I became Voldemort

"All of your combined spells. Heh~ A mere grain of sand—nothing compared to me~"

Cyrus stood amidst the explosion, casually brushing the dust from his clothes.

The spells cast by dozens of elite Aurors seemed lighter than dust to him.

Even more terrifying was the fact that everyone present could see that Cyrus wasn't just putting on a show. The spells, powerful enough to plunge someone into permanent unconsciousness, had no effect on him at all. It was as if they had vanished into thin air without making the slightest ripple.

That hadn't even ruffled a single hair, and his suit remained as pristine and sharp as it had been from the start, without a single wrinkle.

Katherine's eyes widened, as if she were witnessing a god.

"Is he... a dragon?"

All the witches and wizards present gaped at him as if they were staring at a monster.

The only thing that came to their minds at that moment was a dragon!

This magical creature's skin had immense resistance to magic, rendering many spells ineffective.

'A dragon? How could such a lowly beast compare to him?!' Bella's face flushed, her eyes brimming with madness and devotion as she gazed at Cyrus.

It was as if she were worshipping a deity, her breath heavy with awe, having just witnessed a miracle.

And she was right. Even a dragon couldn't withstand dozens of spells without flinching, especially when the casters were all top-tier Aurors.

No one noticed Bella's strange expression at that moment; all eyes were fixed on Cyrus.

His power had surpassed their wildest imaginations.

Cyrus stood alone before the mass of hundreds of wizards, appearing small, as though he could be swallowed up by the sea of people at any moment.

Yet, paradoxically, he felt immense. His upright figure seemed like a pillar holding up the sky and the earth.

The high-ranking members of the Magical Congress met his gaze. Though they stood on equal ground, they couldn't shake the sensation that they were gazing up at a towering mountain.

Especially those who had just attacked Cyrus—each of them felt consumed by fear.

Under the piercing gaze of his fiery golden eyes, it was as though a massive weight had settled on their shoulders.

Sweat trickled down O'Brien's temple, and he involuntarily swallowed.

His pupils constricted, and the image of Cyrus reflected in his eyes was no longer that of a handsome man but a fearsome, monstrous creature!

Ah!

Now, the monster started to move!

Cyrus walked forward as if taking a casual stroll. His steps were light, but to O'Brien, they seemed extremely heavy. Those footsteps were like a giant stepping on thin ice, and with each step closer, they left a mark of fear in his heart.

By the time Cyrus stood in front of him, O'Brien's heart was already in shreds.

"Such ungentlemanly behavior. Sigh I really don't know if you're brave or just foolish, daring to challenge me."

There was no smile on Cyrus' face as he glanced across the wizards in the Magical Congress hall. All the wizards who met his gaze seemed to be under a spell, involuntarily bowing their heads, as if that was the only way to avoid the gaze that could pierce right through them.

Cyrus saw the current Congress President rushing over with a few aides, his expression anxious, seemingly intending to stop this commotion.

But at this moment, it was obviously impossible for Cyrus to stop.

He let out a cold laugh and raised his left hand, electric currents in his palm dancing like a swarm of serpents.

In the next moment, the magic power in Cyrus' hand erupted violently!

Boom!!!

A massive shockwave spread violently outward from Cyrus as the center.

The air in the Magical Congress seemed to warp instantly, and a semi-transparent shockwave rippled outward like water, becoming almost tangible!

O'Brien, who was closest to Cyrus, immediately felt an immense force slam into his chest, as if a high-speed train had crashed heavily into him.

The overwhelming pressure nearly flattened his entire body!

All the blood in his body surged outward under this force, like countless arrows shattering his veins and piercing through his skin!

Pop!

Like a water-filled balloon, O'Brien exploded in an instant!

Blood spread out like a crescent, falling like a torrential rain and splattering directly onto the Congress President, who was rushing over, covering him in blood and turning him into a blood-soaked figure.

