Chapter 86: The Contract as a Backup Plan
"Also, a word of advice."
Morrin leaned closer to Harry, his voice low:
"Instead of yelling at me here, you'd be better off checking on Hagrid. I hear that a Giant's mental resilience isn't much thicker than their skin."
With that, Morrin picked up his cane, ignored the fire almost spitting from Harry's eyes, and turned to walk out of the Great Hall.
...
Hagrid's hut.
The curtains were drawn tight, and from inside came the whimpering of Fang, along with Hagrid's deafening sobs.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood at the door, knocking frantically.
"Hagrid! Open up! That's a lie! We don't care that you're a Giant!" Hermione shouted.
But the door remained shut. Hagrid seemed to feel like a monster, unable to face anyone.
Just as the three of them were at a loss, footsteps sounded behind them.
The crunch of footsteps on the snow was steady and powerful.
"Move."
Morrin White walked over.
He was wearing a black cashmere coat, carrying a plain, unmarked leather suitcase in his hand.
"What are you here for?" Ron blocked the doorway, raising his wand. "To watch the show?"
"Put down that twig, Weasley."
Morrin didn't even draw his wand; he simply used his cane to gently push Ron aside.
The irresistible force made Ron stagger back into a snowdrift.
"I'm here for 'damage control'."
Morrin walked to the door. He didn't knock.
He raised his cane and tapped the lock lightly.
[Gate of Truth] — Structural Dissociation.
"Click."
The lock popped open automatically.
The door opened.
The room was pitch black and reeked of alcohol.
Hagrid was slumped over the table, crying like a two-hundred-pound child, his face covered in snot and tears.
"Get out..." Hagrid roared incoherently. "I'm a monster... I don't deserve to be a teacher..."
"You certainly don't."
Morrin walked into the room and waved his wand to light the lamps.
The sudden light made Hagrid squint his swollen eyes.
"If all you can do is hide in the room and cry, then you truly don't deserve to be a teacher, or even a man." Morrin said coldly.
"Morrin?!" Hagrid froze, then felt even more ashamed. "You saw the paper too... you know I am..."
"I know. I've known for a long time."
Morrin pulled out a chair and sat down, placing the suitcase on the table.
"I knew from the first time we met. But that doesn't matter, Hagrid."
Morrin opened the suitcase.
Inside was neither money nor Potion.
Instead, it was a thick document stamped with the seal of the Ministry of Magic and the wax seal of the White Family: a [Lifetime Employment Contract].
"Look at this." Morrin pushed the contract over.
"What is this?" Hagrid wiped his tears.
"An insurance policy."
Morrin crossed his fingers, his gaze calm:
"If Dumbledore can't protect you, or if you can't stand the finger-pointing from those parents and decide to resign..."
"...The White Magical Creature Conservation Company is willing to hire you as Chief Keeper and Security Consultant."
"The salary is three times what you earn now. The workplace is my private estate. You can raise anything you want—Dragons, Griffins, even Acromantula, as long as you have the ability to control them."
Hagrid was stunned.
Harry and Hermione were also stunned.
They thought Morrin had come to kick a man while he was down; they hadn't expected him to be... poaching?
"You... you don't mind that I'm a Giant?" Hagrid asked, stuttering.
"I've said it before: I don't care about bloodlines." Morrinpointed at the contract. "The constitution of a half-Giant is a gift from heaven. An ordinary Wizard would be killed by a single tail swipe from a Dragon, while you would only feel a bit of pain. That is your core competitiveness."
"However," Morrin changed the subject, "I only hire the strong. If you're going to cry like a coward because of a newspaper, then this contract is void."
Hagrid looked at the contract, then back at Morrin's eyes, which were cold but held not a shred of discrimination.
He suddenly felt the weight on his heart lift a little.
"I... I won't resign!" Hagrid suddenly said loudly, trying to boost his own morale. "Dumbledore trusts me! And I can't let the children down!"
"Very well."
Morrin didn't take the contract back but left it on the table.
"Then keep it as a backup plan. Whenever you figure things out, you can sign it anytime."
Morrin stood up, preparing to leave.
When he reached the door, he stopped and looked back at Harry.
"You see, Potter."
A trace of mockery played on the corners of Morrin's mouth:
"Cheap sympathy only makes him cry longer. But a concrete backup plan is what will help him stand back up."
"That is the difference between us."
Morrin walked out of the hut and disappeared into the wind and snow.
Inside the hut.
Hagrid blew his nose, looked at the contract, and although he didn't sign it, he carefully tucked it into the innermost pocket of his coat.
It was a sense of security.
A sense of security that even if the whole world abandoned him, he would still have a place to go.
