Chapter 239: Continuation Of The Last War!

The tall and gentle Cedric stood awkwardly beside Dumbledore. The joy of being selected as a champion had completely vanished, leaving him stiff and bewildered. He turned his head toward Dumbledore, who had his hand on Cedric's shoulder, equally stunned.

It wasn't just Cedric—other students who had been selected as champions were also in a state of shock.

The Great Hall was eerily silent, as if no one had yet recovered from the shock of the names blazing across the ceiling.

Cedric leaned slightly toward Dumbledore, lowering his voice to a near whisper, "Professor, was this part of your plan?"

"Of course not," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head numbly.

He could feel the weight of over a thousand questioning gazes pressing down on his shoulders, making him feel heavy.

But he quickly snapped out of his surprise, regaining his usual calm demeanor. His blue eyes flitted quickly across the faces of Cyrus and Grindelwald, like a bird skimming across the surface of a lake. He saw both of them smiling.

"Albus, what is going on?" Professor McGonagall hurried over, her steps quick and urgent.

In Cyrus's memory, he had never seen her so flustered. Indeed, it was true—strict and rigid Professor McGonagall, after two failed romantic relationships, had devoted half of her life to Hogwarts.

Hogwarts had become her home, her refuge.

She was like the elderly matriarch of a family, tirelessly worrying over everything related to Hogwarts, unwilling to see anything that might harm the school. But now, this upheaval had been laid bare for the entire world to witness.

Each questioning gaze in the hall felt like a blade cutting into her.

The only thing keeping her from collapsing on the spot was one fact: Albus Dumbledore was still there.

"I want to know what is going on as well," Barty Crouch Jr. walked over angrily. He used Ms. Maxime's tall body to sweep away all obstacles and rushed over like a crazed, massive Thestral charging through.

"Give me an explanation, Dumbledore!"

He was genuinely furious. Even though he and Voldemort had made some secret preparations and anticipated that the "four dark lords" might gather together, he had never expected that Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Cyrus would all participate in the tournament together!

Beauxbatons was the only magic school without a headmaster in the tournament. Of course, with Voldemort currently missing, even if Barty Crouch Jr. himself participated, facing three legendary wizards would only lead to his death.

"I don't recall anyone informing me that headmasters were allowed to participate in the Triwizard Tournament," he said icily.

"Just to clarify, Mr. Grindelwald is not the headmaster of Durmstrang, and he never graduated from there either," Vinda Rosier said with a light chuckle.

But no one cared much about that. In fact, no one even paid attention to the fact that Harry Potter's name had also emerged from the Goblet of Fire. Even though Harry was underage, at least he was still a student.

Cyrus seemed relatively unaffected by the situation. He appeared young, and since leaving the United States, his fame wasn't as widespread.

But Dumbledore and Grindelwald...

"Albus, I think the Goblet of Fire, having been dormant for hundreds of years, may have malfunctioned, and its magic is now unstable. Perhaps we could restart the process and use another method to select the champions..." Babajide suggested.

However, Dumbledore raised his hand and gently shook his head.

"I think no matter how unstable the magic of the Goblet of Fire may have become, it couldn't have randomly chosen a name it didn't know."

"You mean someone deliberately submitted your names?"

Dumbledore didn't answer immediately. He paused, his blue eyes scanning each wizard present.

Everyone in the hall was waiting for him to make a decision. They needed him to determine if this chaotic Goblet of Fire Tournament, which hadn't even officially begun, could proceed smoothly. Some were anxious, fearful of being wrongly accused by Dumbledore of sabotaging the competition.

"It doesn't look good," Ron whispered to Harry with a shake of his head, then asked, "When did you even sign up without telling me?"

"I didn't sign up. Someone must have put my name in," Harry replied, shaking his head. "I suspect it's Voldemort. Don't you think? He must be trying to use the Triwizard Tournament to cause a conflict between Cyrus and Professor Dumbledore. And that Grindelwald—maybe he's here for revenge too!"

"You make a good point," Ron agreed, nodding. "If Dumbledore hasn't lost his mind, there's no way he'll continue with the tournament."

But Dumbledore's response took Ron completely by surprise.

"What I mean is, I'm quite honored that the Goblet of Fire believes me worthy of the title of champion. For it represents not just magical strength but also many admirable qualities, such as integrity, wisdom, courage, and ambition..."