Quahog hadn't even had time to comprehend what had just happened when the space in front of him began to distort.

The tidal wave-like shockwave reached him in an instant. Quahog had no time to react and was hit directly, sent tumbling backward and almost losing consciousness.

It wasn't just him—except for Bellatrix, Katherine, and Graves, all the members of the Magical Congress present were affected by the force of the impact.

For a moment, the entire Congress hall looked like an overturned bowl of dumplings, with people scattered everywhere.

The snakewood wand in Bella's hand seemed to come to life, raising its small, dark green head and forming an invisible barrier.

Several people were flung high enough to almost hit the ceiling of the Magical Congress, and then fell down haphazardly like rain. Some crashed heavily to the ground, breaking bones, while others ended up hanging from the wall decorations, like a cat held by the scruff of its neck.

"Ah~ Sorry,"

"Seems I got carried away, and a few people died," Cyrus said apologetically, though his tone was entirely indifferent.

He looked down at the wizards now groveling at his feet, his words dripping with mockery: "It's hard to tread on ants without crushing them to death, you know."

The President of the Magical Congress, Quahog, looked almost like the moon—one side facing Cyrus was entirely covered in blood, while the other was clean.

"Ugh.." He lay twisted on the ground, struggling and glaring angrily at Cyrus.

Among all the wizards present, apart from O'Brien and the few who first provoked Cyrus, no one else could be confirmed dead—at least not in the gruesome manner of O'Brien and his companions, whose bodies had exploded, leaving blood splattered and their bones and flesh reduced to a pulp, with only a blood-soaked, perforated skin remaining.

It was clear that Cyrus had enough control over his power.

He had deliberately intended for O'Brien and the others to die!

Samuel G. Quahog knew this clearly, but he couldn't say it out loud. Partly because of the blow to his chest—several ribs were broken, possibly even puncturing a lung—and partly because he knew that Cyrus' words were giving him a way out. To insist on exposing the truth would only be asking for death.

Not only him, but in fact, most people who could work in the Magical Congress were shrewd individuals. They all understood Cyrus' message.

He was merely demonstrating his strength, and O'Brien was just unfortunate enough to get in the way.

Now, no one felt any sympathy for O'Brien; everyone thought he completely deserved it!

Why provoke a fearsome figure like Cyrus for no reason?

And he even ended up dragging them into this mess.

"So then—I'll be the Headmaster of Ilvermorny. Who agrees, who opposes?"
Cyrus arrogantly raised his chin. His eyes seemed like blazing suns, hanging high above the dome!

He spread his hands, and Bella, holding the snakewood wand, immediately understood.

She quickly stepped behind Cyrus, lowered her head, and presented the wand with both hands.

Samuel G. Quahog watched as Cyrus reached out and gripped the snakewood wand.

He was like a king donning his crown, holding the scepter that symbolized power itself, standing at the pinnacle of authority!

Apart from the wailing, the Congress Hall was utterly silent.

No one spoke, so Cyrus took it as them having no objections.

At this moment, who could even utter the word "no"?

Even if Cyrus announced he was going to immediately become the head of the Magical Congress, Quahog wouldn't dare entertain a thought of refusal at this time. Otherwise, everyone in the Magical Congress could end up dead instantly!

He looked at Cyrus and inexplicably thought of Dumbledore.

Perhaps only the greatest white wizard in the world could be a match for Cyrus. They were equally powerful, but the difference was that Cyrus was no saint.

O'Brien's still-warm splattered blood was a testament to Cyrus's terror.

Compared to Dumbledore, Cyrus was perhaps more like Grindelwald.

Bella watched as the others in the Magical Congress groveled like dogs, unable to muster even a word of defiance against Cyrus. She looked at Cyrus and asked a question that deeply concerned her.

"Does this mean I no longer need to hide?" She softly whispered.

Compared to infiltrating the Magical Congress, she preferred to stand behind Cyrus and follow in her master's footsteps.