Harry watched the direction where Morrin had disappeared, his fists clenching and unclenching.
He had to admit that Morrin was right.
But he hated this kind of "right".
"He always has everything calculated," Hermione said in a low voice. "Even Hagrid's pain is part of his plan."
"But he did help Hagrid." Ron looked at the contract with some jealousy. "Three times the salary... Merlin's beard, how much money would that be?"
...
Castle, corridor.
Morrin did not go directly back to the dungeons.
He ran into Luna on the way.
Luna was breathing onto the window, then drawing some strange symbol in the fog.
"Is that the symbol for anti-Nargle glasses?" Morrinstopped.
"No." Luna turned her head. She looked a bit sad today. "This is for Hagrid. His big hut is surrounded by grey Sorrow-bugs."
"They'll disperse soon." Morrin walked to her side.
"Morrin." Luna looked at him. "Why did you let that beetle bite Hagrid?"
Morrin was silent for a second.
In front of this girl, lies seemed meaningless.
"Because Hagrid is too dependent on Dumbledore." Morrinlooked at the wind and snow outside the window. "I want him to know that if one day Dumbledore is no longer around, who is the person who can truly feed him."
"Do you want to be his new friend?"
"I want to be his—boss."
Luna blinked, then revealed a dazed smile.
"About the same. Either way, you're both people who feed him pudding."
Morrin smiled, took a bottle of hot butterbeer out of his pocket, and handed it to Luna.
"Drink some. It'll warm you up."
"This weekend is the second task." Morrin looked towards the Black Lake, a glint of sharpness flashing in his eyes.
"It's very cold at the bottom of the Black Lake. But I have already prepared an 'irresistible trade agreement' for the residents there."
"Harry Potter will be busy eating Gillyweed to save people."
"And I... I am going to talk to the Merperson about exclusive mining rights for 'deep-sea Potion ingredients'."
Chapter 87: Deep Sea Security Operation, Signed Orders, and Rescued Hostages
February 24th, by the Black Lake.
The wind was biting.
The stands were packed with spectators huddled together.
Four champions—Harry, Cedric, Krum, and Fleur—stood on the dock, shivering as they listened to Bagman's instructions.
Beside the judges' table, Morrin White sat in a comfortable heated seat, holding a cup of hot coffee. He wore his signature black trench coat, maintaining an enviable elegance even in this weather. VIP box.
"Truly a cruel competition," Lucius Malfoy remarked hypocritically from the side. "Throwing children into icy water filled with monsters... Dumbledore's educational philosophy is truly unique."
"This is to filter out the strong," Morrin said calmly, his gaze sweeping across the lake. "However, as the exclusive security provider for this event, I do not wish to see any 'foreign friends' die in our lake. That would cause diplomatic disputes and affect my multinational business."
Bang!
The signal cannon fired.
The four champions dove into the water using their various methods.
Harry swallowed Gillyweed, turning into a webbed freak.
Krum turned into a half-shark.
Fleur and Cedric used the Bubble-Head Charm.
Ten minutes after the competition started, the lake surface remained calm. The spectators could only stare blankly at the still water, except for Morrin, who was reading an Alchemy report.
Suddenly, the water churned.
Fleur Delacour surfaced in a sorry state; her robes were torn, and her face was covered in scratches.
She had been besieged by a group of Grindylows, lost her wand, and was forced to withdraw.
"My sister! Gabrielle is still down there!" Fleur cried in the water, desperately trying to dive back down, but she had already exhausted her strength.
Madame Maxime stood up anxiously.
"It seems this is a good opportunity to 'demonstrate the product'."
In the VIP box, Morrin closed his report and stood up.
"Mr. White?" Minister Fudge was stunned. "What are you doing?"
"Fulfilling the contract, Minister."
Morrin walked to the edge of the dock, where Fleur had just climbed ashore.
He didn't take off his clothes but instead kicked the silver metal suitcase at his feet.
Click—hiss!
Steam erupted.
Countless silver metal plates flew up, instantly adsorbing onto his body and assembling into a full-coverage Alchemy armor filled with technology and magical light.
[White Heavy Industries · Deep Sea Walker]
"As a security consultant, I have an obligation to ensure the safety of every 'hostage'."
Morrin's voice came through an amplifier, carrying a metallic texture.
"Since Miss Delacour cannot complete the task, I will do it for her."
Boom!
The water thrusters under his feet activated.
Morrin didn't jump; he was pushed directly by the thrusters, shooting into the water like a silver torpedo!
Under the Black Lake, it was cold and dark.
But on Morrin's helmet display, everything was clearly visible.
[Target Locked: Merperson Village]
[High-risk biological reaction detected: Harry Potter is fighting with Grindylows]
Morrin activated maximum power.
