I became Voldemort

Chapter 242: 1st Challenge Begins!

"Apparition is certainly possible, but I doubt many of the champions have fully mastered it yet, have they?" Cyrus glanced at Fisher, who, predictably, lowered his head in shame.

"I passed the exam... but sometimes it's not that reliable," Fischer admitted awkwardly.

Apparition is something wizards are allowed to learn only after reaching adulthood, and even then, they must undergo collective training with other students. The training period is long. Though several champions were old enough, they hadn't yet begun formal instruction. Trying to cram some training into the few days before the competition would depend entirely on their innate talent.

"YUP! I've mastered it!" Cassandra proudly lifted her head, resembling a golden-curled cat.

"Then you can aim for more points and start preparing for the next round," Cyrus nodded.

When it comes to facing dangerous magical creatures, having mastered Apparition is clearly a game-changer. With it, no matter how dangerous the situation, escaping remains an option.

"Fischer, you should practice more over the next few days. I'll have Bella prepare plenty of dittany to ensure you're flawless by the time the competition starts."

"Yes, professor!"

"Also," Cyrus paused and lowered his voice, "you might want to keep an eye on Beauxbatons' students. Aside from the champion named Fleur, I suspect the other two have already been replaced."

Among Beauxbatons' three competitors, Fleur, who had one-quarter Veela heritage, was difficult to impersonate by a polyjuice. Even if her appearance could be altered, her innate magical charm, which was nearly impossible to mimic, could not be faked.

The other two Beauxbatons champions seemed unremarkable. Most likely, Death Eaters would be taking their place when the time came.

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"Be prepared. Don't forget, we are Death Eaters! Our Lord is depending on us!"

Barty Crouch Jr. glared sternly at the two wizards standing before him—Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, both of them die-hard loyalists to the Dark Lord.

"You don't need to remind us!" Rodolphus grunted as he painstakingly performed human transfiguration on himself. Since the first task would last the entire day, relying solely on Polyjuice Potion wasn't safe enough.

Their human transfiguration skills were decent enough that, aside from those who knew them well, no one would be able to tell the difference.

By the time the majority of the audience was watching the tournament through the magical images, the chance of them being discovered was almost nonexistent.

"Let's go, then!" Barty growled through gritted teeth. "Remember, we won't be eliminated. Getting the 'key' is more important than winning."

With that, he turned and walked away without looking back. Rodolphus and Rabastan followed in silence.

...

Meanwhile, over a thousand people had gathered in the stands of the Quidditch stadium.

In the center of the vast stadium stood a massive circular screen, large enough to ensure that every witch and wizard could see the progress of the competition from every angle.

The magical drone that Cyrus invented closely resembled a Golden Snitch in appearance. In fact, he had based the design on the small and discreet flying object, making modifications to it.

"If only they had this kind of big screen during the Quidditch World Cup," Ron remarked, sitting in the back of the stands. Hermione, Ginny, and the massive Hagrid squeezed in next to him.

Hagrid was incredibly nervous, muttering to himself, "Don't worry, don't worry, Harry will be fine. He knows the Forbidden Forest better than anyone!"

"Look, they're coming out!"

Hermione anxiously grabbed Ginny's hand.

But she didn't need to say anything; the large screen in the center of the stadium was already showing the teams emerging from the four corners of the field.

Dumbledore, as usual, was dressed in his peculiar wizard robes.

Harry and Cedric each wore their respective house Quidditch uniforms.

The Beauxbatons champions were clad in their blue school uniforms, while Durmstrang's champions had taken off their cloaks and replaced them with blood-red school uniforms.

Grindelwald wore his London attire—a black trench coat that complemented his spiked white hair—making him look rebellious and fierce. In that moment, it felt as though the dark wizard of fifty years ago had returned!

As for Ilvermorny—

Cassandra and Fischer weren't wearing their school uniforms. Instead, they donned dark green robes, resembling shadowy serpents.

The golden hair of Cassandra, contrasting with the green fabric of her robe, made her look like a golden flower blooming in a pool of venom.

Leading them was Cyrus, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his coat.

