If Barty Crouch Jr. hadn't considered the possibility that Hermione might trigger the Portkey faster—and ended up sending her to the Riddle family graveyard—
Then things would get very interesting.
Given Hermione's current strength, arriving at the Riddle graveyard would lead to only two possible outcomes.
That would depend entirely on Voldemort's preparations on the other side.
If only Wormtail and the not-yet-fully-revived Voldemort were present, then with the sheer number of alchemical tools Hermione carried, there was a very real chance they'd be captured on the spot—caught by Hermione herself.
If, however, Voldemort had already gathered a large number of Death Eaters there, then even so, Hermione charging straight in wouldn't be suicidal.
She might not be able to slaughter them outright, but crippling Voldemort's core forces and withdrawing calmly was well within her capabilities.
Either way, turning the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey would make Barty the unmistakable traitor leading the way.
At that point, he would almost certainly lose Voldemort's trust. Even if he managed to return to Voldemort's side again, he would never be valued as he once was.
Of course, that was assuming his actions at Hogwarts didn't get exposed first.
If they did, whether he'd even survive long enough to crawl back to Voldemort was anyone's guess.
Dumbledore had no idea how many thoughts flashed through Arthur's mind in that instant.
All he knew was that Arthur's words made sense—Voldemort was indeed most likely to strike when everyone let their guard down.
Dumbledore quietly committed that point to memory, reminding himself to stay vigilant.
He then shifted the topic.
"Have you ever thought about what you'll do after graduation?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Why ask all of a sudden?"
He had a strong feeling that today's meeting was mostly about idle conversation, while the second task of the Triwizard Tournament was just an excuse.
They'd gone from high-tier dragons to Voldemort—and now they were talking about the future.
Dumbledore smiled gently.
"Indulge an old man's curiosity. I don't have many years left—let me hear what young people like you plan to do with your lives."
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"Oh, come on. Don't try that on me. At your level, living another two hundred years would be easy."
Unlike Eastern cultivators, whose lifespan increased with each breakthrough, wizards didn't gain longevity quite so directly.
Even so, someone at Dumbledore's level could easily live one or two centuries longer.
Not to mention—he knew Nicolas Flamel.
Dumbledore chuckled softly.
Arthur heard a trace of loneliness and bitterness in that laugh.
"Child," Dumbledore said, "living too long isn't necessarily a blessing. You're young—you don't yet understand what it feels like to watch everyone you care about leave you, one by one.
"That emptiness, when the world grows quiet at night… it isn't pleasant.
"And besides—death is nothing more than a great adventure. One day, I will embark upon that journey."
Arthur didn't truly understand Dumbledore's feelings.
After all, he possessed several methods of immortality—he wouldn't experience that kind of loss anytime soon.
Still, he deeply agreed with one thing:
Death is a great adventure.
After all, it was because his computer exploded in his previous life—and he died—that he'd been brought to this world by the system, beginning a whole new journey.
"Enough about me," Dumbledore said, steering the topic back.
"What about you? What do you want to do after graduation?"
"Me?" Arthur stroked his chin.
"Just yesterday, I promised Hermione and Ranni that after graduation, I'd take them traveling around the world."
Dumbledore froze for a moment.
That… was not the answer he'd expected.
"And after that?" he pressed. "You don't want to do anything else?"
Arthur tilted his head.
"Like what?"
"For example," Dumbledore said, "trying to change the wizarding world. With your ability, you could accomplish extraordinary things."
Arthur laughed.
"And you're not afraid I'd become a second Voldemort?"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"No. Voldemort doesn't understand love. You do.
"And you're surrounded by love—perhaps even a bit too much."
He winked at Arthur as he said it.
Arthur laughed helplessly, well aware Dumbledore was teasing him about the way he'd been flanked on both sides at the Yule Ball.
"Changing the wizarding world is Hermione's ambition," Arthur said.
"She really does have a lot of things she dislikes about it.
