Chapter 141: Cyrus: Only the failures are called Dark Lords
A/N: Here is a fking big chapter! Enjoy!
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"Come out, Tom Riddle, or do you now call yourself Cyrus?"
Voldemort's voice was hoarse, speaking softly yet his voice carried to every corner, as if there were speakers whispering from each corner.
There was no other movement in the flames, which made him slightly dissatisfied.
But Voldemort did not get angry; his anger was reserved for lowly servants and filthy Mudbloods.
For someone who might be himself, he showed much more tolerance.
His fingers intertwined deftly as he leaned against the exit of the vault, displaying a range of emotions. It was as if he were here to reunite with an old friend he hadn't seen in years.
"Tom Riddle is the culprit who caused terror attacks at Hogwarts this entire school year. He opened the legendary Chamber of Secrets..." Voldemort softly recited the article published in the newspaper.
"When I saw this news, do you know how surprised I was? I was in the dark forests of Albania, pathetically possessing those lowly serpents and rats. Yet at that time, another person under my name was causing chaos at Hogwarts and remained free."
"I am very curious—and eagerly want to know—who exactly are you?"
The young wizard's features changed, morphing into a gray, snake-like face. Of course, unlike the resurrected Voldemort in the original story, this version still had a nose.
"Come on, let me see who you really are. Step forward, don't be shy."
His tone was exceptionally tolerant, like a patient teacher willing to forgive his students' mistakes.
At that moment, the flames burning within the secret vault suddenly changed color.
No longer red like dragon fire, they turned a ghostly blue.
They resembled an endless field of bluebells swaying like waves in the howling wind.
It was as if they were alive, parting to reveal a clear space.
There, Cyrus stood with a cold expression, staring through the flames at the man whose name couldn't even be mentioned.
The two looked at each other, and Voldemort was momentarily stunned.
He had almost forgotten how handsome he used to be.
After a moment, he slowly spoke:
"I have to say, adding a touch of gold to your hair does suit you. If I had done that back then, getting the cup and the locket would have been easier."
"I'm not here to reminisce about old times. Neither of us are the type to dwell on the past, are we?" Cyrus was extremely calm at this moment.
He hadn't expected to encounter Voldemort here, but he felt no fear.
A Voldemort using someone else's body was clearly not at full strength.
Of course, Cyrus had only recently been revived himself, and his current magical abilities were far from Voldemort's peak. Otherwise, he wouldn't be so eager to pursue the power of ancient magic.
At this moment, if he were to clash with Voldemort, the outcome would be uncertain.
Moreover, Voldemort was using a body that could be replaced at any time, while Cyrus's body had been painstakingly resurrected.
There was no need for Cyrus to fight to the death with Voldemort; even if he won, there would be no real benefit.
But if the other party came looking for a fight, that was another matter entirely.
"You're mistaken. In some respects, I am very interested in old items. For instance, I want to know what happened to the diary I left behind years ago?" Voldemort's face turned cold, his voice becoming more severe.
"That's an interesting question," Cyrus mimicked Voldemort's tone.
It wasn't difficult; Voldemort's essence was a calm madness. Calmness was merely a facade, while madness was his true nature.
The moment Cyrus appeared before Voldemort, he had already planned what to say.
Holding his exquisite wand in his right hand, he remained alert to any potential battle. On the surface, however, he simply moved it elegantly in front of him, as if showcasing himself:
"The diary, huh? It's right in front of you!"
At that moment, it was as if even time stood still.
For a long while, neither of them spoke or moved. They stood motionless like wooden figures, their wands not pointed at each other, but the tension in the air was palpable.
Whether it would lead to a conversation or a duel was uncertain.
Cyrus's inner thoughts were, of course, anxious, for he was facing the most powerful dark wizard, one on par with Dumbledore. However, he felt no fear.
Moreover, he quickly realized that Voldemort, like himself, was not entirely confident. The Dark Lord also had his reservations.
Whether Voldemort was worried about his current strength or unsure if Cyrus still possessed the characteristics of a Horcrux, he was hesitant to act. For Cyrus, this was a good sign.
'Could I actually take the initiative here?' Cyrus couldn't help but wonder.
He certainly didn't like being led by the nose.
