The shadow of death was drawing ever closer.
After stepping out of time and returning to reality, Cyrus immediately sought out Herpo's Horcrux and destroyed it outside the bounds of time.
Only by doing this would history remain unchanged and prevent the creation of an entirely new timeline.
Now the only problem that remained was Death.
"A Death who has already claimed two souls will never give up on the third," said Cassandra, who had rarely appeared during this time. She was so busy it seemed she might fly apart from the pressure, but the results were evident.
Her constant speeches had made more and more wizards begin to understand Cyrus's philosophy.
The wizarding world had already begun a steady effort to learn about Muggles.
In truth, the pace couldn't be too fast—it had to proceed gradually, like boiling a frog in warm water.
The Statute of Secrecy was like a scar; if torn off forcefully, it would only reveal a gaping, bloody wound. But if removed slowly, the skin exposed to the air would be soft and new.
It wasn't necessary for every wizard to immediately accept Muggles, nor did they need to face them all at once—what mattered now was learning about them.
And the same held true for Muggles.
With Lockhart's polished writing and Rita's extreme publicity and hype, the novel Harry Potter had become wildly popular for the time being.
Every child longed for that dazzling magical world and hoped to receive a letter from Hogwarts delivered by an owl on their tenth birthday.
They didn't believe they were Muggles—but from the moment they began to believe in magic, they were no longer Muggles.
"You're right. He will come again," Cyrus said.
According to the prophecy, both he and Harry met the criteria for "immortal" souls. Death only needed three souls to break free from the constraints of the world of the dead and enter the real world.
That meant Cyrus and Harry were Death's next targets.
"I can stay rational for a long time, and I'll never give Death the chance to exploit a weakness," Cyrus said.
He was immensely powerful—there was no longer anyone in this world who could rival him. And now that he possessed all three Deathly Hallows, no matter how strong Death was, without being able to descend into the real world, it was impossible for it to harm him.
"But Harry is different."
In truth, ever since Dumbledore's death, Harry had matured greatly.
That growth wasn't just in magical knowledge—more importantly, it was in his wisdom. He had begun to learn to think like Dumbledore, rather than acting recklessly.
But the problem was, he was still just a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy.
In the original timeline, Harry would still be sulking with Dumbledore at this point—all because Dumbledore refused to have a proper conversation with him. He was still complaining about not being made a prefect, feeling happy for Ron but also deeply jealous.
He thought he was no longer important to Dumbledore, felt like an abandoned little creature.
But now? He had already faced death.
And he was calm enough.
Yet even Dumbledore himself made mistakes sometimes. When he saw the Resurrection Stone, he couldn't resist and ended up falling into Voldemort's trap in the cave.
So what about Harry?
"If Death wants to claim the final soul, He'll definitely go for Harry first," Cyrus said.
"But you can't stay with him every minute of every day," Cassandra said. "Otherwise, the girls would be heartbroken."
"Of course I won't," Cyrus said. "I won't wait for Death to come knocking—I should go to Him myself and bring all of this to an end."
His words left Cassandra stunned. After the statement ran once through her brilliant mind, she finally realized what Cyrus had just said.
And so, she could no longer maintain her usual elegance:
"Are you insane?!"
"You want to go find Death? He's just waiting for you or Harry to take the bait!"
Seek out Death?
How was that any different from walking to your own death?
No—
It was walking to your death!
Because Death resided in the world of the dead, a place the living could never reach. To go there, one would have to die first.
Cassandra thought of that story: "At last, the third brother greeted Death as an old friend, and together they departed this world."
It seemed that Cyrus's plan now was no different from that of the third brother in the tale.
"So the prophecy is going to come true again," Cassandra said, hiding the sorrow in her heart. She felt Cyrus's plan was far too fanciful.
How could someone living possibly meet Death face to face?
"It's not the prophecy—it's my own choice," Cyrus shook his head and said. "If Harry is taken by Death, then with all three souls in His possession, Death might become something even I can't resist."
"So now, the only option is to strike while His power is still incomplete."
"But… how are you going to find Death?" Cassandra finally asked. "You're not seriously going to die just to do it, are you?"
Upon hearing this, Cyrus gave a mysterious smile.
"Of course not. I know a path that leads to the realm of the dead. But before that, I still need to make some preparations."
He returned to Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall temporarily gave him use of the Headmaster's Office.
So, Cyrus sat in that chair, and before him were Dumbledore's portrait and the ancient Sorting Hat.
"Hmm… your method might work," the Sorting Hat said. "To be honest, Godric Gryffindor once considered trying it. But he gave up in the end—because he knew his strength could never rival Death's."
Then it paused for a moment and added, "If the four founders had combined their power, they might've stood a chance. But by that time, Slytherin had already turned against the rest."
"There was something like that?" Dumbledore's portrait showed clear surprise. "You never mentioned it to me."
"I'm not the sentimental type, no, definitely not," said the Sorting Hat. "Otherwise, I wouldn't make up a new song every year. Besides, you never talk to me about these things—there's already more than enough in the wizarding world for you to worry about."
"In any case, you'd best bring the founders' relics with you."
"But they were all destroyed," Dumbledore's portrait said. "Unless you can go back in time and find them before they were destroyed."
"I don't think that's necessary," said the Sorting Hat, turning to Cyrus with a serious expression. "From what I see, you're completely capable of forging those things yourself now, aren't you?"
"As long as I want to," Cyrus smiled.
In other words, he no longer needed those inherited artifacts at all.
Whatever he imagined, he could create.
The power of those magical items—he could now replicate them with a single thought.
"In that case, there's no need to prepare," said the Sorting Hat. "But you better think this through! That is a place even Godric Gryffindor never reached!"
_______
♥♥♥
Read the full fanfic on Patreon/HornyFBI