The first visitors arrived three days before the tournament.
By breakfast, nearly every student in Hogwarts had already heard the news.
By lunch, the stories had become wildly exaggerated.
And by dinner, someone was insisting that the captain of the Holyhead Harpies had personally wrestled a dragon into submission using nothing but a broomstick and a frying pan.
"That's obviously nonsense."
Hermione barely looked up from her book.
Across from her, Ron shrugged.
"Maybe."
"You weren't there."
Hermione lowered the book just enough to stare at him.
Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice.
"Ron, you also weren't there."
"That's not the point."
Ron stabbed a potato.
"The point is that nobody can prove she didn't fight a dragon with a frying pan."
The argument continued until a group of excited students rushed into the Great Hall.
"They're here!"
"Visitors are here!"
"Quidditch players!"
The hall erupted.
Even many professors turned toward the entrance.
The massive doors opened.
Several witches and wizards entered under Professor McGonagall's guidance.
The reaction was immediate.
For most Hogwarts students, Quidditch stars were closer to celebrities than athletes.
Autograph books appeared almost instantly.
One Hufflepuff fainted.
A second-year Slytherin walked into a pillar while staring.
The atmosphere throughout the castle became lively.
Excited.
Energetic.
Exactly as one would expect before a major event.
Yet Theodore's attention never shifted toward the guests.
Instead, his gaze lingered beneath their feet.
Every step.
Every movement.
Every gathering.
The Array of Heaven's Extinction was reacting.
Not strongly.
But noticeably.
The more people arrived, the more active the array became.
The black threads he had observed earlier were multiplying.
Like cracks spreading through glass.
Or roots searching for fertile soil.
The realization made his expression grow thoughtful.
The tournament wasn't merely providing cover.
It was providing fuel.
People.
Emotion.
Attention.
Expectation.
Thousands of minds focused on a single event.
Thousands of tiny threads of fate converging toward the same place.
The Quidditch Pitch.
A perfect gathering point.
A perfect altar.
And if Voldemort had realized that...
Then his ambitions had grown far beyond stealing the Philosopher's Stone.
That evening, Theodore stood near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
The sun had already set.
Darkness blanketed the grounds.
Only the faint glow of castle windows illuminated the landscape.
A rustling sound came from below.
The earth shifted.
Several roots emerged from the soil.
Willow Immortal.
Or at least a small portion of it.
The roots twisted together.
Almost like a curious child peeking out from beneath a blanket.
Theodore smiled.
"You've become more active."
The roots swayed proudly.
The response made him chuckle.
After the previous awakening, Willow Immortal's intelligence had clearly accelerated.
Its growth far exceeded Theodore's expectations.
Of course, that was hardly surprising.
The future core of the Wuzhuang Temple Grand Array was constantly nourished by spiritual energy.
In addition, Hogwarts itself possessed a unique environment.
Ancient magic.
Ancient history.
Ancient fate.
Everything here favored growth.
Theodore extended his hand.
A small stream of Yimu Divine Light flowed into the roots.
The entire forest seemed to sigh in contentment.
Trees rustled.
Leaves danced.
Even the air felt fresher.
Willow Immortal nearly vibrated with happiness.
Then something unexpected happened.
A nearby oak tree suddenly bent.
Then another.
And another.
Within moments, dozens of trees subtly inclined toward Willow Immortal.
Like ministers paying respects to a king.
Theodore raised an eyebrow.
"So that's your talent."
Command over vegetation.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Perhaps even more useful than pure combat power.
After all, a grand array wasn't built through destruction.
It was built through connection.
And no one connected to Hogwarts more deeply than the plants rooted within its grounds.
Theodore's gaze drifted toward the castle.
The foundations of the Wuzhuang Temple Grand Array were becoming increasingly stable.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Like a seed taking root.
Elsewhere.
Quirrell was having a terrible day.
Again.
At this point, he honestly struggled to remember what a good day felt like.
He had just spent an hour checking on one of the array nodes.
Nothing had exploded.
Nothing had bitten him.
Nothing had stabbed him.
