"He'll beco a Squib? Like Filch?" Ron asked in surprise.
He could hardly imagine what life would be like as a Squib. He didn't look down on them—but even he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Filch.
Sotis, when Ron rembered that Filch was a Squib, he didn't even find him all that detestable anymore.
Ron figured that if he ever beca a Squib himself, it would probably feel worse than death.
"That was his choice," Cyrus said.
It was also Grindelwald's reckoning.
Ariana looked at Grindelwald with sympathy. Even though he had once been partly responsible for her death, she still felt a deep pity for the old man.
Of course, there was resentnt too.
Because of Grindelwald, the Dumbledore family had endured too much pain.
Especially her brother, Aberforth.
He had lost a brother, a sister, and his son.
Cyrus didn't plan to stay long. After entrusting Grindelwald to Harry and the others, he turned to leave.
"Herpo is not dead yet. I need to go finish him off," Cyrus said.
"Wait, take with you," Harry stepped forward. "After defeating Herpo, you still have to face Death, don't you?"
He glanced at Grindelwald.
"It takes three immortal souls to oppose Death. But Grindelwald no longer has any power. You should take —I can help you! Because I am the Master of Death!"
Cyrus looked at Harry's serious face, smiled slightly, and shook his head.
"Harry, I think Dumbledore would be incredibly proud of you. You're far nobler than either of us," he said. "But you don't have to do this."
"This isn't your burden to carry," Cyrus continued. "And right now, I'm the Master of Death."
"But—"
"What you should do is take care of Grindelwald… and yourself. Don't let Death claim your souls, alright?" Cyrus said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.
In truth, Cyrus never believed his soul was immortal. He was just an ordinary soul—how could he be compared to soone like Dumbledore?
And from beginning to end, he had never been as fearless of death as Harry was.
He believed that Harry and Grindelwald were the final two of the three immortal souls.
And because of that, he could never allow Harry to go with him in search of Death.
Knowing full well that Death sought Harry's soul, taking him along would be like leading a lamb into the lion's den.
"But—"
"No buts! Don't worry. I'll be fine, just like I always have been." Cyrus's gaze swept over Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron in turn. His expression was calm, as if what he was about to face wasn't the most terrifying enemy in the world, but rely so trivial task.
It was as if he weren't going to confront the most dreadful force in existence, but simply attending to a routine matter.
"All right," Harry nodded and stepped back. "We'll be waiting for you to co back."
He looked to his friends—Ginny and Hermione were both crying.
Then, under all of their gazes, Cyrus picked up the Ti-Turner. He twisted the dial, reversing the hourglass, and the last of the golden sands of ti flowed backward. The golden light shimred and danced.
Everyone watched in astonishnt—including Cyrus himself.
To his amazent, he discovered that everything in the world around him had frozen in place.
Ginny and Hermione's tear-streaked faces were frozen mid-cry, looking a little smudged and awkward.
Everything had turned to grayscale—Cyrus was the only splash of color left in the world.
Then, ti finally began to move—but in reverse. He saw Harry's lips move, but couldn't tell what he was saying. Ti was rewinding, and so were they. Ariana vanished backward into the portrait...
Even he himself was rewinding!
He saw his own gray figure vanish from the spot—that was the shadow he left behind in the flow of ti.
Outside the window, thunder was sucked back into the clouds, lightning flared from its end back to its origin, and the rainwater on the ground surged upward into the black sky—it was a different sea now!
Cyrus walked out of the castle. He could hear the ticking of an invisible clock in his ears as ti rewound. Though it was now a different mont in ti, the sky remained dark.
The castle remained gray, and countless shadows drifted past him like ghosts.
He felt like an outsider—a spectator in a film, watching everything unfold.
Ti kept rewinding. The weather inside the castle cleared up, but the atmosphere turned somber. Cyrus saw Hagrid, tears streaming down his face, carrying Dumbledore's coffin and burying it in the courtyard.
Everyone held their wands aloft in mourning, and a phoenix circled overhead in the sky.
He saw that night—when the despicable Herpo ambushed Dumbledore, and the old man fell from the tower in pain. The one he loved had to witness it all.
Then ca the Triwizard Tournant…
These shadows of ti flashed quickly through Cyrus's world. He knew, clearly, that with just the flick of a finger, he could change everything.
But he also knew that the true past could not be altered. All he could do was, like Voldemort, create several different tilines.
He felt as though he'd entered a tunnel, the old, faded past rushing toward him, only to speed past his body.
Then, he saw himself again.
It was when he had just co back to life, trying to escape Hogwarts.
Watching that still sowhat youthful figure, Cyrus couldn't help but follow him.
He watched himself get defeated by Dumbledore, just like it had happened…
And that's when he suddenly realized—there was sothing he could do, without changing the past.
Thinking of this, he took out his wand and, using three Dentor souls, so ti sand, and ancient magic, granted his younger self a one-ti ti-turning skill, smiled, and left behind a single word: "Revelation."
And so, not long afterward, in a heavy rainstorm, a vague incantation echoed in the mind of the then-young Cyrus.
Ti had finally ford a closed loop.
And he continued ascending upstream.
Then—
Ca the era of the Marauders.
Harry and the others vanished from the halls of the castle, replaced by Jas, Lily, and Snape... All those secretive fragnts of the past unfolded before his eyes one by one, and later, those shadows flickered and vanished quickly, like illusions.
Cyrus was tracing ti back to an era a thousand years ago!
...
"What do we do now?" Ron asked.
After Cyrus left, they once again felt powerless. He wanted to do sothing for their friend, but everything Cyrus was involved in… was far too dangerous.
With their current abilities, there was truly little they could do—nothing that would actually help.
"We can do sothing," Harry said firmly.
He was certain there was still a role for him to play.
First, he had to believe that Cyrus would return victorious from his battle with Death. Second, he could help by rallying more supporters to Cyrus's cause!
"Do you know what Malfoy's been up to?" he asked. "He wrote to earlier—said he's been researching alchemy and Muggle physical chemistry. I think we ought to start preparing too."
Ron looked utterly incredulous.
"Who wrote to you? Malfoy?" he practically shouted. "Tell I misheard that!"
"What's so surprising about it?" Ginny chid in. "Don't you know Dad and Lucius Malfoy are practically best friends now? They're always going on about how certain Muggle inventions are absolute genius! They're even planning to modify a Muggle television. Honestly, it's absurd that wizards are still relying on newspapers!"
"The two families that hated each other most in the world are becoming friends," Ron muttered, shaking his head as they exited the Room of Requirent together. "This world is getting crazier by the day, and it's probably all thanks to Cyrus."
"..."
...
Late at night.
Grindelwald slowly opened his eyes.
At so point, the heavy rain had stopped. He stood up, glanced around, and confird that he had returned to Hogwarts.
A wave of relief washed over him—only to be quickly replaced by emptiness as he rembered that Cyrus was still lost in the river of ti, searching for Herpo's Horcrux, while he himself could do nothing to help.
Now, all he wanted was to quickly make his way to Dumbledore's grave and keep watch there—so Albus wouldn't feel too alone.
And that was exactly what he did.
But when he arrived at the white tomb, his eyes widened in shock!
"Albus?"
_______
♥♥♥
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