Time a little earlier, the Lestrange family manor.

As the "Temporary Portkey" activated, the Aurors from the Ministry of Magic swiftly converged as planned.

Perhaps they couldn't participate in direct magical combat, but as upholders of order within the magical society, they were highly reliable in basic magic.

"Seal off Apparition, block the skies and underground, interfere with Portkey teleportation coordinates—"

Rufus Scrimgeour, his expression stern, commanded the constantly arriving Aurors at the edge of the "Temporary Portkey" to establish a blockade.

In the operational plan of Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and the Ministry of Magic, the Aurors' job was not just to prevent Voldemort from escaping. Compared to the usual full-area lockdowns, this time the blockade was much more specific and refined—five elites from the Magical Catastrophes Department spread out a barrier within the blockade, intentionally leaving a space where Apparition was possible.

Surrounding on three sides while leaving one open, this was one of humanity's oldest and most effective hunting methods, and it was naturally present in this encirclement and suppression of the dark magic forces.

"Everyone, increase your attention! Any suspicious individuals appearing in the 'trap zone' must be taken down immediately... no matter who they are!"

Scrimgeour looked around. Due to the risk of infiltration and betrayal within Britain, his "team" was mostly composed of foreign Aurors.

As for the British Ministry of Magic Aurors, they were deployed to the edge of Hogwarts Castle, serving as temporary guardians of Hogwarts.

"Disarming Charms take priority, don't think about any dueling spirit—open fire directly when the target appears! If they show any signs of resistance or escape, immediately stun and arrest!"

Ever since the evidence of Barty Crouch's "betrayal" was presented before him, Scrimgeour's vigilance had reached its highest level. He had spent the last two days with that guy.

If Little Barty Crouch and Voldemort hadn't slipped up at that old Muggle's place, everyone in the British Ministry of Magic would still be in the dark about Crouch. As time slowly passed, this vigilance began to evolve into anger. Rufus Scrimgeour wished he could capture all the traitors in one go and put them on trial one by one.

As for whether the Death Eaters would fall into the trap, that wasn't his concern.

Dumbledore had an informant hidden among the Death Eaters. Although he didn't know who it was yet, the worst-case scenario would just be a wasted effort.

Of course, their ambush was more of an embellishment, or rather, an effort to gain some credit in the encirclement and suppression of the "dark magic forces."

The real decisive factor was the battlefield where Dumbledore and Grindelwald, the two strongest white and black wizards of the first half of this century, were located.

…………

Meanwhile, in the Lestrange family's living room.

Before Voldemort could ponder for too long, the door not far away opened silently.

Two old wizards walked in one after the other, as if they were elderly people taking a stroll before lunch.

"...Dumbledore?"

Voldemort's cold red eyes narrowed slightly, staring grimly ahead, taking a sharp breath.

"So it's you?! What exactly do you want, you old fool?"

"Hmm? That's the question I should be asking you—"

Dumbledore frowned, standing at the doorway, his wand raised like a sword.

"It ends here, Tom." Dumbledore said calmly, "Your decision to attack the Ministry of Magic last night was a foolish one. The Aurors will be here soon."

"Perhaps you still think you're well-hidden, even deliberately avoiding most of your former followers... but you're still too complacent about your magical abilities and your little tricks, and you've ignored the reality of the world. Barty Crouch has been sent to Azkaban. We learned of your whereabouts from a wizard whose conscience hasn't been completely extinguished."

The old man looked solemnly at Voldemort, who was hesitant to speak, took a deep breath, and his voice became even more stern.

"Surrender, Tom. All your ambitions will end here."

"This time, I won't evade or hold back—"

Dumbledore's wand suddenly waved, like a long, golden-red fire whip, sweeping towards Voldemort directly in front of him.

However, compared to Dumbledore's fire whip, Voldemort's reaction speed was obviously faster.

"Avada Kedavra—"

Before the old man could raise his wand, Voldemort grabbed the wand beside the table with his bloodless hand.

A flickering green light, like a phantom, flew towards Dumbledore.

Dumbledore didn't intend to move. The old man behind him waved his hand gently.

The carpet at the entrance of the living room made a tearing sound, flying up as if they were shields to block the spell.

*Poof.*

The Killing Curse struck the dusty, old carpet fragments.

Contrary to Voldemort's expectations, his usually effective Killing Curse was like a child's play, unable to penetrate even a single piece of carpet.

What is this?!

In the next moment, Voldemort immediately realized the reason—his magic was restricted by the wand!

He fell to the ground clumsily, dodging the fire whip sweeping from above, looking at the strange black walnut wand in his hand with a grim expression.

It wasn't that his magic power had weakened too much—he could clearly feel the boiling magic within his body—but when he used this wand to cast spells, most of his magic was "spit" back at him. The actual power that could pass through the wand was less than one-tenth. If his magical attainments hadn't been decent, a magical backfire would have happened just now.

Obviously, the "mastermind" hiding in the shadows had only provided him with an extremely inferior wand.

"It seems you haven't adapted to your new life yet? Tom, your strength at the Ministry of Magic last night was more than just this..."

Dumbledore's voice came from behind the table.

The golden-red magical whip broke through the air, directly splitting the thick long table in the Lestrange family's living room.

The magical flames easily ignited the table, and the terrible heat scorched Voldemort's pale cheeks. Wood chips turned into sparks in the heat, rushing towards him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but if this is all you've got, Dumbledore—you'll know what fear and death mean sooner or later!"

Voldemort said viciously, his red eyes widening in horror, the veins on his right hand, clutching the wand, bulging as he swung it forward.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He didn't know what Dumbledore was talking about, but he knew that now wasn't the time to explain.

Dumbledore wouldn't sit down and patiently listen to his explanation, and he didn't intend to be caught so soon after being resurrected.

"We granted you a new life, Tom... and as a condition, please try to survive—under Dumbledore's pursuit."

Voldemort had never foreseen such a bizarre resurrection, one that even made him feel a little creeped out.

That voice, indistinguishable by gender or age, disguised...

That "game" he heard before he first woke up...

All of this, everything, was simply like a cat-and-mouse game of the worst kind.

Undoubtedly, the other party was either an incorrigible madman, or a fearless devil, or both.

An invisible dark cloud shrouded him, just like the cloud he and the Death Eaters had shrouded the British magical world in decades ago.

The only difference was that, compared to his reign decades ago, this time the mastermind seemed even more insane—and his only chance to break the game was to try his best to escape from this carefully designed conspiracy, and then make those damned guys pay the price!

Like...

A beast trapped in a trap.

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Good