Chapter 267: Disordered Time, Old Cyrus

"Dumbledore?"

Cyrus turned to look, and in the deep darkness, a white figure floated toward him.

Dumbledore treaded over the smoldering embers as if walking through a desolate wilderness, his steps pressing down on the stubborn dry grass beneath him.

He first lowered his gaze to check on Grindelwald. His eyes carried a trace of concern and unease, but once he confirmed that Grindelwald was not in serious danger, a subtle sigh of relief escaped him. He then lifted his eyes to meet Cyrus''s.

Every minute detail of this was captured in Cyrus''s watchful eyes.

"Dumbledore..."

Grindelwald softly called Dumbledore''s name. Being seen in such a vulnerable state left him feeling somewhat embarrassed. His two strands of beard twitched slightly, as if trying to defuse the awkwardness.

"If you''ve come to join forces with him against me, you''re a bit late. But if you''re here just to save me, I must say, your timing is impeccable."

Dumbledore stubbornly refrained from responding, intentionally maintaining a distance from Grindelwald. His demeanor was strikingly reminiscent of a couple in a cold war after a quarrel. He could speak with anyone—anyone except Grindelwald.

"I didn''t expect that magic to be yours, Cyrus," Dumbledore said, fixing his gaze on Cyrus''s eyes. He was referring to the infernal hellfire spell Bloody Hell.

This wasn''t merely a piece of dark magic. To Dumbledore, it was also a reflection of Cyrus''s inner world.

The powerful and sinister dark magic could not be cast without intense and extreme emotions.

For instance, when Cyrus had just been resurrected in the Shrieking Shack, the Killing Curse he cast had been feeble and ineffective.

Before this, Dumbledore had considered Cyrus to be relatively less dangerous—certainly compared to Voldemort, and even compared to Grindelwald. This perceived safety wasn''t due to a gap in their capabilities but rather because of Cyrus''s temperament.

Now, however, Dumbledore felt the need to reevaluate Cyrus''s level of threat.

What Dumbledore didn''t know was that after acquiring the ancient magic, especially Morgana''s legacy, Cyrus was no longer influenced by the emotional requirements of spells. To him, a spell was merely a spell.

Cyrus had no intention of explaining.

He lifted his head slightly, and all the magic within him surged to the forefront. Every drop of blood coursing through his veins felt as scorching as molten lava.

His heart pounded with strong, steady beats!

Cyrus was fully prepared to face both Dumbledore and Grindelwald at the same time.

This was a perfect stage for it—especially with Dumbledore''s arrival, which brought new magical surveillance drones. The outcome of this battle would be witnessed by everyone.

Cyrus flicked his wand, but no spell was cast.

Whoosh!

The tip of Cyrus''s wand sliced through the air, emitting a sharp sound. His stance was upright, like a warrior wielding a sword.

"Come, Dumbledore. You alone, or with him—it makes no difference."

Cyrus issued his challenge to Dumbledore. At this moment, no one thought him arrogant or reckless.

In the Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium, everyone had just witnessed, through the enchanted projection, the scene where Cyrus had defeated Grindelwald. Their reactions, however, varied widely.

Bellatrix Lestrange''s expression remained indifferent as she curled her lips slightly, as though none of it surprised her in the least. Graves, on the other hand, was consumed by awe. The sight of Grindelwald defeated and lying prone had turned his admiration for Cyrus into near fanaticism.

One of the most powerful wizards of the past century, defeated just like that by Cyrus?

For Graves, seeing the humiliated state of the dark wizard who had shamed his ancestors brought an immense sense of satisfaction.

Babajide, however, frowned deeply, her concern for Dumbledore evident. Wizards like her, who had lived through the era of Grindelwald''s dominion over Europe, understood all too well the magnitude of this battle.

The name Grindelwald itself was a terrifying nightmare.

"Am I seeing things?" Fudge''s face was filled with disbelief. Even through the screen, when he saw Cyrus''s glowing eyes, he couldn''t help but step back in fear. "He defeated... Grindelwald..."

As he muttered, he squinted his eyes—narrowed to slits by his plump cheeks—toward Umbridge. At this moment, Umbridge''s face was drained of all color. Her overly made-up, toad-like face was etched with terror.

Fudge actually had a soft spot for Umbridge.

Though the witch could be nauseating at times, she excelled at flattery and was one of the few people in the Ministry who made him feel like a real Minister.

