Uh-huh! Uh-huh! Uh-huh!
The battle seen through Turan's vision was grand and destructive, but the goblin elders saw more than just a spectacle of raw magic.
Within the chaos, two figures—one clad in black, the other in white—flashed back and forth across the battlefield, appearing and disappearing faster than the eye could track.
It was impossible for the goblins to discern who they were with the naked eye. The only thing they could determine was their speed, their power, and the sheer devastation they left in their wake.
One moment, a shadow in black flickered across the field, casting a spell that cracked the very air itself. The next, a white blur responded with terrifying precision, countering the attack before vanishing just as quickly.
The high-frequency use of Apparition was unmistakable.
To ordinary wizards, teleportation during battle was a luxury, a skill used sparingly. But for those at the peak of magical combat, it was a necessity—each flash of movement allowing for dodging, repositioning, and seizing control of the battlefield.
Only a handful of wizards in the world could fight at this level.
Dumbledore. Grindelwald. Lockhart. Voldemort.
The goblins knew that Grindelwald was undoubtedly one of the combatants. As for the other...
It was unlikely to be Lockhart, who had shown a preference for dark green wizard robes in recent years. Dumbledore, however, had always remained loyal to his white robes.
If the British Ministry of Magic had indeed convinced Dumbledore to come to America, then it was logical to assume he was the one battling Grindelwald now.
The goblins welcomed it.
The longer these two titans fought, the better.
The more damage they inflicted upon each other, the better.
If they could destroy themselves, it would be a dream come true for the goblins.
A war between wizards meant less blood on goblin hands, and a weakened magical world meant more power for goblinkind.
It was a simple, undeniable truth.
The goblins did not fear wizards in a fair battle, but they understood that their overall numbers and magical proficiency lagged behind. Their true advantage lay in strategy, patience, and ensuring that wizards were too preoccupied fighting among themselves to ever turn their full attention toward goblins.
The elders exchanged knowing glances.
Yes, let the wizards destroy themselves.
That was the best outcome.
On the battlefield, spells detonated like meteors striking the earth.
"Incendio!"
"Crucio!"
"Diffindo!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Each spell cast was not just powerful, but precise. Every flick of the wand was calculated, designed to strike, counter, or predict the opponent's next move.
Grindelwald and Dumbledore danced through the battlefield like phantoms, each flickering in and out of existence with Apparition. One moment, black magic surged forward, tearing through the air with wild energy. The next, golden flames erupted in retaliation, engulfing the attack in a tide of roaring heat.
A battle between top wizards was not just a clash of spells—it was a game of minds, a war of anticipation, prediction, and outmaneuvering.
"Albus," Grindelwald spoke mid-movement, his voice effortlessly slipping between spells. "It seems we have quite an audience."
With a smirk, he vanished, reappearing a few meters away, dodging a streak of golden fire.
Dumbledore followed, his wand moving in a blur.
Grindelwald laughed lightly, effortlessly deflecting a burst of magic. "Great changes are coming, Albus. And I believe you already sense the unknown risks surrounding Lockhart."
His wand swirled, launching a barrage of silver-white energy toward Dumbledore.
Dumbledore deflected the attack, his expression unreadable.
Grindelwald pressed on. "You know it, don't you? The tides are shifting. We must join forces before it's too late."
Dumbledore didn't respond with words.
Instead, his wand ignited, and a roaring wall of flame surged toward Grindelwald, cutting off his speech.
The fire reflected in Grindelwald's eyes as he twisted his wand, conjuring a barrier of sheer magical force. He clicked his tongue.
Dumbledore knew they were being watched.
Although he couldn't pinpoint exactly where or by whom, it wasn't difficult to deduce the obvious candidates—goblins or members of the Magical Congress.
Most likely, the goblins.
Goblins had their ways of spying. Their artifacts and magical tools were infamous for their ability to see things others couldn't.
But it didn't matter.
Let them watch.
This fight was too enjoyable to stop.
With a sharp breath, Grindelwald deflected another spell and retreated slightly, his wand tracing a pattern in the air.
A purple glow flickered.
In an instant, silver-white lightning erupted from his wand, shooting toward the unseen observers.
Dumbledore watched silently as the attack struck.
In the Goblin Palace, the goblin elders sat in stunned silence.
Nass, Morton, and the others had just managed to make out Grindelwald's face when—
Boom!
A blinding flash of silver lightning tore through their vision.
The spying mist shattered, the connection severed instantly.
The scene they had been watching disappeared.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
Then, as the last remnants of the mist faded, the grand throne room of the Goblin Palace reappeared.
Turan, the Goblin King, sat upon his throne, his expression unreadable.
With a single motion, he waved his scepter, dissipating the mist completely.
The room remained still.
Turan's voice broke the silence. "What do you intend to do next?"
The goblins hesitated.
They had seen the raw power of Grindelwald firsthand.
To oppose him now, with no proper preparation, would be madness.
Morton and Nass shared a glance. They both knew there was only one answer.
Nass stepped forward first, bowing his head slightly. "Great King, we will follow your will."
Morton followed. "Grindelwald is our primary threat. For now, we cannot afford conflict with the Magic Congress."
Turan said nothing.
But his eyes gleamed with cold calculation.
On the battlefield, the dust settled.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald stood five meters apart.
The dream-forged Hogwarts had vanished. The silver-white domain of fate had dissolved.
They were once again standing in the real world, facing one another.
The silence stretched.
Then, Grindelwald spoke.
"Albus Dumbledore, I need an answer."
His voice was measured, patient.
"A war between wizards, or peace with goblins. Which do you choose?"
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