He left a white wake in the water, his speed astonishing.
The water monsters that tried to approach him were directly stunned by the high-frequency sound waves emitted by the armor.
He wasn't here to compete; he was here for dimensional reduction strikes.
Soon, he arrived at the Merperson plaza.
There, four hostages were tied: Ron, Hermione, Cho Chang, and Fleur's sister, Gabrielle.
Harry was already there.
He had just used a stone to saw through Ron's ropes.
But he didn't leave.
He was waiting for Fleur.
He looked at the eight-year-old girl, Gabrielle, his face full of anxiety.
Time ticked by, and Fleur still hadn't come.
"If I don't save her, she will die!" Harry thought, preparing to save Gabrielle.
Just then, a strong light illuminated the dim lake bottom.
Harry squinted.
He saw a silver figure, like Iron Man, descending from above.
If he had read comics, that is.
It was Morrin.
The surrounding Merpeople saw this figure and not only didn't attack, but retreated, and some even waved their spears in greeting because Morrin had come to negotiate business before.
Morrin hovered in front of Harry.
Through the transparent visor, Harry saw Morrin's cold eyes.
"Go, Potter."
Morrin's voice sounded muffled in the water: "Take your friend and go. This is not a charity."
"But Gabrielle! Fleur hasn't come yet!" Harry pointed at the little girl, blowing bubbles.
"Fleur has already withdrawn."
Morrin swam to Gabrielle's side.
He extended his armored hand, a laser-like magical blade popped out from his fingertips, and he instantly cut the rope.
He scooped the little girl up by the waist.
"This girl is now under the care of White Security Company."
Morrin looked at Harry: "Your task is to win the competition, not to be a babysitter. Get out of here."
Harry was stunned for a moment, then let out a sigh of relief. Although Morrin spoke harshly, he knew Gabrielle was safe.
"Thanks!" Harry grabbed Ron and swam desperately toward the surface.
Morrin didn't rush to leave.
He held the unconscious Gabrielle with one hand and turned to look at the Merperson chieftain, Murcus.
He took a waterproof metal scroll from the armor's storage compartment and threw it to the Merperson chieftain.
"This is the 'Deep Sea Luminous Moss' procurement contract for next quarter," Morrin said in Merpersonlanguage, translated through the armor. "The price is 10% higher than we discussed last time. Sign it and send it to the Castle for me."
The Merperson chieftain showed a smile full of yellow teeth and took the contract.
"Happy trading."
Morrin nodded and opened the thrusters to full power.
Boom!
He shot toward the surface like a rocket, twice as fast as Harry.
Splash!
The silver armor broke through the water and landed steadily on the dock.
Morrin placed Gabrielle on a stretcher. The little girl soon woke up; although she was still shaken, she was unharmed.
"Gabrielle!" Fleur rushed over crying, hugging her sister. She looked up, her face tear-stained, at Morrin who had removed his visor.
"Thank you... thank you! You saved her!" Fleur wanted to hug Morrin excitedly.
Morrin took a step back, avoiding the hug.
"This is part of the security service, Miss Delacour."
Morrin said calmly, while directing the metal plates to automatically detach and recycle: "Although it is free, I wouldn't mind if you bought a few more accessories when you purchase 'Black Swan' brooms next time."
At this time, Cedric brought back Cho Chang.
Krum brought back Hermione.
Finally, Harry brought Ron to the surface.
Although Harry was the last to return, he insisted on saving everyone. Although Gabrielle was taken away by Morrin in the end, his intention to save people was seen by everyone.
The Merperson chieftain surfaced and reported the situation to Dumbledore.
It specifically mentioned Harry's bravery, and... MorrinWhite's astonishing...
"Very well." Dumbledore announced the scores.
Harry received a high score for "high moral character," coming in second.
Cedric was first.
In the VIP box, Morrin had changed back into a dry trench coat and was sitting there drinking hot tea handed to him by Alfred.
"You stole the spotlight again, young master." Alfred said with a smile.
"No, this is called 'product placement'."
Morrin looked at the silver suitcase: "Tomorrow, the headline of The Daily Prophet will be—'Technology That Even Merpeople Fear: The Debut of White Heavy Industries Deep Sea Equipment'."
"As for the savior..."
Morrin glanced at Harry, who was surrounded by the crowd, and although he got a high score, he was still a bit disappointed because he didn't save Gabrielle.
"...He still needs more training. This kind of overflowing compassion will get people killed in the maze of the third task."
"Time is running out." Morrin touched his cane.
"That nose-less guy must be eager to crawl out of the cauldron, right?"
