After the team sent to Little Hangleton returned with their report, Fudge stormed out of Hogwarts with a gaggle of Aurors, bellowing, "Dumbledore, you just wait! I'll find the flaw in your so-called evidence, and then Harry Potter will be rotting in Azkaban!"
Though they had successfully spared Harry from being dragged off to Azkaban or forced into exile, a heavier cloud of unease settled over Dumbledore and his allies.
An unknown enemy is always the hardest to face, and this "Harry"—who had infiltrated the Department of Mysteries and slaughtered numerous Ministry employees—had displayed both overwhelming power, easily crushing ordinary wizards, and a cunning that promised turbulent times ahead for the wizarding world.
On the afternoon of the third day, Ron was finally discharged from the hospital wing. At the same time, the results of the final exams were announced. As expected, Hermione topped the year, Harry predictably missed an "O" in History of Magic compared to her, and Neville, in a historic turn, secured third place in their year. The fourth, fifth, and sixth spots went to Seamus, Dean, and Ron, respectively.
That evening, Harry and his friends joined the rest of the school in the Great Hall for the end-of-term feast. The hall was adorned with Slytherin-themed decorations, but the Gryffindor students were practically buzzing with excitement—as if they'd been injected with adrenaline. Ever since Hermione Granger had won the Triwizard Cup a few days earlier, the Gryffindor students had been in a state of unrelenting euphoria.
In contrast to the exuberant Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs, long accustomed to being runners-up, and the ever-independent Ravenclaws remained far more subdued. The only ones looking utterly crestfallen were the Slytherins, despite having won the House Cup.
Before the feast began, Professor Dumbledore rose from the staff table, and the raucous Great Hall fell silent almost instantly. "Another year," Dumbledore said, his gaze sweeping over the students, "has come to an end."
"Before we begin the feast, there is something I believe you have a right to know…" His eyes lingered on the faces of the students from all four houses, as well as the representatives from the other two schools.
"On the night of the third task, Voldemort did indeed return."
The Great Hall erupted in a cacophony of gasps and murmurs, fear and disbelief etched onto every student's face. But Dumbledore merely raised a hand for silence and continued.
"The Ministry would prefer I not tell you this. Some of your parents may be shocked by my decision—either because they cannot believe Voldemort has truly returned, or because they think you're too young to know. But I believe the truth is always better than a lie. The fact is, Voldemort is alive, and he has successfully returned… once."
Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall as every pair of eyes looked up at him.
"Every guest in this hall," Dumbledore continued, his gaze settling on the Durmstrang students, "is welcome to return at any time. And I say to you all once more: in light of Voldemort's resurrection, we are strong only if we stand united, and weak if we are divided. Voldemort's gift for sowing discord and enmity is formidable. We can fight it only by showing an equally unbreakable bond of friendship and trust. As long as we share the same goals and open our hearts, differences in habits or language will not stand in our way."
After this, Dumbledore offered his usual reminders about summer holiday precautions. Then, the plates before them filled with a dazzling array of food.
Harry ladled two bowls of Magefish Soup for himself and Hermione. They took turns feeding each other bites of meat or spoonfuls of vegetables, their harmony so seamless they seemed like one person. Ron, sitting on Harry's other side, watched their interactions with a sour expression, stabbing his roast lamb chop with his fork a little too aggressively.
Finally, after the thirty-fifth time Harry and Hermione fed each other, Ron could take it no longer.
"For Merlin's sake, can you two eat like normal people?" Ron snapped, exasperated by their constant displays of affection. "Some of us are still single, you know!"
"I'd say it's high time you found a girlfriend, Ronnie," George (or possibly Fred) teased from across the table. "That way, you'd be too busy snogging her to care about anything else!"
"And if you're struggling to find a girl you fancy," Fred (or possibly George) added from beside his twin, "we could help you out. We know more people than anyone in Gryffindor—heck, in all of Hogwarts! We could set you up with someone from any house… well, except Slytherin. Not because we don't know any Slytherins, mind you, but if you brought a Slytherin girlfriend home, Mum would probably disown you!"
"I can handle my own business, thanks!" Ron muttered, ducking his head and returning to his lamb chop with a scowl.
Under the twinkling starlit ceiling, the young witches and wizards gathered in the castle chatted happily, dreaming of their summer holidays. But on another patch of land, at Malfoy Manor, a handful of Death Eater remnants knelt trembling on the marble floor, barely daring to breathe for fear of angering their newly resurrected master.
Voldemort was in a foul mood. Four days ago, in his battle with that Harry Potter, he had been utterly overwhelmed, taken down by a barrage of spells before he could even react. Even Dumbledore, widely regarded as the greatest wizard of their time, had never defeated him so swiftly!
"Lucius… Macnair…" Voldemort's blood-red eyes swept over the two surviving Death Eaters—aside from Bellatrix and a few others—kneeling before him. With an irritable wave of his hand, he dismissed them. "Leave me. I need to think."
Lucius and Macnair retreated with deferential bows. As Voldemort sat in his chair, lost in thought, a door behind him opened silently. A tall, gaunt figure cloaked in black, his face hidden beneath a hood, drifted barefoot to a chair beside Voldemort and sat down.
