Chapter 272: Who Are You?

The deadly green light flashed for only an instant, yet it blinded everyone, making it impossible to keep their eyes open.

Harry temporarily lost his vision. In the darkness, Cedric was utterly silent, as though he had already perished without a sound.

But when Harry reopened his eyes, he realized that what had felt like an eternity in his mind had only been a fleeting moment. The green lightning was still streaking through the air, and everything around him seemed shrouded in a veil of time, becoming slow and distorted.

Harry could see the tiny specks of dust suspended in the air, as if frozen in place. He could see the cold, cruel expression on Voldemort''s face. He could see Cedric''s terrified face reflecting the green light...

That face overlapped with the vision he had seen earlier—the cold, lifeless corpse of Cedric, eyes wide open, collapsing silently onto the ground.

Just meeting those soulless, empty eyes made it hard for Harry to breathe.

Who could save him?

Mr. Cyrus? Professor Dumbledore?

Harry wanted to scream, but he found that his body, like everything else around him, was slowed to a crawl—was death descending upon him again?

The thought struck him uncontrollably, but in that very instant, a blazing flame burst into existence out of thin air.

At that moment, a flicker of confusion flashed across Voldemort''s eyes, followed by an irrepressible excitement.

Whoosh!

Golden flames rippled outward in an instant, spreading into every corner of the room!

Harry could feel the warmth emanating from the fire, and under its glow, even the searing pain in the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead seemed to subside slightly.

But this fire was no gentle caress.

It carried immense power, surging through the room like a raging tornado!

Where the fiery waves swept past, the air itself seemed to distort under the heat.

Voldemort quickly pulled his wand out of Harry''s head and created a vacuum barrier in front of himself, like an invisible wall, to block the force of the flames.

But everyone could sense that the fire was merely the prelude. The true crescendo lay with the one who traveled with it.

"Chirp!?~"

A phoenix''s cry pierced the air from within the blaze.

And then, a commanding voice resounded with a powerful incantation:

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green lightning tore through the flames, intercepting Voldemort''s curse just before it struck Cedric!

The two spells collided, their deadly forces obliterating each other, and the clash of lightning shattered the frozen flow of time in an instant!

Cyrus strode forth, raising his wand high as the flames bowed to him, their fiery brilliance dimming in submission.

His eyes burned like torches, and his presence was like that of a god descending from the heavens!

"Voldemort, is your wand only good for pointing at children?"

Cyrus sneered, shattering Voldemort''s curse with an icy undertone of killing intent in his voice.

Harry struggled to open his blood-soaked eyes, looking toward the flames. Within them, Cedric had collapsed to the ground, seemingly granted a reprieve from death. Three figures emerged, walking side by side, with Cyrus at the forefront.

And contrary to Voldemort''s claims, Cyrus looked anything but frail or aged.

Harry let out a breath of relief, like someone who had fallen from a great height finally landing safely. His heart calmed, as if firmly planted on solid ground. He wanted to shout out, but the words caught in his throat.

"Mr. Cyrus, Professor Dumbled—wait, who are you?"

The second person stepping out of the flames wasn''t the familiar Dumbledore, but a blond-haired youth. The third figure wasn''t blond, but instead surrounded by a phoenix Harry recognized—Fawkes.

Wait, who are these handsome guys?

Where''s Professor Dumbledore?

Harry desperately wanted to ask. He even noticed that Fawkes wore the same confused expression as him.

The magnificent phoenix circled around the youthful Dumbledore, as if asking when Dumbledore had learned to be reborn through flames, returning to the vigor of his youth.

"Dumbledore..." Voldemort muttered, frowning slightly, providing the answer to Harry''s unspoken question.

This young man, who appeared no older than himself, was actually Dumbledore?

Cyrus noticed that Dumbledore''s breathing grew heavier.

"Yes~ The Resurrection Stone!" Voldemort said hoarsely. "Look at it. It''s what I used to restore myself to a living, breathing body, one capable of bearing unlimited power! It''s laughable that I was so blind before, using it to create a Horcrux... As for that cloak, though—it''s as if it vanished into thin air. I haven''t been able to find it anywhere..."