For that reason, he had promoted her to the position of Undersecretary, breaking all conventions.

But now, it seemed he would have to abandon her.

This fool had provoked Cyrus, who was far from being as mild-tempered as Dumbledore. If Cyrus decided to lash out over this, Fudge might find himself dragged into the fallout!

With that thought, Fudge resolved to dismiss Umbridge as soon as the Triwizard Tournament concluded.

Even so, he couldn''t tear his gaze away from the screen. He couldn''t help but suspect that what he was seeing was some kind of illusion.

"How could he have possibly defeated Grindelwald? How old is he?" Fudge murmured, almost to himself, as if in disbelief.

The Ravenclaw flushed scarlet and slumped back into his seat, clearly the butt of the joke. Still, he couldn''t help muttering a bitter retort under his breath.

"You''ll all see soon enough!"

After all, Cyrus and Dumbledore had crossed paths, and it wouldn''t take long to determine who was truly stronger.

...

Ministry of Magic, Sixth Floor

Flames had reduced nearly everything on the sixth floor to ash, leaving behind only charred ruins and crumbling walls.

Dumbledore felt an unprecedented gravity in the air. The pressure Cyrus exerted on him was unlike anything he had ever experienced—even Voldemort paled in comparison.

The air was overwhelmingly dry, a consequence of the fire''s fury, but another sensation clung to him—a thick, suffocating presence.

Cyrus''s magical energy seemed omnipresent. Dumbledore felt as if he were moving underwater, each action demanding far more effort than usual, or as though he were buried in beach sand, with even the simple act of breathing becoming a struggle.

Everything around him appeared transformed in his eyes, as if he were watching a film filtered through an aged, weathered lens. Sporadically, flickering black lines disrupted the vision, flashing in and out of existence.

"It seems Morgana''s legacy has granted you tremendous power," Dumbledore said softly.

"But I doubt whether this power can rival the Elder Wand," Cyrus''s gaze lingered on the wand in Dumbledore''s hand.

He had never held the true Elder Wand before, so even now, he couldn''t gauge the extent of its power.

"Does it really make you invincible?"

Voldemort was hailed as the "most powerful dark wizard," yet he still wasn''t a match for Dumbledore.

Perhaps Voldemort and Dumbledore possessed comparable magical strength, but the Elder Wand clearly gave Dumbledore an unbeatable edge.

If it weren''t for Harry—or more specifically, if Harry hadn''t been a Horcrux—Dumbledore might not have needed to sacrifice himself to defeat Voldemort.

"I believe if there''s something you wish to understand, experiencing it firsthand is the best way," Dumbledore said.

Cyrus chuckled softly, seemingly amused. It appeared that Dumbledore might be somewhat angry about Cyrus having beaten up his old friend. Cyrus glanced at Grindelwald and noticed him wearing a smug, triumphant smile.

So, he raised his wand and declared, "I was just thinking the same thing!"

BOOM!

In an instant, an intense magical shockwave spread from deep below, rippling through every corner of the Ministry of Magic!

The magical disturbance was so vivid that even ordinary people could see it clearly.

Golden ripples reverberated, unknowingly passing through Cyrus''s body!

Eh?

Cyrus froze, stunned.

In that fleeting instant, it felt as though his body had undergone countless cycles of reincarnation. His once smooth skin suddenly became loose and wrinkled, resembling a withered poplar tree left to die in a desert.

He felt his strength slipping away, his vitality draining as if something was siphoning the life force out of him.

This abrupt weakness almost caused him to lose his grip on his wand.

Half-kneeling, his body curled into a hunched position, appearing as fragile as an antique on the verge of shattering.

"..."

"..."

What the fuck?

Both Dumbledore and Grindelwald were struck dumb.

In their astonished eyes, Cyrus had aged dramatically, his hair now completely white.

"What is going on?" Grindelwald exclaimed in shock, but then he noticed his voice sounded decades younger. The old Dumbledore standing before him had vanished, replaced by a young man with brown hair.

"Albus, you''ve turned back the clock!" Grindelwald shouted, his tone incredulous, as if he''d been transported back to that summer in Godric''s Hollow.

"It wasn''t me," Dumbledore said, his mind racing furiously.

At that moment, the now white-haired Cyrus lifted his head.

Though his appearance resembled a desiccated mummy, his fiery golden eyes remained as bright and clear as ever.

"The laws of time have been broken—"

"The Department of Mysteries!" Dumbledore shouted abruptly.

________

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