Chapter 117: The Time-turner
Amidst the roar of his brain, Ron felt as though he had returned to a few months ago, to the foolish self illuminated by the mottled memories.
In the memory, he flicked the shell of a little fire dragon, and faced with the little fire dragon’s anger, he and Harry laughed heartily and joyfully.
Beside them were Vaughn’s words of admonishment:
“…Dragons hold grudges…”
And Malfoy’s annoying, yet now seeming so sincere, warning:
“If I were you, I absolutely wouldn’t try to provoke such a monster…”
What did they reply back then?
“We’re sending it away anyway, if it has the guts, let it come back to Hogwarts to get revenge on us!”
Ron’s consciousness, gradually being submerged by blankness, suddenly wished he could go back in time, or crawl into his memories and beat up the Ron and Harry from a few months ago!
Two idiots!
At the end of his consciousness, Ron heard Nobeta let out a loud “Gaga!” cry, a cry full of the satisfaction and relief of a great revenge about to be exacted…
…………
The forest in the Painted World was very similar to the Forbidden Forest.
Tall trees, deep shade, the mist exhaled by the dense plants, so thick it felt like the morning mist before rain, it settled heavily on one’s body, and in an instant, clothes were soaked halfway through.
Of course, there were also differences.
For example, in this forest, the mist never dissipated, no matter how strong the sun in the sky became as time passed, it seemed unable to evaporate the moisture in the woods, nor send it into the atmosphere to participate in the natural cycle.
After all, this was just a “painting,” subject to the creator’s will; if the creator liked a misty forest, it would remain so forever.
Moreover, there were no animals here.
Hermione had explored the Forbidden Forest several times, and her impression of it was not just a vast, dark woodland; in the Forbidden Forest, beneath the shadows cast by the dense canopy, there was a vibrant side.
Birdsong, insect chirps, animal roars, and the rustling of bushes… In a real natural forest, the sounds of life were like a never-repeating symphony.
But in the Painted World, it was truly just a static scene!
*Swish—*
The bushes not far away rustled a few times, and Hermione, who was squatting on the ground, idly poking at the grass with her wand, immediately raised her wand tip and pointed.
“It’s me!”
The bushes parted, and Harry, soaked through by the mist and covered in bits of dead leaves and twigs, looked dishevelled and dejected.
His medium-length hair was messily stuck to his forehead, his glasses were unrecognizable, he spread his empty hands and said in a dull voice, “I didn’t find any food.”
Hermione lowered her wand and comforted him, “It’s alright if you didn’t find any. This place is probably ‘painted’, so even if you did find something, it’s not certain if it’s edible.”
Harry nodded, then sat down opposite her and stared blankly at his feet.
They didn’t know how long it had been since they left Chessboard Town. In modern society, without clocks, people seemed to forget how to tell time. Even though the sun’s movement in the sky could serve as a reference, it wasn’t real, and its reliability for timing was questionable.
After confirming Hermione was unharmed and mourning Ron in Chessboard Town, Harry had become unusually quiet.
He silently led Hermione through the forest, tracking Quirrell’s trace.
When the sun began to slant, they found where Quirrell had fallen, but all that remained were trees charred black by lightning; Quirrell was long gone.
The good news was that Hermione found remnants of a flying broomstick and Quirrell’s discarded potion bottles nearby.
After staring blankly for a while, Harry took out the potion bottle Hermione had found from his bag and fiddled with it absentmindedly, murmuring, “He can’t use magic, and he doesn’t have a flying broomstick, where could he have gone?”
Even in his whisper, there was undeniable anger and hatred.
Hermione looked at him with concern but didn’t know how to console him. Although she knew this place was created by Dumbledore and Vaughn, and their entry into it was also facilitated by them.
Emotionally, Hermione felt that Ron might not be dead; Vaughn wouldn’t harm his own brother.
But logically, she also understood that this was, after all, a mechanism to guard the Philosopher’s Stone, and it was normal for it to be dangerous and lethal.
