I became Voldemort

Chapter 154: Cyrus! What are you up to?!

But wisdom is not a rootless tree; it needs soil to germinate.

Voldemort only understood the power and principle of the spell when Quirrell died.

"If Lily Potter really left any records, they are probably in Dumbledore's hands now," Cyrus speculated.

Thinking about it now, since Dumbledore mentioned Lily using ancient magic to defeat Voldemort at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he surely ensured that Cyrus couldn't obtain the ancient magic from here.

Ultimately, Cyrus was someone Dumbledore was wary of. How could he possibly let such dangerous power fall into his hands?

Understanding this, Cyrus realized there was no need to stay here any longer. However, he still looked for other mementos, planning to give Harry something for Christmas.

Perhaps some old items his parents once used (most of Lily's belongings had been taken by Snape) or the small flying broomstick Harry once rode as a child.

These were not particularly valuable gifts, but he thought Harry might like them.

...

"He took the cup!"

In the underground caverns of Gringotts, a short figure stood. His bloated form had shoulders that seemed wider than his height.

This was clearly the body of a goblin.

But the soul within had become Voldemort.

Dense black mist enveloped the goblin's body, leaving only its crimson eyes visible.

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After abandoning the body of the dark wizard, Voldemort had unexpectedly found this goblin. To his original self, such a creature was clearly beneath him, but at this moment, Voldemort had no choice.

To survive, he had possessed rats and snakes. Compared to that, at least a goblin could still be called "human," and their bodies contained some measure of magical power.

Now, he stood before the Lestrange family vault. The vault door, blown to smithereens, left Voldemort's face exceptionally grim.

Years ago, he had entrusted one of his Horcruxes to Bellatrix for safekeeping. Despite this, he couldn't ignore it completely. He knew the cup was in the vault, but now it had been robbed!

The treasures inside had vanished without a trace.

This heist was clearly targeted. Many vaults' doors had been destroyed, but only this one had been looted.

"Cyrus! What are you up to?" Voldemort's eyes blazed with fury.

Voldemort couldn't understand why Cyrus had stolen the Horcrux. Even now, Voldemort believed Cyrus to be another version of himself resurrected from a Horcrux. Since they were essentially the same, he wouldn't destroy the Horcrux, right?

Or could it be...?

A disquieting thought began to form in Voldemort's mind.

"Could he be planning to resurrect all the souls within the Horcruxes?"

This idea was so insane that even Voldemort found it disturbing. He had created five Horcruxes (unaware that Harry was also a Horcrux). If all the souls within these Horcruxes were resurrected, there would be six Voldemorts in the world!
Six Voldemorts sounded formidable. Even Dumbledore would be powerless against such a force.

But what would happen after Dumbledore was defeated?

Would they coexist peacefully?
Voldemort knew himself too well. If all those Horcruxes were resurrected, where would that leave him, the original?

"We must retrieve all the Horcruxes!" His blood-red eyes glinted. Recovering the stolen Horcruxes wouldn't be easy, but checking on the remaining ones was even more critical.

"Who's there?"

A sharp voice suddenly interrupted Voldemort's thoughts from behind. He turned to see a goblin in miner's attire, clearly one of the Gringotts maintenance crew.

The goblin approached warily but froze upon seeing Voldemort's face.

"You are..."

But Voldemort had already extended his long, sharp forefinger, pointing it at the goblin's forehead!

"Avada Kedavra!"

With a flash of green light, the goblin's eyes glazed over, and it collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Voldemort stepped over the fallen body, his mind racing with thoughts of retrieving and securing the remaining Horcruxes. Time was of the essence.

Halloween was always a highly regarded holiday in the wizarding world, second only to Christmas. Though Cyrus couldn't quite understand why wizards celebrated Christmas, who was to say Jesus wasn't a wizard?

Third-year students would make their first visit to Hogsmeade village on the day before Halloween.

Of course, Harry Potter wouldn't be able to go because of the incident over the summer; he hadn't received permission from his guardians. Not that it mattered much to him at the moment. The news Hermione had brought back from Mr. Cyrus had left him reeling, especially knowing the true culprit had been caught. Now, all that was left was for Sirius to testify in court.

'I might have a family...' Harry stood alone by the window of his dormitory, unable to contain his excitement.

But soon, worry crept in.

'Will he accept me?'

He felt anxious.

"He will, indeed. In fact, he is willing to give you everything he has."

A familiar voice suddenly spoke in Harry's ear, startling him. He looked around but saw no one. "Who's speaking?"

"It's me." Cyrus tapped on the window.

Harry then found that a golden eagle had landed in front of his window. He quickly opened the window, and the cool wind immediately poured in, making him shrink his head.

Then he saw the eagle jump into his room, and in his astonished eyes, it turned into a man wearing a black and gold cloak.

"Mr. Cyrus?!" Harry's eyes widened!

"Good morning, Harry. How is Sirius's matter?" Cyrus greeted naturally.

He didn't know the Gryffindor password, so he chose this method to come in.

"Peter Pettigrew has been detained in the Ministry of Magic. Professor Dumbledore said that as soon as Sirius shows up, the trial can be held." Harry answered naturally, but he soon realized that in addition to answering, he still had too many questions to ask Cyrus.

For example - those things related to Voldemort.

"How... have you been recently? Hermione said that you ignored her again after you replied to her in your diary last time."

But he opened his mouth and only said ordinary pleasantries. He was worried that if he said something too clearly, they would no longer be friends.

"I can't stand her chattering all the time. I have a lot of things to do."

"Like bombing the Gringotts?"

"!"

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