Chapter 88: The Price of Oxygen, A Monopolized Headline
The day after the Black Lake task.
In the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the owls brought more than just letters; they brought emotions named "jealousy" and "fanaticism."
The aftermath of yesterday's deep-sea rescue was currently manifesting in a concrete form on the Slytherintable—piles of parchment letters, almost burying Morrin White.
"Insane! It's simply insane!"
Draco, while helping Morrin open letters, shouted excitedly, "Just this morning alone, we've received over two hundred inquiries about the 'Deep-Sea Walker' armor! There are even letters of intent from the Ministry of Magic's AurorOffice!"
"That is only natural, Draco."
Morrin White sipped his coffee elegantly, his expression unsurprised.
He held today's The Daily Prophet in his hand; the front-page photo was the exact moment he broke through the water wearing the silver armor yesterday, and the headline was highly provocative:
"When the savior is still eating grass, White is defining the future."
This article not only heavily disparaged traditional magical methods but also praised the technical prowess of White Heavy Industries to the heavens.
"Tell Alfred," Morrin put down the newspaper, his tone flat, "the cost of the armor is too high for mass civilian production. But we can launch a'simplified version,' such as the [Underwater Breathing Collar] that can automatically generate an oxygen mask. Price it at 50 Galleons, and limit the initial release to one thousand units."
"This is called 'technology trickle-down'."
Morrin's gaze passed through the crowd and looked toward the Gryffindor table.
There, Harry Potter was sitting with his head down, silently eating toast.
Although he had received a high score yesterday and was praised as a hero by Hermione and Ron, looking at that newspaper, he only felt like an unevolved primitive man.
Harry looked up and happened to meet Morrin's gaze.
Morrin raised his coffee cup in a distant salute.
Harry stiffly turned his head away, feeling a tightness in his chest.
He didn't want Morrin's salute; he only felt like a comical supporting character in Morrin's grand commercial show.
"He saved Gabrielle, I should be grateful to him," Harrywhispered to Ron. "But I always feel... that for him, saving people was just incidental; advertising was the real goal."
"Forget it, mate," Ron said, looking enviously at the commotion on the Slytherin side. "At least he didn't make you pay for the advertising."
...
Weeks later, in May.
As the third task approached, the atmosphere in the Castlegradually became eerie.
The mysterious disappearance of high-ranking Ministry of Magic official Barty Crouch.
He claimed to be ill, and his assistant, Percy Weasley, was filling in.
But Morrin knew that the real old Barty had already shaken off the Imperio and was on the verge of a mental breakdown.
Dusk, at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Morrin was patrolling with Lupin. Officially, it was to "inspect the White Security Company's defensive lines," but in reality, he was waiting for someone.
"Boss, things haven't been peaceful in the Forbidden Forest lately," Lupin said, wearing a tactical trench coat and looking around vigilantly. "The Werewolf Guard reports that they often hear someone talking to themselves in the woods. And... Harry Potter and Krum just went in."
"I know." Morrin stopped, his black ironwood wand tapping the ground lightly. "Krum wants to ask Harry about Hermione. The restlessness of puberty."
"But they will run into trouble."
Morrin activated [True Sight].
In the bushes ahead, a chaotic, shattered, and fear-filled soul magnetic field was stumbling along.
Old Barty Crouch.
"Let's go, Remus." Morrin's figure vanished instantly from the spot. "Before the savior gets scared out of his wits, we need to secure the 'witness' first."
...
In a clearing in the woods.
Harry and Krum were looking in horror at the man emerging from the bushes.
Barty Crouch looked like a vagrant.
His robes were tattered, his hair gray and disheveled, and he was speaking incoherently to an oak tree.
"Dumbledore... I must see Dumbledore... My son... It's my fault..." Crouch's eyes were unfocused, clearly delirious.
"Mr. Crouch?" Harry tentatively stepped forward.
"Stay away!" Crouch screamed. "He is watching me! The Dark Lord... He is growing stronger!"
Just then, rapid footsteps came from deep within the woods.
Someone was approaching.
Harry thought it was Hagrid, but Morrin knew it was Fake Moody coming to silence him.
"He cannot die." Morrin judged from the shadows.
Although old Barty was a waste, the intelligence in his head regarding Lord Voldemort was very valuable.
Furthermore, if he were killed in front of Morrin, it would be a blow to the reputation of "White Security."
"Stupefy."
A silent red light shot out from the side bushes, accurately striking the crazed old Barty.
Old Barty didn't even groan before collapsing limply to the ground.
Harry and Krum were startled, turning abruptly and raising their wands.
"Who?!"
"It's me."
Morrin White walked out with Lupin. He put away his wandand glanced at the unconscious old Barty.