The girl, who had read various miscellaneous books and notes, was very aware of how dangerous magic could be.
In the Wizarding World, accidental magical incidents were commonplace.
No wizard could guarantee that everything was under control.
What if… what if Ron’s fate was just an accident?
Therefore, Hermione hadn’t dared to tell Harry her suspicions until now, fearing that Harry, consumed by sadness and anger, would become extreme and resent Dumbledore and Vaughn.
With thoughts churning in her mind, Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself to change the subject, “Still no sign of Quirrell’s activities?”
Harry shook his head.
“The damage from the lightning must have been severe.” Looking at the bottle in Harry’s hand, Hermione analyzed, “Remember what Firenze said? Quirrell used unicorn blood to make potions to prolong the life of Vold— the Dark Lord. The bottle you’re holding contains components of unicorn blood.”
“That was a potion belonging to the Dark Lord, yet Quirrell used it to treat himself. It shows he’s been pushed to the brink. I think, rather than blindly searching for him in the forest, we should force him to come find us!”
Harry, who had been silent all along, finally looked up, “What do you mean?”
Hermione looked ahead. The lush forest obscured her view, but both she and Harry knew that the direction led to their ultimate destination in the Painted World—the castle!
In the narration, it was the lair of the evil fire dragon and the final trial!
After gazing in that direction for a moment, Harry put away the bottle and nodded heavily, “We’re going to the castle!”
His expression was brave and resolute, making Hermione feel a little unfamiliar.
The Harry of the past was actually a very impulsive person.
Impulsiveness wasn’t bravery, but recklessness. He used to be afraid, lazy, and hesitant. Only when faced with difficult choices would he blindly charge forward—that kind of behavior, without considering the consequences, was essentially a form of avoidance.
But the Harry of this moment was completely different.
Hermione could feel that he was still steeped in sadness, anger, and hatred, but when he nodded heavily, his mind was clear. He understood her words and quickly grasped the key points.
The castle was the final trial in the Painted World, likely containing the Philosopher’s Stone. As long as they reached the castle and activated the final trial, Quirrell would have no choice but to show himself.
Otherwise, his plan to steal the Philosopher’s Stone would utterly fail!
Ron’s “death” had made Harry mature, but at such a price…
Hermione recalled Firenze’s words about Harry’s intertwined destiny with Voldemort and felt a pang of sadness in her heart—
For Ron’s unknown fate, for Harry’s future, and for the cruelty of destiny!
The girl reached into her pocket and took out the “Wish Brush,” a reward from Fairy Tale Town.
【 Wish Brush: A magical brush applicable in the Painted World. When you make a wish to it with sincere belief, it can draw the item you desire! 】
【 Uses: 1/3 】
The Wish Brush, usable only three times, was used once initially to draw a flying broomstick, which was then snatched by Quirrell. After leaving Chessboard Town, to track Quirrell, they had to use it again to draw another one.
Before the intense conflict in Chessboard Town, Hermione had thought this reward item would never be used again.
But now, her opinion had changed.
“Dumbledore, Vaughn… what do you want me to draw with this?”
The girl was lost in thought.
“Hermione!”
Hermione snapped back to attention. Not far away, Harry was already on his broomstick, waiting for her, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Hermione shook her head, ran over, carefully climbed onto the tail of the broomstick, and lay down, holding on. The broomstick couldn’t carry two people; if she weren’t so light, they might not even be able to fly.
Harry was puzzled but didn’t think much of it. Once Hermione was settled, he pulled on the handle and shot into the sky!
When walking through the forest, one would feel it was vast, seemingly boundless.
However, once one broke free and was no longer obstructed by trees and terrain everywhere, what appeared to be a distant distance could actually be reached very quickly.
The broomstick drawn by the Wish Brush was Harry’s most familiar model, the Nimbus 2000, with a top speed of approximately 300 km/h, which translates to 83 meters per second.
Flying it at its limit in the air was certainly not a pleasant experience; at such high speeds, the wind, normally soft, felt like knives against the face.
