I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

Chapter 316 I am not good at flying

Harry looked around but didn't see anyone. He didn't know that everyone else had withdrawn from the competition. He suppressed his pounding heart and walked step by step toward the Goblet of Fire.

The flames danced and burned, so captivating in his eyes. He was just one step away from the championship, and Harry could no longer contain his excitement.

Before this, he never thought he could win the championship before Catherine, but now it seems he has accomplished this unlikely feat.

The audience outside the stadium also witnessed this scene, and they almost held their breath.

Mr. Bagman, acting on Dumbledore's instructions, anxiously tried to call Harry, but Harry couldn't hear him at all, as if something was blocking the signal.

"Harry! Harry!" Ron was frantic. He shouted loudly, begging Harry not to touch the Goblet of Fire, but Harry couldn't hear him. His eyes were only on the Goblet of Fire, the symbol of the champion.

There's something wrong with this three-way competition. If winning the Flame Cup in the third event is what makes you the champion, then what's the point of having points for the first two events?

Isn't this like taking off your pants to fart—completely unnecessary?

"Your Highness, Your Highness!" Mr. Bagman, unable to get through to Harry on the phone, began to speak with Louise. "You and the two professors need to act quickly! Harry is about to touch the Goblet of Fire! The Goblet of Fire is a Portkey! A key to the unknown!"

"I understand," Louis replied in a deep voice, turning to speak with Snape and Sirius, before reconnecting with Catherine through telepathy.

"Little Moon, give up looking for the Goblet of Fire. Harry has found it; it's a Portkey. The maze isn't safe. Come out now!"

"Be careful." Catherine didn't say much on the other side. After hearing Louis's instructions, she immediately scattered the ashes and teleported back to the main seat.

When Louis looked up again, Snape and Sirius were already quite a distance away. Sirius was genuinely worried about Harry, while Snape… although Snape verbally expressed extreme dislike for Harry, he was, in a way, a hypocrite…

Maybe he didn't want to let Lily down? Anyway, I don't quite understand.

Louis didn't say anything, and ran after the two of them.

Harry walked forward step by step, cautiously looking around, wary of any monsters that might appear, but unexpectedly, he didn't encounter anything even as he walked all the way to the Goblet of Fire.

Unable to contain his elation, he grinned and reached for the Goblet of Fire.

The instant he touched the Goblet of Fire, the three members of the search and rescue team rushed to his location. Sirius Black, his eyes wide with rage, shouted, "Harry! No!"

Harry only heard Sirius's voice. Before he could even turn around, he felt a tug behind his navel, and his legs left the ground, but he couldn't let go of the Goblet of Fire.

The Goblet of Fire seemed to have a strong suction force, pulling Harry forward amidst the howling wind and dizzying spins. Harry felt like vomiting, but couldn't, feeling as if his internal organs were being squeezed together.

Almost instantly, Harry disappeared from the three of them's sight.

At the same time, the audience's signal was also interrupted, and Louis cut off the video signal to the audience.

Everyone looked around in confusion, but couldn't find Harry. Combined with the commentators' reactions and Dumbledore's request, everyone's hearts were in their throats, and they were all worried about the fate of this boy who had survived such a disaster.

Sirius roared angrily, swung his wand, and a spell flew out, smashing the table where the Goblet of Fire was placed to pieces.

Snape's face was also extremely grim. He turned abruptly to stare at Louis and said, enunciating each word clearly, "I have no say in the affairs you and Dumbledore have been up to, but now that Pott has disappeared, you two need to give us a reasonable explanation..."

Louis didn't speak. He knew Snape was anxious; no one would remain calm in this situation.

He looked up at the two of them, hesitated for a moment, and asked, "Can you use a flying broom?"

"Of course..." they both said in unison.

"If I'm not mistaken, Harry should be at Riddle Hall right now!" Louis said calmly. "Voldemort needs Harry's blood and his father's bones to resurrect, and since he's currently immobilized, he has no choice but to go to Riddle Hall to find his father's large bones!"

"I understand," Snape nodded, removing the antennae from his head. Before he could speak, Louis interrupted him.

"I suggest you stick it on, Professor," Louis suggested. "This little thing can be used as a communication converter between the three of us, allowing us to transmit thoughts to each other's minds."

"I understand." Snape readily stuck the antenna back onto his forehead.

Louis coughed and said to the two of them, "I need to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore first. You two wait a moment—we don't have any brooms."

"No need, I have three Firebolts here." Sirius took three Firebolts out of his pocket and lined them up on the ground. Seeing their surprised and puzzled expressions, Sirius explained, "I bought five in total. Harry is a Chaser, after all, and I was afraid he would wear them out too quickly. After all, you never know when a flying broom will break."

"That's true." Louis nodded. "We should also tell Headmaster Dumbledore, so he won't worry."

With that, Louis dialed Dumbledore's number.

"To make a long story short, Professor, we need to go to Riddle Hall to rescue Harry... Okay, bye." Louis finished speaking in a string of words and hung up the phone, leaving Dumbledore staring at the phone with a puzzled look on his face.

The fire bolts were incredibly fast. Louis, sprawled on the broom, his face alternating between pale and flushed. To be honest, he found it hard to trust this broom...

Sirius noticed Louis's expression and asked with concern, "What's wrong, Louis? You don't look well."

"I..." Louis said breathlessly, "I am not... not good at... flying..."

As he spoke, Louis took out a bottle of Snape's motion sickness pills from his pocket, put it in his mouth, then took out a small flask, took a sip, and swallowed the pills.

"Your pockets look like a little warehouse," Sirius said, squinting. "You're not in charge of the warehouse at Hogwarts, are you?"

