Chapter 243: Chapter 243: Dumbledore Vs Cyrus
This news spread like wildfire. Even before Dumbledore had set off, every young witch and wizard in the stands had already heard whispers about it.
Even Cornelius Fudge, who had come from the Ministry of Magic to watch the event, was shocked by the rumor. He couldn't believe that someone would be foolish enough to challenge either Dumbledore or Grindelwald!
After all, while Fudge had grown more independent and was eager to break free from Dumbledore's influence, this was only because he was certain of Dumbledore's peaceful nature—he knew Dumbledore wouldn't actually harm him.
As for going head-to-head with Dumbledore?
Fudge doubted that even if the entire Ministry of Magic's wizards teamed up, they would only be able to harm Dumbledore in the slightest.
"Completely mad," he muttered, shaking his head as best as he could with his fat neck barely visible beneath his head.
"I think he's just looking for revenge," Umbridge said in her sickly sweet voice. "Isn't this the same man who was subdued by Dumbledore before? Clearly, he still doesn't understand the difference between himself and the greatest wizard."
Although the Ministry and Dumbledore had grown somewhat distant, Dumbledore still represented the face of the British magical world. Umbridge and Fudge naturally regarded Dumbledore as one of their own—even as an extension of the Ministry.
"I'll bet thirty Galleons that Dumbledore will take care of this kid in less than five minutes," Ludo Bagman laughed excitedly. "And that's with Dumbledore being kind to a young man."
"You think so?" Arthur Weasley, sitting nearby, raised an eyebrow.
Though Arthur preferred to believe in Dumbledore's superior power, his daughter just so happened to be a huge fan of Cyrus. Thanks to her, Arthur had a clear understanding of Cyrus's abilities.
"Thirty Galleons, how about a bet, Ludo?" Arthur smiled. "I believe Dumbledore won't win in less than half an hour."
Molly angrily nudged Arthur in the side, whispering furiously in his ear, "What are you doing?"
"We don't even have a single Galleon to spare! Besides, Bagman's a cheat—did you forget how much he lost at the Quidditch World Cup and tried to settle his debts with fake galleons?"
Molly's words did make Arthur hesitate.
To be honest, Ludo's reputation for honesty was indeed questionable. If it weren't for his role as Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports in organizing the tournament, he might still be on the run from debt collectors.
But this time, Ludo seemed confident that he was going to win. He placed thirty Galleons right in front of Arthur and Molly.
"Here is the real deal!"
Apart from that one time Molly went to Gringotts with Harry to withdraw money, she hadn't seen that many Galleons in a long time.
"Alright! Thirty Galleons it is. You're betting that Dumbledore or Grindelwald can't defeat that Cyrus in less than half an hour, right? Otherwise, I win!" Ludo slyly broadened the terms of his bet. Five minutes might not be a sure thing, but half an hour? He was convinced that was foolproof.
With someone so eager to hand over money, even Molly couldn't argue against it. She just sternly reminded Arthur to make sure the children never found out, so they wouldn't start gambling like Ludo Bagman.
"Alright then, I'll be your witness," Fudge jumped in, his beady eyes glistening as he looked at Arthur. "Arthur, looks like you're going to lose this one."
Ludo let out a loud cheer just as Dumbledore began walking toward the Forbidden Forest. "Look now! Dumbledore's heading into the forest."
On the screen, Dumbledore's crooked nose stood out prominently.
At the exact moment Dumbledore stepped into the Forbidden Forest, Cyrus, who had been standing still with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them.
Though it appeared he had been resting with his eyes shut, in reality, Cyrus had been casting a heightened sense spell, his mind sending out pulses like a radar.
"Oh? You took a different direction, huh? Dumbledore."
Just as everyone had speculated, Cyrus was indeed waiting for Dumbledore. However, he wasn't rushing to challenge the wielder of the Elder Wand, just testing the waters first.
He tracked the direction in which Dumbledore had entered the Forbidden Forest. It was a bit far, but for him, that posed no problem.
Cyrus cast a flying spell. Although the rules prohibited flying, he stayed close to the ground, like a whirlwind dashing along, so it technically didn't count as breaking the rules.
Dumbledore was still adjusting to the damp and chilly air of the forest when Cyrus crossed half a mile in an instant, appearing before him through a veil of mist.
Cyrus didn't opt for a sneak attack but made his appearance boldly.
The emerald-green snake coiled around his wrist slithered down, transforming into a wand in his hand. Dumbledore, unfazed, summoned the Elder Wand into his grasp.
The two of them stood amidst the foggy forest, as if the frozen beams of sunlight around them had become the walls of an arena.
"You know, this reminds me of our battle not long ago at the Shrieking Shack," Dumbledore reminisced with a smile. "Though it wasn't that long ago, everything seems so different now. Old men are often left behind by time, don't you think?"
"I think we just need to fight now," Cyrus responded coldly as he struck. A spell shot out, and the surge of magical power shattered the surrounding mist in an instant!
Even the beams of light twisted violently for a moment!