"It seems our Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation has developed some... minor issues with his mental state due to excessive work pressure."
"Morrin?" Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but immediately became tense again. "He mentioned Lord Voldemort! He said his son..."
"A madman's ramblings, Harry."
Morrin interrupted him, simultaneously giving Lupin a wink.
Lupin immediately stepped forward, skillfully checked old Barty's condition, and then pulled an [Alchemical Restraint Bag] from his pocket—originally intended for containing dangerous magical creatures—and stuffed old Barty inside.
"What are you doing?!" Harry exclaimed. "We need to take him to see Dumbledore!"
"Dumbledore is very busy, Harry."
Morrin walked over to Harry, blocking his view.
"Besides, Mr. Crouch is very dangerous right now. He may have been placed under the Imperio, or he might be tainted by Dark Arts. Taking him directly into the Castle would only cause panic."
"I will take him to my 'private clinic' for isolation and treatment. Once he is coherent, I will notify Dumbledore."
"But..."
"No buts."
Morrin suddenly looked up at a large tree not far away.
A spinning magical eye was staring fixedly at them from there, through the tree trunk.
Fake Moody had arrived.
But he was one step too late.
The person had already been intercepted by Morrin.
Morrin flashed a provocative smile at the tree.
"It seems the forest is quite lively tonight," Morrin said, raising his voice. "Professor Moody, since you're here, why hide?"
From behind the tree, Fake Moody limped out.
His expression was hideous, and that magical eye was spinning frantically, seemingly calculating the possibility of silencing them.
"White..." Fake Moody said hoarsely, "Hand over the person in your possession. This is Ministry of Magicbusiness."
"Sorry, Professor." Morrin adjusted his gloves. "This is a matter within the'security perimeter.' Until his threat is neutralized, he is my asset."
The two stared at each other.
Sparks flew in the air.
In the end, Fake Moody chose to back down.
He couldn't beat Morrin, and since Harry and Krum were both present, he couldn't make a move.
"Very well." Fake Moody gritted his teeth. "I hope you can cure him."
"I will." Morrin replied meaningfully. "I will make him spit out all the 'bad water' in his belly."
Morrin waved his hand, and Lupin, carrying the bag, turned and left with him.
Harry stood in place, watching Morrin's retreating back, then looked at the gloomy Fake Moody, feeling that the fog was thickening.
"He is hiding something," Harry said to Krum. "Morrindefinitely knows something."
...
Slytherin dungeon, Chamber of Secrets.
Old Barty Crouch was tied to a chair, but this was not an interrogation; it was "treatment."
Morrin held a bottle of golden potion, [Powerful Veritaserum (Improved Version)].
"Young Master, that Fake Moody might act desperately," Alfred reminded him, standing to the side.
"Let him jump."
Morrin poured the potion into old Barty's mouth.
"The more desperate he is, the more flaws he will reveal. And..."
Morrin watched old Barty, who was gradually waking up, his eyes beginning to lose focus.
"...I can't wait to know which graveyard Lord Voldemort's resurrection ritual will take place in, and... what other 'ingredients' he needs."
"Once I have the recipe, I can prepare a'spiced' resurrection feast for this Dark Lord that he will never forget."
[Remaining Draws: 28]
"Sphinx." Morrin thought of that big guy in the maze.
"Next chapter, it's time to go into the maze and'scout' in advance."
Chapter 89: The Trimmed Maze, The Military Value of Blast-Ended Skrewts
The Quidditch Pitch at Hogwarts had become unrecognizable.
The once-flat turf had vanished, replaced by rows of twenty-foot-tall hedges that writhed in the twilight as if alive, weaving together into a massive, eerie maze.
Ludo Bagman was conducting a pre-race briefing at the maze entrance with the four champions: Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Krum.
"It's truly spectacular, isn't it?" Bagman said cheerfully. "Only three weeks to go! Here, Hagrid has provided some... well, interesting things."
Harry looked at the deep, dark entrance, feeling a churn in his stomach.
This wasn't a competition; it was practically a death sentence.
"It is indeed spectacular. But it also poses severe safety risks."
A cold voice interrupted Bagman's speech.
Morrin White walked over, accompanied by Lupin and several Werewolf bodyguards carrying measuring instruments.
He was holding a thick "Maze Risk Assessment Report."
"Department Head Bagman," Morrin said, tapping the thick hedge with his cane. "While the density of this plant is sufficient to block sightlines, its fire resistance is abysmal. If Miss Fleur were to 'accidentally' set her skirt on fire again, or if a Blast-Ended Skrewt breathed fire, this entire pitch would turn into a massive crematorium within ten minutes."
"Er... Mr. White?" Bagman wiped his sweat. "We will have teachers patrolling outside..."
