The Dark Lord... Has Returned!

In the stands, students were excitedly discussing who would win the final match.

Although Hermione is number one and has countless fans, students from every house will support their own Champion.

At least, that's how it sounds, verbally.

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang's students cheered their way to Champion, their voices hoarse from shouting.

Four Houses, three schools... the students were arguing loudly.

The intensity was so great that it felt like a United States presidential election, not Triwizard Tournament.

One minute it's blue, the next it's red, a series of comebacks, so exciting!

William didn't participate in the argument; he looked at the Two-Way Mirror in his hand, and Hermione was carrying one too.

She can use this method to broadcast the entire process, just like a live broadcast.

William, Anne, and Gabrielle were all cheering her on.

The Two-Way Mirror came from Anne, and the other was borrowed from Dumbledore. It was a Christmas gift from the headmaster to Anne many years ago.

However, watching the game like this isn't as exciting as going inside to watch it.

William couldn't resist applying to be a level in the maze, specifically to guard the trophy.

Stark Cards: Patronus!

Only those who can pass his test can win the championship.

The four patrolmen, along with Ludo, were stationed in different areas.

If there are sparks in the area I'm responsible for, I'll go in to rescue the students.

As the match progressed, red sparks continued to appear in the sky.

Madam Pomfrey, carrying various medicine bottles, treated the injuries of the rescued students.

A student was Crup and needs to receive rabies medication immediately.

A Ghoul clung to a witch from Beauxbatons, howling incessantly above her head.

The worst off was Durmstrang's Poliakoff.

He stirred up a hornet's nest, got stung dozens of times by Billywig, and his face was completely ruined, turning him into a veritable Zhang the Pockmarked.

Anyone stung by the Billywig will feel dizzy and then float up unsteadily.

This side effect is similar to drinking Vita Lemon Tea.

So Poliakoff was having a great time, floating in the air for a long time without coming down.

"Don't touch me, I can still stab... I'm the champion!" he roared.

"Another one gone mad." Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue and shook her head.

A burst of flame shot out, signifying that yet another Champion had forfeited.

The difference is that this time it's a three-shot attack, which means... it's a matter of life and death.

Professor McGonagall rushed in.

The students all stood up, eager to see who the unlucky one would be this time... This was the only fun they had while they couldn't see the actual game.

But Professor McGonagall stayed inside for quite a while, a full five minutes before she came out.

Shockingly, the first one to emerge was... Cedric!

The students were in an uproar, especially the Hufflepuff students.

Cedric is the badgers' only hope, how could he possibly fail?!

Professor McGonagall walked out of the maze with a grim expression, her hands trembling as she seemed to be struggling to hold back her tears.

On her side, a stretcher floated, upon which lay a little wizard.

Everyone stood up to see who was lying on the stretcher.

"What happened?" Professor Sprout shouted from nearby. "Cedric, why are you out so soon!"

Cedric stared blankly at his dean, and after a long pause, he finally spoke:

"Ron... Ron..."

"He..."

"Dead!"

The crowd left their seats and ran towards the stadium.

All the referees stood up, and Dumbledore strode over.

Cedric crouched on the ground, surrounded by a dense crowd of people who were all crowding towards him.

He saw Minister Fudge Fouché's plump body run past, and even slip and fall halfway through.

His face was pale, and he looked terrified.

"Merlin... Weasley!" he cried, "Dumbledore... he's dead!"

The words were relayed, and the dark figures squeezing inside relayed them in alarm to those around them.

The others shouted, their screams echoing through the night sky.

He's dead!

He's dead!

Ron Weasley! He's dead!

Dumbledore moved closer, supporting the swaying Professor McGonagall, and looked at Cedric with a stern expression. "Diggory, what's going on?"

"Krum... Krum..." Cedric rasped, "He killed Ron with Avada Kedavra!"

"This is impossible!" Fudge exclaimed incredulously. "You saw it?"

"I saw it with my own eyes!" Cedric said through gritted teeth.

"After he killed Ron, he pointed his wand at me. I removed his weapon, and he ran away... I chased after him."

But it was a maze, and after several turns, he disappeared!

Cedric handed Krum's wand to him.

Dumbledore raised his wand and joined it with Krum's wand.

"Prior Incantato!" he whispered.

The unique light of Avada Kedavra emanated from where the two wands met.

"Evanesco!" he whispered again.

The Avada Kedavra, formed from smoke, turned into a wisp of smoke and disappeared.

"Arrest Krum immediately!" Fudge shouted.

"With conclusive physical and witness evidence, immediately enter the maze and apprehend him."

"Diggory needs to go to the Hospital Wing!" Madam Pomfrey said.

Dumbledore nodded and glanced in the direction of Gryffindor's seat.

"Dumbledore, Arthur... he's coming... should you tell him before he sees the body?" Professor McGonagall whispered.

Mr. Weasley struggled to push his way forward through the crowd, while Mrs. Weasley had already fainted, and Bill and Fred were shouting.

Harry stood there, dumbfounded, as if he were in a daze.

"Send the students back to the common room, all of them, immediately!" Dumbledore ordered.

All the teachers walked toward the audience seats, stopping the students from crowding into the maze area.

Mr. Weasley finally squeezed through the crowd, gently cradling Ron's body in his arms. His face was streaked with tears, and he suddenly burst into sobs.

Dumbledore's lips moved as if he wanted to speak, but he remained silent.

Then, another dazzling firework exploded.

From the center of the maze.

Everyone looked up.

"The Triwizard Tournament is over, someone has taken the trophy..." Li's voice echoed in the arena. He said in a low voice, "The competition is finally over..."

Dumbledore's deep voice echoed through the arena.

"William, come to me... I need you!"

While everyone else was leaving, Malfoy, with his wife Narcissa, went against the flow of people and rushed into the maze.

Their son Draco is still inside!

Halfway there, Malfoy suddenly clutched his arm, panting heavily.

His face turned deathly pale, and his body began to tremble violently uncontrollably.

"What's wrong?" Narcissa quickly helped her husband up.

"He... he... the Dark Lord... is back!" Malfoy's face was filled with fear.

"What? How is this possible?" Narcissa trembled.

"He is calling... us, for the first time in fourteen years." Malfoy looked utterly desperate.

What do we do now?

"Find Draco first, and after you find him, you'll stay at Hogwarts..." Malfoy looked up at the sky, his lips moving.

The final silence:

"I'm going... to see him..."

"I... I can't go see him!" Karkaroff was trembling all over.

On his exposed left arm, the Dark Mark had turned charred black.

This is Voldemort summoning the Death Eaters back to his side.

When the signal is given, all Death Eaters must immediately Apparition to his side.

"I... I'm going to run away..." Karkaroff said desperately. "Severus, let's run together. Let's both hide under assumed names and find somewhere where no one is around."

"If we hide in the United States, we can still look after each other."

Snape was silent for a moment, then shook his head and said calmly, "You run away... I'm staying at Hogwarts."

"Why, why don't you run away? Do you think you're safe hiding here?" Karkaroff asked. "Dumbledore old!"

He can protect you for a while, but not forever!

The Dark Lord will kill you sooner or later; there's no need for you to serve Dumbledore!

Snape did not speak.

Karkaroff stamped his foot, said no more, and turned to run.

Snape's dark eyes were fixed on Karkaroff's departing figure.

He suddenly murmured, "Lily."

Snape's voice was mournful, like... like those bare sycamore trees, empty and desolate in winter, with only withered branches.

The professor's back was slightly hunched, and when he turned around again, his expressionless, deathly face had returned.

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