The Sanctuary Valley
Leaning against an oak tree, Ino held the diadem in his hands, deep in thought.
His recent contemplation had cleared up many previously vague matters.
It seemed that ever since Harry's dreams during the summer, Barty Crouch Jr. had already returned to Voldemort's side. Otherwise, given Voldemort's current state, he wouldn't have been able to do much—let alone kill a Muggle.
As for what happened afterward—on the night of the World Cup final—perhaps due to Dumbledore and Newt's presence, Peter Pettigrew's death, or some other reason, the usual chaos from the original events never unfolded.
Then, at the start of the school year, Ino had confirmed that the real Mad-Eye Moody was indeed present. Considering all these factors, he realized that if not for Ravenclaw's Diadem, he might have entirely overlooked Barty Crouch Jr.
"A dog that bites… never barks."
Ino sighed. Unlike the loud and fanatical Bellatrix, Barty Crouch Jr. was indeed a remarkable talent—someone who had achieved twelve N.E.W.T. certificates. He wasn't just intelligent but also formidable in skill.
Mad-Eye Moody was proof of this. A battle-hardened, retired Auror was not someone that could be easily subdued by a lone opponent.
---
Unlike the tranquil Sanctuary Valley, the Hogwarts infirmary was overflowing with people.
Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Ludo Bagman, Barty Crouch Sr., and Snape were all gathered around a hospital bed.
"Albus, have you found anything?" Professor McGonagall asked softly.
She refused to believe that Harry had secretly studied Dark Magic—let alone that, at fifteen, he could have killed a dragon with the Killing Curse.
"Not yet. But I believe Harry is innocent," Dumbledore said slowly, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room, though his expression was weary.
His examination of Harry had yielded nothing—no curses, no enchantments, nothing unusual. This meant that there was no obvious external influence to explain Harry's use of the Killing Curse. He would have to face public scrutiny alone.
Professor McGonagall sighed deeply. She already knew what this meant.
"Innocence requires proof!" Barty Crouch Sr. interrupted at the worst possible moment.
"Shut your mouth! Can't you see my student is resting?" McGonagall hissed, her anger barely contained.
"Let him rest, then. I'll be waiting."
Barty Crouch Sr. didn't bother looking back as he strode out of the room.
Seeing McGonagall about to explode, Bagman quickly interjected to diffuse the tension.
"Minerva, don't be upset! He wasn't always like this. But rest assured, I'll do my best to help in this matter!"
For a fleeting moment, Bagman thought about contacting Marcus to renegotiate his revenue share. The Triwizard Tournament had already given him more than enough headaches.
Dumbledore, however, remained silent, his gaze lingering on Barty Crouch Sr.'s retreating figure.
Harry, oblivious to the chaos around him, remained fast asleep.
Time, like fine sand, slipped through one's fingers—silent, yet leaving subtle traces behind.
As dawn broke, the second day after the tournament's event sent shockwaves across the British wizarding world.
The Daily Prophet had devoted half a page to a bold, eye-catching headline:
"The Boy Who Lived and the Killing Curse"
Below the headline was a five-inch black-and-white moving photograph. In it, Harry wore a cold expression, his wand raised, pointing towards the Hungarian Horntail.
The sixty-five-foot-long dragon—terrifying in appearance—lay motionless, as if it had consumed two gallons of Dreamless Sleep Potion.
The Boy Who Lived. The Killing Curse.
For wizards over the age of twenty-five, these words together evoked painful memories of a dark and frenzied era.
But that wasn't the most shocking part.
On this very day, The Daily Prophet had partnered with MirageVision, an enchanted publication company, for a special issue.
There were now two versions of the paper:
The standard edition, costing 2 Knuts per copy.
A premium edition, which included a two-inch enchanted movie mirror, priced at 5 Sickles per copy.
Despite the exorbitant price increase, the scandalous headline and its attached moving images ensured that many were willing to pay.
After all, both Muggles and wizards alike loved a spectacle, and 5 Sickles wasn't that steep a price for such sensational content.
Slytherin Dormitory
Ino set the newspaper aside and turned to Draco.
"You're saying there's a rumor going around that Harry is the Second Dark Lord?"
"Yes!" Draco nodded seriously, then leaned in as if revealing a grand conspiracy. "Yesterday evening, someone found a bloodstained letter in the fourth-floor corridor. The message inside read: 'Hail the Second Dark Lord, His Majesty Harry Potter…'"
Ino listened quietly, his expression unreadable.
It sounded absurd—like something straight out of a cheap, overly dramatic novel.
And yet, the more outrageous the rumor, the more traction it seemed to gain. People loved gossip, and this was the perfect fuel for a sensational wildfire.
Once the story spread, Harry would face an unprecedented wave of criticism.
This situation was entirely different from the Chamber of Secrets incident, where he had merely been suspected of being Slytherin's heir. This time, he had used the Killing Curse—in full view of the public—and it had been recorded by enchanted media.
His strength, background, and fame—all the qualities that made him a hero—were now the very things fueling speculation and paranoia.
Most critically, with the Quidditch World Cup incident having never occurred, there had been no Dark Mark, no sign of Voldemort's return. As a result, people had begun to forget about Voldemort entirely—turning their suspicions toward Harry instead.
Draco, seeing Ino deep in thought, suddenly felt uneasy.
"The guy I bullied for three years… is actually the Second Dark Lord?" he muttered to himself. "I even dangled him in midair before…"
A shiver ran down his spine, and he hesitantly asked, "Ino, do you think Scarhead is actually dangerous?"
"Stop overthinking it. Just don't provoke him," Ino replied, frowning slightly.
Draco's reaction was predictable. But the fact that he, of all people, was concerned, suggested that the entire castle was already forming its own conclusions.
Rumors spread like wildfire.
Even if Harry had done nothing wrong, the weight of public scrutiny alone could crush him.
And this time, the scrutiny wasn't limited to Hogwarts—it had spread across Britain.
Ino's gaze drifted back to the newspaper.
He was now certain of one thing:
Dumbledore had miscalculated—badly.
If one judged Dumbledore's brilliance based on the original timeline, he had always been in control inside Hogwarts. But whenever his plans extended beyond the school's walls, he often found himself reacting rather than leading.
And right now, the situation was spiraling out of control.
An undeniable, recorded event.
External media fueling hysteria.
The bloodstained letter.
A flimsy yet enticing Dark Lord rumor…
After a long silence, Ino finally spoke.
"Draco, would you say that a wizard capable of earning twelve N.E.W.T. certificates is truly remarkable?"
Before Draco could answer, Ino stood up.
It was time to give Dumbledore a much-needed wake-up call.