I became Voldemort

Chapter 239: Continuation Of The Last War!

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."

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—