"Hedwig, what are you doing here?"
Just as she was about to fall to the ground, Cyrus made a gesture, casting a spell to catch her and bring her gently to his side.
Hedwig seemed to have come a long way—she looked utterly exhausted, her feathers ruffled, her expression weak, as if she hadn't eaten in days.
Cyrus was curious what matter had been so urgent that she had pushed herself to such extremes, even neglecting to eat just to deliver this letter.
He cast a Summoning Charm to bring over some water and food, letting Hedwig rest and recover a bit, then he pulled out the envelope she had brought.
As expected, it was a letter from Harry.
He opened it, and Harry's handwriting was messy and rushed, as if he had been desperate to get the letter into Cyrus's hands, so much so that he hadn't even written a proper greeting.
Of course, Cyrus didn't care about such formalities.
Cyrus, I have to tell you something. It's about the prophecy—the one you told me to keep an eye on—
'The prophecy?'
Cyrus paused for a moment.
He remembered that he had once asked Harry to keep an eye out for any prophecies concerning him.
The Divination professor at Hogwarts was a witch with genuine prophetic talent. Though her bloodline had grown thin, she still managed to catch glimpses of the future in her trances, receiving rare insights.
She had prophesied that Harry would become Voldemort's enemy and ultimately defeat him.
It had to be said, even with Cyrus's involvement, that prophecy had not been broken. When it came to vanquishing Voldemort, Harry had indeed played a pivotal role.
Originally, Professor Trelawney's second prophecy had been related to Voldemort's resurrection. But since Wormtail had long since returned to his master, that prophecy had never been spoken aloud.
And now, here it was—a new prophecy.
Without even reading further, Cyrus already had a feeling that this prophecy must concern Death.
And as expected, it did.
The letter read:
Death is seeking his three offerings. No matter how time may shift, He will claim the souls that were always meant to be His.
Together, they defeated a powerful enemy, earning Death's admiration and His gifts. The eldest among them received the invincible Elder Wand. He praised the Elder Wand's boundless power, but was struck down in secret, his life taken from him.
'The tale of Death and the three brothers?' Cyrus frowned. From the sound of it, this so-called prophecy was merely a retelling of the old story of the three brothers. He could recite the rest even without reading further.
The second was an arrogant wizard who sought to humiliate Death. So, he demanded from Death the power to bring the dead back to life. In the end, he resurrected his beloved who had died, but was driven mad by her cold and distant presence, and took his own life.
Sure enough, the prophecy Harry had written down matched this almost exactly.
As for the third part, it didn't include so much praise for the youngest brother's wisdom. Death still claimed His third offering, and then, unstoppable death descended upon the whole world.
Cyrus felt a strange, indescribable sensation. Though he had heard this story more times than he could count, it suddenly felt like it was no longer just a story.
'The prophecy speaks of three offerings, not three brothers,' he thought. 'Dumbledore was the first. He held the unbeatable Elder Wand, yet was ambushed and killed by Death. The remaining two… could they be me and Grindelwald?'
The thought rose in Cyrus's mind.
'He will claim the souls that were always meant to be His,' Cyrus repeated to himself.
Following the original tale, Dumbledore was indeed destined to die, and not long after his death, Grindelwald too was killed by Voldemort. That way, Death would have claimed both their souls.
As for the third one…
The Invisibility Cloak protected the third offering, but in the end, he will face Death's test once more, alone at the end of his life.
No one can escape Death's judgment.
"Me?"
In truth, because of his existence, Voldemort hadn't even had the chance to launch his reign of terror after his resurrection. Hardly any wizards had died in that conflict—Cyrus had changed everything. It wasn't surprising that Death would set its sights on him.
Except…
"My soul belongs to no one," Cyrus sneered.
Death?
It certainly sounded convincing—but in reality? Death was nothing more than a schemer hiding in the shadows.
If Death dared to show itself, Cyrus wouldn't mind having a proper duel with it!