Dumbledore swiftly flicked his wand, conjuring a whip that cracked against Cyrus's spell, detonating it and obscuring Cyrus's view.
In the next instant, Dumbledore vanished from where he stood, reappearing silently behind Cyrus. A powerful spell transformed into a massive arrow, speeding towards Cyrus's back!
At the Quidditch stadium.
Ginny and Hermione watched, heart in their throats. Although the spell took the form of an arrow, it looked potent enough to take down dragons and giants.
They doubted even the sturdiest fortress walls could withstand it!
Sure enough, on the screen, Cyrus seemed to sense Dumbledore's attack from behind. His body transformed into a cloud of white smoke, dispersing just as the arrow pierced through him.
He reformed a short distance away.
BANG!
The arrow slammed into the trunk of a massive redwood tree, nearly ten meters in diameter. The tree trunk exploded into nothing, not even leaving behind dust.
Only the top branches intertwined with other trees remained, suspending the shattered remains of the redwood in mid-air.
"Is he insane?!" Ron almost jumped up from his seat. "Is Dumbledore actually trying to kill Cyrus?"
"Quiet!" Ginny snapped, tugging angrily at Ron's robes, pulling him back into his seat.
"What's wrong? Don't you two care at all?" Ron asked angrily. "I thought you both cared about Cyrus!"
"We just have confidence in Cyrus," Hermione said irritably. "It was much more dangerous when he fought Voldemort."
Hearing that, Ron finally quieted down.
He had indeed heard Harry describe some of the battles between Cyrus and Voldemort. Apparently, like Harry, even the Killing Curse couldn't kill Cyrus.
Considering that, Dumbledore's attack might not be such a big deal.
But not far from them, Neville was both tense and furious, his gaze shifting between the screen and the highest section of the stands—where Bellatrix Lestrange sat, the woman responsible for his parents' suffering.
Neville couldn't understand why Cyrus, who was a friend of Harry's, would associate with Death Eaters.
The answer was actually simple. Cyrus wasn't like Dumbledore, a saint.
He didn't particularly care about Bellatrix's past crimes. Whether it was Bellatrix or the other Death Eaters who had pledged allegiance to him, to Cyrus, they were nothing more than tools—his blades.
He didn't care how many people this blade had killed in the past or how cruelly it had treated its enemies. All that mattered was that Bellatrix was loyal to him and that she was sharper and more capable than most other Death Eaters.
That was enough for him.
The world doesn't revolve around any single person.
Even though Neville couldn't understand, the battle continued.
Cyrus and Dumbledore had already exchanged several rounds, with countless spells flying past them, each barely missing, close enough to snatch their lives.
The wizards in the Quidditch stadium had never witnessed such an intense and thrilling duel before.
For a moment, the entire stadium fell into dead silence. Everyone held their breath, afraid that the slightest noise might disturb the duel unfolding on the screen.
In the scene, Cyrus suddenly vanished, his figure seemingly appearing in several places at once.
"Multiple Apparitions at the same time?" Dumbledore frowned slightly.
There was no spell to create multiple copies of oneself, so Cyrus had likely performed several Apparitions simultaneously, briefly manifesting in different spots around him.
This technique demanded extraordinary skill from a wizard. Even a single Apparition carried the risk of Splinching, and using it in such a manner could easily lead to being torn apart if anything went wrong!
Yet, not only had Cyrus avoided being dismembered, but he had also managed to surround Dumbledore, launching powerful spells from several directions at once.
Four or five bright red beams of magic slashed towards Dumbledore in unison, leaving him with no escape.
He had no choice but to face them head-on!
However, Dumbledore didn't seem worried at all.
He stepped back slightly, and with a flick of the Elder Wand, he caught one of the spells, as if it were a lightning rod drawing in the attack. With a swift motion, he redirected that spell toward another incoming one from behind.
Then, at some unknown point, Dumbledore had cast an Undetectable Extension Charm, lengthening the distance of the third spell's trajectory. With a sidestep, he evaded the attack, then directly parried the fourth spell, knocking it into the fifth incoming curse.
All of this happened in an instant.
For a brief moment, he was surrounded by chaotic beams of light, seemingly on the brink of danger, yet he effortlessly resolved all the challenges with grace.
"This is a skill, Cyrus. Sometimes, there's no need for a direct clash," Dumbledore said casually. "Raw magical power isn't everything."
Cyrus half-expected him to follow up with, "Traditional spells are about using force efficiently."
"You're right," Cyrus replied, lowering his wand. He hadn't used his full strength, and neither had Dumbledore, it seemed.
But as a probe, this level of engagement was sufficient. Another reason was the arrival of a white-haired wizard rushing impatiently towards their battlefield—Grindelwald, who was practically charging at them.
He didn't care for fairness and launched a sneak attack immediately. However, the spell didn't target either of them directly but exploded between Cyrus and Dumbledore.
It felt more like a trumpet blast, announcing his entry into the fray.
With an arrogant tilt of his head and a smirk that stretched his face without any real mirth, Grindelwald sneered, "You two seem to be having quite the fun—mind if I join in?"
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