The handgun in Harry's hand was a birthday gift from Cyrus, more like an experimental product.
It was an alchemically crafted firearm that fired spells instead of bullets.
In fact, it was not the gun itself that was truly valuable, but the magical spell bullets, which were consumables. After all, the alchemical modifications to the gun were simple enough that even Mr. Weasley could manage them.
Fred and George even copied the design and created a replica.
However, since the twins didn't fully understand the inner workings of the gun, the magical bullets backfired.
The spell inscribed on one of the bullets was a curse, and when it exploded, it affected Fred and George directly. Both of them immediately grew enormous front teeth, and even Mr. Weasley couldn't break the curse.
After two days of living with their oversized teeth, Mr. Weasley finally resorted to using a saw to cut them down, restoring them to normal.
For a child growing up in a magical family, though, this kind of mishap wasn't a big deal. After all, when Ron was younger, the twins had once burned a hole in his tongue!
This little accident only made the twins more interested in the alchemical handgun. But with their weak foundation in alchemy, the gun's structure remained unstable.
Most importantly, they had no way to craft the magical spell bullets themselves.
So, once Harry used up all the spell bullets, the handgun became little more than a useless toy.
Harry didn't understand why Hermione was making such a fuss about it.
"Because modifying Muggle objects without permission is illegal, Harry," Mr. Weasley explained on Hermione's behalf. "That law was one I helped write. In fact, most of the laws concerning Muggles were written by me."
"But your car..." Harry glanced at him, trailing off.
"There are always a few loopholes, Harry." Arthur smiled softly and raised a finger to his lips, signaling Harry not to say more.
Some unwritten rules, although widely understood, were not meant to be spoken aloud.
After the enchanted car was discovered two years ago, Arthur had gotten into a bit of trouble—he almost lost his job. But that incident had been part of a larger, unseen conflict between Dumbledore, the Ministry, and the pure-blood families led by the Malfoys. Once Dumbledore returned to the school, the matter quietly faded away.
Harry followed Mr. Weasley into the stadium, joining tens of thousands of people walking along the purple-red carpet, gradually taking their seats.
Everything here was astonishing. The floors were covered in velvet, and the most luxurious seats were in the uppermost box, where the chairs shimmered in purple and gold, radiating opulence as if everything was bathed in a golden light.
Harry couldn't resist reaching out to touch them, but he quickly pulled his hand back as if pricked by a needle, afraid of damaging something and being asked to pay for it.
While waiting for the event to begin, Harry saw Mr. Weasley constantly shaking hands with various people.
He hoped that Mr. Cyrus might be among them, but even by the end, Cyrus had not appeared.
At that moment, Cyrus was at the Ministry of Magic.
...
Around a large round table, four individuals sat at the north, south, east, and west corners.
Dumbledore's gaze kept shifting between Cyrus and Vinda, making it clear that he had many things he wanted to say to both of them. This prolonged silence made the atmosphere strange and uncomfortable.
Cyrus, however, wasn't bothered by the awkwardness. His power was his greatest shield, and he made no attempt to hide behind any pretense, sitting before Dumbledore exactly as he was.
In fact, he had made no effort to conceal what he had done in North America, save for the ruckus he caused at the Magical Congress, which had yet to be made public.
There was no need for Cyrus to command it—MACUSA had sealed the news themselves.
After all, if word got out that their Congress had been single-handedly subdued, the embarrassment would likely cause their officials to lose all credibility on the international stage.
Vinda also seemed unfazed by the tension in the room.
The old woman sat calmly, her features and demeanor still hinting at the cold beauty she had once been.
The only one visibly anxious was Madame Maxime, sitting at the other end of the table, her discomfort palpable.
Of course, in reality, her true identity was Barty Crouch Jr. After Voldemort left, Barty abandoned the plan to get rid of Maxime.
Instead, he treated her as he had with Lupin, imprisoning her and placing her under the Imperius Curse.
However, faced with Dumbledore at this moment, Barty didn't dare take any risks. He maintained his disguise as Maxime and came in person.
The problem was—
Was Dumbledore silent because he had seen through the disguise?