He tucked the letter away and looked up, noticing that everyone in the courtroom was watching him. Their expressions were solemn, even tinged with concern. He couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh.
Clearly, when someone's power became great enough, every move they made would draw attention.
You didn't need to raise your voice, and yet it could still be deafening.
"Mr. Cyrus, is something the matter?" Babajide hesitated, wrestled with the thought for a moment, then finally asked.
Cyrus had only lowered his head to read a letter, but the way he frowned in deep thought had frightened quite a few people.
Who knew what that letter contained?
Cyrus was a man who could determine the fate of the entire wizarding world. They could afford to ignore anyone or anything—except him.
"Ah~ It's nothing, Mr. Babajide," Cyrus replied with a smile.
He had no intention of revealing the contents of the prophecy and simply said, "Mr. Babajide, thank you for defending me just now."
The old wizard nodded. He looked truly aged, but his spirit remained unbroken. "I simply trust in Dumbledore's judgment."
He added, "Albus trusted you—otherwise, he would never have worked alongside you."
Even though Dumbledore was gone, his influence lingered still. Especially among the wizards of his generation, they understood better than anyone the weight that name carried.
In the end, Babajide, his eyes reddened, pleaded, "Please, find the murderer."
"Of course," Cyrus nodded. "Even if only for my own sake, I will find him."
Slowly, the people in the courtroom dispersed.
Bellatrix and Cassandra approached Cyrus, but neither of them asked what had happened. They trusted that Cyrus could resolve any problem.
It was Cassandra, however, who made a casual suggestion. "Professor, do you want me to take care of that Nuno Bush?"
At that, Cyrus actually laughed. He shook his head and said with a touch of pity, "What's the point? He's already pitiful enough, running around without a brain."
...
Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts.
"I hope Cyrus gets the letter soon," Harry said.
He couldn't help but think back to that night, to the way Trelawney had fallen into a wild trance. She had wandered as if sleepwalking, mumbling to herself like a madwoman as she climbed to the tower where Dumbledore had fallen.
At the time, some of the younger students were still in Astronomy class. The Astronomy professor had been surprised—Trelawney, who usually hid away in her tower, had suddenly come down, only to go into a frenzy on the observatory platform. Before long, half the school had gathered to watch.
She paid no mind to the crowd, her eyes glowing as if she truly possessed the legendary Sight.
Then Professor McGonagall had hurried over to disperse the students, but Harry and his friends had been lucky enough to stay behind and hear the prophecy.
This time, even Hermione—who usually scoffed at Divination—had nothing to say. And shortly after delivering the prophecy, Trelawney had fainted dead away. She was still lying unconscious in the hospital wing to this very moment.
Clearly, her act of divination had backfired on her, and Madam Pomfrey wasn't optimistic.
"Because she wasn't prophesying about an ordinary person, but a god," she speculated. "Trelawney's magical strength simply wasn't enough to withstand the strain of defying a god."
Madam Pomfrey even believed that the prophecy itself might have been a warning delivered directly by Death.
The seer's unconscious state cast a heavy shadow over Harry and the others.
Harry hadn't wasted a moment—he immediately wrote to Cyrus.
"Prophecies don't always come true," Ginny said. "At the very least, Cyrus will never die!"
She spoke with firm conviction, her words sharp and decisive. On one hand, Ginny truly had immense faith in Cyrus. So far, Cyrus had only ever lost a single battle—and that had been right after his resurrection, when his magical power was still far from its peak, and he had faced Dumbledore wielding the Elder Wand.
Since then, Cyrus hadn't lost to anyone.
Even if this time his opponent was Death itself, Ginny couldn't imagine it ending any differently.
On the other hand, she was also trying to give herself confidence.
"If Grindelwald and Cyrus join forces, the odds would be even better," Hermione said.
Her gaze instinctively drifted toward the castle courtyard—everyone knew that was where Dumbledore had been laid to rest.
________
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