Grindelwald possessed the gift of prophecy.
The moment he entered the forest, he had already foreseen Rabastan's death. In fact, he felt inclined to kill Rodolphus right now.
The Death Eaters assumed that this dark wizard had left his tower to seek revenge on Dumbledore, but the reason Grindelwald had left Nurmengard was because of his vision—
A clock, darkness, a veil, and death…
It was Dumbledore's gray, lifeless corpse.
He had broken his fifty-year-long self-imposed confinement to change this future. Grindelwald hadn't seen exactly who would kill Dumbledore, but it wasn't hard to guess.
Two suspects: Cyras and Voldemort. But he had observed Cyrus and knew the man would not kill Dumbledore. For the many things Cyrus was, he was a good person. Now at least...
So, there was only one person capable of doing so: Voldemort!
With his hands clasped behind his back and his wand held between his fingers, Grindelwald's dangerous gaze fixed on Rodolphus, sending an icy chill down his spine.
Of course, what unnerved Rodolphus even more were Grindelwald's earlier words.
"Rabastan?"
"What happened to him?"
Grindelwald cast a mocking glance at her, offering no response, yet he refrained from attacking Rodolphus as well.
Killing Rodolphus would be easy, of course, but this man was merely a minor player, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Even if he died, Voldemort would still return. Grindelwald, however, couldn't afford to jeopardize his standing in the tournament by committing murder here. If he were disqualified for breaking the rules, he'd lose his chance to prevent Dumbledore's death.
"Could it be that fake dark lord, Cyrus?" A feeling of dread arose in Rodolphus's heart. Based on Grindelwald's words, he feared that his brother Rabastan had met a dire fate.
It didn't even occur to Rodolphus that two students could have killed Rabastan; he assumed only Cyrus could have done it. Rabastan was, after all, an elite among the Death Eaters, and Rodolphus doubted anyone other than Cyrus could take him down.
But Rodolphus overlooked something: if it really had been Cyrus, he and Rabastan combined wouldn't have lasted a single move.
Meanwhile...
Cyrus—the very person Rodolphus was filled with hatred toward—was using chains to subdue a dragon, bringing the formidable creature to heel beneath his foot!
The Romanian Longhorn Dragon, one of the most fearsome magical creatures, whimpered like a beaten dog, its tail tucked between its legs. It lay curled up, its huge eyes peeking open just enough to watch Cyrus, as though terrified he might devour it.
Cyrus, however, didn't have plans to roast dragon meat on the spot. Though it was indeed a powerful tonic, and applying it to wounds could aid in healing, eating it as a meal wouldn't be much different from any other meat.
Magical materials from fantastic beasts typically need to be activated through magical means to harness their full potential. Preparing them into potions is often the best way to utilize their properties; otherwise, Dumbledore's discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood wouldn't be as celebrated.
Cyrus's sole purpose for restraining the dragon was, of course, to gather information and clues for the second task.
In truth, this information wasn't particularly necessary for him. After all, intelligence is intended to help champions prepare for the challenges ahead. But given Cyrus's abilities, preparation made little difference.
"The second task…"
Cyrus lowered his gaze to the mysterious object in his hand—a transparent crystal sphere. It resembled a prophecy orb, though it probably wasn't.
As he focused his fiery-golden eyes on the crystal ball, a mist began to fill its interior. In the thick haze, a shadowy, black corridor slowly appeared.
The place seemed somewhat familiar to Cyrus.
"So, this must be the location of the second task."
He wasn't planning to immediately decipher the contents of the crystal ball. Instead, he pulled sharply on the chain as if reining in a wild beast. The iron lock constricted tightly around the dragon's throat, fusing like searing metal into the dragon's scales and melding with the flesh of its neck.
The Romanian Longhorn Dragon let out a desperate howl, spreading its wings as it struggled in sorrow.
"Quiet down, big guy!" Cyrus commanded, his eyes blazing with authority, like a king issuing orders to his subjects.
The Romanian Longhorn Dragon immediately lowered its head, falling silent. It wasn't merely fear that kept it from making a sound; a magical force, like invisible shackles, compelled it into obedience.
