Duel

The Portkey hooked onto his navel and darted through an imperceptible space. Harry lay motionless with his eyes closed, as if all his strength had been used up in his struggle with Voldemort. The scar on his forehead throbbed faintly, and his head was spinning terribly.

It felt like several tens of minutes had passed, or perhaps just a blink of an eye, when Harry felt himself fall to the ground, his face buried in the grass, his nose filled with the scent of grass. Exhaustion and fear prevented him from getting up immediately, until a wave of sound overwhelmed him.

Everywhere was filled with noise and commotion—footsteps, cheers, shouts...

"Harry, Harry!"

Hearing footsteps approaching, Harry opened his eyes. The night sky was filled with twinkling stars, and Professor McGonagall Minerva McGonagall was crouching in front of him. Not far away, Hagrid, a massive figure like a small mountain, strode closer. Harry could feel the ground beneath his head trembling slightly with Hagrid step.

"He's back!"

Harry released the trophy and gripped Professor McGonagall's wrist tightly. The dizziness in his head made the professor's face appear clearer and clearer in his mind. Ignoring his confused thoughts, he hurriedly blurted out the most important thing, "Voldemort is back, Cedric is dead, Cedric has been murdered!"

Professor McGonagall's hand trembled slightly, but she quickly regained her composure and gently stroked his hair, as if soothing a ruffled kitten. "Calm down, Harry, you're safe now..."

Amidst the gentle words of comfort, Harry felt a surge of intense fatigue welling up within him. This fatigue made his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, the stars before his eyes gradually blurred, and the surrounding noise slowly quieted down.

"What happened, Professor McGonagall?"

Headmaster Fontana and the remaining referees slowly gathered around, only to see the Champion Harry collapsed in Professor McGonagall's arms, the trophy lying beside his wrist.

Despite knowing that the championship had nothing to do with Beauxbatons, Madam Maxime still sighed upon seeing the result, turned around and directed the young wizards watching to clear a path so that Madam Pomfrey, carrying her medicine box, could jog in smoothly.

"The maze, the Goblet of Fire ... I really don't know what you were thinking..." Madam Pomfrey grumbled as she dutifully examined Harry.

Snape didn't show up all night...

Karkaroff observed the arriving professors, his pupils trembling violently with horror. He gripped his forearm tightly with one hand, his whole being radiating anxiety, as if he wanted to escape Hogwarts at any moment.

"Harry seems to have fallen asleep from exhaustion..." Madam Pomfrey breathed a sigh of relief.

"Someone escaped the maze with the trophy, so it seems the competition is over. Let's call it a day for tonight..." Professor McGonagall methodically arranged everything. "Have the patrol team bring out the other Champion. Let Champion rest for the night, and the results will be announced tomorrow."

"I'll take care of it right away!" Ludo Bagman replied readily and walked away happily.

The Wizarding World is so vast that even if a wizard were to throw an island the size of Azkaban into the ocean, creating a wave that could shake the world, it would fade into obscurity after a few decades.

Most wizards are not tormented by illness, and wizards with powerful Magic Power age more slowly and are generally quite long-lived. Seventy or eighty years old is just normal, and living to over a hundred years old is commendable. However, there are also those who live even longer.

Leaving aside Nicolas Flamel, who concocted the Elixir of Life and lived for over six hundred years, and Armando Dippet, the previous headmaster of Hogwarts was exceptionally gifted and died at the age of 355.

Among those still alive today are Bathilda Bagshot, the author of the A History of Magic textbook, who is herself a living history book, still compiling books and organizing ancient wizarding artifacts at the age of 122; and Gershilda Marchbanks, the most senior staff member of the Ministry of Magic, who once proctored Dumbledore's exams and still proctors exams for eligible young wizards every year, and may even proctor exams for their sons, her age is lost to memory, but by the minimum calculation, she is at least 130 years old...

Albus Dumbledore is over a hundred years old, is not famous in the field of longevity. This white-bearded old wizard became famous in his youth, thwarting the plots of Gellert Grindelwald, the leader of the Acolytes, many times saving cities from evil, and finally even capturing Grindelwald alive and imprisoning him in Nurmengard...