"I didn't expect you to dare show yourself in front of me."
Having made up his mind, Cyrus immediately launched a verbal offensive. This tactic aimed to catch Voldemort off guard and sow doubt.
Voldemort indeed seemed taken aback.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Mean? You were defeated by a child. Twice!" Cyrus stared at him coldly, as if Voldemort had brought some great shame upon him.
"Twelve years ago on that night, the arrogant Dark Lord was defeated by a one-year-old baby. How absurd is that, don't you think?" Cyrus asked softly.
He kept his distance from Voldemort, standing far apart, watching Voldemort's twisted face in the firelight.
"And you've lived in this state ever since? You're nothing but a pathetic wretch."
"That's false!" Voldemort snapped angrily.
"It had nothing to do with Harry Potter. I was defeated by Lily Potter's ancient magic. If not for that magic, I wouldn't have ended up like this!"
"We all thought you were dead," Cyrus continued, the "we" referring to the Horcruxes.
"After that night, I couldn't sense your presence, so I had to go through all the trouble to revive and continue our great work."
"Fortunately, Lucius was obedient."
Cyrus's words were a way to exonerate Malfoy.
After all, his current revival wouldn't have been possible without Lucius's help.
He wasn't the type to burn bridges.
"Lucius? Yes, yes, he's been a good servant," Voldemort mused.
While the truly loyal Death Eaters were in Azkaban, many, like Lucius, had sought to save themselves. At least Lucius Malfoy didn't try to escape by betraying other Death Eaters like Karkaroff had.
"But now, you see, I'm not dead. I think you know best that on the path to immortality, no one has gone further than us!" Voldemort couldn't help but feel proud whenever he mentioned this.
He had created an unprecedented number of Horcruxes to ensure he could always make a comeback.
Although the Horcrux in front of him seemed somewhat out of his control, he deemed it inconsequential.
He believed that he would be the one who understood himself the best, and if he could join forces with himself, then he would no longer have to fear Dumbledore.
So Voldemort changed his tone, with a snake-like greed in his speech:
"Now it's different, isn't it?"
"Indeed, it is different, you are weaker than before," Cyrus said mockingly. (A/N: Pfft!)
He ruthlessly exposed Voldemort's scars, making Voldemort feel the bloody humiliation.
"No, I mean, we can cooperate!" Voldemort's snake-like eyes were gleaming, "I have to admit, neither of us would be a match for Dumbledore, but if we two unite? There will be no one more intimate than us in this world, we are essentially the same person!
Killing Dumbledore would be a piece of cake. Not to mention we've now found ancient magic-"
Voldemort became more and more excited, as if conquering Hogwarts, ruling over the entire Britain, even Europe or the whole world, were all within reach.
But Cyrus interrupted his impassioned fantasy.
"We? I'm sorry, you're mistaken, it's me. And only me!" Cyrus said coldly.
The blue flames stretching between the two seemed to delineate the boundary between them.
Upon hearing this, Voldemort's expression also turned cold, and a murderous intent seemed to flow in his eyes like a blood-red river.
He stared at Cyrus with his vertically slit pupils for several seconds, then spoke in a low voice:
"Do you dare to try to replace me?"
Cyrus could see that if he even hinted at such an intention, Voldemort would not hesitate to kill him.
But he was not afraid now.
"Replace you? I have no interest in replacing a failure," Cyrus said indifferently.
"However, I must remind you that after you were defeated by that boy, you hid in the dark forests of Albania, and many people are aware of this. Dumbledore happens to know about this as well."
"I don't need you to remind me, that was information I deliberately released, as I thought I could wait for some loyal servants to come help revive me, but hmph..."
Voldemort did not continue dwelling on the topic of whether the Death Eaters were loyal, and continued, "Dumbledore did come to Albania to find me a few times. He wanted to completely kill me, but he could never succeed! He is powerless against me! As long as the Horcruxes are not destroyed, I am immortal!
But you are different, you were revived from a Horcrux, and you may even be the Horcrux itself. You can be destroyed." Voldemort tempted him, "Come, cross through the flames and return to my side, then you will no longer face the threat of death."
"Is that so? Have you ever thought about the fact that you waited 10 years in that stinking gutter and no servant came to you, but then in the year that boy was about to go to Hogwarts, a wizard who was about to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor just happened to go to Albania?
