Chapter 235: Grindelwald's Prophecy

It wasn't just Ginny who spotted Cyrus—Hermione and her two lackeys also saw him. All four of them stood there, mouths agape, their faces full of shock. In comparison, Grindelwald and Durmstrang's ghost ship, which had made such a dramatic entrance, now faded into the background.

The dragons lowered their proud heads, submitting to their king.

Cyrus leaped gracefully from the carriage, surrounded by flames that bloomed around him like a giant, blossoming flower.

Right behind him was a beautiful mature women, Bellatrix, dressed in a formal gown. She held her head high, proud as a black swan. To Cyrus's left, a large, green-scaled patterned serpent slithered closely—Nagini.

Nagini moved through the fire, seemingly unaffected by the heat. Her large, round eyes scanned the gathered students, as if remembering something fondly. Her thin, slit-like nostrils flared briefly before closing again, and she quietly coiled at Cyrus's feet.

Behind them, the ten candidate champions followed, one by one, jumping out of the carriage. They walked through the fire, heads held high, holding their breath as they endured the gazes of the Hogwarts students.

Ginny, eager and excited, looked like she was about to burst out of the crowd and run straight to Cyrus. But Hermione quickly grabbed her arm.

"Are you mad? Professor McGonagall will kill us!"

Hermione, ever the rule-follower, wasn't about to let Ginny break the rules right in front of her.

She immediately tried to calm her down. "Just wait. The tournament lasts the whole school year. We'll have plenty of time later."

Ginny reluctantly settled down after that.

In contrast to Ginny's restraint, Harry and Ron were all smiles when they saw Cyrus, both looking genuinely happy.

However, their attention was quickly drawn to someone else—Draco Malfoy.

"Scoff~!" The ever-arrogant ferret noticed Harry and Ron staring at him and wasted no time tilting his chin upward, a smug grin spreading across his face, nearly reaching his ears.

"He's so full of himself!"

Ron gagged, as if he'd seen something disgusting. He turned to Harry and complained, "I was so happy thinking we wouldn't have to see him anymore. I can't understand why Cyrus would bring him to compete in the tournament!"

Ron couldn't fathom how Draco Malfoy could qualify to be one of the champions in the Triwizard Tournament.

Though Ron's thoughts were laced with malice, the truth was that Draco wasn't quite up to the standard of a champion. Cyrus brought him along partly to give him a chance to visit Hogwarts again, and partly to nurture Draco's talent in alchemy.

Draco Malfoy had shown exceptional skill in alchemy. Even during Cyrus' time as a student, Draco had been able to independently repair something as complex as the Vanishing Cabinet, a high-level alchemical artifact. In Cyrus's view, Draco, like the Weasley twins, was a rare alchemical talent. He might even achieve some unexpected breakthroughs in modifying Muggle devices.

Meanwhile, Durmstrang's ghostly ship dropped anchor, the enormous sound of water once again pulling everyone's attention away.

Grindelwald, seemingly trying to outdo Cyrus, leaned backward dramatically, as if mimicking a great white bird in flight, landing lightly on the deck. The captain's hat spun in his hand, transforming into rose petals that scattered around him.

"Come out, students," Grindelwald called, spreading his arms wide as his gaze passed over the fire and locked onto Dumbledore once again.

Even though Cyrus had briefly interrupted the moment, the intense gaze between Grindelwald and Dumbledore had never wavered from the start.

Then, Vinda Rosier led a group of wizards clad in thick felt garments off the wooden ramp. They followed in Grindelwald's footsteps as they came ashore, each of their shadows looming as large as a brown bear.

The male wizards wore heavy fur cloaks, felt hats, and held what looked more like clubs than wands in their hands, making them appear as if they had just emerged from the Arctic.

Cyrus stood calmly, waiting as Grindelwald and Madam Rosier approached.

This was his first time seeing Grindelwald in person. He appeared older than in Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, yet still looked nothing like the old man who Voldemort had killed in the movie.

Perhaps he had taken time to restore his appearance after leaving Nurmengard?