But Harry couldn’t spare a thought for that now.
He just wanted to reach their destination as quickly as possible, get the Philosopher’s Stone, or kill Quirrell!
The castle was located in a rift at the end of the forest, its style somewhat resembling Hogwarts Castle. The main structure sat atop the towering cliff at the end, and a long gallery bridge spanned the rift, connecting to the forest.
After flying for an unknown duration, Harry’s face, reddened by the air friction, felt as if it had been severely sunburned. He lowered the handlebars from afar.
Hermione, who had been hugging the tail of the broomstick with her head buried in her arms, felt the speed decrease and asked loudly, “Are we there yet?”
After waiting for a moment without Harry’s reply, Hermione had to lift her head slightly. The oncoming gale blurred her vision, but she could still see a majestic castle standing before them.
The gallery bridge extending from the castle towards them was straight and steep, with tall stone statues standing silently on either side of the bridge.
Hermione noticed that Harry, still silent, was flying towards it, and in an instant, they were rapidly approaching above the gallery bridge.
“Harry?”
Hermione called out.
Just then, the long-silent narration echoed through the heavens and in their ears:
“You and your companions have braved hardships and finally arrived at the evil fire dragon’s castle. Now, brave adventurers, charge into the castle, defeat the dragon, and save the princess…”
“Hmph! Hermione, hold on tight!”
Harry, who had been silent ahead, finally spoke. He pulled on the handlebars again, and the broomstick, which had begun to slow down, accelerated to its limit once more. The sudden acceleration almost sent Hermione sliding off.
But what terrified her even more was…
As the narration sounded from the sky, the stone statues guarding the sides of the gallery bridge slowly stood up.
They raised their heads and turned their necks.
With a clattering sound, they drew spears from the stone bricks and raised them!
The next moment.
*Buzz—*
Something high-speed, whistling and vibrating, whizzed past them. Before Hermione could react, she heard Harry curse, “Damn it,” and he abruptly lowered the broomstick, diving towards the ground.
Only then did Hermione realize that the high-speed object that had just grazed them was a weapon thrown by a stone statue?
She strained to look in that direction, and everything she saw confirmed her suspicion!
The girl’s brown pupils, blurred by the airflow, reflected a terrifying sight—countless stone statues ahead had thrown their spears. At first glance, the spears seemed tiny, like hairs.
In the blink of an eye, they were overwhelming, like a dense cloud!
*Woo—*
The whistling sound of objects tearing through the air reached them from afar, like a swarm of bees, but it felt like an imminent natural disaster. Goosebumps of fear spread across Hermione’s arms.
And Harry, with his better dynamic vision and earlier detection, had naturally seen such a scene.
He pressed his lips together tightly, continuing to lower the broomstick, making it dive further, and at the same time, he silently chanted a word:
“Regina （ Queen ）!”
A strange dialogue box opened before his eyes. Both he and Hermione could see it, it was a description:
【 Queen: A reward earned by Harry Potter for winning a stalemate in Chessboard Town, usable only in the Painted World. Child, the Queen witnesses your pain and your growth. When you encounter danger, please call her name: Regina! 】
【 Uses: 4/5 】
As Harry uttered the word, the “4” in the usage count flashed and changed to “3”.
At the same time, the sky darkened, not because of the sheer number and density of the spears thrown by the stone statues, but because this Painted World was responding to the re-descent of a powerful magic.
Countless grey currents emerged from the void, like falling veils, covering Harry, turning his skin grey and white, and causing his physique to swell!
In the blink of an eye, the Queen, tall yet elegant, stood in mid-air. The sudden surge in mass caused it to plummet the moment it formed.
And this was all part of Harry’s plan.
An immense external force filled his limbs, giving Harry the confidence that with a mere gesture, he could destroy the world. Harry knew this was an illusion.
But the power filling his body at this moment was real.
It was so powerful that everything in his vision seemed to slow down.
