This blue fire and the phrase "I hate goblins" always brought a sweet sting to Dumbledore, like gripping a fragrant rose tightly in his palm.
Of course, he showed no expression on the surface.
As the greatest wizard, he wouldn't be easily affected by a spell and a phrase.
The fire shield was not an ordinary spell. It was a combination of Fiendfyre and multiple defensive spells, and very few wizards could cast it.
To be honest, in this era, apart from Aurors, any wizard who could properly use the Shield Charm was already quite talented, let alone a combination spell...
The fire shield incorporated many dark magic elents and advanced defensive spells, making it difficult for even a typical spell master to cast. Grindelwald, as the creator of this spell, had never shared its secrets with anyone.
Dumbledore hadn't expected Cyrus to have replicated this spell, and with power comparable to the original.
The ghostly blue flas surged like ocean currents, overwhelming and consuming the goblins that had surrounded them!
The small bodies moved through the fire like malevolent spirits, seemingly unfazed by the pain. They advanced through the flas and turned to ash within them!
McGonagall watched in shock. Even though wizard chess pieces were lifeless, she still worried about becoming a pawn, but these goblins...
Dumbledore's face was also filled with solemnity.
"It seems that Niamh was right; Tom has indeed taken a very wrong path."
Dumbledore's words caught Cyrus's attention.
Niamh Fitzgerard, the headmistress with whom Cyrus had recently debated, seed to have shared valuable insights with Dumbledore. This indicated that Dumbledore might know even more about ancient magic than Cyrus did.
"What do you know, Albus?" Minerva asked quickly.
This ti, Dumbledore didn't hold back: "This is the power of pain!" he said gravely.
Dumbledore often said that the greatest magic in the world was "love." However, this wasn't entirely accurate. For wizards, the significance lay not rely in a specific emotion but in the extre power that an emotion could bring. Just like Lily's love, and now the "pain" being unleashed!
To be precise, it wasn't just pain. The power attached to the goblins seed more like a fusion of negative emotions. To put it more clearly, it was almost like an Obscurus!
Then, Dumbledore explained the source of this power in detail. This terrifying magic stemd from the sorrow within a person's heart. A witch who had mastered ancient magic extracted these emotions from others.
Initially, she aid to help those trapped in the quagmire of their own pain. However, as the power accumulated, the negative emotions began to affect the caster herself.
"Eventually, she too was controlled by this power and beca a slave to it," Dumbledore sighed.
Dumbledore's words weren't ant for everyone else; they were specifically directed at Cyrus. Among all present, only Cyrus had the ability to perceive the echoes of ancient magic.
"I hope you understand that being obsessed with such power will only lead to losing oneself. Even if you intend to use it to help others, it may not yield a good outco. Pain and joy are inseparable. How can soone who has never known pain truly appreciate happiness?"
Dumbledore wasn't glorifying suffering; knowing pain and experiencing it are not the sa.
Even a person born without worries still retains the capacity to feel pain. It's similar to how so suffering you haven't experienced yourself can still evoke empathy when you hear about it from others, causing you to feel sad for their misfortune.
A person incapable of feeling sorrow is also incapable of feeling joy, let alone sympathy for others' suffering. If soone lives in such a manner, can it truly be called living? This reminded Dumbledore of the prophecy concerning the Deathly Hallows.
"Just like those resurrected by the Resurrection Stone, even if they have a breathing body, they are not truly alive."
Dumbledore wished that people in this world wouldn't have to experience pain but still retain the ability to feel it.
Cyrus could sowhat agree with this.
In the world of Harry Potter, magic differs from other systems. There's no notion that "power itself isn't evil." In this world, dark magic is inherently evil, and prolonged use of it can cause a person's heart to beco twisted and extre.
Clearly, Morgana's use of ancient magic was already very close to dark magic. However, the evil part wasn't about extracting emotions from people but rather using those emotions to bolster one's own power.
A person's prolonged inner tornt and suffering can crush them, let alone the act of amassing countless "pains" upon oneself. Even the strongest soul would find it hard to bear!
This is because it's the weight of countless tragic fates and lives.
But—
If one soul isn't enough, what about two?
Cyrus's golden eyes flickered.
It was unrealistic to expect Cyrus to abandon the power within his reach. His own soul was different from others and had absorbed fragnts of Voldemort's soul, which might enable him to endure this power.
Voldemort's own soul was even more peculiar. Born from a love potion, an erroneous life that couldn't understand love, it seed almost naturally suited for dark magic.
However, regardless of his thoughts, Cyrus wouldn't display his current greed in front of Dumbledore.
"You talk a big ga, but I didn't see them do anything impressive," Sirius raised an eyebrow. Despite Dumbledore's lengthy explanation, those goblins still couldn't get close to Cyrus.
The blue flas were deadly to the touch, their shadows rising like the reaper's scythe.
Seeing Cyrus's imnse strength, Sirius felt more confident about the upcoming rescue mission. Although he had been out of prison for a while and had learned of Cyrus's identity, for a typical Gryffindor, first impressions were crucial.
From the beginning, Sirius never thought Cyrus was an entirely bad person. Even now, knowing Cyrus's connection to Voldemort, he didn't consider directing his anger toward him.
Especially since Voldemort himself was still alive, it wouldn't make sense to shift his hatred onto Cyrus.
As for Dumbledore, hearing Sirius's words left him feeling a bit speechless.
Whether the goblins posed a threat depended on who they were facing. Mastering ancient magic didn't an being invincible. If Cyrus struggled significantly against a few goblins, he wouldn't be much of a concern.