Have you ever thought about who it was that brought the news of the Philosopher's Stone being able to revive you to your ears?
Have you ever thought about how the news of my escape from Azkaban traveled such a long distance to reach Albania?
Who wanted you to know this information?
And who was it that spoonfeeding-ly led this dark wizard before you, allowing him to become your vessel?"
The more Cyrus spoke, the worse Voldemort's expression became.
He was now starting to realize a terrible truth -
And Cyrus had helped him voice this truth that he dared not confront directly.
"It was Dumbledore!"
"You're not as stupid as I thought, I was worried that creating so many Horcruxes had scrambled your brain."Cyrus scoffed, "He wanted to verify whether the prophecy between the Dark Lord and that boy was true, he wanted to see if Lily Potter's magic was still in effect. Now, he wants to see what kind of reaction will occur when the two Voldemorts meet, that's why you're able to stand before me, understand?"
Cyrus's words left Voldemort feeling suffocated.
Voldemort had always lived in Dumbledore's shadow, and he was the only person Voldemort truly feared.
Now, someone - this person was very likely to be himself - was telling him that everything he had done over the past 10 years was under Dumbledore's control.
Dumbledore allowed him to live, and Dumbledore forced him to hide in Albania, where he could only rely on filthy beasts to survive.
Of course, he was not so frightened by Dumbledore.
The Horcruxes were his ace in the hole. As long as Dumbledore couldn't destroy all of his Horcruxes, he would not die.
As long as he did not die, he could outlast that old man.
Furthermore, now that he had Cyrus, the two of them could work together. If he alone could not defeat Dumbledore, there was no way the two of them couldn't.
"I'm sure he thinks we are narrow-minded and cannot coexist, hoping to see us destroy each other." Voldemort laughed, "But he is wrong, I could never harm my own Horcrux."
However, Cyrus did not laugh.
He suddenly realized a very serious problem.
After transmigrating, he had indeed fused with a small, broken fragment of Voldemort's soul.
Perhaps he was like Harry, a human Horcrux of Voldemort as well.
After Voldemort was defeated by the magic of love, the connection between him and his previous Horcruxes was severed, which is why Cyrus had not considered this issue before.
But now, he is likely forced to face this reality.
He does not want this extreme person, Voldemort, to live, but he also does not want to trade his own death for Voldemort's.
"If that is what he wishes, then we cannot give in to his desires!" Voldemort said seriously, "And once we join forces, Dumbledore will be of no concern."
Cyrus emerged from his worries - thinking too much about it now is useless, the urgent task at hand is to resolve the current trouble.
As for Voldemort's proposal to join forces, he had no hope in it.
If the two of them were to work together, did that mean Dumbledore couldn't find any allies?
There was still a wizard who had guarded Nurmengard for half a century!
Although Grindelwald was also a dangerous individual, he was completely different from a lunatic like Voldemort.
If Dumbledore truly felt the situation was beyond salvaging, Cyrus was not certain that he wouldn't seek Grindelwald's help.
In that case, even if he and Voldemort joined forces, they would have no advantage.
Grindelwald himself was a wizard no less skilled than Dumbledore, and the two of them could be considered on roughly the same level, with any differences being negligible. Moreover, Dumbledore had the Elder Wand and the Order of the Phoenix who were willing to sacrifice their lives for a noble cause, while Grindelwald had the loyal Pureblood Party called "Acolytes".
These were not things that the drunken layabouts of the Death Eaters could compare to.
In short, Cyrus was not optimistic about the prospect of joining forces with Voldemort.
Moreover, he and Voldemort were not on the same side to begin with.
He didn't care whether Voldemort lived or died, and he had no need to confront Dumbledore.
What benefit would there be for him to go against the greatest wizard of the century?
Cyrus only wanted to obtain ancient magic and become stronger.
"Come, come over here. We are essentially the same person, closer than brothers."
Voldemort was still beckoning to him.
"We were born to wield power, we can become the Dark Lords who instill fear!"
"I have no interest in instilling fear in others. And furthermore-" Cyrus shook his head, looking at Voldemort with disdain.
"Only the failures are called Dark Lords!"
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