Barty began to sweat profusely.
He fidgeted, almost ready to speak, but finally, after a long silence, Dumbledore broke the tension.
He looked toward Cyrus.
"I never expected you to become the headmaster of Ilvermorny. Was it your suggestion for Ilvermorny to participate in the Triwizard Tournament?" Dumbledore asked softly, smiling.
Cyrus leaned back slightly, noticing that the moment Dumbledore spoke to him, Madam Vinda's expression darkened a little.
The wrinkles on her face seemed to tighten, and the look she gave Cyrus was slightly hostile.
However, from the moment she entered the room, Vinda had a cold expression on her face. So aside from Cyrus, no one else noticed the subtle change in her demeanor.
Cyrus suspected that she might not be the real Vinda Rosier, but rather someone else entirely.
But he didn't expose her.
"I opened the Chamber of Secrets. So it's only reasonable that I inherit the school founded by Salazar Slytherin's descendants, isn't it?" Cyrus replied. "Mr. Boot and the students were quite enthusiastic, believing that I'm the Chosen One. They thought no one but me could take on the role of headmaster."
"Are you sure it's enthusiasm and not fear?" Madam Vinda quipped sarcastically.
As soon as she spoke, she finally drew Dumbledore's attention. His gaze shifted toward her, seeming somewhat apprehensive.
"It's been a long time, Madam Rosier. I was also surprised to hear that you've become Durmstrang's headmistress," Dumbledore said.
"You can blame that student of yours, Dumbledore," Vinda responded coldly. "The one called Voldemort, right? If it weren't for him, that sly coward Karkaroff wouldn't have died."
Vinda's tone suggested that becoming headmistress was something she had no choice in.
But such a flimsy excuse wasn't enough to quell Dumbledore's suspicions. The old man's every word seemed to be a subtle probe.
"It wasn't easy to come here. Did you come alone?" Dumbledore's breath grew heavier.
Vinda—or rather, Grindelwald—understood his implication and let out a cold snort. He didn't mince words with Dumbledore and directly asked, "Or do you think he's still alive?"
His icy gaze fixed on Dumbledore, as if subjecting him to an intense interrogation.
"You defeated him, earning fame and respect from everyone for defeating the dark wizard Grindelwald. But is that truly the case? He never really lost his ability to resist. We're all waiting for his return."
To everyone's surprise, the greatest wizard of the time seemed to back down, avoiding Grindelwald's gaze, like a child caught in the wrong, hanging his head.
Barty Crouch Jr. sensed the potential for gossip but dared not ask more.
Cyrus casually picked up some sunflower seeds, thoroughly enjoying the show, his demeanor showing no interest in calming things down.
Grindelwald, of course, noticed Cyrus's laid-back attitude, but he didn't care. His goal was to make Dumbledore uncomfortable, and it seemed he was becoming increasingly aggressive in doing so.
"Do you really believe you defeated him, the one who wielded the legendary Elder Wand? It was never you who defeated Grindelwald; it was 'love.' Otherwise, even in defeat, he wouldn't have willingly allowed himself to be imprisoned in Nurmengard! And what about you?
"He wrote you countless letters, using up every piece of parchment, until he had no choice but to write on scraps of bedsheets. And you—"
"Not a single reply, letting him endure fifty years of lonely torment. Do you know how he spent his time when he wasn't just staring out the window?"
Grindelwald's questioning cut deep, like countless blades plunging into Dumbledore's heart, leaving it bleeding.
The once imposing figure of Dumbledore now seemed fragile, like a candle flickering in the wind, about to be extinguished.
"Don't tell me you're only now beginning to mourn for him," 'Vinda' said coldly.
"He's dead, dead in the forgotten depths of Nurmengard."
"From now on, who will love you, Dumbledore?"
The meeting room fell into silence once more.
Dumbledore appeared consumed by sorrow and guilt. Emotions that he had long buried beneath the surface began to resurface. As long as they remained hidden, everything seemed calm. But once unearthed, they lay exposed and raw.
His eyes brimmed with tears.
"Does love's sting hurt, Dumbledore?" Cyrus interrupted, setting aside his sunflower seeds and breaking the mournful atmosphere.