As he spoke, Dumbledore's gaze rested briefly on each house when mentioning those traits. Each student caught under his glance subconsciously straightened their posture.

"Albus, you're not seriously going to continue with this, are you?" McGonagall's voice trembled. "This is absurd—the whole world is watching us!"

"The Goblet of Fire is a binding contract, Minerva. Once the champions are chosen, the trials cannot be canceled," Dumbledore said firmly. "We must follow the rules, which clearly state that anyone whose name emerges from the Goblet must compete in the tournament."

Cyrus observed their argument, though, as the mastermind behind this situation, he now seemed like a detached spectator. He remained seated at the staff table, casting a small signal toward a hidden corner.

Moments later, unnoticed by anyone, a beetle flew away.

"We don't know how this situation came to be," Dumbledore said, addressing the entire hall and, through the magical drones, all the witches and wizards watching from around the world.

"However, in my view, we have no choice but to accept it. Gellert Grindelwald, Cyrus, and I must all participate in the tournament, representing our respective schools. Of course, this puts Beauxbatons at a disadvantage, so I propose we offer them some compensations elsewhere." Dumbledore suggested a solution.

Although the proposed solution did not satisfy everyone, there was no better alternative for the moment. The Goblet of Fire had already extinguished its flames, and reigniting it would only be possible when the next Triwizard Tournament took place.

"I have no objections to this, Dumbledore," Cyrus finally set down the food he had been eating and stepped forward to address everyone. "During the tournament, Bellatrix Black will represent me as a judge."

As he finished speaking, Bellatrix stepped forward with graceful poise and gave a slight bow.

"I have no objections either," Grindelwald said, his hands clasped behind his back, as if he were gazing absentmindedly at the enchanted starry ceiling of the Great Hall. He walked forward to stand alongside Cyrus and Dumbledore, his tone casual yet laced with provocation.

"Let us compete once more, Dumbledore."

After speaking, Grindelwald shot a subtle glance toward Cyrus, raising his eyebrow slightly.

Cyrus understood his meaning.

At this point, Graves, serving as a judge, and several Aurors from the International Confederation of Wizards, all looked outraged.

One of them stood up abruptly, shouting loudly, "This tournament must be stopped, Albus Dumbledore!"

In truth, the moment Grindelwald uttered those words, the nature of the tournament had fundamentally changed.

It was no longer an event meant to foster friendships and cooperation between schools. Instead, it had become a continuation of the conflict from fifty years ago—a rematch between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, a rekindling of the war between the International Confederation of Wizards and the forces of the Dark Wizards.

Several decades ago, the Dark Wizard movement led by Grindelwald had instigated a violent and bloody reform, and those deep-seated hatreds did not simply vanish with time.

Naturally, the influence of Grindelwald's faction, often referred to as the "Alliance" or "Acolytes," had not faded in a mere fifty years. If Grindelwald were to turn the tables and claim victory this time, many more would rally around him, fighting for his cause.

The International Confederation of Wizards would never allow war to break out again in such a manner.

Meanwhile, Cyrus, standing alongside Dumbledore and Grindelwald, was largely overlooked by most of the wizards present, save for a few who were aware of his true capabilities.

To them, the fate of the world, and the outcome of this impending battle, seemed to hinge on the conflict between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, disregarding Cyrus as a determining factor.

"The decision made by the Goblet of Fire cannot be undone," Dumbledore said, shaking his head and signaling for everyone to remain calm.

Graves, who had been expected to respond more aggressively, surprisingly composed himself upon seeing Cyrus.

"Since that's the case, I have no choice but to agree," Graves conceded.

Barty Crouch Jr., his face stern, stepped forward. His thoughts were now preoccupied with concern for his master—Voldemort.

He believed Voldemort would return stronger than ever with time, which was why he had secretly added both Harry and Cyrus' names to the Goblet of Fire.

Yet, given the current situation, even if the Dark Lord did return, how could he hope to defeat both Dumbledore and Cyrus if they joined forces?

Barty, tall and poised, elegantly moved to stand beside Grindelwald, bowing slightly to the notorious dark wizard.

Here stood Grindelwald, the dark sorcerer of the Second World War, who nearly swept across the entire wizarding world, forever altering its landscape.