Ahead, the first spear to arrive flew towards him. He could see the vortex it stirred in the air as it spun rapidly, the ripple-like patterns forming a wave-like trail at the spear’s tail, circles upon circles, refracting all the light.
Harry reached out his hand.
The air was thick and heavy. Having experienced this once before, he understood it was the resistance from the air due to his excessive speed.
But that was all!
Empowered by the “Queen” form, the greatly increased strength easily disregarded that minor resistance. Airwaves exploded from between his stone fingers as Harry grabbed the spear. On the other side, he turned to catch Hermione and the flying broomstick as she fell. Looking at the girl in slow motion, he struggled to climb onto the broomstick.
“Be——care——ful——wait——for——me——to——deal——with——them——!”
Harry enunciated each word, stretching them out, making his voice sound somewhat comical.
He did this intentionally; the “Queen” form brought all-around enhancements, not just physical speed, but also thought, vision, vocal cord vibration, and so on.
If he didn’t deliberately draw out his speech, the syllables would blend together, and to outsiders, it would sound like he was shouting.
This was an experience gained from the previous transformation.
Just like now, Hermione clearly heard Harry’s words, although, in her actual perception, everything happened very quickly.
She heard Harry utter “Queen,” then felt her body sink, and the sensation of falling had just registered in her mind when she was caught.
By the time she struggled to get on the broomstick and her chaotic thoughts calmed down enough to start thinking about what Harry had said, all Hermione could hear was a roar.
Ahead, the figure of the “Queen” disappeared and reappeared.
It was the afterimage left by high-speed movement in her vision, accompanied by the long wail of air being torn apart…
Hermione couldn’t distinguish the sound.
Her ears seemed deaf, and the turbulent air created by the disturbance hit her head-on, tangling her long hair and making it almost impossible to open her eyes.
From her limited vision, she could only see that the densely falling spears were being blown away in large swathes as the “Queen” flashed by.
Safe.
Thinking this, she tried to control the flying broomstick, slowing down and landing. As her feet touched the ground, she felt a violent tremor.
Hermione stumbled a few steps, dragging the broomstick, and when she looked back, she saw Harry, controlling the “Queen,” plummeting like a cannonball onto the gallery bridge, which extended from the castle to the edge of the forest.
*Boom—*
Soil and gravel were flung up by the powerful shockwave.
Simultaneously, a fleeting white shockwave appeared—it was the air torn by the “Queen’s” high-speed movement, charging like an arrow towards the stone guardians running heavily on the gallery bridge!
……
“No technique, all brute force!”
Watching Harry transform into the “Queen” below and display his formidable power, Vaughn remarked expressionlessly.
From the aerial view, the situation on the battlefield below was even clearer.
Vaughn and Dumbledore could clearly see Harry charging onto the gallery bridge, wielding two stolen spears, swinging them clumsily and chaotically.
It truly looked ugly.
But with the support of Transfiguration, and driven by the magic of the entire Painted World, even though Harry had never fought before, even though his punches and kicks lacked any close-quarters combat technique and were even inferior to street fighting,
he was fast enough, strong enough, and his dynamic vision was sharp enough!
Each spear swing, with its incredible speed, left a trail of afterimages, and each spear strike, a stone guardian, unable to withstand the immense force, had its arm or torso smashed into pieces!
Like Vaughn, Dumbledore, with a blue glow in his eyes, closely observed the magical effect on Harry, “But he’s trying to learn, did you notice? Harry has realized that transformation is a form of Transfiguration, and that his magic is resisting it. He’s forcing his magic to accept this change!”
“He’s growing, Vaughn!”
Vaughn was noncommittal, “This growth is false. You stimulated his potential with Ron’s ‘death,’ but the magical knowledge he possesses won’t appear out of thin air. Even if Harry eventually masters the ‘Queen’ form, what’s the point?”
He always felt Dumbledore’s trial plan was unnecessary.
However, Dumbledore clearly saw it differently, “Of course, it has meaning. The ‘Queen’ form is indeed false, but the experience and mindset of facing battle firsthand are real. The growth I expect is not in Harry mastering immense power, but in completing a transformation on a spiritual level.”