Dumbledore, realizing his lapse in composure, removed his glasses and used his aged fingers to wipe away the tears from the corners of his eyes.
"Apologies, once you get old, it's hard not to be sentimental," Dumbledore said softly.
"Sentimental?" Grindelwald muttered, clearly displeased with Dumbledore's response, but he didn't press further. In the end, these were the consequences of his own sins, ones he would have to slowly atone for.
"Let's get back to discussing the Triwizard Tournament," Grindelwald said, like an aged duelist who had just finished a skirmish with Dumbledore, now turning his attention to Cyrus.
"The Triwizard Tournament has never had anything to do with Ilvermorny. What are you doing here?" Grindelwald's gaze was stern and rigid, his rejection of Cyrus's involvement barely concealed.
"Just because it didn't involve us in the past doesn't mean it can't in the future," Cyrus replied calmly. "This tradition has been interrupted before, so why can't it be amended? Turning it into a 'Quadwizard Tournament' is not impossible."
As Cyrus spoke, he stood up, leaning forward with his hands pressed firmly on the table.
He spoke slowly, deliberately:
"The world is getting smaller, gentlemen."
"In the past, wizards would stay confined to their little corners of the world, but now, magical governments have formed in various countries, and the International Confederation of Wizards is functional. Wizards from Europe, South America, and North America can now gather and sit together, even though they're half a world apart. The Quidditch World Cup is the best example of this. I believe if we continue to uphold this tradition, more wizarding schools would be willing to join. Having children from across the world learning and competing together would be a good thing."
Cyrus paused, his gaze lingering on the disguised Grindelwald for a few seconds before continuing:
"Only by breaking down barriers can wizards broaden their horizons."
"If he were still alive, perhaps the two of you would have much to discuss," 'Vinda' remarked, seemingly intent on steering Cyrus's words toward the sensitive topic of the relationship between wizards and Muggles.
He wanted to see where Cyrus stood on the issue of the Statute of Secrecy.
"Of course, breaking the barriers between the wizarding and Muggle worlds is part of that as well," Cyrus responded, unfazed by Grindelwald's probing.
The power he wielded now allowed him to speak freely without hesitation or concealment.
Besides, he believed that with Dumbledore's wisdom, it was impossible for him to think that Muggles were entirely worthless. As long as Muggles had strengths, those strengths were worth learning from.
Of all the people present, only Barty Crouch Jr. found Cyrus's views utterly absurd and incomprehensible!
He couldn't fathom how someone like Voldemort, who so deeply despised Muggles, could have produced a being like Cyrus from his soul—someone who seemed to embrace Muggles and even believe that such lowly beings were worth supporting.
'It must be that pathetic, lowly part of the soul that was split off!' Barty thought to himself.
Barty Crouch Jr. had already uncovered Voldemort's secret—the Horcruxes. He also knew how Cyrus came into existence.
Both he and Voldemort believed that Cyrus must be the part of Voldemort's soul connected to Muggles.
Barty was itching to lash out at Cyrus for his hateful views, but in the end, he held back. He hadn't forgotten his current role.
"Whether it's three schools or four schools doesn't really matter. What I want to know is how you plan to conduct the tournament," 'Maxime' asked, focusing on the tournament's process, which was crucial for Voldemort's revival.
"I think the tournament doesn't have to be limited to Hogwarts," Cyrus offered a suggestion. "The rules from centuries ago for the Triwizard Tournament seem a bit too outdated, don't you think?"
Barty's proposal received unanimous approval from everyone present. However, the specifics of the tournament content remained unknown, even to Dumbledore.
The final decisions would be made by the Ministry of Magic and, potentially, the governments of all four magical nations involved.
"I just hope the difficulty is raised a little," Cyrus raised an eyebrow, teasing.
If the difficulty level of the tournament remained the same as in the original, Cyrus thought he might have to mourn for those dragons in advance.
"And, I hope this tournament will be presented to the entire magical world for all wizards to see. I propose that it be hosted by the International Confederation of Wizards. What do you think?" he added.
