Chapter 264: Dumbledore Is Coming To Join The Fight

Chapter 264: Dumbledore Is Coming To Join The Fight

"I have no idea which floor they're fighting on, but the aftermath of their battle is already affecting us here."

Fleur said gravely. She looked upward uneasily at the ceiling, which seemed to be riddled with cracks in the darkness.

"I'm really worried the entire Ministry might collapse..."

"The Ministry has special protective enchantments—it won't collapse," Cedric said confidently.

The next moment, a massive chunk of black marble fell from above, heading straight for him.

"Shit—"

"Depulso!" Cassandra acted quickly, casting a spell that shattered the marble midair.

The shards rained down like snowflakes, covering Cedric's head. The handsome young man looked both embarrassed and terrified. His earlier confident statement hadn't even finished echoing when reality promptly contradicted him. Cedric hesitated before speaking again, his tone embarrassing this time:

"Ehm.. Alright... I suppose we should pay more attention to what's above us... and beneath us... Just in case of cave-ins."

"We'd better stick to the walls," Cassandra said as she removed her berry-red robes, holding them in one hand and moving close to the wall.

"Why are you taking your robe off?" Fleur, naturally finding Cassandra irritating no matter what she did, immediately questioned her, as though suspecting she was trying to use this as a ploy to draw Cedric's attention.

Cassandra had no idea what Fleur was imagining. Otherwise, she'd surely have retorted:

"Him? As if."

"If the floor collapses, the robe can be used as a blanket. With a Levitation Charm, I can rescue you, you idiot," Cassandra said bluntly, not sparing any courtesy.

"I don't need your help!" Fleur snapped angrily, yanking off her own blue robe and mimicking Cassandra by draping it over her arm.

However, before she could press herself against the wall, a deafening sound echoed from deep beneath the floor.

Boom!!!

It was as if an earthquake had struck; the ground began to shake violently.

Fleur's footing slipped, and the black marble floor beneath her let out a sharp "crack"—

Crash—!

In an instant, the entire corridor collapsed with a thunderous roar!

Cedric and Cassandra both looked stunned, while Fleur was utterly panicked.

She instinctively tried to cast a spell, but the sudden sense of weightlessness and the unstoppable descent left her unable to do anything but scream.

Without hesitation, Cassandra flung her robe outward: "Transmute Slate!"

Then, Dumbledore pulled out a small, delicate item and handed it to Cedric.

"This is an unused Portkey. I found it in one of the rooms," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Simply say the incantation, and it will take you to the ninth level."

"The ninth level?" Cedric murmured, and then his eyes widened like saucers. "You mean the Department of Mysteries?!"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, and I dare say the treasure for the champions is located there."

"But, Professor, what about you?!" Cedric glanced at the victory seemingly within reach, yet hesitation clouded his expression.

"You go ahead," Dumbledore replied, entirely unbothered by thoughts of victory or defeat.

To him, the tournament was nothing more than a trivial game. What truly mattered wasn't the competition itself, but the participants—Cyrus, Grindelwald, and...

His gaze shifted to Fleur.

The girl appeared entirely ordinary. Since learning that the two Beauxbatons champions Cassandra had killed in the previous round were actually Death Eaters, Dumbledore had been particularly attentive to Fleur, the sole remaining champion from Beauxbatons.

Yet from his observations, this Fleur didn't appear to be an imposter or under any kind of possession.

Perhaps Voldemort had no intention of intervening in the second round of the tournament?

Dumbledore felt a twinge of doubt, but at the moment, he had no time to dwell on Voldemort's schemes.

Right now, two wizards with magical power equal to—or even surpassing—Voldemort were locked in battle!

The sinister flames sent chills down his spine, making him wonder if Grindelwald had invented some new fire magic over the years.

The thought of Cyrus and Grindelwald locked in a deadly duel filled Dumbledore with unease. What worried him more, however, was the possibility of Cyrus killing Grindelwald.

Even the fully resurrected Voldemort had been defeated by Cyrus; the dark wizard's cold, lifeless body still lay beneath Hogwarts to this day. Dumbledore doubted that Grindelwald, without the Elder Wand, could stand a chance against Cyrus.

Despite the complexity of his feelings for Grindelwald, Dumbledore could not bear the thought of his old friend dying.

This realization only heightened his sense of urgency.

"You must go ahead," he repeated, his tone gentle but carrying an unyielding authority. "Claim your treasure, and then leave the tournament."

Straightening up, Dumbledore grasped his wand—like a skeletal finger in his hand—and strode resolutely toward the flames.

"Professor..."

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