"Enough talk, let's focus on rescuing Harry."
Cyrus cut off Dumbledore's attempt to continue his lecture. He stepped forward, and the raging flas split like an ocean, creating a wide path.
——
"My master, there's movent outside..." Peter Pettigrew, always timid, was terrified by the slightest noise.
"What are you afraid of, Wormtail?"
Voldemort looked at him with disdain. If he had anyone else available, he wouldn't tolerate such a worthless follower by his side.
"Do you think I'm no match for Cyrus? Do you think I would lose to an impostor?"
He sneered, his hand as withered as an old tree, and imdiately grabbed the burning Galleon from Harry's pocket. The coin was hot enough to leave a mark on anyone's skin, but Voldemort seed completely unfazed by the pain.
"Petty tricks. This must be sothing Cyrus gave you, right?" Voldemort easily crushed the Galleon.
Of course, at this point, destroying the fake Galleon was aningless. Cyrus was already at the doorstep. There was no way he hadn't noticed the commotion outside.
"You're finished, Voldemort!" Harry spat, lying on the ground, glaring at him with hatred.
Harry's forehead was covered in scabbed blood, his hair sticking together, and his glasses were broken, making him look extrely disheveled.
"Finished?" Voldemort sneered and suddenly cast another spell on Harry.
"Crucio!"
Harry felt as if his flesh was being cut with a dull knife, his heart ground to powder yet still tenuously connected.
Seeing Harry's agonizing state, Voldemort felt an imnse satisfaction. As for Cyrus, he didn't regard him as a threat at all. After finding Rookwood's castle through Ranrok's mories, he discovered the container of ancient magic there—the goblin magic silver that sealed "pain."
After thoroughly absorbing that power, Voldemort felt significantly stronger!
Now he thought Cyrus's arrival was tily. He wasn't planning to let go of the grudge from being deceived in the Hall of Knowledge!
"You'll see, Harry. Cyrus can't save you, and I will kill him!" Voldemort declared confidently.
"Oh~ Who do you plan to kill?"
Before Voldemort could react, Cyrus's sowhat playful voice echoed in the room.
Then, there was a thunderous boom!
Boom!!!
A colossal blue beast descended from the sky, instantly enveloping the entire castle!
The fire-ford dragon, larger than the castle itself, coiled its massive body around it, reducing the structure to rubble in an instant!
Harry was stunned. One mont he was in a dilapidated dungeon, and the next, he seed to be in the wilderness. The dark, damp, and cold stone walls had vanished, replaced by the cold, glaring sunlight—the warm blue flas.
He felt as if his limbs had suddenly ward up as if it were spring. The blue flas were fierce and wild but did not harm him at all.
If not for the surrounding ruins, he might have thought he had been transported to another place entirely.
Cyrus used the fire shield to attack the castle precisely because the damage from the fire shield was selective; the flas' power wouldn't harm Harry in the slightest.
At that mont, Voldemort was also standing in the fire. Unlike Harry, he had already cast defensive spells to keep the flas at bay. Wormtail cowered behind Voldemort, his face filled with fear as he looked at the flickering shadow in the fire.
"Stop with these little tricks, Cyrus. You know this can't hurt !" Voldemort said casually.
He had the confidence to say such things.
If he wanted to, he could invent a spell like the Protogo Diabolica too, but there was no need for him.
Incorporating protective spells would only weaken the power of the Fiendfyre. Besides, he knew his own limits; if he created a Fire Shield, Dumbledore wouldn't need to gather the Order of the Phoenix—his own Death Eaters would burn themselves to ashes...
He didn't need loyalty; he only needed to be so powerful that no one dared to betray him.
"Are you here to die, Cyrus?" Voldemort confidently looked at the figure in the fire. "After deceiving , you dare to appear before ? Or did the incident in the Hall of knowledge make you think you could oppose ?"
"Don't be so formal, Tom," Cyrus said, stepping out of the fire with ease. He glanced at Harry, then turned his gaze back to Voldemort.
"It's Christmas today. I've brought you a gift," Cyrus tilted his head slightly, "I promise it will surprise you!"
These words piqued Voldemort's curiosity. He wanted to know what sche this fragnt of his soul, who had betrayed him, was planning.
"Oh, have you finally co to your senses and decided to stand behind ?" Voldemort feigned enthusiasm, though in reality, even if Cyrus truly wanted to join forces with him, Voldemort would never trust soone who had betrayed him.
Cyrus laughed silently, not answering, but another voice had already responded for him.
"You are mistaken, Tom. The gift he brought is ."
Dumbledore, holding the Elder Wand in his right hand, looked at Voldemort with a grave yet teasing expression:
"It hasn't been long since we last parted, and I didn't expect to see you in this state." Dumbledore's gaze flickered between Voldemort's grotesque appearance and Cyrus's handso face several tis, ultimately saying nothing but letting out a sigh.
This silent reaction was more infuriating to Voldemort than any direct insult.
But Voldemort had no patience to dwell on it.
He stared wide-eyed, his blood-red eyes filled with disbelief as he looked at Cyrus.
He had anticipated that Cyrus might find his way here, and he had considered the possibility that Dumbledore might discover his location. But he never imagined in his wildest dreams that Cyrus would bring Dumbledore along!
What did this an? Cat and mouse teaming up?
What kind of "surprise" was this?
It truly was a surprise!
______
⁂̊⁑̥⍋ ´•௰•`๑ ⁑̥⁂̊⍋ I hope Voldy liked his Gift lol.
Read 12 Chaps ahead of everyone!
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