_______
12 Advance Chapters—Patreon.com/HornyFBI
Let the International Confederation of Wizards host the tournament?
Dumbledore paused for a moment, but quickly realized that Cyrus's proposal was quite reasonable.
His original plan for the Triwizard Tournament was to strengthen the ties between Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts, ensuring that when Voldemort returned, the British magical community wouldn't be left isolated and without allies.
When Voldemort rampaged across Britain over a decade ago, the international community offered little help. This was partly due to Britain's previous stance of standing by during the global chaos caused by Grindelwald, resulting in eventual repercussions that came back to haunt them.
But who could have predicted that Voldemort, after being revived, would be defeated by Cyrus in less than a day?
Still, the planned tournament couldn't just be canceled.
In this context, with Cyrus suddenly proposing to join the competition as Ilvermorny's headmaster, Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to his intentions.
He had made a point to gather information about Cyrus's activities in North America and had even exchanged letters with Boot, the head of Ilvermorny's board.
In those letters, old Butte spoke highly of Cyrus, leading Dumbledore to believe that, unlike Voldemort, Cyrus wasn't likely to take an extremist path. This gave him some peace of mind.
After today's meeting with Cyrus, Dumbledore had an even clearer sense that Cyrus likely wanted to break the International Statute of Secrecy.
To be honest, Dumbledore didn't react to the idea of breaking the Statute with the same level of panic as some might. His opposition to Grindelwald was never just about breaking the Statute but rather about how Grindelwald's extreme methods had caused countless casualties in the process.
Moreover, Dumbledore's attitude towards Muggles was always subtle and difficult to decipher.
But Dumbledore knew well that if Grindelwald had succeeded in breaking the Statute of Secrecy, it would have brought disaster to the world, because the agenda of the "Wizard Supremacists" had originally been devised by Dumbledore himself—for Grindelwald.
At that time, Dumbledore, due to the tragedy in his family, harbored deep hatred for Muggles.
If it weren't for the Muggles, his sister wouldn't have become an Obscurial, his mother wouldn't have died so soon, and his father wouldn't have been imprisoned in Azkaban, where he eventually met a tragic end.
Back then, his heart was filled with hatred!
To be honest, expecting him not to resent Muggles was impossible. As long as he wasn't completely cold-hearted, he couldn't forgive the loss of his loved ones.
But later, especially after Grindelwald fled Godric's Hollow, Dumbledore underwent a profound change. He became quieter, more rational, and began to see the world with a different perspective. He asked himself, again and again: Are wizards inherently good, and Muggles inherently bad? If that were true, why did the person he loved most, Grindelwald, abandon him when he needed him the most?
Why had his sister died under the very spells they cast?
Eventually, Dumbledore realized that from the very beginning, arrogance, prejudice, and fear were the greatest enemies between wizards and Muggles.
Wizards looked down on Muggles, and that was their arrogance. And it wasn't just the pure-blood wizards who felt superior to Muggles; even wizards born to Muggle parents harbored the same arrogance. They thought of themselves as extraordinary, believing that mere Muggles could never stand on equal footing with them.
Arrogance gave rise to prejudice, leading wizards to believe that Muggles were utterly useless.
Grindelwald didn't see it that way.
He believed Muggles had their uses, but much like how a mule pulling a cart has its uses. Very few wizards regarded Muggles as equals.
Cyrus, of course, had his own arrogance.
However, in his view, there was nothing wrong with people taking pride in their natural gifts.
He had never let his power go to his head because he understood better than anyone just how powerful Muggle weapons could be.
As for Muggles, their main emotion toward wizards was fear.
They feared the unknown powers wizards wielded and felt envious of the talents they themselves lacked, which led to exclusion, bullying, and oppression.
Bridging that gap was no simple task. When two completely different worlds collided, the first result would inevitably be conflict and strife. For this reason, Dumbledore remained concerned, believing that neither wizards nor Muggles were prepared for such a change.
Perhaps he was right, but now fifty years had passed, and wizards hadn't made any progress. Rather than being unprepared, it would be more accurate to say they were complacent, lacking the courage to face a new world.
Since they remained stagnant, Cyrus didn't mind giving them a push from behind.