Watching Harry fight fiercely below, showing no trace of fear, Vaughn said nothing further.
After a long pause, he suddenly shifted his gaze to the forest, “Quirrell has arrived!”
“Yes, the grand finale is about to begin,”
Dumbledore sighed, extending his aged, ring-adorned hand, and said, “Give me the key, I need to use it to see something.”
The trial plan, with Vaughn’s participation, was already vastly different from the original.
Dumbledore’s conception of the mechanisms’ functions remained at the level of traditional make-believe.
In comparison, Vaughn’s imagination was much more unrestrained.
The Fairy Tale Castle and the Painted World were still experiments to determine what conditions were needed to create a “world.”
Simultaneously, the formed “world” also possessed greater value for side research.
For instance, it’s difficult to interfere with the real world through higher-dimensional means, making many phenomena unobservable. So, if one had a “small world” under their control, would it be easier?
The essence of worlds or universes could be grand and endless, but it could also be “simple.”
Time, space, and energy （ matter ） could broadly summarize it. The birth and death, the operation of all things, all revolved within these three concepts.
Including some ethereal things, such as destiny!
Vaughn retracted his gaze, glancing at Old Dumbledore, “Have you completed my original conception?”
Months ago, when he first helped Dumbledore design the levels, Vaughn had conceived of an idea: perhaps destiny was not unobservable. If one could completely control a world, where every ripple of wind and every photon’s transition was under their grasp,
then, could the imprint of destiny be indirectly captured through the flow of energy?
This idea was one of his many imaginings. At the time, he hadn’t paid it much attention until Dumbledore suddenly mentioned wanting to use the key to the Painted World to see something, and it suddenly came back to him.
Besides destiny, what else would a Legendary Wizard need a “world” to see?
Indeed, upon hearing Vaughn’s question, Dumbledore smiled, “It’s not quite a success, it’s just a bit easier than in reality. Your approach seems to be heading in the right direction, my dear.”
Vaughn blinked and handed the key to Dumbledore, asking simply, “Does destiny’s influence on things act upon energy?”
“More than that, also time!”
As he spoke, Dumbledore unfolded the scroll-like key. It unfurled before the two of them, coalescing into a cloud of mist.
The mist was thin, and through it, the scene below could still be vaguely seen.
Dumbledore gazed into the mist, muttering incantations, controlling it to writhe, deform, and stretch in the air, gradually forming a giant curtain.
He stopped only when the vast, thin misty curtain covered the entire sky.
Completing this magic seemed to have consumed a significant amount of his magical power, turning his aged face a paler, less healthy hue.
Dumbledore took a breath and looked down at the castle and the gallery bridge, “Next, we just need to wait for Quirinus, and for time.”
“Mmm—”
Vaughn’s luminous eyes showed a keen interest. As he followed Old Dumbledore’s gaze, he said, “I also want to see what time looks like in this ‘Painted World’… Have you conducted any experiments before?”
“No, my dear, such alchemical marvels are difficult to create, and there aren’t many left in existence.”
“Then what do you think its manifestation will be?”
Dumbledore paused, “I hope it’s not what you theorize!”
What state is time in?
Or more precisely, does the development of events over time proceed linearly, or does it constantly diverge?
In his past lives, Vaughn had read many fantasy works that discussed this, the most famous being the theory of parallel timelines.
Different processes for the same event, or different decisions, would lead to different consequences, and all possible consequences, like the branching paths in a garden, would lead to their own independent timelines.
But all of that was ultimately just Muggle theory and fantasy, because Muggles couldn’t truly travel through time and space, nor go back to the past, and thus couldn’t falsify the existence of parallel timelines.
However, in the Wizarding World, time travel was something many wizards knew about.
Time-Turner!
This alchemical item, regulated by the Ministry of Magic, could be considered a miracle among the many achievements of Alchemy, second only to the Philosopher’s Stone.
It was ranked below the Philosopher’s Stone because its effects were truly difficult to describe.
