Vinda Rosier delivered the challenge letter to Dumbledore in front of dozens of Ministry of Magic employees.
"Godric's Hollow, same time, rain or shine."
Dumbledore read the contents of the letter aloud, his expression gradually turning serious.
"What does Grindelwald mean by this?"
Vinda Rosier offered a polite smile and bowed slightly. "My master said he hasn't had the chance to catch up with Mr Dumbledore since his return, and thought this grand occasion would be perfect for revisiting old haunts."
"..."
The statement was half-truth, half-lie, making it difficult to assess.
Truthfully, he had been contemplating how to handle Grindelwald. The other had been relatively quiet since his return, having consolidated several national Ministries of Magic before settling in Durmstrang and paying little attention to external affairs.
But why emerge now, of all times?
Dumbledore's eyes lowered as a terrible suspicion formed in his mind.
Could Voldemort's countermeasure against him... be Grindelwald?
"I'm afraid I won't be available that day. Any time after March seventh, I'll be at his disposal." Dumbledore's calm gaze remained fixed on Vinda Rosier, yet even this exerted considerable pressure on her.
But under Grindelwald's orders, Vinda had no choice but to persist. "Mr Dumbledore, the decision isn't yours to make. My master said if you fail to appear..."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he waited for Vinda to continue.
"He will order his followers to attack all wizards indiscriminately, including... Durmstrang students. They will participate in the operation as well."
The wizards present paled visibly.
This was a blatant threat, yet none could help but feel terrified.
Even Dumbledore was no exception.
"Miss Rosier." Crouch struggled to contain his anger, stopping the Aurors from restraining her. "Aren't you afraid Mr Lawrence will settle accounts with you afterwards?"
"I'm merely a messenger." Rosier's expression remained unchanged. "The decision still rests with Mr Dumbledore."
Crouch looked over helplessly.
Wayne was powerful, but he couldn't possibly kill everyone. How would the British wizarding community maintain its standing in the world if that happened? Their boss might be skilled and daring enough to handle the consequences, but those with less influence couldn't afford to gamble.
"You'll have my answer tomorrow."
With that, Dumbledore had Fawkes transport him back to the Hog's Head.
That very evening, Wayne, along with the four Heads of House and Newt, was summoned.
Dumbledore's original plan had been for Wayne to expand his influence abroad while he remained at the school to oversee the broader situation. If Voldemort had other schemes, wherever they occurred, he could respond immediately.
But Grindelwald's interference had completely disrupted his strategy.
"Um..." Just as the professors were pondering gloomily, Wayne awkwardly raised his hand. "Well... old Dumbledore, I've been so busy lately that I forgot to mention something."
All eyes turned to him.
"Actually, Grindelwald already discussed the duel arrangement with me. I was even planning to co-host the live broadcast." As he spoke, he handed Grindelwald's letter to Dumbledore.
After reading it, Dumbledore's brow remained furrowed. "Wayne, you shouldn't have agreed to this."
Aberforth looked displeased, wondering why Wayne seemed to have such a good relationship with that fellow Grindelwald.
"Don't you have confidence in me?" Wayne said helplessly.
"No." Dumbledore shook his head. "It's Voldemort I lack confidence in."
"Grindelwald is certainly just one of his backup plans. If I'm restrained, who will unravel the remaining schemes?"
"Isn't it simple?" Wayne laughed, patting the bewildered Newt on the shoulder. "With our senior here, bringing all his old friends along, even if Voldemort comes personally, they can definitely stall until I arrive."
"Me?" Newt instinctively wanted to refuse, but Dumbledore's eyes lit up.
Too much time had passed—he had forgotten Newt's reputation as a walking natural disaster.
"Newt, do you know why I like you so much?" The old headmaster began his persuasion tactics. "You don't crave power or fame. You care about whether things are inherently right. I believe you'll make the right choice this time too, won't you?"
With such flattery and lofty praise, Newt was completely disoriented.
In the end, he nodded reluctantly. "Alright, Wayne, I'll take leave tomorrow to visit some old friends."
"No problem," Wayne agreed immediately.
Newt's old friends... were most likely not human.
"Actually, I'll bring Nicolas along too," Wayne suddenly added. "He's been cooped up at home for too long lately—he ought to get out and move around."
"That would be even better." Dumbledore was now completely at ease.
In terms of duelling skill alone, Nicolas was not exceptionally strong. His magical talent was rather ordinary. After living for centuries, he had merely accumulated more magical power.
But given enough time to prepare, he would undoubtedly become a headache for any opponent.
No one could guess how many devious inventions a master alchemist could devise after six or seven centuries of contemplation.
With the matter satisfactorily resolved, Wayne and the others returned to the school.
After they left, Ariana floated down from upstairs.
"Brother, are you going to duel that man?" Ariana asked.
Dumbledore smiled, thinking his sister was worried about him. "Don't worry, Ariana. Although Grindelwald is powerful, I won't be in any real danger."
But Ariana's face fell. "Huh? I thought you could defeat him. I heard from Aberforth that you won against him decades ago."
Aberforth was displeased. "Albus, still hung up on your old flame? Didn't you understand what Ariana meant? She wants you to crush him completely—to avenge her!"
Dumbledore was taken aback. Watching Ariana nod eagerly, he found himself unable to refuse.
He recalled the chaotic battle in Godric's Hollow—that place of sorrow for him. Yet Grindelwald had chosen it as the duelling ground, clearly adding fuel to the fire!