"My brother, have you still not made up your mind?" a sharp, chilling voice rasped in Voldemort's ear. "This Harry Potter is not someone you can handle in your current state."
Voldemort remained silent. The figure reached into his robes and produced a golden cup, placing it gently on the table before Voldemort. "I leave this with you. When you realize that your true self lies in your soul, not this shell, come find me."
The next day, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the other fourth-years gathered in the crowded entrance hall, waiting for the carriages to take them to Hogsmeade Station.
"Hermione!"
A striking woman burst into their view. Fleur Delacour hurried up the stone steps into the castle. In the distance, Harry could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime harness two horses to a carriage.
"I hope we'll meet again," Fleur said, pulling Hermione into a quick embrace. "I doubt I'll ever catch up to you in magic, but I think I've got a fair shot at improving my English. After I graduate, I plan to find a job here to work on it."
"Your English is already excellent," Ron interjected, and Fleur flashed him a radiant smile.
"Goodbye, Hermione," Fleur said, turning to leave. "It was wonderful to see you all."
Harry and the others watched as Fleur hurried across the lawn toward Madame Maxime.
"I wonder how the Durmstrang lot will get back," Ron mused. "Do you reckon they can still sail that ship without Karkaroff?"
"Karkaroff didn't steer," a low, gruff voice replied. "He stayed in his cabin and left the work to us."
To Ron's barely concealed excitement, Viktor Krum approached.
"Could I… have a word?" Krum asked, his eyes on Hermione, hesitating for a long moment.
"No!" Harry blurted, wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist before she could respond.
"Oh, Harry, let go…" Hermione's cheeks flushed faintly as she squirmed, though her efforts were so halfhearted they were barely noticeable.
Krum's gaze flickered between Harry and Hermione before he turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped.
The Hogwarts students boarded the Hogwarts Express, which had been running for nearly a century, for the journey back to King's Cross. The weather was clear, warm sunlight streaming unimpeded into the train compartments. Unable to stomach any more of Harry and Hermione's affection, Ron had gone off to sit with Seamus and the others, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in their compartment.
"Harry, would you like to come to my place over the summer?" Hermione asked, nestled in Harry's arms, her fingers brushing along his jaw and teasingly tracing his lips, making his heart flutter.
"Sounds perfect," Harry replied, playfully nipping at her index finger. "I can formally introduce myself to my future in-laws. What do your parents like, Hermione?"
"In-laws?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're not married yet, you know." She shifted in his arms, settling into a more comfortable position. "As for gifts, my dad loves dogs, and my mum, like me, is mad about books."
"That gives me a good idea of what to bring," Harry said, running his fingers through Hermione's thick, bushy brown hair.
He gazed at her, momentarily lost in thought.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"You're beautiful, Hermione," Harry said, his eyes soft with affection.
"I know," she replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
…
The train swayed gently as it pulled into the platform at King's Cross. Students disembarked, lugging their trunks and reuniting with their families.
After nearly a year apart, Harry spotted Sirius.
"Hey, Sirius!" Harry called, pulling Hermione along as he hurried toward Sirius, who was chatting with Mrs. Weasley.
Compared to last year, Sirius Black's skin was noticeably darker. He wore an Egyptian-style hat, large hoop earrings, and loose, striped robes, looking every bit like someone who'd spent years in North Africa. When he saw Harry, a broad grin spread across his face—though, for some reason, it faltered briefly when he noticed Harry and Hermione's tightly clasped hands.
"Harry, Hermione, it's been too long!" Sirius said, pulling them both into a warm hug.
Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a quick hug as well, but pointedly ignored Hermione before turning to greet her own children.
"Er…" Hermione's face flushed with a flicker of embarrassment at the snub.
"Don't take it to heart, Hermione," Sirius said, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat. "Molly's probably just struggling to adjust."
In the parking lot outside Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Harry met Hermione's parents. Mr. Granger's eyes immediately locked onto Harry and Hermione's interlocked hands.
"Er… good afternoon, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger," Harry said, giving a sheepish wave.
"Hmph. You two seem to be doing quite well for yourselves," Mr. Granger said, eyeing their clasped hands with clear disapproval. "Can't bear to let go even now? At this rate, I'll be calling you Mr. and Mrs. Potter before long."
At his words, Harry and Hermione realized they were still holding hands. Hermione made a halfhearted attempt to pull away, but Harry only gripped her hand tighter. After a brief struggle, she gave up and let him hold on.
"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, allow me to introduce myself properly," Harry said, pulling a blushing, slightly evasive Hermione closer and bowing to her parents. "Harry Potter, Hermione's boyfriend and future husband."
Hermione froze at his words, then turned bright red, swatting at him with her free hand. "Future husband? I haven't even said yes yet!"
"Girls grow up so fast…" Mr. Granger sighed, watching his daughter's flustered yet contented expression.
After seeing Hermione off in her father's car, Harry and Sirius drove away from the parking lot.
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