"Teachers cannot put out fires," Morrin coldly interrupted him. "White Security Company recommends installing an automatic fire-extinguishing rune sprinkler every fifty meters in the maze. Naturally, I will add this expense to the Ministry of Magic's bill."
Harry looked at Morrin.
Although Morrin's words sounded mercenary, he had to admit that hearing the term "fire-extinguishing sprinkler" gave him an inexplicable sense of security.
"Alright, champions." Morrin turned around, his gaze sweeping over the four. "Since you're here, why not go in and 'experience' it? Rest assured, I'm going too. As an investor, I need to inspect the goods."
Inside the maze.
It was darker and colder here than outside.
The tall hedges obscured the sky, creating a heavy sense of oppression.
Hagrid was standing next to a massive crate, from which came crackling sounds like firecrackers and a foul, fishy stench.
"Watch out, Morrin!" Hagrid shouted. "It's the Blast-Ended Skrewts! They've grown! Their tempers aren't good right now!"
Harry and Ron had suffered enough at the hands of these monsters this semester.
It was a disgusting creature that looked like a shelled lobster, but with a scorpion's tail, and it could breathe fire. It was a full ten feet long.
"A very interesting product of bioengineering."
Morrin did not cover his nose and step back like the others.
He walked to the side of the crate, observing these hybrid monsters through [True Sight].
"Although their appearance is ugly and they have no ornamental value. However..."
Morrin watched as a Blast-Ended Skrewt shot a stream of fire from its tail, blasting a hole in the wooden plank of the crate.
"...This creature comes with built-in 'thrusters' and a 'high-explosive shell.' If domesticated and modified, or if their bodily fluids were extracted..."
Morrin turned his head to look at Lupin:
"Remus, make a note. This creature possesses extremely high military value. Perhaps we could develop a 'Blast-Ended Skrewt Self-Propelled Mine' to sell to those Goblins who need to guard their vaults."
Harry listened, dumbfounded.
Others saw disgusting monsters; Morrin saw... landmines?
"Let's move on."
Morrin waved his hand, not wasting too much time on this "weaponry."
His target was deeper inside.
After passing a few turns, the mist in the maze grew thicker.
A huge shadow appeared ahead, blocking the path.
It was a giant beast with the body of a lion and the head of a woman. She had long, sharp claws and eyes that were full of wisdom yet cold.
A Sphinx.
Harry, Cedric, and the others stopped, nervously raising their wands.
"Is this the guardian?" Morrin walked forward.
The Sphinx did not attack.
She just sat there, watching Morrin, her deep eyes flickering with a strange light.
"You are very special, little Wizard." The Sphinx's voice was low and hoarse. "You carry the scent of my kind, and also... the scent of truth."
"Do you wish to pass?" she asked.
"Of course." Morrin nodded.
"Then answer my Riddle. If you answer correctly, the path is yours; if you answer incorrectly, I eat."
The Sphinx licked her lips; it was the instinct of a predator.
"Please, state the Riddle."
The Sphinx chanted slowly:
"First think of the man who lies all day, even if he speaks the truth, you would only think he is deceiving. Then think of the person in this world, regardless of time, who absolutely cannot be found in any family. Connect them, and you get a word; it is the end that everyone fears, yet will eventually face."
"Death."
Morrin did not even think for a second, giving the answer directly.
"The answer is correct." The Sphinx was somewhat surprised. "You think very quickly."
"Because this is not a Riddle at all."
Morrin leaned on his cane and walked up to the Sphinx, close enough to almost touch her claws.
"This is merely a statement about the end of life. And for someone like me, death..."
A ghostly light brought by [Pure Blood (Curse)] flashed in Morrin's eyes:
"...Death is not the end, but a state that can be 'traded' and 'transformed'."
He reached out and pressed his hand on the Sphinx's forehead.
[Contact successful!]
[Detected high-order intelligent creature: Sphinx]
[Detected Trait]:
[Gold] Riddle Master: Possesses extremely high logical thinking and the ability to construct language traps. You can see through loopholes in language at a glance and weave inescapable cages with words.
[Purple] Guardian's Body: Powerful physical defense and strength.
[Current remaining draws: 30]
"Logical thinking... this is exactly what I need." Morrinmurmured in his heart.
Although his current [Mind Palace] is a top-tier blue grade, it still needs strengthening when facing the soul-level games of Lord Voldemort.
[Consume draw count x 10]
[Probability stacking check... success!]
[Congratulations on acquiring trait]: Riddle Master (Gold · Weakened Version / Logical Insight)
[Description]: Your brain is now a precision lie-crushing machine. Anyone who lies in front of you, you can instantly see through via micro-expressions, tone, and logical gaps.