The Wizarding World thus enjoyed a period of peace, and the Legendary Wizard Albus Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts to teach, from Professor of Transfiguration to Headmaster. Although he did not have any remarkable achievements for a long time, he naturally became the President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief of Wizengamot, and was nominated for Minister for Magic multiple times.

For England Wizarding World, many outstanding wizards have emerged in recent years. Not to mention the tough and ruthless Barty Crouch, the Ministry of Magic also has Alastor Moody, who single-handedly filled most of Azkaban. Many people believe that this white-bearded old wizard will gradually fade into the tide of history, like Newt Scamander, like Seraphina Picquery...

It wasn't until the Dark Lord who called himself Voldemort gathered the Death Eater and stirred up chaos that Albus Dumbledore reappeared in people's sight. During the Wizarding Wars that lasted for several years, he sheltered a large number of Muggle Half-blood wizards on the Hogwarts campus until Voldemort's downfall, and was recognized Greatest Wizard of the Age.

However, just like in the past few decades, no one has seen this old principal make a move for a long time.

In the side wing of the abandoned church, two young wizards dressed in similar robes huddled in a corner formed by fallen stone sculptures and pits. The taller young wizard leaned against the wall, his chest emblem embroidered with a resolute-looking badger. His eyes darted around anxiously, but his mouth was tightly shut, unable to speak except for simple, muffled nasal sounds.

"Ugh! Ugh!"

The little wizard next to him was even smaller, with a golden-maned lion embroidered on his chest. His naturally curly black hair was just longer than his eyebrows, and his eyes were fixed on a narrow slit in front of him, with a shimmering blue light in his pupils.

Loren carefully observed the battle not far away. Hearing the stammering voice beside him, he didn't turn around, but waved his hand dismissively and said, "Don't worry, we'll go back after they're done fighting..."

Upon hearing this, Cedric became even more anxious. How many times in his life could he witness a duel Headmaster Dumbledore and Voldemort?

"Mmm..."

Loren seemed to understand something, turned around and smiled knowingly, "I will remove the restraints from you, but you must not make a sound or act rashly. Helping without permission will only cause trouble for the principal, do you understand?"

Cedric nodded firmly and assured him, "Mmm!"

Loren tapped Cedric with his wand, and the invisible restraints binding him instantly loosened. Ignoring the stiffness and soreness in his limbs, he immediately leaned in, his eyes pressed against the narrow gap, unblinking:

"Ever since you rescued me, I've wanted to see them, but the Dark Lord and the Death Eater were there, so I couldn't speak up... I could only hear their voices, not see their movements. It felt like a cat was scratching at my heart, it was so unbearable."

Loren was excited, but the distance wasn't too far or too close, and there was no guarantee he wouldn't be discovered. He patted Cedric on the shoulder and advised, "Stop talking and just focus on the duel."

A mournful roar, its echoes rising and falling like thunder in the clouds, vanished from the thick black fog before Riddle's tombstone. "Dumbledore!"

The black mist surged and spewed out countless pale and eerie green lights, each one a deadly curse that would kill upon contact, yet it couldn't even touch the hem of Dumbledore's robe.

Each of Dumbledore's blinks landed in Voldemort's blind spots. He waved his wand at the surrounding abandoned stone sculptures, and the statues all came to life. Milega, wielding a flaming sword, strode toward the black mist, while Gabriel, flapping his wings, pounced. Cupid's arrow, in fact, was aimed at the center of the black mist with a stringless stone bow.

The Killing Curse grazed the statue's chest, only causing it to pause slightly before unleashing an even more ferocious attack. The Killing Curse could only strip away living things; they had no effect on the cold marble.

Unexpectedly, these stone statues were not invincible. The stone arrows they shot shattered into fragments under the corrosive influence of the black mist. After Milega and Gabriel were enveloped in the black mist, their movements became stiff. The angel sword they held high hesitated to strike, eventually freezing completely, the stone-carved sword tip pointing obliquely at the crescent moon, motionless.

