Chapter 196: Reunion with Ollivander

"Oh, Dumbledore, how are you?" Rita said triumphantly, "Have you read my article about the International Confederation of Wizards?"

"Wonderful—I'm almost embarrassed," Dumbledore smiled warmly, "especially when you called me 'the true voice of the wizarding world' and referred to Xuan Jun as 'a rigid old madman.'"

"Of course we must be confident—we Britons must stand tall and strike back, even if they cling to the delusion that they're the Celestial Empire. We have the inner conviction to say anything, to debate anything."

"But I read in the paper that Yanayev also attended that meeting, yet you didn't mention him at all?" Harry recalled the article brimming with confidence.

"Ah, that's a topic we can't touch," Rita whispered, nervously tidying her things.

"It's fine, we can discuss it later. Right now, what matters is," Dumbledore smiled gently, "Harry needs to have his wand checked."

Harry thought for a moment—he'd said everything he needed to say. Any gaps could easily be filled in by Rita's imagination. He didn't mind if her article was exaggerated; what mattered was conveying the attitude, and perhaps exaggeration would make it more effective.

He followed Dumbledore to the staircase and, under the headmaster's gentle gaze, walked up alone.

Ollivander, who was to inspect the wand, looked far more competent than during Harry's previous visits. His silver-white hair had been cut shorter, his beard neatly trimmed. He wore no wizard's robe, only a leather jacket, his weathered face set with determination.

"Harry, you've come," Ollivander said softly. "Let me see the Time-Shift Device again."

Harry obediently pulled out his wand—the small device still attached to its tip.

"It appears to be running steadily," Ollivander sighed. "But Harry, my boy, what about you? Are you ready?"

"I think so," Harry said.

"No, I don't see it in your eyes," Ollivander's voice was heavy. "How much are you willing to sacrifice to defeat the Dark Lord? A little effort? A slight compromise of your morals? No—we need far more than that."

"Perhaps… we must also stand by while Hogwarts is attacked?" Harry remembered the Death Eaters' other plan. Though he knew few details, he knew the core: they intended to assault Hogwarts.

"Harry, I must tell you," Ollivander brought the wand close to his ear and listened carefully. "The Time-Shift Device's charge exceeds the scheduled duration by three days."

Harry's head buzzed—he immediately recalled how he'd begged the Doctor to delay just a little longer so he could meet Zhang Qiu. But Dou Dou had said it was fine… he'd said it was fine within a week…

"I told Dou Dou not to let the TARDIS timer reach a full week—that's one hour," Ollivander breathed in sharply, then gripped Harry's shoulders, forcing him to meet the old man's gray eyes. "Now I can't guarantee its reliability. Any link could fail. The theoretical margin might not cover this error. A full month's potential energy could erupt in an instant. Do you know what that means? A blast. Everything within ten kilometers will be sucked into a temporal rift, permanently frozen in displaced spacetime."

"That's terrifying," Harry quickly steadied himself. "But I don't care. As long as it still works against the Dark Lord, I'm willing to die with him."

"Foolish boy," Ollivander's gaze flickered away. "You're not ready. That shouldn't be the look in your eyes. Your eyes tell me you're still afraid. Have you considered—ten kilometers? That's enough to obliterate Beauxbatons entirely?"

"Will you count them?" he stammered. "Before the battle begins, count how many innocent children are there?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry's mind was chaotic, but he kept thinking. "We can choose a remote location for the final duel."

"But to me, you are just as innocent a life as the four thousand students here," Ollivander trembled as he raised Harry's wand. The silver sand still floated inside the Time-Shift Device. They stared at it in silence. Harry made no move to take it. Ollivander made no move to offer it.

Dumbledore's voice came from outside, breaking the suffocating quiet: "Are you done? The press conference is about to begin."

"Or perhaps this is fate," Harry whispered, taking his wand. "To throw yourself into certain death, only for someone else to die instead. I've spent my whole life doing this."

Ollivander's lips moved, but no words came. Harry had already opened the door wide and walked down the stairs.

