I became Voldemort

Dumbledore grasped Fudge's chubby hand, displaying a friendly demeanor.

However, this gesture immediately shifted the reporters' attention to him.

"Mr. Dumbledore, I've heard that your relationship with Grindelwald is somewhat unusual. Is that true?" a reporter, also from France, asked.

It seemed possible he had Voldemort's tacit approval to deliberately embarrass Dumbledore.

"At the Christmas Ball a few months ago, were you not seen dancing with the Dark wizard Grindelwald?" The reporter smirked coldly, his Quick-Quotes Quill hovering nearby, ready to capture every word.

It seemed that if Dumbledore uttered even a single response, the reporter would embellish the details to the fullest extent.

But someone wasn't about to let this go unchallenged.

"And what is it you wish to know?"

Unnoticed until now, Grindelwald had entered the Great Hall.

His silver magical eye radiated an intense, mesmerizing power, and his formidable magic instantly enveloped the reporter.

In that brief moment, the temperature in the Great Hall seemed to drop.

The reporter, feeling as though a ferocious beast had locked its gaze on him, froze, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.

However, Grindelwald ultimately refrained from acting. Instead, he let out a cold, disdainful laugh and exchanged a subtle glance with Dumbledore before making his way to his seat.

Grindelwald's sudden appearance brought immense pressure to everyone present.

It had to be said—many reporters were here specifically because of him.

The Dark wizard who once shook the world, who had faked his death just a few months ago, was now brazenly appearing in the tournament as a champion. Who knew what secret schemes he might be plotting? Yet, intimidated by his aura, no one present dared to question Grindelwald.

Fortunately, at that moment, Dumbledore stepped forward to the front of the table. His gaze swept over the crowd, and under his watchful eyes, all the noise in the hall faded away. The Great Hall fell silent, leaving only the sound of the Goblet of Fire crackling.

Cyrus, meanwhile, gently stroked Nagini as he watched the scene unfold with great interest, as if finding the experience novel and entertaining.

"Thank you all for coming to Hogwarts to witness the final task of the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore said in a clear, resonant voice that echoed across every corner of the hall.

"Up until now, the tournament has faced many challenges. I would like to express my gratitude to Cornelius, who has continued to support me," Dumbledore said.

At this moment, the eyes of the entire wizarding world seemed to be upon him.

"I am sure that many of you have come here today seeking the truth—"

Before he could finish, Fudge abruptly stood up, rushing to Dumbledore's side to stop him from continuing.

"Albus..."

"We must acknowledge it, Cornelius—Voldemort has returned!" Dumbledore said, looking directly into Fudge's eyes.

"No, no... ..No, Albus," Fudge shook his head repeatedly. He couldn't allow Dumbledore to announce to the entire world, in such a public setting, that Voldemort had returned.

He knew his own limits. During peacetime, being the Minister for Magic and muddling through was the extent of his capability. As long as there were no major issues, he could quietly continue his term, reaping benefits along the way.

But if You-Know-Who truly had returned, he knew he wouldn't be up to the task.

Besides, perhaps Fudge truly didn't believe Voldemort had returned. He had convinced himself of this lie, certain that Dumbledore and Cyrus were fabricating the story of Voldemort's return to seize power from him.

Just like how Cyrus had already become the de facto leader of MACUSA!

"No Dumbledore.. You-Know-Who is nothing but a lie! He is dead!" Fudge insisted. He didn't want to become a puppet. He was tired of the days when he had to consult Dumbledore on every decision.

Once someone has tasted the sweetness of power, who would willingly give it up?

But Fudge still didn't dare openly oppose Dumbledore in front of everyone—that would only make a laughingstock of himself on the world stage.

Fudge softened his tone and shifted the topic.

"Albus, ultimately, there's no concrete evidence to prove You-Know-Who has returned. No matter what, let's discuss this matter later. For now, the most important thing is to bring the Triwizard Tournament to a proper conclusion."

Without giving Dumbledore a chance to respond, Fudge enthusiastically waved toward Barty Jr., who was still disguised as Madame Maxime.

"Dear Madam Olympe Maxime, please, step forward!" He sounded as welcoming as a hostess trying to attract patrons to a brothel.

"I understand that the previous rules caused great unfairness to Beauxbatons," Fudge said. "Therefore, we've discussed and agreed to allow Beauxbatons to select a new champion to participate in the competition."

"Of course, Minister Fudge, we appreciate your generosity and fairness."

Barty Jr. smiled warmly at him, then stepped forward to stand in front of the Goblet of Fire. The flickering, ghostly blue flames cast shifting shadows across his face.

Further down the long table, both Cyrus and Grindelwald wore expressions of amusement, as if they were watching an entertaining show.

"Alright, then! Please present your new champion and, before the eyes of the entire world, let them place their name into the Goblet of Fire!" Fudge declared excitedly.

He was thrilled to have wrested control of the situation from Dumbledore. For too long, he had been haunted by the specter of You-Know-Who, and now he felt triumphant in asserting himself.

Fudge stepped aside, giving way by half a step, inwardly marveling at "Maxime's" imposing size.

"Of course," 

Barty Jr.'s expression grew increasingly manic.

He approached the Goblet of Fire and tossed a slip of paper into the flames.

At that moment, most people assumed he had entered his own name. The unusually large Beauxbatons headmistress was stepping up personally to defend the honor of her school!

But they were all wrong.

After tossing the name into the Goblet, Barty Jr., to everyone's astonishment, dropped to one knee. He raised both hands high in the air, as though welcoming a deity.

"Come forth, my revered Dark Lord!"

"The Goblet of Fire calls upon your noble name!"

Whoosh!

In an instant—

The flames of the Goblet of Fire spiraled upward, shooting toward the ceiling of the Great Hall like a vortex!

Beneath the starry, glittering canopy, the blue flames exploded like fireworks, leaving behind a dazzling name.

—Voldemort!

And beneath those flames, a figure dressed in dark green robes slowly emerged from the shadows.

He walked alone, stepping through the Great Hall, passing by everyone present. As he moved, a chilling current swirled around him, causing those nearby to shiver. The air in his wake felt as if magical serpents were coiling around throats, suffocating and oppressive.

Now, he stood before the Goblet of Fire, surrounded by dozens of masked figures who knelt at his feet.

He pulled back the hood of his robe, revealing his handsome face.

"I hear someone has been saying that I'm dead?"

_________

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