Chapter 249: Grindelwald

"Your maze is quite interesting—I had to use some effort just to get through with these old bones of mine." The old man radiated a powerful aura; Harry felt he was a fusion of Voldemort and Dumbledore. "So is Dumbledore inside?"

"Technically, he is." Harry chose his words carefully. "But you won't be able to see him."

"What do you mean? He doesn't want to see me?"

"Not because he doesn't want to—he can't. Too much has happened. I can tell you slowly, but who are you?" Harry finished, glancing again at Renata. "The Cup is right here. I'd gladly give it to you—it no longer matters."

"You ask who I am?" The old man suddenly laughed. "Ha! I'll tell you—I was Dumbledore's best friend. We just had a falling-out a few years ago."

"Alright, let me sort this out." Harry didn't truly care who he was; what mattered was that Renata hear his words and relay them to Vaskov.

"This is all tied to Voldemort. Dumbledore and the Ministry devised a plan to capture him—luring him to the Triwizard Tournament to attack me, while Dumbledore lay in wait here." Harry said. "Originally, twelve Doctors were meant to ambush him too, but for some reason, the Doctors were late."

"When I reached the top floor, Voldemort and Dumbledore were already facing off." Harry said. "They were evenly matched—each wanted to kill the other, but neither could overcome the other."

"That doesn't sound like Dumbledore," the old man remarked.

"Because Voldemort created Horcruxes, we sought not to kill him but to seal him away," Harry's heartbeat quickened slightly—he was beginning to fabricate. "I carried the Ministry's ultimate weapon—the Time-Snap Array—combined with the Stasis Charm, capable of sealing any powerful wizard into that painting. But it required Voldemort to be temporarily unable to resist."

"Professor Dumbledore taught me," Harry began speaking truths to calm his nerves. "He sought the Resurrection Stone, fell into Voldemort's trap, and had to rely on Xuan Jun's Death Writ to prolong his life. Knowing his end was near, he saw his chance and suddenly stopped valuing his own life."

"Dumbledore temporarily subdued Voldemort and ordered me to use the Time-Snap Array immediately." Harry forced himself to visualize the scene. "Then I—I overrode my emotions with reason. I told them both, 'Enough.' That was also the incantation of the Stasis Charm. The Time-Snap Array unleashed its full power, sealing both Voldemort and Dumbledore into that painting."

"You used the Triwizard Tournament final as your private duel arena?" Renata said bitterly. "And the result was mutual destruction?"

The old man said nothing, merely studying Harry with sharp eyes.

"It's not mutual destruction—we still left hope," Harry said. "The Time-Snap Array can seal them for two years. We planned to use those two years to destroy all of Voldemort's Horcruxes—then we could truly kill him."

"But the most troublesome thing happened: the late Doctors recklessly activated the time machine, causing it to explode. The explosion shattered temporal stability—time is now frozen. And the Time-Snap Array operates based on the 'absolute present.'"

"We originally planned to release them in 1997. But now, time is permanently frozen at June 24, 1995. We can still move freely, we can still cross off days on the calendar—but for the Time-Snap Array and the painting that holds them, 1997 will never come."

"He speaks the truth," the old man suddenly spoke. "All spells related to time have failed."

Harry instantly raised his estimation of him—only extremely powerful wizards could detect this. Of course, Dumbledore's friend wouldn't be weak.

Renata's expression flickered uncertainly. She held the Triwizard Cup, but as Harry said, compared to the frozen time, the Cup meant little.

"Now, the Professor and Voldemort are sealed together in that painting, frozen in their final battle stance, forever unable to return to the living world." Harry spoke with quiet sorrow. "But we still preserved hope—perhaps one day we can free the Professor."

"But Voldemort has Horcruxes, doesn't he?" the old man suddenly said. "For the Death Eaters, all they need do is burn the painting and revive the fragments from the Horcruxes."

Harry stared at him in shock, slowly saying, "But Voldemort made many Horcruxes—could that mean multiple Voldemorts could be revived?"

