In the very next moment, deep blue ripples of mysterious power began spreading from the tips of both wands at once, instantly turning the surrounding normal space—previously filled with air—into something that seemed soaked in water. Within that strange distortion, the faint silhouettes of three objects gradually began to emerge, but it was as though they were veiled behind a thin gauze, impossible to see clearly no matter how hard one looked...
"It's the ghost ships!"
Someone in the audience pointed at the screen and cried out in shock. The three blurred objects that Dumbledore and Karkaroff were jointly forcing out were unmistakably the same ghost ships the champions had ridden just moments earlier.
They could actually pull something out after it had gotten stuck inside a spatial passage—
And from the way Karkaroff had acted just now, it seemed that Dumbledore had seen through the magic at a glance, whereas Karkaroff had needed several whole minutes just to locate it.
The students who had caught that small detail felt a chill in their hearts, their understanding of the Hogwarts Headmaster's power becoming even more concrete.
As time slowly passed, people also realized that this rescue was taking far longer than they had imagined. Dumbledore and Karkaroff had already maintained their high-held wand posture for nearly ten minutes.
Karkaroff's face was already deathly pale, his breathing ragged, his eyes bloodshot. He even needed to support his wand arm with his other hand just to keep it steady. Even Dumbledore had sweat beading on his forehead, and his long white beard could faintly be seen trembling.
For a wizard of Dumbledore's caliber to be driven to such a state, the sheer mental strain of this magic was simply horrifying.
"...I can't hold on much longer, Dumbledore!"
A while later, Karkaroff suddenly stumbled, the magic he had been maintaining almost breaking apart on the spot. His whole body wavered unsteadily, and his voice sounded as though it were being squeezed out from between clenched teeth.
"I need to rest—right now I can't effectively cooperate with you at all. I might even start interfering with you instead..."
"Go rest first, Professor Karkaroff."
Dumbledore's tone was not easy either.
"I think I can hold on a little longer—and I believe we're almost there."
"My deepest thanks..."
Before he could even finish that sentence, Karkaroff let his arm fall as if all strength had drained from it, then collapsed to the ground. After panting for a moment, he pulled a potion from his pocket—one that looked expensive at a glance—and drank it in one gulp. Only then did some color finally return to his face.
Then he glanced at Dumbledore again.
"I only have one restorative potion left here—do you need it, Dumbledore? I can Apparate back and get more..."
"Then I'd appreciate it."
Dumbledore's voice had already begun to sound muffled.
"This spell is costing even more than I expected. I may need replenishment as well..."
Crack!
Before he had even finished speaking, Karkaroff vanished at once, then reappeared only a few seconds later with another loud crack behind Dumbledore, holding out a potion identical in color and packaging to the one he had just drunk.
"I'm back—here's your potion."
"Thank you, Professor Karkaroff."
Dumbledore's left hand made a few quick assisting gestures, then reached out to take the potion—which Karkaroff had thoughtfully already uncorked—and raised it to his lips before tipping back his head and taking a large swallow...
Pfft!
To the utter shock of the students and Durmstrang professors, Dumbledore spat out the potion almost the instant it entered his mouth. But his complexion had already turned visibly dark.
His eyes filled with fury and confusion. His neck twitched slightly, as though he were about to turn and demand an explanation from Karkaroff.
But in the next instant, the previously "exhausted" Karkaroff and Ludo Bagman beside him had already both raised their wands at Dumbledore. As their mouths moved, two green rays burst from their wand tips and shot toward him in an instant—
"Avada Kedavra!"
The blazing green light illuminated half of Dumbledore's face, freezing his stunned expression in place. The deadly green brilliance expanded rapidly in his pupils, but with most of his strength already spent and his wand still occupied maintaining the magic tied to the lives of the three students, Dumbledore no longer had the spare power to dodge.
He could only watch helplessly as the two Killing Curses closed in...
Boom!
Suddenly, a burst of crimson flame ignited out of nowhere in front of him. A beautiful scarlet bird appeared in that instant only a few inches away from the point where the Killing Curses would have struck Dumbledore's back, taking both blasts head-on in his place.
Then, with a cry like a mournful elegy, its entire body crumbled into ash and scattered away...
"Fawkes!"
Dumbledore cried out in panic. He quickly stretched out his left hand, caught the chick that was falling from midair, and gathered it into his arms.
"Karkaroff, Bagman... why?!"
But Karkaroff and Barty, under his gaze, merely sneered. They did not seem to have any intention of continuing their attack. Instead, they lowered their wands and even stepped back twice.
"The one who is going to kill you is not us, Dumbledore."
Barty let out a cold laugh, then turned toward the empty space beside him and shifted into a respectful tone.
"It's your turn now, sir."
"Good. That troublesome damned bird has finally been dealt with."
A cold voice rang out from the place Barty was looking at. Then the transparent air there began to wrinkle and bend like silk, gradually forming the outline of a human figure. Inside that outline, colors rapidly filled in, until a complete human form appeared at last.
He was looking at Dumbledore with a complicated gaze, though the faint trace of a sneer never left the corner of his mouth.
It was an elderly wizard.
His face was gaunt, deeply lined with furrow-like wrinkles, yet his complexion was remarkably good. His eyes were bright and sharp, without the cloudiness so often found in the elderly. His bearing was also straight and strong. If not for his face, one would hardly have sensed any age in him at all.
His hair and beard were gray-white and immaculately groomed. He wore elegant, well-tailored robes, making him look like an aristocrat who had just returned from a formal banquet.
"It's been a long time, Albus—looks like the past fifty years have treated you rather well."
The old wizard casually waved his wand in greeting. His tone was calm and even, as though he were merely exchanging pleasantries with an old acquaintance met by chance on the road.
"..."
Dumbledore stared blankly at the old wizard before him, as motionless as a statue. He did not even seem to notice that the magic in his hand was on the verge of collapsing. His lips trembled for a long time before he finally forced out the name that was enough to shake the entire magical world.
"Gellert..."
(End of Chapter)