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Even if you're incredibly strong, there are some people you can't lay a hand on.

For example, even if the other person chases after Witt with a bamboo stick, Grandpa York can only run away; he can't possibly point his wand at the other person.

McGonagall is similar.

Therefore, this matter must absolutely not be known to McGonagall.

Harry clearly understood what Witt meant, and he quickly shook his head, saying, "No."

"Alright, Hagrid is tough and won't get hurt. Let him lie here for a while. What do you mean by that?"

Witt sat down, took a sip of black tea to moisten his throat, and said in a low voice, "I'm going out to talk to George and Fred. Do you want to come?"

“If we don’t go…” Ron glanced cautiously at Hagrid on the ground and whispered, “We won’t end up like Hagrid, will we?”

He didn't want to lie on the ground all day; he'd catch a cold.

"Fine, I won't go then," Witt said, speechless. "Do you guys think I'm that fierce?"

"Hagrid insisted on going to McGonagall to complain, so I had no choice but to take action. If you don't want to go, just go back to your dorm. Why would I knock you out for no reason?"

After being scolded by Witt, Ron pouted and said, "You never know."

He saw it clearly when Witt knocked Hagrid unconscious; Witt's face was full of pleasure, and his eagerness was palpable.

It gives people the creeps.

If Witt knew what Ron was thinking, he would definitely retort, "Pleasant my foot! He just felt that the spell felt good on Hagrid's body, and smiled slightly."

How did it become a source of pleasure?

“I can’t be bothered to talk to you.” Witt turned to Harry and asked directly, “I don’t have time to give you a word. It’s the weekend tomorrow, so if I come back early, Professor McGonagall might not find out.”

Ron is a chatterbox; his words are never pleasant to hear, and he's like a comedian, with one person praising the other. But he's a decent person; he's just got a big mouth.

If he were mute, that would be perfect.

In response to Victor's question, Harry lowered his head and thought for a moment before saying seriously, "Go."

Since being captured by Voldemort and sacrificed, Harry has been training diligently ever since, spending his days practicing magic except for eating, attending classes, and opening his eyes.

He used the Ironclad Charm, Stunning Charm, and Illusion Charm with such skill that he was no less adept than some of the Ministry of Magic's strikers.

The only difference is that the power of the spell is still lacking, after all, he is young and there is still a gap in power compared to adult wizards.

Given that wizarding is a profession with high attack and low defense, as long as he doesn't engage in direct energy clashes, Harry's current level is actually comparable to most adult wizards, only his endurance is slightly lacking.

After all that hard training, Harry's goal wasn't to attend classes at school, but to go outside and fight real Death Eaters.

Harry has always seen himself as a warrior, the kind of warrior who charges into battle.

Unfortunately, most people don't really agree with his identity and all hope that he can become a leader. In the original book, Harry did a pretty good job in this position.

Including at the Wizarding Combat Training Club, Harry was also in charge of coordination.

It would take at least several years for underage wizards to become useful, and Witt couldn't possibly use child labor. Therefore, apart from a few core members, he didn't really care much about the organization.

Harry is the one I care about the most; he does a fantastic job coordinating things, and he truly has that talent.

However, doing a good job doesn't necessarily mean you like it.

Harry's favorite feeling was bringing those Death Eaters to justice with his own hands, so after a brief hesitation, Harry was filled with excitement.

"Damn it, Harry got infected too." Ron clutched his head, curling up helplessly between the two eccentrics.

At this moment, his whole body was limp, only his mouth was still muttering.

"Ron, what are you muttering about over there? Come help me, carry Hagrid to bed." Before leaving, Harry couldn't bear to let Hagrid lie on the floor any longer. Although Hagrid was physically strong enough to sleep outside all day without any problems, Harry still felt it would be better to carry Hagrid to bed.

"coming."

Ron quickly agreed and naturally ran over to lend Harry his hand, showing none of his previous trembling.

Seeing that Harry and his companion couldn't lift it after trying for a long time, Witt reached out and used his magic to help them lift it.

"Ron, are you going too?"

“Go, you’re all going, how can I not go? What if Professor McGonagall catches you and then misunderstands and says I snitched on you?”

Ron made excuses for himself and then quickly caught up with Harry, and the three of them walked side by side.

“Hogwarts is now teeming with patrolling house-elves, and there are all sorts of security spells. There are even Aurors guarding key areas.” Ron explained the situation while asking in a low voice, “How are we going to get out?”

“Let’s take the secret passage,” Witt said casually. “Stay close to me. The closest secret passage is under the Hit-Man Willow. Be careful not to get hit.”

Death in Diagon Alley

Diagon Alley.

Emerging from the secret passage, Witt led the three into the Three Broomsticks bar and used the Floo Network to reach Diagon Alley.