After all, her initial infiltration into the Congress was merely to take control of it, and now, if Cyrus wanted to become the Congress President, it was just a matter of saying so.

"Then let Bulstrode take over the position of Congress President," Cyrus granted Bella's request while appointing his loyal servant Bulstrode as the next president of the Magical Congress.

As for Quahog, though he had submitted to Cyrus for the moment, it was purely due to the display of force. No one could say whether he might turn around and seek Dumbledore's help.

It was better for the power of the Magical Congress to remain firmly in his own hands!

Afterward, Cyrus slid one hand into the pocket of his expensive trousers, turned his head, and looked at Graves, who appeared soulless and puppet-like. He spoke softly:

"Now then, Mr. Graves, shall we continue with our original discussion?"

He ignored the injured scattered everywhere—someone would eventually come to help anyway—and instead focused his attention on the more valuable target, Graves. This wizard held greater value and was easier to recruit and manipulate.

"I can tell you that Grindelwald is indeed still alive, and he is very likely to achieve his objective through this tournament," Cyrus stated confidently. "I know the history of the Graves family and understand your thoughts. But you are no match for him—

"You might think I'm arrogant, but in this world, there aren't more than three people capable of standing against Grindelwald, and I happen to be one of them."

As he said this, Cyrus slid the snakewood wand along the inside of his arms, signaling for Graves to come closer. "Follow me, and I can help you!"

Graves' gaze showed signs of wavering.

In fact, at this moment, Graves had even forgotten his hatred for Grindelwald, replaced instead by Cyrus's words echoing in his mind.

Arrogant?

Graves didn't think Cyrus was arrogant.

On the contrary, he believed that Cyrus was probably being modest.

Casting spells without a wand and instantly killing so many Auror-level wizards in the hall—even Grindelwald couldn't do that!

He couldn't imagine the terrifying power Cyrus would wield when he picked up the legendary snakewood wand!

Graves' mind had gone blank, and he could no longer think. He subconsciously began to step toward Cyrus. However, someone else was faster than him—Catherine had already moved to Cyrus's side the moment Bella returned to him.

...

August.

The highly anticipated Quidditch World Cup had begun.

Harry had received a letter back in July, and for this summer holiday, he left Privet Drive early to stay at the Burrow for a few days.

Now, along with everyone from the Weasley family and Hermione, he had arrived at the stadium said to be large enough to hold a hundred thousand people.

He eagerly looked at every face passing by, trying to spot Cyrus in the crowd.

It had been several months since he had last seen Mr. Cyrus.

However, through some of the well-informed people at school—namely Ron—and sometimes receiving information in letters from Mr. Weasley, Harry learned that Cyrus had apparently gone to North America.

As for more specific details, Arthur Weasley hadn't elaborated.

Of course, Harry already knew that Cyrus would be bringing students from Ilvermorny to participate in the Triwizard Tournament.

In fact, just last month, Cyrus and Bella had personally gone to the Ministry of Magic, almost scaring Fudge to the point of losing control.

In the end, it was Dumbledore who stepped in to negotiate and settle the matter.

Currently, Cyrus and the former Death Eater Bellatrix were likely in Britain, waiting to meet with representatives from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to discuss the details.

However, information regarding the Triwizard Tournament was still confidential, and Arthur couldn't reveal anything.

Unlike Harry, who was looking around everywhere, Hermione and Ginny seemed to have never expected to see Cyrus at the World Cup in the first place.

"Harry, I've told you, Mr. Cyrus isn't coming to watch the Quidditch match," Ginny said, exasperated. "To him, Quidditch is just a pastime. He has far more important things to do!"

"But what if he does?" Harry reached into his pocket and grasped something cold.

Then, to Hermione's horror, he took out a handgun.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Hermione screamed, "Put that away right now!"

"Why are you so worked up? I've already used up all the magic bullets. I just wanted to ask Cyrus for some more!"

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