Voldemort looked at the most powerful wand in his hand, anger and unwillingness revealed in his eyes.

"I haven't lost yet! How dare you give up on me and choose him?!"

He growled angrily, completely refusing to acknowledge the fact that he had failed.

In fact, this is true. Although Voldemort was slightly injured by Cyrus's trick, he was holding the Resurrection Stone and was no longer human. This injury was actually nothing. He only needed a few breaths to regroup! The premise is that the Elder Wand is still willing to obey his orders.

But now, this magic wand actually betrayed me at this moment!

He couldn't accept this result. It was obvious that his magic power was stronger now. Shouldn't the Elder Wand submit to the hands of the strong? !

He had made so many preparations, and even Grindelwald had held Dumbledore back. Except for today, there would probably never be such a good opportunity to kill Cyrus again! But now, he knew that he was powerless.

If he had only an ordinary wand in his hand, Voldemort would have thought of continuing to fight, but he had the Elder Wand in his hand. And this wand now chose Cyrus.

Voldemort knew very well that no one could ever hurt Cyrus with this wand again.

But even so, Voldemort was unwilling to give up the Elder Wand. Even if he couldn't use it, at least he couldn't let it fall into Cyrus' hands. Moreover, if he seized the opportunity, he might be able to take back the ownership of the wand.

So he coldly withdrew his wand, and the thick black fog enveloped him.

"Let's stop here today, Cyrus. Those annoying Aurors are coming." Voldemort did not show his weakness. Although the Old Wand had become an ordinary wand in his hand, as long as he wanted to leave, Cyrus would find it difficult to keep him.

One of the two black dragons that had already rushed out of the Ministry of Magic and were fighting each other in the sky of London suddenly turned into mud and disappeared like turbid sewage under the gaze of tens of thousands of Muggles.

The other dragon lost its target, circled in the air for a while, and dived back into the ground several hundred meters deep, returning to Cyrus' body, and the two Cyruses became one.

The battle here is over, and Dumbledore and Grindelwald have also stopped.

The two of them stood in the flames respectively, the red and blue were clearly separated and difficult to blend.

When Cyrus left the Hall of Death and came to them, he saw the power of time slowly fading away from their bodies. Their hair turned pale again. They looked at each other across the flames, as if they had experienced a hundred years in an instant, watching how each other grew old.

Grindelwald's eyes were a little moist, but he looked relieved, and he put down his wand first.

Seeing this, Dumbledore slowly stopped.

The next moment, hundreds of firecracker-like sounds were heard in the air around.

A large number of Aurors rushed out in panic.

Scrimgeour, lame, walked in front, his face as blue as a slate.

"Dumbledore, where is You-Know-Who?"

"He has escaped." The one who answered him was naturally Cyrus.

Hearing this, Scrimgeour seemed to want to say something, but Fudge had already pushed through the crowd and ran out quickly, his facial features twisted together, making him look like a 600-pound fat pig.

"The Ministry of Magic is destroyed!"

When he screamed, his voice was as shrill as a pig being slaughtered.

"I must have been crazy to agree to let you use the Ministry of Magic as the venue for the competition—" He didn't dare to look at Cyrus and Grindelwald, but he had the courage to point at Dumbledore's forehead and scold him, "Dumbledore, look at what the Ministry of Magic has become?"

He looked up and saw the sun in the London sky falling straight into the huge pit.

"Cornelly, the most important thing now is Voldemort—"

"Don't mention that name!" Fudge shouted. "There is no You-Know-Who!" His little eyes widened. "Don't think I don't know! You-Know-Who is just an excuse you use to get away with your crimes! I haven't seen a single hair of You-Know-Who!"

"Look what you have done!"

"They blew up all the magic! They destroyed so much magic in the Department of Mysteries that had not yet been figured out. There's not even a grain of sand left in the Hall of Time! And this -" He pointed at the hollow top of his head, "Two black dragons are fighting in the sky over London. Do you think those Muggles are blind?! Do you know how many people witnessed this battle?!"

Fudge was still pointing at Dumbledore's forehead. Cyrus had seen Grindelwald's expression becoming increasingly angry, but he refrained from taking action.

"Do you know how many Dementors and other magical creatures that were originally used as checkpoints at the Ministry of Magic have escaped and have been witnessed?!

"This is a disaster! How can I face the International Confederation of Wizards—"

"Excuse me," Dumbledore finally interrupted, "I am the Grand Master of the International Confederation of Wizards. Also, the Vice-President is here too!"

Dumbledore looked towards Babajid.

The old wizard immediately understood, walked out of the crowd, and whispered, "Don't worry, Mr. Fudge, the International Confederation of Wizards will help deal with this accident. In addition, Mr. Newt Scamander has brought the Winged Demons, whose magic can make the Muggles forget everything."

Now that things had come to this, Fudge naturally had nothing more to say.

During the whole process, Cyrus just watched with a sneer.

Fudge didn't dare to point the spearhead at himself, but he dared to lose his temper with Dumbledore. Because Cyrus and Grindelwald would not tolerate his rudeness, it seemed that good people deserved to be pointed at with guns.

As for Voldemort, Dumbledore tried several times to emphasize to Fudge that he had returned, but Fudge evaded the question every time.

Cyrus didn't understand whether he really felt that so many people were deceiving him, or whether he simply wanted to be an ostrich and ended up deceiving himself.

These are not what he cares about most.

Now, what Cyrus wants to deal with most is not even Voldemort, but Grindelwald.

If it weren't for this old guy's betrayal, perhaps the three of them, no, even with just one more Dumbledore, could have killed Voldemort again. But it was because of Grindelwald's interference that they missed the opportunity.

Not only Cyrus, but even Dumbledore was angry about this.

