I became Voldemort

But none of this was what he cared about the most.

At this moment, what Cyrus most wanted to resolve wasn't even Voldemort but Grindelwald.

If it weren't for that old man switching sides at the last moment, the three of them—no, even just adding Dumbledore alone—could have completely defeated Voldemort once more. Yet, because of Grindelwald's interference, they missed the perfect opportunity.

It wasn't just Cyrus who was angry; even Dumbledore was upset about it.

The relationship between the two of them, which had only recently thawed after the Christmas ball, had now once again plummeted to an icy low.

"Albus, things have developed to this extent. About the third task…" Babbajide hesitated, voicing his concerns.

He had witnessed the duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald and was willing to believe that Voldemort had indeed returned. Although the latter hadn't caused as much global turmoil as Grindelwald had, he was still an enemy even Dumbledore couldn't easily defeat—a clear indication of his immense power.

With two dark lords present and Cyrus from Ilvermorny adding to the equation, Babbajide couldn't help but feel worried for Dumbledore.

"The third task will continue." Dumbledore, however, didn't let this incident bring the tournament to a halt. On the contrary, he hoped to use the Triwizard Tournament to completely eliminate all remaining threats.

Whether it was Voldemort or Grindelwald, he didn't want to see anyone endangering this world again.

Many people were deeply uneasy about Dumbledore's decision. Fudge, however, was fully supportive of the proposal.

In Fudge's view, Dumbledore's decision to continue the tournament proved that the situation wasn't as severe as he had claimed. This gave Fudge the perfect excuse to dismiss the rumors of Voldemort's return.

After all, if the threat were real, why would Dumbledore allow the tournament to go on?

Unless Dumbledore had lost his mind.

And if he had lost his mind, then how could anything he said be trustworthy?

The Ministry of Magic needed to be rebuilt, and it seemed unlikely that the third task would be held in the short term. Cyrus handed Grindelwald over to Dumbledore and, with his thoughts focused on Voldemort, left the ruins of the Ministry.

At the same time, no one noticed that in the Death Chamber, the shattered archway suddenly seemed to stir with a powerful wind.

The black curtains draped over the frame fluttered outward as though something was stepping through from within.

And perhaps, it wasn't just an illusion.

An invisible figure crossed the archway, leaving a trail of distinct footprints on the steps covered in the basilisk's blood.

...

Thud!

Voldemort collapsed into the massive fountain at the center of Beauxbaton Academy of Magic.

The flowing water began to heal his wounds.

The wounded skin on Voldemort's back, pierced by the spell, scabbed over and flaked off like black charcoal, revealing fresh, tender flesh beneath.

However, the wound on his chest, where Godric Gryffindor's sword had struck him, remained a purplish, festering scar.

No matter how many times the flesh tried to knit itself back together, it would immediately rot and emit a foul stench.

"The basilisk venom..."

Voldemort quickly realized that while summoning the basilisk to take the blow had saved his life, Gryffindor's sword, now imbued with the venom after slaying the creature, had cursed him instead.

Still, this was of little concern to him.

He rose from the fountain, water cascading off his body with a splash.

The Beauxbatons students passing by stared at him in shock. Many were outraged at the way he had sullied their sacred fountain, but none dared to approach, intimidated by the ominous aura he radiated.

Fortunately, it wasn't long before Barty Crouch Jr. arrived, having Apparated several times to reach him.

He hurried to Voldemort's side and helped him to the headmistress's office. Voldemort slumped weakly into a chair.

"Congratulations, my lord, on your successful resurrection!"

"You've done very well, Barty," Voldemort said, looking at his most loyal servant and generously offering praise.

He truly believed that Barty had done a commendable job, successfully ensuring Grindelwald occupied Dumbledore. It was unfortunate that the Elder Wand had been uncooperative, and he hadn't been able to kill Cyrus.

"I believe that soon, that imposter and Dumbledore will both perish at your hands!" Barty said fervently.

"No, you're mistaken, Barty," Voldemort replied, shaking his head. "Cyrus is very powerful. Even now, my magic struggles to surpass his. I could have won, but unfortunately..."

As he spoke, his gaze fell on the wand in his hand. His anger surged to such an extent that, for a fleeting moment, he considered snapping it in two.

But Voldemort restrained himself.

Temporarily losing ownership of the Elder Wand was one thing, but to destroy it outright would leave him with no path forward.

"I need you to find me another wand," Voldemort said softly. "I've heard that wands crafted by Gregorovitch often possess great power."

Though Voldemort despised Ollivander's notion that the wand chooses the wizard, he grudgingly acknowledged that some wands did seem "alive." However, this phenomenon was limited to a rare few.

As for ordinary wands, he was confident that his magic alone was enough to subjugate them!

"I'll go immediately," Barty Crouch Jr. nodded.

"And one more thing—find Snape and have him brew a potion to counteract the basilisk venom," Voldemort instructed.

Barty nodded again and was almost at the door when he seemed to remember something. He turned back and said, "Master, Dumbledore hasn't stopped the Triwizard Tournament. For the third task, do we need to participate?"

Voldemort had initially entered the tournament to facilitate his resurrection and eliminate Cyrus. Now, with his resurrection complete but Cyrus still alive, his goals were only halfway achieved.

Killing Cyrus would not be easy, especially since Dumbledore and Cyrus were almost inseparable during the tournament. That made targeting either of them far more difficult.

"Of course, I will personally participate!" Voldemort declared, rising to his feet.

"But your body..."

"Someone needs to draw attention away from you all so that you can rally our forces," Voldemort said slowly. "We must prepare for war."

...

Hogwarts.

Cyrus set aside the chaotic and noisy concerns and sat alone in the carriage of Ilvermorny. 

His magical prowess was now practically known to the entire wizarding world. 

Magical drones had captured footage of him defeating Grindelwald, and countless witnesses had seen the colossal black dragons battling over London. Soon, Cyrus's status in the magical community would likely be regarded as equal to, if not greater than, Dumbledore's in terms of power. 

However, his mind was preoccupied with the question of why Voldemort had retreated so willingly. 

Fear of the Aurors? 

Of course not! 

There could only be one explanation: the Elder Wand had stopped obeying him. 

"Does that wand belong to me now?" Cyrus mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Yet, he wasn't particularly fixated on the Elder Wand. 

The battle with Voldemort had already demonstrated its strengths and limitations.

No matter how powerful it was, an object that couldn't be fully controlled always came with risks. Cyrus had no intention of being betrayed by a tool one day. 

"Still, this means that of the three Deathly Hallows, I now am the master of two. That leaves only..."

Cyrus was lost in thought when he suddenly heard Harry's voice: "Cyrus!" 

He looked up and saw a head appear out of thin air. 

"Harry, what are you doing here?" 

"I'm here to give you my cloak!"

Harry took off his cloak and handed the final Deathly Hallow to Cyrus.

__________

Read 12 Advance Chapters:

Patreon.com/HornyFBI