It wasn't an illusion. Snape indeed saw a real person, and it was Cyrus himself.
Not long ago, after leaving the Magical Injuries Hospital, Cyrus briefly returned to the Delis' house, but he always felt uncomfortable there.
So, he decided to visit Godric's Hollow, the place where the Potters had once lived, to search for traces of the ancient magic that Lily had mastered.
It was his first time visiting Godric's Hollow. Unfortunately, perhaps due to the passage of time, the traces of magic had already faded.
He was considering going inside to see if he could find anything when Snape appeared.
Cyrus never expected to see Snape here. It wasn't even a holiday; classes were still in session at Hogwarts.
Moreover—
"This kid really is reckless, thinking he can kill me with a sneak attack?" He hovered in the air, and the night could not block his sight.
He considered whether to show himself. He wasn't afraid of Snape, and now that Dumbledore seemed to have guessed his identity, there was no need to be overly cautious.
So, he flew a circle in the air and landed behind Snape.
This pitiful man seemed still immersed in the agony of his unfulfilled revenge, as if his bones had been removed. He had been gripping his wand so tightly just now, but now his fingers seemed too weak to bear its weight, allowing it to slip.
Cyrus flicked his hand upward, summoning Snape's wand before it could hit the ground.
"Severus, you should always hold your wand tightly, or you might miss the opportunity for revenge," Cyrus said with a light laugh, offering Snape's wand to him from behind.
Snape felt as if he had plunged into an icy abyss.
He stared at the wand held between those slender fingers but dared not move.
His lips trembled, "Master..."
"Take it!" Cyrus ordered.
Snape quickly regained his composure. He had already prepared himself for death, so there was nothing left to fear.
He took the wand, stepping back as he turned to put some distance between himself and Cyrus.
His black eyes gazed at Cyrus, at this Dark Lord so different from the one in his memories. He couldn't help but feel anxious.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Snape was waiting for his imminent punishment, while Cyrus was simply unsure of what to say.
They were neither friends nor acquaintances; their meeting was a mere whim on his part.
After a moment, Cyrus broke the silence.
"Come inside, Severus, come in and sit down." He spoke as if he were returning to his own home, leading a bewildered Snape into the old Potter house.
Cyrus walked ahead, turning his back to Snape.
Snape looked at Cyrus's back, instinctively tightening his grip on his wand before relaxing again.
He realized he had missed his chance or rather, he never had a chance to begin with. His blood grew cold once more, and he followed Cyrus into the house without a word.
Cyrus grabbed the heavily rusted iron gate at the front of the yard. As he did, a wooden sign rose before him, emerging from the tangled nettles and wild grass like some strange, fast-growing flower.
The sign read:
"On October 31, 1981, Lily and James Potter were killed here. Their son, Harry, is the only wizard to survive the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been preserved as a memorial to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore their family apart."
Additionally, numerous wizards who came to pay their respects to the "Boy Who Lived" had left their own messages on the sign.
Cyrus shook his head.
"I never realized they died on Halloween."
Snape felt another sharp pain, but at this point, he had so many wounds that he showed no sign of suffering. Instead, he let out a contemptuous laugh.
"You never noticed?" He seemed to have heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. And in saying this, Snape was prepared for death.
He was mocking the day the Dark Lord died.
More than that, he was mocking his own past foolishness and powerlessness.
Of course, he had no intention of surrendering. Even if it was futile, he wanted to make the Dark Lord understand that his once-trusted subordinate had long since betrayed him—not because of a woman, but because of "love."
But Snape didn't receive the punishment he expected. Cyrus merely glanced at him lightly, having already noticed Snape's subtle movements. But he didn't care at all.
"Put down your wand, Severus. You can't kill me, and there's no need to stain your soul over this. Not to mention, when facing an enemy you cannot defeat, if you truly want revenge, you should be rational and calm. Even if it means enduring humiliation and burden," Cyrus said, pushing open the iron gate and entering the house.
"It's braver to live than to die."
The house was old and dilapidated, filled with the strong odors of old mold, dust, and rotting wood.
"Please clean up the house, Severus," Cyrus said casually.
Snape didn't know what he was thinking, but he picked up the wand like a machine and waved it. "Scourgify."
A whirlwind immediately swept through the house, clearing away all the dust.
Cyrus was very satisfied and thought Snape could use a similar spell on himself to clean up a bit. But he didn't say it aloud; the atmosphere wasn't quite right.
He conjured a few chairs and a table—the original furniture was so decayed it was nearly unusable—and then invited Snape to sit down.
"Please, have a seat. How about a drink? Tea, coffee?" Cyrus asked, as if he were the host of the house.
Snape couldn't fathom what Cyrus was planning, but he had no choice but to comply. He sat down obediently, showing not a hint of displeasure, appearing more docile and composed than ever before in his life.
"Tea will do."
Cyrus promptly summoned two cups of clear tea with a summoning charm.
"How is Harry doing recently?" Cyrus took a sip of tea and asked a question that caught Snape off guard.
He was stunned for a long time, with a confused expression on his face.
"You mean—Harry—Potter?"
Snape found today's events utterly absurd.
The Dark Lord, whose name couldn't even be mentioned, had casually invited him into the home of the woman he loved most. Then, like the home's rightful owner, like a concerned guardian, he inquired about the boy's well-being.
What did he think today was?
Hogwarts Home Visit Day?
Cyrus was unaware of Snape's thoughts. He felt a bit sad, seemingly pitying Harry: "I mean, Harry probably doesn't know, does he? That his parents died on the night before Halloween."
Absurd!
It could even be called ludicrous!
An indescribable fury rose within Snape. Had he forgotten who took that boy's family away?
Did he forget who cast the killing curse on the woman who begged him so hard?
The flame seemed to light up the entire night, as if it was going to set the house on fire!
Yet ultimately, it gradually extinguished in his long-dormant heart, turning into smoldering ashes.
Perhaps it would reignite someday, but for now, only residual warmth remained.
"He knows nothing, master..." Snape sat up straight, his entire body moving only his face, if that. It could be said only his mouth moved. His voice sounded weary, like someone wearing clothes soaked in water.
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