The relationship between the two of them had finally eased after the Christmas party, but now it fell to freezing point again.

"Albus, things have developed to this point. The third game..." Babajide asked with some concern.

He saw the duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, and was willing to believe that Voldemort had returned. Although the latter did not cause a stir in the world like Grindelwald, he was an enemy that even Dumbledore could not solve, so it goes without saying how powerful he was.

There are two demon kings here, and there is also Cyrus from Ilvermorny, which is confusing. Even Babajid is a little worried about Dumbledore.

"The third game continues." Dumbledore did not terminate the tournament because of this incident. On the contrary, he hoped to use the tournament to completely solve the future troubles!

Whether it was Voldemort or Grindelwald, he didn't want to see anyone threatening the world again.

In his opinion, since Dumbledore continued to compete, it meant that the matter was not as serious as he said. He could use this as an excuse to say that the return of the mysterious man was just a rumor, otherwise why would Dumbledore continue to compete?

Unless his mind is confused.

But if he was confused, how could his words be trusted? The Ministry of Magic needed to be rebuilt, and the third match might not be held immediately in the short term. Cyrus handed Grindelwald over to Dumbledore, thinking about Voldemort in his mind, and left the ruins of the Ministry of Magic.

At the same time, no one noticed that in the Hall of Death, the broken archway suddenly seemed to have swept up a huge wind, and the black curtains wrapped around the door frame fluttered from inside the door to outside, as if something had walked out from inside.

And this may not be an illusion.

The invisible body passed through the archway, leaving a row of distinct footprints on the steps covered with the basilisk's blood. —— "Bang!"

Voldemort fell into the huge fountain in the center of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The running water of the spring healed his wounds.

The skin on Voldemort's back that was pierced by the curse formed a scab, and then fell off like charcoal, revealing new, tender skin.

However, on his chest, where Gryffindor's sword had slashed him, a purple, festering scar was left. No matter how the flesh there was closed again and again, the connection would immediately rot and stink...

"The poison of the basilisk..."

Voldemort soon realized that although summoning the Basilisk to block his attack saved his life, the sword of Gryffindor gained the power of the Basilisk's venom after killing the Basilisk, which cursed him instead.

Of course, this is no big deal.

He stood up from the spring, and the water splashed down from his body.

The students of Beauxbatons who passed by looked at him in surprise. Many of them were very angry that Voldemort had polluted their fountain water, but due to Voldemort's aura, no one dared to approach him.

Fortunately, after a while, little Batty had already gone through several twists and turns and arrived by means of Apparition.

He helped Voldemort to the headmaster's office, where Voldemort sat weakly in a chair.

"Congratulations, Master, you are finally resurrected!"

"You did a great job, little Barty." Voldemort looked at his most loyal servant and gave him generous encouragement.

He did think Barty Jr. had done a good job, successfully allowing Grindelwald to hold Dumbledore back. It was a pity that the Elder Wand was not powerful enough, and he failed to kill Cyrus.

"I believe that soon both the impostor and Dumbledore will die at your hands!"

"No, you are wrong, little Barty." Voldemort shook his head. "Cyrus is very powerful. Even now, it is difficult for me to guarantee that my magic power can surpass him. I could have won, but unfortunately..."

As he spoke, he looked at the wand in his hand. The anger in his heart even made him want to tear it apart completely for a moment!

But Voldemort didn't do it after all.

It was nothing to temporarily lose ownership of the Elder Wand, but if he really lost the Elder Wand, then he would have no fun.

"I need you to find another wand for me. I heard that the wands made by Gregorovitch are usually very powerful." Voldemort said softly.

Even though Voldemort was unwilling to agree with Ollivander's view that wands choose wizards, he had to admit that many wands did seem to be "alive", but that was only limited to a few wands.

As for ordinary magic wands, he can completely subdue them with his own magic power!

"I'll go right away."

Little Barty nodded.

"One more thing. Go find Snape and ask him to prepare a potion for me to break the basilisk's poison."

Little Barty nodded. He had almost reached the door. Then he seemed to remember something and looked up and said, "Master, Dumbledore did not stop the Goblet of Fire. Do we need to participate in the third game?"

Originally, Voldemort participated in the Goblet of Fire in order to resurrect and get rid of Cyrus, but now, his goal has only been half achieved. Although he has been resurrected, it is not so easy to kill Cyrus.

Especially during the tournament, Dumbledore and Cyrus were almost traveling together, making it even more difficult to kill them.

"Of course, I'll attend in person!"

Voldemort said, standing up.

"But your body..."

"Someone has to attract your attention so that you have a chance to gather troops." Voldemort said slowly, "We have to prepare for war!" - Hogwarts.

Cyrus put aside all the annoying and noisy things and sat alone in Ilvermorny's carriage.

His magical powers are now known to the world.

Magic drones captured the scene of him defeating Grindelwald, and countless people saw the huge black dragon fighting over London. At least in terms of strength, the entire wizarding world will soon put Cyrus on the same level as Dumbledore, or even higher.

But what he was thinking about now was how Voldemort could leave so quietly.

Afraid of Aurors? Of course not! The only explanation was that the Elder Wand no longer obeyed his command.

"That wand belongs to me?" He thought, pinching his chin, but in fact Cyrus didn't care much about the Elder Wand.

From the battle with Voldemort, we can see that the Elder Wand is powerful, but things that cannot be truly controlled are ultimately flawed. Cyrus doesn't want to be pitted one day.

"But in this case, I already have two of the three Deathly Hallows, leaving only..."

Cyrus was thinking when he suddenly heard Harry's voice: "Cyrus!"

He looked up and saw a head popping out of thin air.

"Harry, why are you here?"

"Let me give you my cloak!" Harry took off his cloak and handed the last Deathly Hallows to Cyrus.

(End of this chapter)