I became Voldemort

"We should focus on figuring out how to get inside," Cassandra said, stepping back several paces to put some distance between herself and the door. Raising her wand like a cannon, she declared, "My suggestion? Blow it open!"

She was nothing if not decisive.

"Great idea!" Fleur chimed in enthusiastically, giving Cedric a playful wink as she gestured for him to join them.

"..."

The three of them lined up:

"Bombarda Maxima!"

BOOM!!

...

Elsewhere, Grindelwald unleashed another powerful explosion, obliterating the horde of small, grotesque creatures in his path.

From what he could tell, most of these undead beings weren't wizards but goblins or house-elves. Yet the sheer number of them...

"How many people have you killed and made like this?" he muttered darkly.

Even Grindelwald found Cyrus's methods a bit extreme.

He had been casting spell after spell relentlessly, to the point where his wrist felt numb, yet the grotesque creatures just kept coming. Grindelwald began to suspect that Cyrus might have slaughtered every goblin in the world to fill this hellish realm—how else could there be so many of them?

"What do you think?" Cyrus replied with a sly smile, offering no further explanation.

He had indeed killed his fair share of goblins, but in reality, the number that perished at his hands was no more than what a certain transfer student might accomplish in a single day.

The seemingly endless tide of undead wasn't due to their vast numbers. Instead, every time one of these creatures was slain, their remains were immediately consumed by flames, only to "rebirth" within the fire!

Grindelwald, despite his relentless efforts, hadn't truly killed a single one of them.

Although he hadn't uncovered the truth, he realized he couldn't afford to keep wasting his energy like this.

If things continued this way, his stamina would run out long before Cyrus's. And Cyrus? He seemed as tireless as ever.

Fuck!

The solution was clear: strike at the source. To break Cyrus's magic, Grindelwald needed to eliminate Cyrus himself.

With that resolve, Grindelwald didn't hesitate. He raised his wand and cast a spell, sending a powerful surge of light forward. The tip of his wand emitted radiant waves, rippling outward like an unstoppable force.

"Necro Isolation!"

In an instant, an invisible barrier, like layers of white foam surging from ocean waves, separated all the undead.

Not just the undead—everything was cut off by Grindelwald's spell.

The flames were extinguished, walls and furniture were overturned, and then crushed into fragments by the spreading ripples of energy.

"Wow~ Did you just create this spell? Truly a genius!"

"Why do you think they fear me, Brat!"

At the epicenter of these ripples, only Cyrus and Grindelwald remained standing—as if they were two drops of water causing concentric ripples on a still lake.

The next moment, the two figures suddenly vanished from where they stood.

In that instant, everything seemed to slow down to an almost unbearable pace.

The raging flames appeared frozen mid-burst, their dangerous outlines clear and fragile. Tables, flung into the air by the shockwave, seemed suspended in time, motionless.

Even the residual Floo Powder that had scattered through the air hung like delicate strands of fabric, weaving an ethereal curtain across the scene.

The next moment, Cyrus and Grindelwald broke through this surreal tableau—like droplets splashing through water, shattering a mirror into countless shards.

In this distorted world, where time itself seemed frozen, only Cyrus and Grindelwald remained unaffected.

They moved freely, unfazed by the temporal distortion surrounding them. The glow of their spells illuminated the air, scattering light through the suspended dust particles, like neon beacons cutting through thick fog. Colors bled vibrantly across the room, an eerie contrast to the stillness enveloping everything else.

Even the flickering of spells seemed agonizingly slow in this distorted reality, yet the lightning that erupted between their wands vanished in an instant!

Crack!

Cyrus seized the bolt of electricity and, without hesitation, hurled it toward Grindelwald's chest. The lightning forked and clawed through the air like tree branches caught in a storm.

But the strike failed to land.

Grindelwald moved like a ghost, appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Since the start of their duel, the two had been fighting in a state of constant Apparition, vanishing and reappearing with every exchange of blows.

Such high-speed combat demanded an extreme sharpening of senses. Both had cast ultra-perception charms to their absolute limits, slowing their perception of the world to the equivalent of bullet time.

"Haah~ You really surprise me, Grindelwald," Cyrus remarked, his voice calm despite the chaos.

As he spoke, his body split apart. It seemed as though he was dividing into two, but only his upper body separated. The gap allowed a spell fired by Grindelwald to pass harmlessly through before his form seamlessly knit back together.

"I thought an old relic like you would've been left behind by the times," Cyrus continued, his tone laced with faint mockery. "But your magical power exceeds my expectations."

It was no exaggeration—Cyrus couldn't help but think that even the recently resurrected Voldemort might not have been a match for Grindelwald.

"Fifty years ago, how did Dumbledore defeat you?"

"You'll find out soon enough!"

Grindelwald wheezed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as if he were struggling with asthma. It was no surprise—after all, fifty years of imprisonment in Nurmengard, with its damp, cold, and stale air, must have taken a toll on his lungs.

At this moment, Grindelwald felt as if a fire were raging in his chest. He imagined himself as nothing more than a mound of brittle earth, cracking and crumbling under the relentless heat. One touch, and he might shatter entirely.

Cyrus noticed his opponent's weakening state and decided it was time to end this fight.

Two and a half hours had passed. There was no time to waste on games anymore.

Cyrus lowered his head, and when he raised it again, his eyes were blazing with streaks of crimson-gold lightning.

The lightning wasn't a mere metaphor; it physically erupted from his eyes.

Sizzle~

The area around his eye sockets glowed white-hot, like molten iron. In an instant, a searing beam of light shot toward Grindelwald's head!

The intensity was suffocating—a gaze that could kill.

In that fraction of a second, Grindelwald saw a vision of his death: the blood-red beam piercing through his skull, ending him right where he stood.

The heat made every breath unbearable. The air seemed arid and scorching, burning his throat as though he were chewing on a live cockroach.

Ah.. Is this the end?

Grindelwald felt as if his life had reached its final moment. His efforts to save Dumbledore's life now seemed tragically futile...

Darkness surged once more. Grindelwald found himself back on the Astronomy Tower, facing the gray, lifeless figure of Dumbledore.

He knew clearly that this was a glimpse of the near future—Dumbledore would fall at Cyrus's hands.

But gradually, the gray figure of Dumbledore began to regain its color.

The figure moved, raising its wand.

"Stop!"

Crack!

A mirror shot up in front of Grindelwald, intercepting the blazing beam from Cyrus's eyes. The light splintered, refracted by the mirror, which then shattered with a thunderous crash.

Grindelwald snapped back to reality.

He collapsed onto the ground, his head spinning. As his vision cleared, he saw the hem of a gray-white wizard's robe drifting toward him.

"Dumbledore."

Both he and Cyrus spoke the name at the same time.

__________

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