Nothing had caught fire.
Which was honestly progress.
Unfortunately, that was when Voldemort began talking.
"Excellent."
The Dark Lord sounded pleased.
"The preparations are nearly complete."
Quirrell's stomach immediately tightened.
That tone never led anywhere good.
Ever.
"Theodore has noticed the array."
Voldemort continued.
"He is preparing something of his own."
"Good."
Quirrell blinked.
"Good?"
"Of course."
Voldemort sounded almost amused.
"A battle without an opponent is boring."
The corner of Quirrell's eye twitched.
There it was.
That confidence.
That certainty.
The exact same certainty that had previously led to lightning strikes, fire crabs, sword-wielding willow branches, carnivorous vegetables, mysterious curses, and several extended hospital stays.
"Master..."
"Yes?"
"Respectfully."
"What?"
Quirrell hesitated.
Then decided he enjoyed breathing and changed his mind.
"Nothing."
Voldemort snorted.
Coward.
Quirrell silently agreed.
Absolutely.
A healthy coward.
One who wished to remain alive.
Inside the Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore sat quietly behind his desk.
Fawkes perched nearby.
The old wizard held a small silver instrument in his hand.
The device spun slowly.
Then faster.
Then faster still.
Before suddenly cracking down the middle.
Dumbledore stared at the broken instrument for several seconds.
A rare expression crossed his face.
Concern.
The device had been designed to detect instability in large magical environments.
It had worked perfectly for decades.
Until tonight.
The readings coming from Hogwarts had become impossible.
Contradictory.
Like two enormous magical structures were growing simultaneously.
One dark.
One bright.
One concealed.
One openly flourishing.
And somehow both were influencing the entire castle.
The strangest part?
The brighter one felt familiar.
Not because Dumbledore understood it.
But because every instinct he possessed associated it with life.
Growth.
Prosperity.
Protection.
It felt like a sanctuary being born.
And yet—
Whatever opposed it made even Dumbledore uneasy.
The old wizard stood and walked toward the window.
Far below, Hogwarts glittered beneath the moonlight.
Students laughed.
Visitors explored.
Professors prepared.
Everything looked normal.
Which only made him more certain that it wasn't.
The following afternoon.
The first official practice match began.
The stands were packed.
Students filled every seat.
Visitors occupied the higher sections.
Banners fluttered in the wind.
Cheers echoed across the grounds.
The atmosphere was electric.
Harry adjusted his gloves while scanning the crowd.
Something felt off.
He couldn't explain it.
Nothing looked wrong.
Yet the feeling lingered.
The same feeling he sometimes experienced before danger.
The willow branch hidden beneath his robes trembled slightly.
Harry's expression sharpened.
Across the stands, Hermione frowned.
Her fire crab pendant had become unusually warm.
Not dangerous.
Alert.
Like a guard dog raising its head.
Meanwhile, Ron's cabbage bracelet began quietly chewing on itself.
Which was admittedly less informative.
Still.
It usually only did that when agitated.
All three exchanged glances.
None of them spoke.
None of them needed to.
Something was coming.
Beneath the Quidditch Pitch.
Far below layers of earth and stone.
The incomplete Ten Absolute Arrays pulsed.
A dark rhythm.
Steady.
Patient.
Waiting.
And for the first time since their activation—
A strand of tribulation qi successfully pierced through Hogwarts' defenses.
Not much.
Barely enough to matter.
But enough.
The moment it happened, every array node lit up.
Nine locations.
Nine flashes.
Nine responses.
The disturbance was so subtle that ordinary wizards would never notice.
Yet three people felt it immediately.
Theodore.
Dumbledore.
And Voldemort.
One smiled calmly.
One frowned thoughtfully.
One laughed.
"The first crack."
Voldemort whispered.
"The first crack is all I need."
Far away, Theodore slowly rose to his feet.
His gaze settled upon the Quidditch Pitch.
The roots of Willow Immortal stirred beneath Hogwarts.
The foundations of the Wuzhuang Temple Grand Array responded.
The two great forces had finally touched.
And the collision had begun.
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