The handgun in Harry's hand was a birthday gift from Cyrus, more like an experintal 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 imdiately 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 beca 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 ."
"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.
So unwritten rules, although widely understood, were not ant 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 shimred 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 sothing 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 mont, 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 Arica, 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 embarrassnt would likely cause their officials to lose all credibility on the international stage.
Vinda also seed unfazed by the tension in the room.
The old woman sat calmly, her features and deanor still hinting at the cold beauty she had once been.
The only one visibly anxious was Mada Maxi, 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 Maxi.
Instead, he treated her as he had with Lupin, imprisoning her and placing her under the Imperius Curse.
However, faced with Dumbledore at this mont, Barty didn't dare take any risks. He maintained his disguise as Maxi and ca 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 beco the headmaster of Ilvermorny. Was it your suggestion for Ilvermorny to participate in the Triwizard Tournant?" Dumbledore asked softly, smiling.
Cyrus leaned back slightly, noticing that the mont Dumbledore spoke to him, Madam Vinda's expression darkened a little.
The wrinkles on her face seed to tighten, and the look she gave Cyrus was slightly hostile.
However, from the mont 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 deanor.
Cyrus suspected that she might not be the real Vinda Rosier, but rather soone 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 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 sowhat apprehensive.
"It's been a long ti, Madam Rosier. I was also surprised to hear that you've beco Durmstrang's headmistress," Dumbledore said.
"You can bla 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 sothing she had no choice in.
But such a flimsy excuse wasn't enough to quell Dumbledore's suspicions. The old man's every word seed to be a subtle probe.
"It wasn't easy to co here. Did you co 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 fa 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 ti seed 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 so sunflower seeds, thoroughly enjoying the show, his deanor 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 seed 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 Nurngard! And what about you?
"He wrote you countless letters, using up every piece of parchnt, 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 tornt. Do you know how he spent his ti 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 seed fragile, like a candle flickering in the wind, about to be extinguished.
"Don't tell you're only now beginning to mourn for him," 'Vinda' said coldly.
"He's dead, dead in the forgotten depths of Nurngard."
"From now on, who will love you, Dumbledore?"
The eting room fell into silence once more.
Dumbledore appeared consud by sorrow and guilt. Emotions that he had long buried beneath the surface began to resurface. As long as they remained hidden, everything seed calm. But once unearthed, they lay exposed and raw.
His eyes brimd 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 sentintal," Dumbledore said softly.
"Sentintal?" 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 Tournant," Grindelwald said, like an aged duelist who had just finished a skirmish with Dumbledore, now turning his attention to Cyrus.
"The Triwizard Tournant 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 involvent barely concealed.
"Just because it didn't involve us in the past doesn't an it can't in the future," Cyrus replied calmly. "This tradition has been interrupted before, so why can't it be anded? Turning it into a 'Quadwizard Tournant' 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, gentlen."
"In the past, wizards would stay confined to their little corners of the world, but now, magical governnts have ford in various countries, and the International Confederation of Wizards is functional. Wizards from Europe, South Arica, and North Arica 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 concealnt.
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 soone like Voldemort, who so deeply despised Muggles, could have produced a being like Cyrus from his soul—soone who seed 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 ca 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 tournant," 'Maxi' asked, focusing on the tournant's process, which was crucial for Voldemort's revival.
"I think the tournant doesn't have to be limited to Hogwarts," Cyrus offered a suggestion. "The rules from centuries ago for the Triwizard Tournant seem a bit too outdated, don't you think?"
Barty's proposal received unanimous approval from everyone present. However, the specifics of the tournant content remained unknown, even to Dumbledore.
The final decisions would be made by the Ministry of Magic and, potentially, the governnts 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 tournant remained the sa as in the original, Cyrus thought he might have to mourn for those dragons in advance.
"And, I hope this tournant 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—
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