Harry had almost forgotten how he returned to the sofa. Dumbledore seemed to be saying something, but the voice felt distant. He knew it was about the Triwizard Tournament, trivial matters—nothing compared to a ten-kilometer explosion…

He also forgot how he let Rita pose him for one photo after another. A one-hour tolerance—yet he'd exceeded it by three days. What consequences would follow? No one knew. If Dou Dou hadn't misunderstood the pun between "week" and "cycle," if he hadn't insisted on meeting Zhang Qiu, if… if there weren't so many "ifs." The fact remained: the error had already occurred.

When Harry finally snapped out of the terrifying realization, he found himself lying on the train's bunk. Ron and Zhang Qiu stared at him, worried.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked. "You look dazed."

"If you've been cursed by the Imperius, blink," Zhang Qiu added.

"No, no, no—it's not like that," Harry shook his head vigorously, hesitated, then decided to tell them. "Ollivander told me the Time-Shift Device might not be reliable. It's unstable. If it fails during the duel, it might still subdue the Dark Lord—but it could kill me. And possibly many innocent people too."

"Then don't use it," Ron said immediately. "We'll find another way to defeat the Dark Lord. No need to pay such a price."

"Exactly," Zhang Qiu added. "We've already said the Dark Lord's plans differ from the Ministry's assumptions. Their advice isn't necessarily right."

"That's right," Zhang Qiu added immediately. "We've already said that the Dark Lord's plans differ from the Ministry's assumptions— their suggestions may not be useful."

"Think about what we still have that the Dark Lord doesn't know," Zhang Qiu cut in. "Our hidden strength. Dumbledore's other cards. Sirius is ready to stab him in the back. Malfoy's already been fooled. We've laid so many plans—do you really think one faulty Ministry weapon should paralyze you?"

Harry took a deep breath, steadied himself, and nodded firmly. "You're right. Even if the plan fails, we can still publicly organize wizard resistance against him. And we still have a few tricks up our sleeves—things the Dark Lord doesn't know…"

"I don't get one thing," Ron interrupted. "When did Malfoy go lame?"

"It's slang," Zhang Qiu explained. "It means he's completely convinced by Harry."

"Oh! Hyperion!" Harry suddenly slapped his hand. "I need to write Sirius a letter. Maybe the answer's already been right beside us."

"Alright, explain 'lame' again," Ron said, seeing Harry reach for parchment. He naturally pulled Zhang Qiu toward the door, giving Harry some privacy.

"The story goes, there was a cunning old man who wanted to sell his used walking stick…" Zhang Qiu's voice drifted in from outside. Harry half-listened, his pen moving as fast as Rita's shorthand. His mind had already drifted to the owl carriage—Hedwig was surely ready, waiting to deliver his letter to Sirius.

In the days waiting for a reply, Harry lost interest in everything around him—even Cedric and Hermione's gossip about Krum apparently liking Renata, or Ron secretly training him in swordplay, or Zhang Qiu teaching him how to fly on a blade—all of which would've once thrilled him. Now, only Sirius's reply, and the possibility of replacing the Time-Shift Device with a Stasis Charm for a fatal strike, truly occupied his thoughts.

These restless days passed quickly. Harry found exactly what he sought in Sirius's reply.

During the wait for a reply, Harry lost interest in nearly everything around him—even when Cedric and Hermione took turns telling him gossip about Krum apparently taking an interest in Renata, or when Ron secretly trained him in swordplay, or when Zhang Qiu taught him how to ride a sword through the air—things that would normally have been fascinating, but now, in Harry's mind, only his godfather's reply, and the possibility it held of using a Stasis Spell instead of a Time-Shift Matrix to deliver a fatal strike, truly occupied his thoughts.

I can't write freely here—if the Joker intercepts my owl, it'll be disastrous. We should meet in person. I'll come to see you on November 22nd.

I know better than anyone the predicament you face, and I must tell you with joy: the matter you inquired about has made great progress—it may soon be battlefield-ready, with only one final problem remaining: magical energy consumption.

Beyond that, I may have other discoveries to share with you. If anything unusual happens, write to me immediately.

I know better than anyone the predicament you face, and I must joyfully tell you that the matter you inquired about has made tremendous progress—it may soon be ready for combat, with only one final problem remaining: the issue of magical energy consumption.

Besides this, I may have some other gains, which I will share with you later. If anything unusual happens, I hope you will write to me.

Your dear: Regulus Arcturus Black