Chapter 475: A Memory Fragment

Chapter 475: A Memory Fragment

"Ginny's summing it up," she said, her vibrant, flame-like hair swaying as she counted on her fingers. "Early phase, snag a trophy - either win or snatch it from others, then keep mobile—"

She tilted her head at Hermione. "While finding teammates, watch out for ambushes, dodge the maze traps, and the dangerous creatures within it—"

Ron nodded solemnly, affirming his agreement.

"—and the final stage," Ginny's gaze rested on Harry, "as time stretches, all champions edge closer to the trophy, likely meeting new enemies just steps away, so it's swift and decisive action!"

She gestured fiercely, and Harry thought she was incredibly cool today.

"You could also bank on luck," Ron earnestly suggested, "consider the best-case scenario, haven't you forgotten? We're among the first in the maze. If we're lucky enough, we might not even encounter anyone else..."

They discussed in the corner the entire day, until late afternoon when Professor McGonagall surprisingly showed up in the common room, summoning Harry and Ron, leaving Hermione and Ginny puzzled. They returned just before lights-out, unable to conceal their excitement.

"What did Professor McGonagall say to you guys?" Hermione lifted her head from a stack of thick parchment, her eyes lifeless, staring through the gap between Harry and Ron. She spent considerable time reorganizing the rules again.

"It's people from the Anti-Dark Arts League," Harry exclaimed, handing over a certificate. Hermione and Ginny leaned in to see; Ginny let out a short, sharp scream. "You're officially in the Anti-Dark Arts League? Harry, is this for real?"

"And me," Ron reminded her.

But Ginny, ignoring Ron, exclaimed to Harry, "Do you know what this means?"

"It means, um... I've joined a magical organization?" Harry hesitated in response.

"No, definitely not!" Ginny's fiery hair danced again. "Listen, it's not an honorary membership! There's a difference—"

"Hold on, I vaguely remember..." Ron racked his brains. "Someone mentioned this to me, several times."

"It was Lockhart," Hermione, as reliable as ever, chimed in.

"Exactly! He claimed to be an honorary member of the Anti-Dark Arts League, not a full one... What does that imply?" Ron stared at his certificate, seeking a perfect explanation.

"Full members need assessment or substantial contributions, preferably ones that can be showcased," Ginny, more knowledgeable in this, explained. "I reckon Lockhart refused to demonstrate any abilities because he simply doesn't possess any!"

However, what surprised him was Hermione handing him a paper on the day exams concluded.

"Professor, this is my design. I made some alterations to Nick LeMoyne's research. It's a bit more intricate, but it bypasses the complex alchemical techniques."

"I don't see any issues, a very clever transformation, especially suited to your magical aptitude, Miss Granger," Felix remarked after a thorough inspection.

Hermione left the office satisfied.

Before bedtime, an owl landed outside the window, incessantly pecking at the window ledge.

After Felix opened the window, the brown owl with a postal band flew around the room, dropping a palm-sized package and swiftly departing.

Upon opening the package, inside a small box was a thumb-sized glass vial. Felix held up the translucent vial, gazing at the magical lamp on the ceiling; inside was a silvery substance, swirling lazily, neither solid nor liquid.

It was a memory fragment.

Whose memory could it be? Felix smirked faintly, genuinely intrigued by the memory's owner.

Gently tapping the wand on the stopper, the sealed cap popped open instantly. The obsidian-like wand swirled silver threads around its tip, then with a forceful flick into the air, an image appeared abruptly:

In the picture, Felix's body shattered amidst a blaze of green light, while simultaneously, a chilling voice lingered in the office—

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Cheep!" Valen, startled, froze momentarily, then jumped into Felix's arms, covering its eyes with both tiny hands, gripping his shirt tightly.

"It's alright," Felix reassured softly, staring at the vanishing light, re-forming the memory into silver threads in his hand, his fingertips twirling, lost in thought.

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