After all, magic is the power that brings a wizard's "wishes" to life.
Cyrus's formidable magical strength imbued even his casual words with the power of incantation. Though he hadn't reached the point where every wish could be effortlessly fulfilled, to most wizards, this was already close to divine power.
Many brilliant wizards take pride in creating a single well-crafted spell, but to Cyrus now, it was as simple as uttering a command.
"Take me to the other magical creatures guarding the clues," he said softly, his voice laced with an undeniable authority.
For a creature like a dragon with high magical resistance, such "spoken" magic would typically be weak, perhaps even ineffective. But the Romanian Longhorn had been thoroughly subdued; its fragile spirit dared not defy Cyrus's command.
The dragon spread its wings over the scorched ground, leaping into the air amidst flames!
The dragon took flight!
Its jagged spine pierced through the dense canopy of the Forbidden Forest, carrying Cyrus upward to meet the blinding sunlight.
Cyrus gripped the chain in one hand, standing as if on solid ground, with his right foot braced on the dragon's neck, his left foot on its back, and his other hand gripping the majestic golden horn, as imposing as a royal crown.
The wind whipped against him as they soared through the sky, making his robes billow behind him like a cloak. He looked every bit the dragon-rider, mastering the skies.
With his keen eyesight, he glanced back and could spot the roaring Quidditch stadium from miles away.
"So cool!"
Ron had lost count of how many times he'd jumped up, shouting.
All he knew was that Mr. Cyrus looked unbelievably impressive, like a king of the Forbidden Forest, riding a mighty dragon as he surveyed his kingdom.
"But...flying's not allowed in the competition," Harry said weakly, slumped beside Ron.
After Cassandra knocked him out, it hadn't been long before Aurors rescued him from the Forbidden Forest. Otherwise, if he'd stayed unconscious in there, it would have been no different than a death sentence—those magical creatures roaming the forest wouldn't have spared a defenseless meal.
Of course, this also meant he'd lost his eligibility in the competition.
But Harry didn't mind much; he hadn't entered willingly anyway. If he'd once dreamed of winning the Goblet of Fire, that dream had died the moment the Goblet had spat out Cyrus and Dumbledore's names.
He knew his own limitations.
Forget comparing himself to those two legends; he wasn't even the best among his own classmates. Perhaps if he combined his own courage with Hermione's wisdom, Ginny's strength, and Ron's humor, they would resemble a well-rounded champion.
When Harry thought about this, Cedric's image came to mind. But even someone like Cedric probably wouldn't be a match for Cassandra, let alone for Cyrus.
Then he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for Cedric. Because of his own betrayal by Cassandra, Cedric was now fighting alone.
"Welcome to the world of adults mate. The rule says champions can't fly, not dragons," Ron pointed out. "Cyrus just happens to be standing on the dragon's back."
"Good point," Harry replied absentmindedly.
His gaze wasn't focused on Cyrus's screen but instead on Cedric's. The Hufflepuff champion wasn't as lucky.
After entering the Forbidden Forest, Cedric had been searching for Harry, but the sparks he shot into the air hadn't attracted Potter; instead, they had drawn the attention of a Niffler Warthog.
This magical creature resembled a boar, with gray, spiky skin and a pair of enormous, upward-curving tusks on its snout.
Luckily, Cedric's reflexes were sharp. He knew not to stand directly in front of the creature; otherwise, those tusks could have easily pierced his abdomen!
Cedric finally cast a Quick Reflex Charm to dodge the Niffler Warthog, only to stumble into the territory of a Runic Serpent. These three-headed snake-like creatures are usually about two meters long, but the one Cedric encountered seemed to have been hit with an Engorgement Charm—it was massive, almost unnaturally so!
"Gasp! He'll be fine, right?"
The sight reminded Harry of the basilisk skin he and Ron had encountered in their second year while on their way to the Chamber of Secrets.
Fortunately, Runic Serpents aren't particularly aggressive, and Cedric knew its weaknesses. Each of its three heads has a different function: the left head is the smartest, while the right head is venomous.
