Chapter 301: Cyrus isn't worthy of your trust

Harry walked through the corridors of Hogwarts.

The once-familiar castle now gave him an unsettling sense of unfamiliarity.

It felt as if he were no longer in the place where he had lived day and night for years, but in an entirely foreign environment. Every corner, every hallway made him uneasy.

The lighting inside the castle was dim. The bright sunlight outside seemed to be blocked by some magical force. Looking out through the corridor windows, all he could see was a hazy gray expanse, as if the world he was in was not real but an illusion.

Harry glanced outside, inexplicably feeling that the scene before him was eerily similar to the world inside a Pensieve.

But unlike a Pensieve, everything here was real. The walls were solid, and every speck of dust was clearly visible—

The knights inside the castle had disappeared, and even the paintings on the walls had been completely replaced.

To be honest, Harry didn't recognize a single face in the new portraits. Each person depicted was stern, their gazes unwavering as they fixed their eyes on him, observing his every move.

Being watched like this was an unpleasant feeling, but Harry wasn't worried.

From beginning to end, he had only one mission—

Eliminate Voldemort.

Everything else was irrelevant.

Even the Goblet of Fire no longer mattered to him. The tournament itself could no longer determine the true victor—only life and death would decide the final outcome.

"Come, Voldemort… come and embrace death…" 

He murmured softly.

On the other side, Voldemort entered the castle from another direction.

He was currently in the Slytherin common room, one of the deepest places in Hogwarts, second only to the Chamber of Secrets. The atmosphere reminded him of those wretched years he had spent in Albania, memories he had no desire to revisit.

He reached out and ran his fingers over the thick glass of the common room window, peering through it at the vast, murky lake. It was as dark as its name suggested.

Unfortunately, the giant squid was nowhere in sight. Otherwise, there would have been even more memories waiting to surface.

As for now—

"It's time to claim the victory that rightfully belongs to me!" He smiled, slithering out of the underground chamber like a serpent emerging from a damp, cold lair.

However, what he did not expect was that his ally was already waiting for him outside.

Grindelwald swirled the red wine in his left hand as he casually stepped out of the Great Hall.

He didn't look like someone participating in a competition—he looked more like a guest attending a grand banquet.

"In quite a good mood, I see, Grindelwald. But I think we should get moving—" Voldemort smiled cruelly. "As agreed, we will take care of Cyrus together. As for Dumbledore, I'll leave him to you."

"Of course."

Grindelwald downed the wine in one smooth motion and casually tossed the glass aside. As it hit the ground, it transformed into a fierce hunting hound.

"It will lead us to Cyrus."

At this point, whether it was Grindelwald, Voldemort, Harry, or Dumbledore, none of them cared about the outcome of the tournament anymore. They all knew that the Goblet of Fire was hidden somewhere in the castle, but not a single one of them gave it any attention.

The hound bolted forward.

The castle was neither too big nor too small. It didn't take long before the hunting hound found one of its targets.

—It was Dumbledore.

At this moment, Dumbledore held a wand that appeared entirely ordinary. When he saw Grindelwald and Voldemort walking side by side, the blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles showed not the slightest trace of surprise.

"What a coincidence, Dumbledore."

Voldemort greeted him with a broad smile, his tone relaxed—perhaps only he could maintain such ease under these circumstances.

Especially after noticing that the wand in Dumbledore's hand was not the Elder Wand, Voldemort dismissed him even further.

"You are gonna take it from here?" Voldemort glanced at Grindelwald. "Or do you need my help? I'd be more than happy to break his legs and lock him away for fifty years. What do you think of Nurmengard?"

Grindelwald ignored Voldemort's jest. He took a step forward, placing himself between Voldemort and Dumbledore.

"I will handle him myself."

Once again, two wizards who had both lived for over a century locked eyes, seemingly ready to continue the unresolved battle from the Department of Mysteries.

At that moment, the hearts of every spectator in the Quidditch stands—and even those watching through magical broadcasts—hung in suspense. In truth, the sight of Voldemort and Grindelwald standing together had already filled them with despair.

"Dumbledore may be powerful, but he can't possibly defeat both of them at once, can he?"

"Hermione, Cyrus is still on the top floor!" 

But Ron's gaze wasn't fixed on the battlefield. In the end, Hogwarts was only so big—if a fight really broke out, Cyrus should be able to hear the commotion soon enough.

Right now, he was more concerned about Snape's whereabouts.

Up on the high stands, several high-ranking Death Eaters had gathered, including Voldemort's most trusted subordinate, Barty Crouch Jr.

But the one who had betrayed them last night, the man who led the Death Eaters to attack Harry—Severus Snape—was nowhere to be seen.

Even now, with the Dark Lord himself appearing at Hogwarts, Snape remained absent. This made Ron deeply suspicious—was Snape scheming something else?

His gaze swept across the stands, searching for Snape, but he found no trace of him. Left with no other choice, he turned his attention back to the magical screens broadcasting the duel.

There seemed to be no more words left between Grindelwald and Dumbledore. Their wands were raised high, aimed straight at each other's hearts—once filled with love, now poised for battle.

"Bahaha! So this is the greatest magic—love!" Voldemort sneered. "Dumbledore, enjoy the passion your dear lover has for you!"

With that, he strode away.

"Stop!" Dumbledore attempted to block him, but Grindelwald's figure stepped in his way.

He wore a gentle smile, his eyes filled with a warmth that had never been so intense before. As he gazed at Dumbledore, he shook his head. "I can't just watch you go to your death, Albus. Cyrus isn't worthy of your trust."

"Oh? And you are?" Dumbledore immediately shot back, his words sharp and piercing. It was clear that Grindelwald joining forces with Voldemort had deeply wounded him.

"I spent decades fighting against him. I had finally seen the hope of completely eradicating him, but you destroyed it!" 

Dumbledore's expression remained composed, but every syllable he uttered burned with fury.

"You ruined everything—your promise—" 

He glared at Grindelwald, and in that moment, time between them seemed to freeze. Or perhaps it didn't. 

In that immeasurable silence, whether a second or a thousand years long, Dumbledore's words shifted from anger to sorrow.

"…and my life."

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