https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-692-A-Conversation-Before-the-Triwizard-Cup/13685915/
Chapter 693: Lies and Truth
Dumbledore believed Wade couldn’t understand—but in truth, Wade was fully aware of the Headmaster’s intentions.
Voldemort had risen again and again, each resurrection occurring faster than the last. True, this was partly due to Little Barty Crouch serving as his master’s loyal servant, but as Voldemort reemerged, he would inevitably find more followers—those tempted by darkness, captivated by power, and cowed by fear—just like Little Barty, Quirrell, and Peter Pettigrew.
Yet so long as Harry remained alive, Voldemort could never truly die. For the boy was, unintentionally, a half-formed Horcrux created by the Dark Lord himself.
Only by establishing a blood-bound connection with Harry during his resurrection—and then personally killing him—could Voldemort destroy the fragment of his own soul embedded within Harry, while still preserving Harry’s life.
Otherwise, the only way to eliminate Voldemort would be to kill Harry Potter first.
The intricate, paradoxical magic behind this was likely known only to Dumbledore, who had ventured farther in the study of magic than any other wizard in history.
Even though Wade had read the original story, he still felt as if he were gazing through fog or watching the moon through water—on the surface, he thought he understood, but upon closer reflection, he realized he grasped nothing at all.
He could only follow the Headmaster’s instructions, like most people, deferring to the judgment of the greatest white wizard.
Yet Wade suspected Dumbledore himself wasn’t certain he could save Harry. He had merely guessed it might be possible, and was now desperately grasping at the slimmest chance.
To completely eradicate Voldemort, Dumbledore was unwilling to wait any longer. He pushed the underage Harry onto a path of voluntary sacrifice—a choice that made Wade acutely aware of the Headmaster’s cold calculation.
Yet the same man had also poured every ounce of effort into securing that faint possibility of Harry’s survival—so much so that he was willing to risk his own reputation, endure the doubts and resentment of his followers, and shoulder the burden alone.
This duality left Wade with a deep, complex unease.
There was, however, one thing where Wade and Dumbledore’s thoughts diverged.
Dumbledore hoped Harry would live happily as an ordinary student, blissfully unaware, until the very end—when he would finally understand his destiny.
But Wade believed he had the power to know what lay ahead, the power to choose his own path—even if the outcome remained unchanged. There was a world of difference between choosing one’s fate and being used as a pawn, blindly placed on the board by others.
Of course, in front of the cameras, Wade couldn’t reveal any of this.
As he watched the Triwizard Cup’s magical surface earlier, he had already pieced together every clue. Now, seeing Harry’s eyes widen in sudden horror, Wade spoke slowly:
“I think you haven’t forgotten,” he said, “that back in our first year, he attached himself to Professor Quirrell and tried to steal the Philosopher’s Stone hidden in the school—only you stopped him.”
Harry recalled Quirrell’s second face at the back of his head. A sharp pain twisted in his stomach.
He nodded. “I’ll never forget that. Not as long as I live.”
【—I know.】 Wade thought. I know you can’t forget. But the audience outside? They might not be aware.
They should be.
If good deeds are always buried in silence, then those who seek fame will seize the moral high ground. If achievements go unacknowledged, then selfish ambition will drown out all else.
Just as Dumbledore’s silence had allowed figures like Fudge, Umbridge, and Lockhart to step into the spotlight—exalted by ignorant, ordinary wizards who adored them blindly.
Wade touched the badge pinned to his chest. It looked like any ordinary soft-light badge—a robin’s shape, designed to give its wearer a more refined, natural appearance. According to rumor, it also brought good luck.
“After that,” Wade continued, “Peter Pettigrew escaped from Azkaban. Everyone knows that. But what people don’t know is that at the same time, another Death Eater loyal to Voldemort also slipped free.”
Harry blinked. “Who?”
Wade replied, “Little Barty Crouch.”
Harry’s expression flickered with confusion. But beyond the stadium, the entire Ministry of Magic in Britain was thrown into shock once more.
It had been less than two decades since the war. Though younger wizards might not remember, most still carried the weight of those names—those terrifying, unforgettable legends.
Little Barty Crouch had only been captured near the war’s end, among the last of the high-ranking Death Eaters to fall. When Voldemort’s power had swept across the British Isles, Barty was still a student, with no notable history—no one knew he had joined the infamous Death Eaters.
Then, when Voldemort fell, Barty was captured. Because of his father’s identity, the news caused a national uproar. Many still remembered the disbelief they felt at the time.
Wade briefly explained Little Barty Crouch’s identity and how he had escaped justice—then how he had assumed Filch’s identity, hiding in plain sight within Hogwarts.
“With their help, Voldemort rose once more,” Wade said. “He orchestrated the two attacks that night during the Quidditch World Cup—the forest’s corruption and the mascot’s madness.”
Harry clenched his fist. “It was them. All of it.”
How many had died that night? The Ministry still couldn’t give a precise number.
Afterward, the reputations of Bulgaria and Ireland had plummeted. If not for the Ministry’s long-planned Magic School Tournament, Britain itself might have been labeled a forbidden land—unwelcome to wizards from across the world.
Wade nodded. His gaze swept the crowd, ensuring everything was normal. Then he added:
“Afterward, he went quiet in public—”
Though it was because his body had been completely destroyed again, forcing Voldemort into a period of dormancy. But that truth didn’t need to be revealed yet.
At this moment, Wade Gray was a Hogwarts student—respected by Dumbledore, privy to more information than most, but still far from knowing the full truth.
“—but during that time, dark magic attacks erupted all over the world. Though there’s no proof, I believe they’re not entirely unrelated.”
“At the same time, he sent Little Barty Crouch into Hogwarts to sabotage this Tournament. We uncovered his identity just days ago. But when we were preparing to hand him over to the Ministry, he escaped—this man, loyal to Voldemort, has learned techniques far beyond what ordinary wizards can comprehend.”
Masterful lies, after all, must be wrapped in the skin of truth.
(End of Chapter)
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