Cyrus wasn't sure, but at least he could tell from Grindelwald's features how dashing he must have been in his prime. Even now, there was an undeniable arrogance in his eyes.

When Grindelwald finally reached Cyrus, he briefly tore his gaze away from Dumbledore for just a moment.

"Impressive fire," he remarked.

After making his casual remark, Grindelwald continued toward the castle, strutting like a proud peacock.

Cyrus paid no mind to his attitude, walking alongside him with his students.

Apart from Cyrus, only Professor McGonagall noticed that something felt off in the air.

As Dumbledore's longtime friend, she had some insight into his complex feelings toward Grindelwald. Now that Grindelwald was standing right in front of Dumbledore, McGonagall couldn't help but feel a bit concerned.

She glanced at Dumbledore, but saw no trace of sadness, anger, or even joy on his face.

"Albus, aren't you surprised to see me?" Grindelwald asked in a strange tone, almost playful, as if he'd pulled a prank and was disappointed not to see the reaction he wanted from Dumbledore.

It wasn't unexpected, though.

Albus Dumbledore had, in some sense, died a long time ago on that rainy day in Godric's Hollow, even if he hadn't yet been laid to rest.

"What do you want?" Dumbledore's voice was cold, without a hint of the grief he had once felt for Grindelwald.

His wand was clenched tightly in his hand, as if it were brimming with tension, ready to unleash a fight at any moment.

"You swore never to leave Nurmengard," Dumbledore growled, his voice fierce and booming like an enraged lion. Despite his age, he still radiated strength and fury, his words like the roar of an engine about to ignite.

But in reality, Dumbledore's voice remained cold and calm.

"You lied, just like you did before."

Grindelwald's demeanor shifted abruptly to something more ruthless.

His already eccentric personality now became as unpredictable as a storm, and his expression turned sharp, like jagged ice ready to wound anyone who dared to approach him, drawing blood with a mere touch.

"I've always been this way. You should have known that fifty years ago."

His words were colder than the waters at the bottom of the Black Lake, as if he was deliberately trying to provoke Dumbledore, hoping to incite him into a fight.

Cyrus noticed Dumbledore's hand gripping and releasing his wand several times, but in the end, Dumbledore didn't make a move.

"You two seem to have quite the history," Cyrus interjected, "but whatever personal matters you have, maybe you should settle them after the tournament."

"I'm afraid the International Confederation of Wizards won't wait that long. They'd be more than happy to arrest a convict sentenced to life imprisonment," Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes as deep as a lake, reflecting Grindelwald's still-handsome but aged face.

"And conveniently, the Confederation is serving as the tournament's judges."

"I doubt, for your sake, they'd dare act here at Hogwarts," Grindelwald retorted without backing down.

Ignoring Dumbledore's reaction, he led the Durmstrang students into the castle.

Hogwarts students instinctively stepped aside to make way for Grindelwald.

"Who is he?" Harry whispered, turning to Ron.

Ron shook his head. "I don't know."

There weren't many people left who remembered what Gellert Grindelwald, the dark wizard who had disappeared from the wizarding world for nearly fifty years, actually looked like.

"Albus Dumbledore defeated the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald in 1945," Cyrus's voice came from beside Harry and Ron. "That's him."

"Gellert Grindelwald?" Harry repeated the name.

He didn't fully grasp the weight of the name, though he wanted to ask more. However, Cyrus had already walked past him with his students. As Draco Malfoy passed by, he sneered and delivered his trademark greeting.

"Good evening, Scarhead~"

There wasn't time for more, but that one line was enough to make Harry's blood boil.

"That awful Malfoy! Should've saved a bullet just for him!"

Ron also fumed angrily.

Cyrus approached Dumbledore, and unlike the cold exchange with Grindelwald earlier, Dumbledore was now much warmer. They shook hands and exchanged a few brief pleasantries.

Then, Cyrus gave a brief hug to the ever-diligent Professor McGonagall. After a few encounters with him, McGonagall and the others had changed their opinions of Cyrus, no longer seeing him as an enemy.

"Beauxbatons hasn't arrived yet?" Cyrus asked.