A cool current washed over Morrin's brain.
He felt the world become clearer.
He looked at the Sphinx.
He could now clearly read from the giant beast's micro-expressions: it was afraid, it wanted to go home, and it did not like the mist here.
"Thank you for your gift."
Morrin withdrew his hand.
"You are free."
Morrin said to the Sphinx:
"After the tournament ends, if you don't want to return to Egypt, you can come to my manor. I am in need of a gatekeeper to guard my vault. I think the environment there is much better than this damp maze."
The Sphinx was stunned. She looked at this human youth and actually nodded, moving aside to clear the path.
Morrin did not look back.
He passed through the checkpoint guarded by the Sphinx and arrived at the center of the maze.
There was a pedestal there.
The Triwizard Tournament trophy (portkey) would be placed here.
"This is the place."
Morrin stood before the empty pedestal, closing his eyes, feeling the slight magical fluctuations in the space.
"Lord Voldemort will turn the trophy into a portkey, leading to the Riddle house graveyard in Little Hangleton."
"Harry will be teleported away from here."
Morrin opened his eyes and took out from his pocket the box containing the [Dementor slice] and the [Old Barty memory bottle].
"When the time comes, I will follow this spatial ripple and go along with it."
"Not just to save people."
A cruel smile curled the corners of Morrin's mouth.
"But to deliver a—surprise gift package to the newly resurrected Dark Lord."
"System, check current status."
[Traits: Gate of Truth (Gold), Sand of Time (Gold), RiddleMaster (Gold), Half-Giant Bloodline (Red · Fully Awakened), Pure Blood (Red), Ultimate Disguise (Gold · Downgraded Version), Petrifying Magic Eyes (Purple), Hellfire (Purple), Multiple Mind Core (Purple)...]
[Remaining draw count: 20]
Morrin turned around, looking at the group of champions behind him still struggling through the maze.
"Run to your heart's content, Harry."
Chapter 90: The Gravestones of Little Hangleton, the Green Light Blocked
Late night.
Center of the maze.
Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory stood panting, covered in injuries, before the glowing blue Triwizard Tournamenttrophy.
Just moments ago, Harry had saved Cedric's life, and Cedric had refused to take the trophy alone.
"Since we're both here," Harry looked at the trophy, "how about... we take it together?"
"Together?" Cedric was stunned for a moment, then broke into a brilliant smile. "Good idea, Harry. This is a Hogwartsvictory."
"Count to three."
"One, two, three!"
Both reached out and grabbed the trophy handles simultaneously.
Whoosh—
It wasn't a cheer, but a sickening, hook-in-the-bellybutton pulling sensation.
The world spun, the maze vanished, Hogwartsdisappeared... a few seconds later.
Thud.
They both fell heavily to the ground.
Harry felt his face hit the damp, cold grass.
"Where are we?" Cedric scrambled up, raising his wandwarily.
Harry looked up.
They weren't at Hogwarts.
This was clearly a graveyard.
In the pitch-black night, rows of crooked gravestones could be seen, and in the distance, a gloomy mansion built into a hillside.
Fear soaked Harry's entire body like ice water.
He recognized this place.
It was a scene from his nightmares.
"wands out!" Harry yelled. "Something's wrong!"
Just then, a small, hooded figure appeared in the darkness not far away.
He was holding something that looked like a baby in his arms.
Harry's scar suddenly burned with excruciating pain.
"Ah!" He dropped his wand, clutching his forehead and falling to his knees.
"Who is that?" Cedric asked nervously, his wand pointed at the dark figure.
The dark figure stopped.
The "baby" in his arms let out a cold, sharp voice:
"Kill the spare."
A blinding green light cut through the night sky.
Avada Kedavra.
Cedric had no time to react.
The green light illuminated his terrified face; Death had already swung its scythe.
CLANG—!!!
Just as the green light was about to strike Cedric's chest, at the critical moment.
A black, solid-looking iron wall appeared out of thin air in front of Cedric.
Boom!
The Killing Curse hit the iron wall, exploding in a burst of green sparks, then dissipated.
Although the iron wall was cracked, it did not shatter.
"What?!" the dark figure exclaimed.
"The spare?"
An elegant, indifferent voice, completely out of place in this eerie graveyard, rang out.
"No, Mr. Voldemort. In my opinion, every life is potential 'labor.' Casually destroying assets is not a good habit."
The air twisted.
Morrin White stepped out of the void, having followed closely using the Sand of Time and portkey tracking.
He was wearing a black trench coat, leaning on his still-smoking black ironwood wand.
That iron wall just now was precisely the defense he instantly transmuted using the Gate of Truth.