A trace of regret appeared on Voldemort''s face, but it didn''t linger for long before he dismissed it entirely.

Since obtaining the Elder Wand through his travels in time, Voldemort had devoted himself to studying the legend of Death and the three brothers. To him, the Cloak of Invisibility was utterly insignificant; the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand were more than sufficient.

Hearing that Voldemort had dismissed the Cloak, Dumbledore and Grindelwald both let out a sigh of relief.

The two of them didn''t truly believe that the Deathly Hallows were magical artifacts crafted by Death itself. Still, there was always the possibility that gathering all three together could unleash some inexplicable magical power.

"The Deathly Hallows..." Cyrus murmured, his eyes locked on Voldemort''s.

At this moment, he held a Resurrection Stone in his possession. He hadn''t expected Voldemort to retrieve another one from the past.

Two identical stones existing simultaneously?

And would their magical power clash?

He glanced at the wand in Voldemort''s hand. From the moment their spells had collided earlier, Cyrus had felt the magnitude of Voldemort''s current strength.

It seemed, at least, that the power of the Elder Wand remained intact.

"After that, I recovered the pieces of my fragmented soul. I discovered that piecing them back together provided an enhancement far beyond my expectations!" Voldemort declared.

He was aware that Cyrus had used a similar method to strengthen his soul, but Voldemort soon realized that the enhancement he experienced from reintegrating his soul fragments far exceeded the gains Cyrus had made from devouring them.

This raised doubts in Voldemort''s mind about Cyrus''s very existence.

Afterward, Voldemort returned to 1992 and found the diary that had been causing havoc at Hogwarts. He discovered that the soul within the diary was entirely different from Cyrus.

Voldemort''s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he fixed his gaze on Cyrus, as if trying to see through his very soul.

"So, Cyrus," Voldemort said coldly, "why don''t you tell me who you really are?"

"You are not merely one of the fragments of my soul—or rather, not just that. You devoured my soul, inherited my talents and powers, but where did you come from in the first place?"

Voldemort''s face was filled with doubt. "No matter how far back in time I went, I couldn''t find a trace of you—except in the present!"

With just a few words, Voldemort had turned the focus of attention squarely onto Cyrus.

Not only was Voldemort curious, but Dumbledore and Grindelwald also cast sidelong glances at Cyrus, clearly eager to hear his answer.

"Are you so desperate to know my past?" Cyrus countered with a question of his own, his tone light.

He twirled his wand between his fingers, speaking softly.

"There''s really nothing special about it," Cyrus said, almost lazily. "I''m just a wandering soul who happened to stumble upon your diary."

A few years ago, Cyrus would never have dared to reveal his identity so casually, especially in front of Dumbledore and Grindelwald. But now? What did it matter?

In the world of magic, strength was the ultimate authority. In the end, everything came down to power. And really, who would waste time mourning a piece of Voldemort''s soul?

That being said, Cyrus''s response was hardly groundbreaking—everyone already thought he had been just a wandering soul as he was not at all like Riddle.

"It seems our conversation is over," Voldemort said, his tone icy yet composed. "Let us settle this with action, then."

This time, Voldemort made no move to launch a sneak attack.

In this journey through time, he had reclaimed his soul, his power, his intellect, and even his nose. More than that, he had regained his elegance.

With a graceful bow, Voldemort moved as though about to engage in a formal duel, rather than a life-and-death battle.

Of course, wizard duels had always carried the risk of fatality...

Cyrus exhaled deeply, his gaze sharp and contemplative.

He glanced at Dumbledore and Grindelwald. The two of them had been pulled back to their younger selves by time''s distortion. Though their magical understanding and knowledge remained intact, their raw magical power had not returned to its peak.

As for Cyrus himself, Voldemort''s reversal of time had unintentionally pushed Cyrus''s magical power to its zenith.

He realized now that this battle would require every ounce of strength he had. This fight against Voldemort would demand nothing less than his all!

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