When one was as old and powerful a wizard as Albus Dumbledore was, it took quite a lot of things going wrong before he would consider his day to be going poorly. With the sheer magical power and knowledge at the man's fingertips, he could solve most of his problems by brute force, a subtle wave of the wand, or even simply talking. At his age, the latter was definitely preferable, but at the current moment, even the other two options were of no help either.
For even as old and learned as Dumbledore was, the inner workings of the Goblet of Fire were a mystery lost to time. Aside from the relic's historical value, he could not simply blast the damnable thing to bits, lest he accidentally kill the four students it had selected as champions.
Not to mention, he'd been against resurrecting the Triwizard Tournament from the start. There were better ways to foster connections between differing magical communities than throwing their students into a dangerous tournament, no matter how "safe" the Ministry of Magic thought it to be.
And that was another thing. What in Godric Gryffindor's name was going on with the Ministry? Dumbledore knew Barty Crouch could be a bit legalistic, but insisting that a fourteen-year-old had to compete in the Triwizard Tournament? No matter how much faith Dumbledore had in Harry Potter's ability to survive just about anything Fate, Destiny, and Chance threw at him, there were too many factors out of control here, and no one else seemed to realize it.
Suffice it to say, the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts was having a bad day, even before he stepped out of the fireplace into Cornelius Fudge's office to find the Minister for Magic hiding beneath his own desk. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright, Cornelius?"
"Dumbledore! Thank goodness you're here!" The portly Minister leapt to his feet upon seeing Albus. "The Aurors have reported a massive security breach from the Department of Mysteries! An intruder broke out from the Death Chamber!"
The headache that had been blooming in the back of Albus's head was quickly getting worse. He sighed. "I had an urgent matter to discuss with you, but it seems that it must wait. When did this happen?"
"A little over half an hour ago, at just past eight!" Fudge anxiously turned his purple bowler hat over in his hands.
Dumbledore blinked. It had been an hour and the security breach still hadn't been handled? Truly a serious matter indeed. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. "How curious…"
"Er—What's curious?"
"At precisely the time you mentioned, the Goblet of Fire chose a fourth champion for the Triwizard Tournament." Dumbledore rubbed his temple. Never mind the fact that said fourth champion, however remarkable he might be, simply did not have the capability of getting past Dumbledore's Age Line; moreover, the Goblet's enchantments were designed only to select one champion per school. The timing of the events was also too auspicious to ignore.
"Merlin's beard…" Fudge's eyes widened. "Surely this cannot be a coincidence."
"No, I do not believe it is." Dumbledore drew his wand and quickly moved toward the door. "I shall go to assist the Aurors. I would have words with this intruder. If he is responsible for endangering students…"
Dumbledore left the thought unfinished as he stepped out of Fudge's office. The Minister for Magic shivered. For just a moment there, Dumbledore's normally twinkling eyes had hardened to glacial ice, a look reserved for the likes of Grindelwald and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
The ancient wizard nodded to the Aurors standing outside of the office. "Gentlemen. Any word on the intruder?"
The first Auror, a tough-looking wizard named John Dawlish who Dumbledore remembered as a hardworking but not particularly creative student, jumped and raised his wand before realizing who it was. "Oh! Sorry professor, I wasn't expecting anyone to come out from behind."
His partner, who was a bit taller than Dawlish and equally well built, rumbled with suppressed laughter. Kingsley Shacklebolt's teeth gleamed brightly against his dark skin as he spoke, "Hello professor. The Aurors have managed to cut off all exits from the Department of Mysteries, but the intruder is eluding capture. He doesn't have a wand, but he does have some way to deflect any spells we send at him."
Dawlish, having regained his equilibrium, spoke up, "Word is that the DMLE is calling in the Hit Wizard Squad."
"I see." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. Hit Wizards were usually only called in for matters that the Aurors couldn't handle, so whoever this intruder was, he must be quite formidable indeed. However, Hit Wizards were usually less concerned with apprehending their targets than they were with neutralizing threats. Dumbledore was reluctant to lose a potential lead into whoever was behind the sabotage of the Triwizard Cup.
"Could you please inform Amelia that I will be assisting the Aurors' efforts? This intruder may have a connection with another pressing matter that has recently come to my attention. Keep the Hit Wizards on standby but they shouldn't be necessary."
Not bothering to wait for a response, Dumbledore turned on his heel, Apparating to the entrance of the Department of Mysteries. Apparition was possible throughout most of the Ministry, but not within its lower levels, as there were wards set up to prevent even the head of the Wizengamot from entering areas they were not supposed to be. As soon as he arrived, he was met with a jet of scarlet light that he only just managed to sidestep.
The Auror who'd fired the spell, a young witch with bright pink hair, looked absolutely horrified. "Oh! I'm so sorry- "
"The fault is mine, Miss Tonks. I should have sent word that I was coming." Dumbledore smiled gently as he walked past her. "Your quick response is a credit to your training."
Anything else he might have said was interrupted by a muffled yell coming through the door. Dumbledore's smile vanished as he walked toward the door. He held his wand at the ready, then turned the heavy brass doorknob, pushing the polished black ebony door aside to enter the Department of Mysteries.