However, theory alone wasn't enough, and Cedric had no real experience dealing with a Runic Serpent. He ended up mixing up the directions—mistaking the right head for the left—and was bitten by the venomous head, suffering its toxic effects.
Luckily, an unexpected visitor arrived on the scene—a centaur from the Forbidden Forest, who, like a valiant knight, rescued Cedric from danger.
Harry was also keeping an eye on another competitor: Cassandra, the one who had knocked him out of the game.
Harry had initially found it difficult to accept Cassandra's betrayal. As a follower of Cyrus, someone he once thought of as an ally, it stung to be betrayed by her. But when he woke up from his unconscious state and returned to the stands, his feelings quickly changed.
Seamus and Neville, among others, had come by to show their support, though they didn't say much. However, Harry could feel their fear and resentment toward Cassandra from their expressions and tone.
It reminded him of how he was once mistaken as the Heir of Slytherin.
"She was protecting you, Harry," Hermione whispered.
She already knew from Harry why Cassandra had no choice but to kill—the Beauxbatons wizard she killed was actually a Death Eater afterall.
"If she hadn't attacked you then, you would've been an accomplice, and now you're seen as a victim."
"But what about her?" Harry felt a pang of guilt.
"No need to worry about her," Ginny said, shaking her head. "Remember, her school is Ilvermorny. You're the one who has to stay at Hogwarts for another three and a half years. Besides, you really need to be more cautious. You've been captured by Death Eaters twice, and still don't seem to learn."
Ginny was pointing out Harry's lack of alertness.
Harry felt a bit embarrassed, and at that moment, Ron cut in.
"Look, Krum's about to get eliminated."
Harry, who was curious about the Quidditch star who shone at the World Cup, quickly turned to watch. Just in time, he saw Fischer defeating Krum.
The two had come face-to-face and chose to engage in a direct, fair confrontation.
Clearly, Fischer might not be as skilled as Krum in Quidditch, but in wizard dueling, he was a step ahead. He used a spell to hang Krum from a tree branch, then swiftly seized Krum's wand.
However, Fischer didn't have much time to celebrate, as Rodolphus ambushed him.
After realizing his brother might be in trouble, Rodolphus was already furious. Adding to that, Grindelwald seemed uninterested in any collaboration. Without wasting time, he turned to search for Rabastan's whereabouts but found nothing.
It was at this moment that he spotted Fischer, and his anger erupted.
Without hesitation, Rodolphus attacked Fischer from behind, a searing curse hitting Fischer squarely in the back, sending him rolling on the ground several times before he came to a stop.
"Just a mutt under Cyrus's boot. Before my master is reborn, let me exact a little interest from you!" Rodolphus sneered at Fischer as if he were looking at a corpse.
He wasn't going to risk killing Fischer, nor was he going to use an Unforgivable Curse, but Rodolphus was confident he could teach the young upstart a painful lesson.
"The Beauxbatons champion?" Fischer frowned deeply, not fully understanding what Rodolphus was saying.
Unlike Cassandra, Fischer had no idea the man in front of him was a Death Eater. Like Cedric, he was talented but innocent, representing an ideal student.
Perhaps someday he would follow in Cyrus's footsteps, but for now, he was simply an ordinary student.
One thing Fischer did understand, however, was that this person was insulting his cool headmaster. That alone made it impossible for Fischer to tolerate!
"You dare insult Professor Cyrus?" Ignoring the burning pain in his back, he glared angrily at Rodolphus, gripping his wand even tighter. "For the honor of the Fischer name, representing twelve generations of Aurors, I challenge you to a duel!"
But before he could finish, a spell whizzed past his ear, barely missing the tips of his golden hair. Then, a massive creature crashed through the rocky undergrowth, charging forward like a runaway train!
A dazzling golden-haired figure, standing atop the gigantic Rune-Engraved Serpent, was firing spells like a machine gun.
"Vole?" Fischer exclaimed, his voice pitched high with surprise.
Cassandra lifted her delicate chin and called out confidently, "Fischer, dueling is so last century! Now it's time for some good old-fashioned justice… in the form of a group beatdown!"
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12 Advance Chapters—Patreon/HornyFBI