"Coming here alone tonight was the most foolish choice you could have made..." Voldemort's triumphant laughter echoed from within the black mist. "Dumbledore, you're getting old!"

"Is that so?" Dumbledore smiled as he hovered in mid-air, his robes billowing in the night wind. He smoothed his fluttering long sleeves and white beard and said softly, "Many people say I'm still the same as when I was young."

The drifting, invisible black mist froze for a moment, as if someone hidden within it had chuckled, before suddenly dispersing and rushing towards Dumbledore on the opposite side. The speed at which it tore through the air was so fast that it even created a sharp whistling sound.

Dumbledore held his wand horizontally across his chest, drew a circle from his left shoulder to the top of his head, and bright yellow flames burst forth. The surrounding air seemed to turn into flammable grease, and in the blink of an eye, the raging flames enveloped the entire area like mist, enveloping the black mist from the outside in. When the two touched, it seemed as if the entire wilderness was filled with hissing and burning sounds.

The black mist gradually dissipated and retreated, driven by the flames to shrink smaller and smaller until only a small area remained in front of the tombstone. There, the flames solidified into a flaming sword shaped like the stone-carved sword, and suddenly slashed down—

"!"

A gleaming Silver Shield pressed against the blade. The collision of Magic Power and the intense heat distorted the surrounding space. The impact produced a deep, gong-like tremor, a strange sound that chilled the soul.

"You don't want to kill me, do you, Dumbledore?" Voldemort raised his wand high above his head, his crimson eyes narrowing beneath his Silver Shield. "You disdain doing such cruel things, don't you?"

"We all know there are other ways to destroy a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, as if the flaming sword hanging over Voldemort's head was not his doing. He slowly walked towards Voldemort, seemingly fearless and unperturbed by anything. "I admit, merely taking your life will not satisfy me..."

"Nothing is worse than death, Dumbledore!" Voldemort stared at him fiercely, his scarlet eyes flashing with a dangerous, eager red light, the flames casting a crimson glow on his pale face.

Hearing this, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, as if he had thought of something amusing. He stopped and carefully examined Voldemort: "You are afraid, Tom. That's not uncommon, but on your first night back from the dead, your most triumphant night in over a decade, you are afraid..."

"..." Voldemort remained silent, the red light in his eyes subsiding.

Dumbledore, unguarded, stopped not far from him, as if meeting an old friend on an evening stroll, and said with great interest, "Let me guess, Tom, you failed to kill Harry, and those unexpected things terrified you..."

"What are you afraid of? Your loyal wand is not obeying you? No, that's not right..." Dumbledore frowned, looking troubled and thoughtful, then suddenly realized something and said, "Because of the Souls of the dead. You are afraid of the dead!"

"Yes!" This time his tone was very certain. "Tom, you fear death, and by extension, you fear everything in the afterlife. The returning dead make you uneasy; you're afraid they'll notice you..."

"Nonsense!"

Voldemort roared in anger, and a green light flew from under the Silver Shield. But before the green light could get close, Cupid, who was behind Dumbledore, shot an arrow that arrived in front of Dumbledore first, blocked the spell, and then exploded into pieces.

The Fiery Sword that had been suppressed above the Silver Shield transformed into a giant python with sharp teeth and claws. It turned its head toward Dumbledore, its fiery tongue flicking out as it hissed angrily.

The Silver Shield dispersed into a dense shower of green light, which rained down like arrows.

Two waves of attacks came at Dumbledore at once, Voldemort disappeared from his spot. In the blink of an eye, the offensive and defensive situation was completely reversed.

"Ugh!" Cedric covered his mouth tightly to prevent himself from screaming in fright.

Just as the Fiery Serpent was about to plunge its fangs into Dumbledore's body, he calmly extended his right hand, pointed his wand diagonally at the fangs, and then swung it in a fluid motion, drawing a circle in front of him.

The fiery serpent, like a fish caught on a hook, swept around Dumbledore along the arc of his wand, transforming into a red-glowing shield of fire. The thousands of green Killing Curse that attacked it disappeared into the shield, turning into a wisp of black smoke and vanishing without a trace.