A Time-Turner could indeed allow one to travel through time and return to the past, but the act itself seemed meaningless.
Those who traveled back could not change the past; no matter how hard they tried, they would only achieve the same result.
It was as if, in reality, some force constrained the “timeline,” ensuring that events unfolded along a predetermined path.
Not even a sliver could be surpassed!
A long time ago, Vaughn had carefully considered the issue of the Time-Turner. Although he couldn’t access such an alchemical marvel, Bill had used one.
Dumbledore had little research into time. He had been curious about many things in his life and had challenged them, but when it came to time and destiny, he always approached them with caution, never daring to touch them lightly.
It wasn’t a fear of time and destiny themselves, but rather a mindset of apprehension—what if altering time or destiny didn’t lead to a better outcome?
After a moment of silence, Dumbledore asked, “Vaughn, you mentioned asking Bill to conduct an experiment for you, what was it?”
“A very small experiment,” Vaughn replied. “I broke a vase and asked him to go back in time and use whatever means necessary to prevent me from breaking it.”
Dumbledore frowned. Without needing further explanation, he knew the final outcome—the vase would definitely be broken!
As expected, Vaughn continued, “He tried sending a letter, asking Professor McGonagall for permission to go home via Floo Powder, or having Mother and Father bring the vase home… but no matter what he did, when I lifted the vase to smash it on the ground, his interference didn’t affect me.”
He looked at Dumbledore and continued, “From my perspective, I broke the vase at noon, and received the letter from Zhu Weiqiong that afternoon because it got lost shortly after I bought it.”
“That evening at dinner, we received news that Bill was in detention. Mother and Father then remembered Bill asking them to come home that morning to help move something, but they were too busy that day and forgot.”
“As for Bill himself, he used the Time-Turner at dinner to return to noon and asked Professor McGonagall for permission to use the office fireplace to go home, but Professor McGonagall discovered he was misusing the Time-Turner because she had just seen him attending Divination class before returning to her office…”
“He had to make an excuse to escape, escaping for six hours. By dinner, he was too hungry to bear it and wanted to warn his other self not to go to Professor McGonagall. However, as soon as he entered the dining hall, he was caught by the Professor, given detention, and his parents were notified via Floo.”
“And at that time, his other self had just left the dining hall and was using the Time-Turner in the lavatory to go back six hours.”
At this point, Vaughn smiled, “Albus, isn’t it interesting?”
“Hmm…”
Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. After a moment, he commented, “The entire event is like a loop.”
“Yes, it feels very deterministic,” Vaughn said lightly. “In the deterministic view, the past, present, and future are all planned by fate, so things that have happened cannot be changed. Even if one travels to the past, they are merely following a predetermined path to fulfill their destiny.”
“Like in that experiment, ‘Vaughn breaking the vase’ was a fact that had already occurred for Bill six hours later. Even if he went back six hours to try and change it, all sorts of accidents would obstruct him, ensuring that ‘Vaughn breaking the vase’ proceeded normally.”
Dumbledore remained silent.
In his original view, such a phenomenon was not strange. Although he hadn’t researched time, the Ministry of Magic had conducted many experiments regarding time throughout history.
This was an obvious matter.
Wizards revered destiny, but that didn’t mean they were willing to calmly accept its arrangements. Everyone has some regrettable experiences in their lives they wish to undo or change.
Destiny was immeasurable, but time was not.
Traveling back to the past was undoubtedly the most likely way in the Wizarding World to change destiny.
Unfortunately, countless experiments had failed.
The most famous among them was the time travel experiment of Eloise Mintab, a Veela, in 1899.
During her experimental return to the past, she was trapped in 1402 for five days.
Although Eloise quickly aged and died upon her return to the present due to her physical age having gained five centuries, her experiment excited the entire Wizarding World.
Because during those five days, Eloise successfully interfered with time, causing her return Tuesday to last two and a half days, while Thursday became four hours.
Wizards seemed to see hope of escaping destiny.