"Oh, probably not. But if you gather all the Horcruxes together and destroy the painting, you can revive him." The old man spoke casually. "Since Dumbledore trusted you, you must protect this painting well."

"I—I will," Harry's lips twitched. He hugged the painting to his chest. At that moment, footsteps came from the corner—Madame Maxime arrived with the remaining judges.

Seeing Harry and the others, Madame Maxime immediately drew her wand, tense as if facing a deadly enemy. Vaskov's face grew grim. Karkaroff glanced once and instantly Apparated away. Donald, like Harry, didn't recognize the old man—he merely matched the tense atmosphere by gripping his wand tightly.

"Oh, I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself." The old man offered a weary smile. "I am Gellert Grindelwald."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. He could hardly imagine this gentle, sunbathing neighbor was once the fearsome Dark Lord who ruled continental Europe.

"I had a feeling I might not see Dumbledore's final moments." He said. "Fortunately, a group of foolhardy Death Eaters freed me. Perhaps it is time to end my life."

"I only wished to see him one last time. Unfortunately, I never did." Grindelwald sighed. "If he is no longer among the living, I see little worth staying for here."

Under the gaze of everyone—astonished or wary—Grindelwald's body suddenly began to glow. From his feet upward, his form gradually dissolved into specks of light, slowly fading into the air.

"I left everything about Dumbledore in his office." He looked at Harry. "His past—the things he never told anyone—you may go and see them."

"My notes on Dark Magic—I intended to donate them to Durmstrang, but Karkaroff, that fool, thought I meant to settle scores with him? Ha. I'll donate them to Hogwarts instead." He pulled a notebook from his pocket and tossed it to Harry. Harry didn't dare catch it—it fell to the ground.

"As for those Saints—do whatever you wish with them. Anyone still believing in that nonsense now is either a fool or evil." He shrugged indifferently. "This world is dull. Extremely dull. I'm about to begin another great adventure."

After Grindelwald's body fully vanished, everyone stood frozen for a long moment.

"So he just killed himself?" Madame Maxime spoke. "I thought he meant to make a comeback."

"Wait—he said Dumbledore is dead? What does that mean?" Donald asked belatedly.

"I'll keep it brief," Harry said. "He sealed Voldemort away—and gave his own life to do it."

"That makes sense…" Donald rubbed his chin. "For Grindelwald, only two things could have pulled him out of prison: either Dumbledore forgave him—or Dumbledore died."

"You know a lot about them?" Madame Maxime asked. "But you didn't even recognize him just now."

"Because he's different from how I remembered him. I thought he had a dashing hairstyle." Donald mimed slicking back his hair. "Alright, the situation now is this—I believe Harry is the one most qualified to handle these two old men's affairs."

"Come with me, children," Madame Maxime took charge. "Sit in the Champions' tent. Renata needs her wounds bandaged. Harry needs something warm to calm down. Is this woman on the ground Zhang Qiu? She looks exhausted—find her a bed."

"Oh, and we must announce the results and hold the award ceremony." Madame Maxime slapped her forehead. "Dumbledore is gone. Prince Montbardon is missing. We need two replacements. So much has happened today—but the Champions' honor must not be overlooked."

"The Cup should be Harry's," Renata muttered. "Harry had ample time to raise it—he was just lost in all this chaos. Even without the battle, he reached the tower top before me."

"He must have stumbled into the maze. I lost to his luck—but more importantly, to his courage to risk everything." Renata placed the Cup on the ground. "Grindelwald taught me a lesson. Perhaps to Harry, he was just letting a childish girl win."

"No—you deserve the Cup," Harry said. "You did everything a Champion could. I was merely swept along by fate's storm."

"Let's discuss this later," Donald pushed the children toward the exit, offering an ill-timed suggestion. "Since Dumbledore regarded Harry as his successor—why not let Harry sit on the judging panel and award Renata the Cup in Dumbledore's place?"