"After we finish traveling, she plans to run for Minister for Magic."
Dumbledore smiled warmly.
"Hearing that, I suddenly find myself looking forward to that day."
Arthur waved a hand.
"Then make sure you live long enough to see it. You never set a deadline for your 'great adventure,' after all."
This time, Dumbledore simply smiled and shook his head.
"That isn't something I get to decide. When I depart—it's Death who calls the time."
What Dumbledore didn't know was that Arthur now wielded the power of death itself.
In a sense… Arthur could already be considered a god of death.
Just then, Arthur felt a stir in his heart—Hermione was looking for him.
It was the effect of that ancient spell of love.
It allowed him to sense her emotions—and even exchange brief communication.
"I'll have to go," Arthur said. "Hermione's calling me."
As he stood to leave, Dumbledore reminded him from behind,
"Remember—don't reveal the second task's content to Miss Granger in advance."
Arthur didn't turn back, only waved.
"Relax. I'm not that shameless."
Arthur left the headmaster's office and found Hermione in the Gryffindor common room.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Nothing serious," Hermione replied.
"My parents didn't see you and wanted to chat."
She pointed to a small mirror resting face-down on the table.
It was one of Arthur's communication mirrors.
Calling it an invention wasn't quite accurate—he'd simply refined it using alchemy.
The wizarding world already had similar devices: paired mirrors that allowed long-distance communication with full visual contact—essentially magical video calls.
Arthur had improved the design, turning it into a compact handheld mirror usable even by Muggles without magic.
Since none of them had gone home for Christmas, the Granger couple had missed them.
They chatted with Hermione for a while—then noticed Arthur wasn't there.
So Hermione had been sent to fetch him.
Hermione was rather helpless about one thing.
Every term, she swore to her mother she'd write home once a week.
And every term, she forgot.
As a result, letter-writing duties had always fallen to Arthur.
Whenever they went home for holidays, Mrs. Granger would sigh and say her daughter was practically raised for nothing.
Over time, the Granger household's internal hierarchy had quietly shifted.
Mrs. Granger had started treating Arthur like a son—
And Hermione like a daughter-in-law.
And as everyone knew… mother-in-law relationships were complicated.
At this point, Hermione's status in Mrs. Granger's heart might not even rival Ifrit's.
…Alright, that part was a joke.
But Hermione's standing was genuinely lower than Arthur's.
Sure enough, when Arthur picked up the mirror, the Granger couple immediately showered him with concern and warmth—smiling far more brightly than they had with Hermione.
Hermione nearly shut down on the spot.
Thankfully, they hadn't forgotten their daughter entirely, and offered her some care before ending the call.
That conversation was just a small interlude.
With Christmas still in full swing, Hermione quickly put it behind her.
Right now, what mattered was enjoying the holiday atmosphere with Arthur.
Before night fell, she grabbed Arthur's hand and dragged him toward Hogsmeade.
Rules about staying on campus during holidays?
Hogwarts had plenty of secret passages.
If no one found out, then she hadn't broken any rules.
Under Arthur's influence, the once rigid, rule-abiding Hermione was long gone.
While snow fell thickly over Hogwarts, the Consecrated Snowfield of the Lands Between was also buried in white.
During this time, Arthur had swept through Castle Sol, defeating its strongest warrior—the red-eyed, dual-blade Banished Knight—and its final boss, Commander Niall.
He obtained the second half of the Haligtree Secret Medallion.
Urged on by Miquella's longing for his sister, Arthur passed through the Grand Lift of Rold and headed straight for Ordina, Liturgical Town.
That place housed the gateway to the Haligtree.
And it was also the homeland of one of the spirit ashes Arthur carried—
Latenna the Albinauric.
She was a rare spirit who had willingly become ashes, bound to Arthur's service.
Arthur had first met her in a ruined shack atop a cliff overlooking Liurnia.
Back then, she…
Advance Chapters Available on Patreon
patreon.com/WhiteDevil7554