In the magical world, except for those secret bars, everything is connected to the Filo Network for the convenience of its guests.

Vittor and his companions disappeared unnoticed throughout the entire process.

"I never imagined this place would become so desolate." Witt said with a sigh. He still remembered the bustling scene of this street when he first came here, as if it had happened just yesterday.

Now, only a few people are hurrying around Diagon Alley, and most of the shops are closed. Many shops even have broken doors and windows, clearly indicating that they have been robbed or burgled.

In terms of human nature, wizards and Muggles are no different. With the Ministry of Magic severely damaged and unable to supervise and punish criminals, opening a shop at this time is not about whether the goods are good or not, but whether you have enough strength to protect those goods.

Clearly, for most shops, they were unable to protect their property in times of chaos.

Closing stores to avoid stocking up became their best and only option.

Ollivander's wand shop is closed, Gringotts' goblin guards have increased tenfold, and the streets are only occupied by some men who look intimidating, selling goods of dubious origin.

Where are those two guys, George and Fred?

Witt looked around as he walked, but couldn't spot the two of them.

"Wait, that's it!" Witt's eyes suddenly sharpened, and he strode quickly toward a roadside stall.

"Where did you get this?"

The man guarding the stall was a rather fierce-looking wizard. Faced with Victor's questioning, he impatiently raised his head and said, "Get out if you're not going to buy."

"I'll give you one more chance." Witt's magic was so real that it formed a dark, serpentine phantom above his head, its murderous pupils fixed on his opponent.

"Tell me, where did you get this black magic protective cloak?"

With this craftsmanship and this material, Witt could confirm that the cloak in front of him was definitely something he had distributed.

It was used to save the lives of the students who joined him.

Now, these same items are appearing on street stalls in Diagon Alley, openly displayed and sold.

The cloak also had several tears caused by magical attacks.

Witt already knew what had happened, but he just couldn't accept it and wanted to confirm it.

"It was...snatched from a guy trying to smuggle himself out." Witt's violent magic, like the arrival of death, pressed down on the dark wizard, making it hard for him to breathe.

He was no longer the fierce man he had been before, and hurriedly replied, "I didn't do it. I'm just a vendor, it has nothing to do with me."

"Where are they?" Witt didn't want to ask anything else; he just wanted to know the outcome.

"It's...it's been thrown into the sea."

The dark wizard collapsed to the ground, stammering, and didn't dare to look up at Witt.

Call ~

Witt let out a long breath and closed his eyes tightly.

It seems he's standing too high, which has led him to care too much without a sense of importance.

They schemed and plotted, all for the sake of fame, allowing Voldemort to run rampant everywhere.

Whether it was an Auror, an official from the Ministry of Magic, or even some adult wizards, Witt didn't care much.

Revolutions always involve death.

Later, when the war reached the school, Witt didn't feel much. After all, he had gone to great lengths to prepare very useful protective gear for the students. The magical markings on this black magic protective cloak showed that it was very effective.

It helped the opponent withstand at least seven spells, and it's still usable.

But what did it matter? That family, including the child, still died at the hands of the dark wizard.

This is only what he saw and discovered.

Witt didn't want to ask the name of the cloak's owner; he only wanted to ask himself.

Revolutions are bound to be criticized.

Giving up the revolution is impossible, but giving up some illusory fame in exchange for the survival of more lives is not a difficult choice.

“Harry”.

Witt turned his head and said softly, "Are you afraid of Voldemort?"

Harry didn't quite understand why Witt asked that, but he still answered firmly, "I'm not afraid."

"That's good."

"I have a way to kill Voldemort, but you might die. I don't know if you're willing."

"Wait a minute." Ron, increasingly uneasy, quickly interrupted the two, saying, "Shouldn't we discuss this with Professor McGonagall?"

“What are we discussing?” Witt turned his head and said, “Professor McGonagall will never agree to this; she won’t want Harry to take any risks.”

Even if I'm 90% sure, it's still not okay.

“Ninety percent.” Harry’s eyes lit up, and he immediately shouted, “I do!”

"There's a 90% chance we can kill Voldemort, so it's settled."

“…” Witt felt that Harry had misunderstood him: “The probability of killing Voldemort is 100%, and 90% refers to your probability of surviving.”

"Ah!" Harry was stunned for a moment, then quickly asked, "Then what are you hesitating for?"

“I’m not asking for your opinion, after all, it really could be fatal.” Witt sensed that Harry seemed a bit too agitated.

"Whether I live or die is unimportant, as long as Voldemort dies." Harry felt that Witt was being a bit long-winded.

Voldemort is doomed, while he has a 90% chance of surviving. What's there to discuss? Let's just do it.