His highlighted strand of hair fell over his forehead, and his crimson-golden eyes seemed to shine brighter than the dawn sun.

The Quidditch stadium erupted into a frenzy, with thousands of people cheering, the sound waves rising higher and higher!

Ginny, unsatisfied with just seeing Cyrus on the screen, stretched her neck desperately, trying to catch a glimpse of that golden figure on the lush green field in the distance.

Though the screen offered a much clearer and closer view, something about searching for him in the actual field felt far more fulfilling.

The champions from the four schools gathered amidst the cheering crowd.

Cyrus's gaze met Dumbledore's and Grindelwald's. They exchanged no words, yet the tension in the air was palpable.

Cyrus noticed Harry behind Dumbledore, clenching his fists tightly and trembling slightly.

He was still a bit scared.

"In ten minutes, the competition will begin," Babajide announced, walking to the center where the four teams stood. "The champions will enter the Forbidden Forest from different directions. If you encounter an opponent in the forest, you are allowed to engage in combat. The first champion from Beauxbatons will go first."

Fleur stepped forward, took a deep breath, and ran toward the Forbidden Forest.

Next up was Harry, followed by Cassandra, then Krum... and then another Beauxbatons champion.

Finally, only three remained on the Quidditch pitch—Cyrus, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald. By this time, the sun had fully risen.

The morning mist, illuminated by the sunlight, draped the Forbidden Forest like a golden veil.

Cyrus lifted his head, watching the performances of the nine champions on the large screen. Cassandra, upon entering the forest, immediately began orienting herself, swiftly moving deeper into the woods.

She actively searched for the tracks of magical creatures, clearly intending to find some clues.

"Mr. Cyrus, it's your turn," Babajide said, squinting at the time before turning to Cyrus.

Cyrus nodded, confidently and calmly stepping forward.

He was about an hour and a half behind the first Beauxbatons champion, Fleur, yet he didn't seem concerned about the time.

With steady composure, he left the roaring Quidditch stadium, heading toward the muddy path leading into the Forbidden Forest.

The early morning forest, shrouded in mist, made it seem as though he was walking into a luminous, ethereal realm all by himself.

As Cyrus stepped into the Forbidden Forest, a cold and damp air immediately enveloped him.

The morning sunlight seemed unable to bring warmth or light to this dark forest. The towering, thick-leaved trees shattered the sunlight into fragmented beams, casting faint slivers of light onto the forest floor. The rays, frozen in narrow spaces, felt weak and powerless—yet, like spears piercing the darkness.

The Forbidden Forest was just as it had always been.

Cyrus's feet pressed down on the thick, wet layer of fallen leaves, the ground slippery beneath him. But this posed no challenge for him. With his abilities, reaching the finish line could be accomplished in the blink of an eye. However, the tournament wasn't just about who arrived first to score the highest; the performance along the way, the information gathered, all contributed to the judges' evaluation.

For most contestants, simply reaching the end would be an enormous challenge. But for Cyrus, he had to do it in style. The finish line was never his real goal.

Thus, not long after entering the forest, he stopped in his tracks as if waiting for someone.

Back in the Quidditch stadium...

Cyrus's unusual behavior immediately drew the attention of everyone watching the event.

"He's stopped!" Lee Jordan, true to his signature Quidditch commentary style, shouted loudly, even without a microphone.

"What do you think he's doing?" Hermione asked, staring intently at the screen without turning her head.

Ginny also shook her head in confusion.

But Ron, with a rather absurd thought popping into his mind, couldn't help but smirk, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. "You don't think he's waiting for Dumbledore or Grindelwald, do you?"

"Dueling Dumbledore? He's got no chance!" Hagrid responded in his booming voice, drawing the attention of several young wizards around him. But Hagrid's confidence quickly wavered.

"Wait a minute... Dumbledore's the one You-Know-Who fears the most, but Cyrus has defeated You-Know-Who too. Now that I think about it, their strengths might be closer than we realize!" His expression darkened, and he began to worry for Dumbledore.

The handsome Ilvermorny headmaster was apparently planning to go head-to-head with Dumbledore.

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12 Advance Chapters—