"Morrin?!" Harry looked up through the excruciating pain, staring at him in disbelief.
Cedric, even more terrified, slumped to the ground, gasping for breath, truly believing he was dead just a moment ago.
"Go, Diggory."
Morrin didn't turn back, merely waved his hand.
The Triwizard Tournament trophy, the portkey, flew up and landed squarely in Cedric's arms.
"Take the trophy back. Tell everyone what happened here."
"But Harry..." Cedric hesitated.
"Get out if you don't want to die!" Morrin growled, his Dragon's Might erupting, making Cedric instinctively clutch the trophy tighter.
Whoosh—
Cedric vanished.
He had been teleported back to Hogwarts.
Only Harry, Morrin, and the dark figure holding the "baby" remained in the graveyard.
"Morrin White..."
The "baby" Voldemort turned his head, his red eyes fixed on Morrin.
"You've ruined my plans again... Do you want to die too?"
"I don't want to die, Tom."
Morrin adjusted his gloves and slowly walked towards the dark figure.
The dark figure raised his wand to attack, but Morrinmerely waved his staff casually.
"Expelliarmus."
The wand flew into Morrin's hand.
The dark figure was an ordinary Wizard controlled by the Imperio Curse; since Peter was caught, Voldemort had to find a random substitute.
"You're in a rather awkward position right now, Dark Lord."
Morrin looked at the ugly, peeled-baby-like Voldemort.
"Without capable servants, you have to rely on such trash to help you resurrect?"
"The potion in this large cauldron..." Morrin walked to the giant stone cauldron and sniffed the bubbling liquid. "Bone of the father (added), blood of the enemy (not yet taken)... you're still missing one thing."
"Flesh of the servant."
Voldemort let out an angry hiss: "I'll find it... even if I have to cut off this trash's flesh..."
"That trash's flesh is too inferior; it will affect the purity of your magic after resurrection."
Morrin shook his head.
He pulled out the runic Alchemical metal box he always carried with him.
"Besides, I know who you're waiting for. You're waiting for Peter Pettigrew, aren't you?"
"Peter is in Azkaban!" Harry shouted from the side, enduring the searing pain of his scar. "You personally handed him over to Fudge! Morrin!"
"Harry, you're still too naive."
Morrin looked at Harry, a mocking smile playing on his lips:
"Did you really think I'd hand over such important 'raw material' to the Ministry of Magic, which only knows how to gloss over things?"
Morrin pressed the runic switch on the box.
The lid sprang open.
A rat with a missing finger was poured out, forcibly un-Transfigured in mid-air, turning into the despicable Peter Pettigrew.
"What?!" Harry was stunned. "Then... who is that in Azkaban?"
"A 'flesh puppet' created by Alchemy."
Morrin explained calmly, as if it were a trivial matter:
"I used a piece of Peter's flesh and a few drops of his blood to make a substitute that breathes, has a heartbeat, and even cries and confesses. Fudge, that idiot, couldn't tell the difference. The real Peter has been 'preserved' in my laboratory all this time."
"Why?!" Harry didn't understand. "Why did you keep him?"
"For this moment."
Morrin kicked Peter towards the bubbling cauldron.
"Because I know what the resurrection ritual needs. Without the 'flesh of the servant,' Voldemort cannot fully resurrect. If he doesn't resurrect, my war business won't take off, and the Order of the Phoenix will disband."
"This is called supply chain management."
"Peter?!" Voldemort was surprised. "He's in your hands?!"
Harry watched, dumbfounded, even forgetting the pain in his scar.
"Morrin! What are you doing?! You're giving him to Voldemort?!"
"This is a necessary process, Harry."
Morrin ignored Harry's screams.
He kicked Peter towards the bubbling cauldron.
"Do it, Tom."
Morrin stepped back and made a 'please' gesture.
"Bone of the father, blood of the enemy, flesh of the servant."
"But I have a condition."
Morrin's gaze became incredibly sharp, his staff subtly pointing at Voldemort:
"After you resurrect, we need to talk business."
Voldemort looked at Peter on the ground, then at Morrin.
He let out a piercing cackle.
"Hahahaha! Good! Very good! Slytherin has produced a monster!"
"But I don't need to talk business with you, White! Once I resurrect, I'll take everything!"
The controlled Wizard puppet raised a knife and walked towards Peter.
Peter was about to scream for mercy when he was thrown directly into the cauldron for efficiency.
"Ahhh—!!!"
Screams echoed through the graveyard.
"Now, Harry Potter."
The controlled Wizard turned to Harry, cut his arm, and took his blood.
Bone, flesh, blood.
All fell into the cauldron.
The liquid turned a dazzling white.