Dumbledore's expression grew increasingly stern, and he finally nodded firmly. "Ariana, don't worry. I will teach him a proper lesson!"
In fantasy terms, after Ariana's resurrection, Dumbledore had shed all inner demons and experienced growth in his magical realm.
With a changed mindset, his understanding of magic became entirely different.
On the path to becoming a Legend, he had taken ten solid steps forward.
A sharp glint flashed in Dumbledore's eyes.
'Grindelwald, my apologies. For Ariana's sake, you'll have to endure some hardship!'
...
Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office. Wayne was writing furiously.
He penned a brief letter, then took out the previous letter Dumbledore had written to prevent him from being deceived by Grindelwald, handing both to Ho-Oh.
"Good bird, make it quick."
Ho-Oh let out a light cry and flew out the window.
Ten minutes later, Grindelwald received the letters.
As he read, the smile that had initially appeared on his face gradually faded.
"Dumbledore... is this really how you see me?"
The letter was full of disparaging remarks - enough to make Aberforth laugh aloud. One could imagine how... profound Dumbledore's writing had been.
A fire now burned in Grindelwald's heart.
Originally, he had intended to catch up with his old friend, but now he had changed his mind.
Even if they were to reminisce, that would come after their duel. Once he had beaten Dumbledore into submission, those mint candies Wayne left him... There were still a few left!
Through this strange twist of fate, two old men who had originally planned to go through the motions simultaneously became genuinely angry. As one might expect, this would become another historic duel.
In the following days, the wizarding world fell into an eerie silence as everyone awaited the arrival of March 7th.
Residents of both Fenwick and Godric's Hollow - the two proposed duel locations - whether Muggles or wizards, had been evacuated. The Ministry of Magic and the Muggle government had cooperated to make this proceed so smoothly.
Just when everyone thought everything would be settled that day, Voldemort made another move.
He went to Greece, to Athens. No one knew what he did there because all those who followed him died.
Meanwhile, back in Britain, some trouble emerged.
"Someone broke into the Department of Mysteries but didn't take anything."
On the evening before the duel, Crouch rushed to the school to report to Wayne.
"Knocked unconscious?" Wayne repeated.
"Not Voldemort's style," Crouch said. "Death Eaters are also unlikely. Dolohov, Alexei, and the other remnants are just like their master—they never leave anyone alive or uninjured. The Unspeakable just suffered a standard Stunning Spell."
The Department of Mysteries was the most enigmatic of all Ministry departments. They never participated in any specific affairs; they merely guarded their own territory, while "Unspeakables" was what everyone called the employees there.
They never spoke of anything, keeping all secrets in their hearts, hence their name.
But nothing remains secret forever. As Wayne controlled the Ministry and interacted with more people, he learned more secrets and naturally came to understand that the Department of Mysteries' duties included researching ancient magic and various mysterious, unknown artefacts.
Marvellous prophecy orbs, Time-Turners - these were all their creations. Beyond these, numerous treasures were excavated from ancient ruins that had never been revealed to the world.
He had been planning to visit after this busy period to see if he could make any new discoveries.
"How did you discover something was wrong, and when did it happen?" Wayne asked.
"The House-elf goes to clean every day. Number 807 discovered it an hour ago. The person is still unconscious."
Wayne nodded.
The selection criteria for Unspeakables are even higher than for Aurors. Perhaps there won't be any qualified candidates for several consecutive years. Well, although Wayne considered it nothing special, they were definitely elites among ordinary people.
Knocking them all unconscious without alerting others at the Ministry of Magic demonstrated considerable strength.
He attempted to calculate. Facing a vigilant Voldemort and Tom, his technique couldn't reveal much useful information, though it remained highly effective in other aspects.
However, to Wayne's surprise, he encountered extremely strong resistance this time. Even after breaking through, everything remained shrouded in mist.
Observing the young man's strange movements and puzzled expression, Crouch silently awaited his instructions.
"Forget it, let's wait until after tomorrow," Wayne eventually gave up. "Send a few more Aurors to guard the entrance. If they can't win, just run, but make sure to identify the intruders."
...
The next day, witches and wizards from all over the world converged at their nearest gathering points. Commercial streets like Diagon Alley were already draped with banners.
Hundreds of thousands of wizards focused on this duel. Penelope, Nagini, and others joined Wayne, accompanying him through dinner.
After the meal, Cho brought out the purple star-and-moon robe specially prepared for Wayne by the Wizengamot. As the young man put it on, an air of nobility emanated from him.
No one felt particularly tense. In their hearts, Wayne was almost omnipotent; even against Voldemort, he would surely achieve final victory.
At exactly seven o'clock, Wayne apparated to Fenwick Village, while Dumbledore arrived at Godric's Hollow.
The Great Hall was packed, not only with school staff and students but also with Aurors from the Ministry of Magic. Nicolas Flamel blended into the crowd, looking up at the screen before them.
After a few more minutes, images from both battlefields appeared on the two screens—only Dumbledore and Wayne stood there, alone in their respective locations.
Whoosh!
Voldemort, dressed in dark green robes, twisted into appearance, standing on a high platform dozens of metres away from Wayne.
Wayne suddenly lowered his head as the intelligent livestream sphere focused on his flawless face, making countless witches' hearts race.
"Watch closely. This is how you deal with Voldemort if you ever encounter him."
"One strike, and he won't make a sound."