"They are indeed the last ones," Dumbledore nodded.

"How rude. I'm not inclined to wait for them here," Cyrus said, frowning in displeasure.

If it were simply Madame Maxime leading her regular students to the tournament, Cyrus might have considered waiting out of respect.

But in reality?

The ones participating were Death Eaters, led by Voldemort—and Voldemort himself wasn't even here.

To think that people like them deserved to have him standing at the gates to welcome them?

"I'm heading in. Is it alright if the students sit at the Slytherin table?"

"Haha~ Why even ask me? After all, you are the heir of Slytherin," Dumbledore joked lightly, stepping aside to give Cyrus the way.

Cyrus entered Hogwarts under the envious gazes of the students.

The late October night had already turned cold, and the damp wind blowing in from the Black Lake made everyone shiver as it slipped into their collars.

With the arrival of Durmstrang and Ilvermorny, the students' initial excitement had mostly worn off. Now, all they wanted was to return to the warm Great Hall and enjoy a sip of hot pumpkin juice.

However, Beauxbatons seemed determined to be late, leaving everyone shivering in the cold wind outside.

Inside the castle, Cyrus moved with ease, familiar with every corner.

The students following him, however, curiously glanced around.

Although they were referred to as "young wizards," apart from Malfoy, the rest of the group seemed around Cyrus's age. After all, Cyrus had only been resurrected in June last year, and his current body was only sixteen years old.

"Professor, did you graduate from Hogwarts?" Cassandra asked as she looked around the castle, sensing the mysterious aura emanating from every corner.

As the oldest magical school, Hogwarts certainly exuded a deeper heritage compared to others!

"Of course," Cyrus nodded. "I graduated from Slytherin House. If it were Ilvermorny's sorting method, I would likely be placed in Horned Serpent."

"No, I think you'd be in Thunderbird," Fischer immediately shook his head. "You can transform into a Thunderbird—it's not just about joining a house; you practically are the house!"

"Why not all four houses?" another witch countered, adding to the praise.

Cyrus paid no mind to the students' flattery.

Soon, he reached the Great Hall, pushed the doors open, and saw that Grindelwald had already seated himself along with Durmstrang's students.

They were sitting at the Gryffindor table, with Grindelwald occupying the chair beside the Headmaster's seat, and Vinda Rosier sitting close beside him.

"Please, take your seats," Cyrus said, acting like a host as he welcomed them, then proceeded to the staff table with Bellatrix.

Once they sat down, the table was immediately filled with an array of sumptuous dishes.

However, no one was in a hurry to start eating, with most simply sipping on pumpkin juice to warm themselves up.

"This is our first time meeting, isn't it, Mr. Cyrus?" Grindelwald spoke softly, sipping red wine before turning to Cyrus. "Do you know—" he raised his finger, tapping it lightly against his eye, "I am a Seer."

A Seer?

That reminded Cyrus of a certain alien who liked to say the same thing.

Cyrus mentally scoffed but maintained a polite smile as he looked at Grindelwald, appearing to wait for him to continue.

"There are countless prophecies made in this world every day, but most of them are just pretentious nonsense, clever tricks that mean little," Grindelwald began. "But I'm different. This eye of mine can truly see the future."

"So, what did you see?" Cyrus asked, intrigued.

Though he was generally skeptical about prophecies, Cyrus had always found them interesting—especially since it was a gift neither he nor Voldemort possessed.

He had even asked Harry to keep an ear out for any prophecies concerning him.

However, perhaps due to changes in the future, the Divination professor hadn't received the same insights as in the original timeline.

"A very vague image," Grindelwald responded.

His voice wasn't particularly hushed, yet somehow, no one but Cyrus seemed to hear him. It was as if the Great Hall had been split into two worlds.

The students around them were laughing and chatting, but their movements seemed as slow as turtles and snails, as if time itself had frozen.

Only Cyrus and Grindelwald remained outside of this frozen moment.

Grindelwald was very serious.

"I saw the clock, the darkness, death... and the white curtain..."

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12 Advance Chapters—Patreon/HornyFBI