Louis: ...

Why does this conversation sound so familiar? It's like I've heard it somewhere before...

"It must be my imagination," Louis thought to himself. Sometimes, he felt like he'd encountered something before, like something from a past life. He didn't dwell on it; all he wanted to do right now was vomit.

Having a fear of heights is really tough...

……

Harry felt his feet hit the ground, his legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground like a noodle, finally releasing the Goblet of Fire.

He looked up, wondering where he was. The Goblet of Fire seemed to be a key to a portal, but he had no idea where it had teleported him.

There must be some conspiracy involved. His heart was pounding. He forced himself to stand up and began to look around.

This was completely outside Hogwarts grounds; he had clearly been teleported several miles—perhaps hundreds of miles—by the Portkey, for even the surrounding mountains had vanished. They stood in a dark, overgrown cemetery, with a tall fir tree to their right. Behind them was the dark silhouette of a small chapel, and to their left, a low hill.

Harry could make out a charming old house on the hillside, which looked very retro, like it was from decades ago.

The surroundings were eerie and silent. Harry held his wand, and he had a strange feeling, as if someone was watching him. He could hear a heartbeat in his ear, very clear, but he didn't know where it was coming from. He was sure it wasn't his own—but he hesitated, wondering if it was really his own heartbeat.

Footsteps sounded, and he looked warily in the direction from which the sound came from in the darkness.

A short, stout figure walked towards him step by step among the graves. Harry couldn't see the person's face, but from the gait and the posture of his arms, it seemed that the person was carrying something. He was wearing a hooded cloak that covered his face, and after taking a few more steps closer, Harry realized that what the person was carrying looked like a baby.

As he drew closer, Harry's forehead began to throb violently, an unbearable pain he had never experienced before in his life. His wand fell to the ground in pain, he covered his face with his hands, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees.

His vision blurred, he couldn't see anything clearly, and his head felt like it was about to explode, as if a thousand worms were gnawing at his head.

Harry groaned weakly, the intense pain preventing him from making a sound. Then, slowly, he felt as if he were being pulled into the air. At the same time, his pain lessened, his eyes gradually regained focus, and the world became less blurry.

The short man in the cloak had already put down his bundle and lit the surrounding candles with his wand. The candles were very dim, as if shrouded in some eerie, sinister aura.

Harry felt a tremendous force throw him off, his back slamming heavily against the tombstone, making him gag.

While vomiting, I caught a glimpse of the small characters engraved on the tombstone.

Tom Riddell.

The cloaked man conjured ropes with magic and bound Harry tightly to the tombstone, binding him from neck to ankle, as if afraid he would escape. Harry heard rapid, shallow breathing coming from inside the hood. He struggled like an insect, gurgling and squirming, and the man seemed angered by his movements, reaching out to strike him—his hand was missing a finger.

Harry knew who was inside the hood: Wormtail.

"It's you!" Harry exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief—he had thought Wormtail was singing "Tears Behind Bars" in Azkaban.

How did they suddenly escape from prison? The newspapers didn't mention it at all...

Countless thoughts raced through his mind: Had someone in the Ministry of Magic betrayed them, or was it Wormtail—oh, he remembered, Peter Pettigrew was an Animagus who could transform into a mouse…

This also explains why he was able to escape from Azkaban.

But Wormtail didn't answer. His hands moved quickly, and he had already finished tying the rope. He was busy checking how tight it was. His breathing was heavy, and his fingers trembled uncontrollably as he fumbled through the knots. Harry guessed he must be very nervous.

Once it was clear that Harry was bound tightly and unable to move, Wormtail pulled a black object from his cloak and shoved it roughly into Harry's mouth. Harry felt an extremely sour and foul smell assault his nostrils, and he immediately vomited.

Oh no, it's that stinky sock with the insect's tail...

Harry felt like dying right now. He swore that if he got out of there, the first thing he would do was throw an Avada Kedavra at that Wormtail. He swore!

But by this time he could no longer see where Peter Pettigrew was. Tied to the tombstone, he could only look ahead and couldn't turn his head to see what was happening behind him.

Harry had no choice but to look elsewhere. His gaze began to wander. Oh, where was that baby-like bundle of clothes that Peter Pettigrew had been carrying? He searched for a long time before finally spotting the bundle of clothes on the ground not far ahead.

Harry suddenly felt a burning pain in his scar again, and he was almost certain in an instant that it must be Voldemort inside, or one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.

He was in despair, captured by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. How could he possibly escape? Did Lewis even know his predicament? Where was Headmaster Dumbledore? Were Ron and Hermione worried about his sudden disappearance? And Aunt Molly—she must be frantic with worry…

Harry was in a state of utter confusion, his mind racing. He tried to avoid looking at the bundle to prevent the headache from flaring up again.

A rustling sound arose, and looking down, he saw a thick, large snake slithering across the ground, circling the tombstone to which he was bound. Peter Pettigrew's heavy, panting breaths resumed, as if he were pushing something with all his might, making straining noises as he did so.

Soon, he came into Harry's view. It turned out that Peter Pettigrew was pushing a huge black pot. The pot was enormous, and it looked like it could fit Harry inside. It seemed to be filled with water—or maybe some kind of soup. As Peter Pettigrew pushed it, you could hear the splashing sound of the soup spilling onto the grass.

"Are they going to boil me alive?" A huge fear rose in Harry's heart, and he even forgot the smell of Peter Pettigrew's stinky socks. His mind started to race, imagining what it would feel like to be boiled alive.

It must hurt a lot, Harry thought to himself, tears streaming down his face. He was filled with despair.

(End of this chapter)