"Very well, then the referees will also be provided by the International Confederation of Wizards. I hope this inter-school competition proceeds smoothly," Cyrus concluded.
Afterward, the four of them discussed other details.
For example, Cyrus expressed his desire for the entire competition to be broadcast live; otherwise, it would lose much of its appeal for the audience. He also proposed that instead of individual champions, the competition should feature teams.
This was something that had never been done before in the Triwizard Tournament.
In the end, they all reached an agreement.
Now, all that remained was to wait a few months for the official start of the Quadwizard Tournament.
"Until then!" Dumbledore stood up from his seat, the obsidian ceiling above reflecting the image of his wizard robes.
Cyrus and the others also rose from their chairs and made their way outside.
At that moment, Dumbledore called out to Grindelwald.
"Ms. Vinda Rosier, might you have a few minutes to spare?"
"I'd be happy to," Grindelwald replied.
The two of them stayed behind.
Naturally, neither Cyrus nor Barty would be so tactless as to interrupt them, especially Barty Crouch Jr., who was eager to get back and prepare for the tournament.
He had no time to concern himself with Dumbledore's personal matters.
So, Cyrus and Barty walked out of the meeting room together, strolling side by side down the empty, dark corridor.
"You're really tall, Madam Maxime," Cyrus casually remarked.
Cyrus himself wasn't short—he stood nearly as tall as Dumbledore—but when standing next to Maxime, he only reached her chest.
"I'm just big-boned," Barty, disguised as Madam Maxime, replied with a slightly displeased expression, sounding awkward. After that, he didn't say another word.
Barty Crouch Jr.'s ability to deceive so many people came from his attention to detail.
When he transformed into someone, like Lupin, he would live exactly as Lupin would. Now, it was the same with Maxime.
He knew that her heritage was a sensitive subject, something Maxime was ashamed of. So, when Cyrus brought it up, he immediately showed a look of anger and abruptly ended the conversation.
For the remainder of their walk, they said nothing until they reached the end of the corridor, where two figures, one in black and one in white, appeared.
Bellatrix Lestrange, dressed in a black gown, stood with her curved wand pointed at a man.
The man was someone Cyrus knew all too well—Lucius Malfoy.
"What are you doing here, Lucius Malfoy?" Bellatrix's tone was icy, and the look she gave Lucius was far from friendly.
"I just have something to discuss with—my master," Lucius Malfoy pressed his dry, cracked lips tightly together, his face ashen. His hands clenched the gentleman's cane so hard they turned white.
He clearly wasn't doing well.
Although he didn't want to back down in front of Bellatrix, his lack of confidence was obvious. His usual arrogance was gone.
"Your master?" Bellatrix sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "You're not talking about that noseless monster, are you? If so, you should be looking for him in a grave!"
"I mean Mr. Cyrus," Malfoy stiffly replied.
But Bellatrix violently flicked her wand at Lucius. The tip of the wand transformed into a whip, which lashed across his face, leaving a bloody gash.
"You think you're worthy of calling our master by name?" Bellatrix's voice was ice cold.
She bore a deep grudge against Lucius for not stepping through the flames and pledging his loyalty to Cyrus. She was furious about his lack of commitment. If she weren't working at the Ministry of Magic and with the Triwizard Tournament looming, Bellatrix wouldn't have wasted words on Lucius.
Even if she didn't kill him, he would not have escaped the agony of the Cruciatus Curse.
"You pathetic creature, a sneaky rat running in both directions!" Bellatrix spat venomously.
She was no saint. Although Cyrus had freed Bellatrix from the harmful effects of dark magic with ancient spells, her cruel nature had not changed.
Cyrus didn't need someone kind and gentle—he needed a blade that could kill.
However, this time, Bellatrix had misunderstood Lucius.
In fact, Lucius had remained with Voldemort under Cyrus's orders. What Cyrus hadn't expected was to see him here.
'Could this be Voldemort's doing?'
Cyrus wondered as he walked over to Lucius.
"No need to be so harsh on my friend, Bellatrix," Cyrus intervened, stopping Bellatrix from further tormenting Lucius. At the same time, he noticed Lucius avoiding his gaze.