Despite this, Voldemort had always looked down on Grindelwald, dismissing him as nothing more than a failure—a man who not only lost to Dumbledore but was also imprisoned in Nurmengard, a fate that was both pathetic and pitiable.

At this moment, Barty Crouch Jr. found himself seriously considering whether to extend an olive branch to Grindelwald, ensuring that when the Dark Lord returned, he wouldn't be left isolated and vulnerable.

'Grindelwald was once Dumbledore's greatest enemy; there's a strong chance this could work,' he thought, subconsciously inching closer to Grindelwald.

Just then, a sudden flash of light illuminated the dark hall, followed by the distinct "click" of a camera shutter.

Into the room walked a woman dressed in vivid colors and high heels—Rita Skeeter.

This was the very same journalist Cyrus had personally sent to prison, but whom he had recently bailed out using a considerable amount of Galleons.

Months in Azkaban had caused her to lose a significant amount of weight, but the time behind bars had done nothing to diminish her unpleasant nature, nor her penchant for fabricating stories with her enchanted Quick-Quotes Quill.

Of course, now she worked for Cyrus.

Rita Skeeter's flair for sensationalism would undoubtedly add a great deal of intrigue to the coverage of this Triwizard Tournament. In this era, wizards still primarily obtained their information through reading.

Realizing that the situation was now beyond reversal, Babajide reluctantly spoke up: "Since things are settled, the tournament will proceed. Albus Dumbledore and Cyrus will relinquish their roles as judges, with Professor McGonagall and Madam Black assuming their positions. Additionally, before the official start of the tournament, we may need to discuss whether to make any adjustments to the competition format…"

He paused for a moment, having said so much at once that he found himself slightly out of breath. "The first task will take place on November 24th, in the presence of the other students and the panel of judges."

"Ilvermorny will participate as scheduled," Cyrus said calmly, then motioned for the ten Ilvermorny students to follow him as they exited the Great Hall.

"Casandra, Fischer, come to my office," he added with a brief instruction.

Casandra and Fischer were the two other students selected from Ilvermorny to compete.

Now, having to go up against headmasters in the Triwizard Tournament, Fischer appeared visibly unsure of himself. However, Casandra seemed excited at the prospect of standing alongside Professor Cyrus in the competition.

As she passed the Gryffindor table, she gave a challenging look to both Ginny and Hermione, raising her eyebrows arrogantly, her expression bordering on disdain. Ginny was so enraged she nearly jumped up and cast a hex on her.

Once back at their carriage, the students who hadn't been selected didn't immediately return to their rooms. Instead, they gathered in the common area of the carriage, eagerly discussing the recent events, particularly debating which of the three headmasters—Cyrus, Dumbledore, or Grindelwald—was the most powerful.

Cyrus led Casandra and Fischer to his mobile office within the carriage. Though called an "office," it resembled a small hotel suite, with the desk not far from the bed.

"Professor, do you have any specific instructions for us?" Fischer asked nervously. "I've heard that Grindelwald and Dumbledore are possibly among the strongest wizards in the world..."

"You don't need to worry about that, Fischer," Casandra said softly, her voice as light as silk fluttering in the breeze. "The professor's abilities are no less than theirs."

"Of course, I believe that!" Fischer replied, recalling the unforgettable sight of the Thunderbird, Wampus, Horned Serpent, and Pukwudgie bowing before Cyrus.

"Alright, there's no need to exaggerate my abilities," Cyrus said, his tone calm but firm. "What I want to tell you is this: it may seem like Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and I have joined the competition, but in reality, the pressure on you will be even greater."

He continued in a softer voice, "We have our own challenges to face, but you—you're likely to face more enemies."

Cyrus, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald wouldn't truly compete on the same level as the younger students. However, there was a real concern about the students from Beauxbatons.

While Voldemort hadn't entered the tournament himself, there was no telling if the chosen contestants from Beauxbatons might be replaced by Death Eaters.

The Death Eaters didn't care about magical contracts, nor did they care about the lives of Beauxbatons students.

And then, there was Voldemort.

Since Grindelwald's prophecy hinted at his return, this tournament had carried an air of danger from the very beginning.

"I'm not losing to those brats," Casandra said confidently.

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12 Advance Chapters—Patreon.com/HornyFBI