that big... Ms. Pomfrey won't look pleased."
Before "lady" slipped out, the girl instinctively looked around. Although she didn't see Ms. Pomfrey, she instinctively corrected herself.
Daniel Stephens was a step behind the three of them, still cautiously touching his lips with his hand—finally, there was no longer smooth skin but a real warm sensation. For the past three days, he had often made this motion—
The boy's complexion was much rosier than before, his eyes filled with the excitement of regaining something lost. But when he saw the questioning looks from Harry and Cedric, he instinctively cleared his throat, confirmed for the sixty-eighth time that he could make a sound, and then let out a heavy sigh of relief.
"Guys!"
Ron ran over excitedly from the other end of the corridor, with Hermione and Neville behind him, "You're finally out!" Ever since the day the Weasley Twins came in and caused a commotion and got caught red-handed by Madam Pomfrey, their meeting frequency had been forced to drop—
"Too bad, I thought you would be stuck with those jars of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans until the end of term!" Then, Ron stepped forward and patted Harry on the shoulder. He turned to Daniel, "Hey, dear Mr. Stephens, your throat okay now? Can you curse now?"
Daniel grinned, his voice still a little hoarse, "Of course, Ronald Weasley, I can now tell you something without any difficulty—your red hair looks just like an exploding Fire Crab's butt under the sun, it's ridiculous." He spoke with perfect enunciation.
This comment drew a burst of laughter from everyone, and Ron exaggeratedly clutched his heart, acting hurt.
A group of people walked towards the hall for breakfast, the joy of returning to familiar surroundings enveloped them.
However, when everyone entered the hall, they found the atmosphere around them to be somewhat strange.
Of course, this was no longer because of the emptiness left by the departure of students from other schools, but due to an oppressive murmur of discussions, with everyone's gaze occasionally sweeping over the champions entering the hall, accompanied by a buzzing murmur of chats.
Many people held copies of the Prophet Daily, the front cover still displaying those familiar, inciting headlines.
Harry suddenly felt that his good mood from just being discharged from the hospital was like a punctured balloon, deflating with a "poof," his steps halting as the smile on his face slightly froze.
The lighting in the hall seemed to dim abruptly, even as the morning sunlight attempted to pour through the high windows, and the usually bustling hall was filled with a low and tense buzz, like a pot of thick soup about to boil over—
Countless gazes focused on Harry and his group like probes, some worried, some curious, and some openly scrutinizing.
"Has this matter been discussed for over half a month and still not ended?" Cedric took the lead, pulling out a bench and sitting down, somewhat puzzled, "Why are these people so idle? Hasn't Professor Snape recently assigned you any homework?"
"Even more than before, but perhaps because there's something major happening tomorrow?"
Ron grabbed a newspaper that clearly read, "Wizengamot Trial Tomorrow! Is Referee William Guilty of 'Negligence'?"
Harry felt a block of ice pressed against his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.
The relief of escaping Madam Pomfrey's clutches vanished instantly, leaving only a roiling anger and profound helplessness.
He snatched the newspaper and quickly skimmed through the inciting and slanderous report.
The report directly blamed Viktor Krum's tragic predicament on William's planning — "introducing high-risk elements and failing to provide sufficient security assurances," while indicating that the vile Helbo was a completely fictitious entity and hinting that Minister Fudge had already secured "ironclad evidence" of this, everything would be settled in tomorrow's Wizengamot trial.
What made the boy's stomach churn even more was that the article subtly (if not subtly) implied that other champions (including Harry himself) out of "fear of retaliation" or "lack of responsibility" failed to stand up and testify at crucial times, indirectly causing "the criminal William Richard to still roam free."
"Nonsense!"
Harry crumpled the newspaper in his hand into a ball and slammed it onto the table, "Krum was clearly harmed by that damn Helbo! That despicable Black Wizard is the real culprit! Fudge he... definitely, he definitely knows the truth!"
"The entire Magic Realm, at least those who have read the Prophet Daily, are being fooled by the Ministry of Magic, and the public opinion is completely controlled by Fudge — without solid counter-evidence at tomorrow's Wizengamot, even with Headmaster Dumbledore's full support, William's situation is extremely dangerous."
Fleur sighed, grabbed a piece of bread, and spread butter on it, while her sister sat next to her, listening blankly to the conversation.
At this moment, a sharp, deliberately drawn-out voice arose, loud enough for the entire hall to hear clearly—
"Quite interesting—certain people are still immersed in the illusion of a 'genius mentor'? Isn't it clearly written in the newspaper? Evidence, understand? Minister has conclusive evidence! If you ask me, Minister Fudge should have kicked him out long ago to avoid other schools laughing at us! He must have learned the lesson and opposed letting him continue leading projects..."
Pansy Parkinson was making a big show of talking to a group of girls gathered around her, with a sarcastic and smug smile on her face, as if she had already seen through the truth of the matter.
Harry's anger surged up to his head, he clenched his fists, ready to slam the table and get up—however, an unexpected figure acted faster than him.
Draco Malfoy suddenly stood up from the Slytherin Long Table, his usually pale face now devoid of its typical proud and indifferent expression, instead mixed with anger and an indescribable feeling, he didn't look towards Gryffindor, but directly walked to Pansy's side, his gray-blue eyes staring intently at her.
"Shut up, Parkinson!"
Draco's voice wasn't loud, but carried a metallic, abrasive coldness and a clear threat, "If I hear you speak one more word slandering Professor Richard, I'll make sure your upcoming days are spent recalling in the restroom cubicle the fairy tales your father told you! Do you think no one sees through your little schemes? Stop your pointless performance, fool!"
"The newspaper says—" Pansy widened her eyes, completely unprepared for Malfoy's words, her voice rising even sharper.
But in the next moment, Draco's fist directly hit her ugly face—
"Bang—"
The girl was knocked right out, crashing into a heap of chairs, creating a cacophony of sounds.
That punch plunged the whole hall into an eerie silence, everyone was stunned by Malfoy's sudden and fierce action, including Harry and his friends—Ron's eyes nearly popped out, looking at Harry, and then at Draco not far away, as if witnessing an Explosive Snail wearing a ballet tutu, doing the Dance of the Cygnets on stage.
"Merlin's three-year-unwashed stinking socks..."
Ron muttered, his tone filled with shock at "what's happening to the world."
"What happened?"
Suddenly, the protagonist of the situation, William, appeared at the entrance of the hall, with impeccable timing and an expression of "bewilderment," looking like he just happened to pass by, "Why are Slytherin students fighting? This is outrageous, so I'll award fifty points to Hufflepuff—"