No—
Cyrus discreetly shifted his eyes, glancing toward the disguised Maxime who had accompanied him.
'Lucius is wary of her,' he thought.
Suspicion arose in Cyrus's mind, but he didn't voice it. Instead, he warmly greeted Lucius, maintaining the facade of cordiality.
"How have you been, Lucius? Following that poor master of yours, I doubt you're living well," Cyrus teased, his face full of mockery. "Now that you've come to me, are you planning to betray him and pledge your loyalty to me again?"
"I was foolish before, my Lord..." Lucius's voice trembled as he lowered his head, seemingly terrified of Cyrus's wrath. "But now, I am determined to return to your side and serve you once more!"
His groveling display was clearly intended for Maxime's eyes.
Cyrus hadn't expected Lucius's acting skills to be so refined. It seemed that anyone who could stay close to Voldemort wasn't entirely without talent.
"You're a smart man, Lucius, but betrayal is shameful. How can I trust you not to betray me as well?" Cyrus asked softly.
"It was never betrayal, my Lord!" Lucius choked out, "I just followed the wrong person..."
"A convenient excuse," Cyrus sneered. Lucius's face immediately filled with fear, and even Barty Jr., standing nearby, showed a slight change in his expression.
His eyebrows furrowed, as though finding Cyrus's suspicion and wariness excessive and troublesome.
Barty had simply intended to plant a spy at Cyrus's side, much like Snape.
And his options were limited—Lucius, who had once helped resurrect Cyrus, was the most suitable choice.
Seeing that Cyrus was resistant, Barty had almost given up hope. But just then, Cyrus changed his tone.
"But I suppose I should give you a chance. You did help bring me back, didn't you? I don't mistreat those who've helped me, Lucius," Cyrus said, without even glancing at Barty, though he was watching Barty's every move intently.
"Thank you, my Lord..." Lucius whimpered like a weeping maiden.
At this moment, Barty, still in his Maxime disguise, showed a timely display of confusion. His large, elegant face, which resembled that of a statuesque figure, wore a puzzled expression.
"Sorry, I overheard you saying 'Lord'? Are you a noble, perhaps?" Barty asked in a high-pitched voice.
"Yes, sometimes they call me the Dark Lord," Cyrus smiled at him mockingly, "though I really don't like that title. You know, only the losers are called Dark Lords. The victor is always known as 'the greatest wizard.' But some fools don't get that and feel proud of it!"
After saying this, Cyrus let out a soft laugh and turned, leaving the room with Bellatrix and Lucius in tow, not looking back.
As soon as they exited the Ministry, Cyrus immediately performed Apparition and Side-Along Apparition, transporting Bellatrix and Lucius across half the world, directly to the front gate of Ilvermorny.
Upon landing, Lucius wobbled, clutching his stomach in discomfort. He hunched over, retching slightly.
Bellatrix, however, was accustomed to Cyrus's long-distance Apparition. After a few steps, her discomfort completely disappeared.
"Go on, tell me what happened."
Cough, "He wanted to place a spy by your side," Lucius answered, as Cyrus had expected.
Bellatrix, however, looked shocked.
From the conversation between Cyrus and Lucius, it was clear that Lucius wasn't a recent defector still earning trust. Quite the opposite—he had been serving Cyrus for a long time.
"Voldemort's orders?"
Lucius shook his head. "No, it was Barty Crouch Jr.'s orders. The Dark... the Dark Lord has disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. This caught him by surprise.
Voldemort was now just a soul fragment. If he wasn't staying with his loyal followers, where could he have gone?
"I don't know," Lucius shook his head. "I guess even Barty doesn't know. He just told us that during the Dark Lord's absence, we must follow all of his instructions."
"I think he must have some plan. Otherwise, he wouldn't continue pushing for the Triwizard Tournament in such a weakened state."
When Lucius said this, Bellatrix's face clearly showed concern.
But Cyrus didn't seem bothered.
"No need to worry. Even if he has a plan, so what?"
"I'm here!"
_____________
12 Advance Chapters—Patreon.com/HornyFBI
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