"I.. I should've given him a pair of wool socks," Harry murmured, crouching on the grass, burying his face into his knees. From where he sat, he could see the sunlight falling on that white marble tomb in the distance.
He realized he had never given Dumbledore a Christmas present. He'd always waited to receive gifts from others, never once thinking he could offer this old man even the tiniest bit of warmth.
Ron and Hermione silently placed their hands on Harry's shoulders.
They didn't say anything—just stayed by his side.
Meanwhile, Cyrus didn't remain at Hogwarts for long.
After Dumbledore's passing, Babajide took over the International Confederation of Wizards. Having personally witnessed the extent of Cyrus's magical power, the elder wizard naturally understood that provoking Cyrus lightly was not a wise decision.
But unfortunately, not everyone was as wise.
Putting aside those wizards who simply disagreed with Cyrus's views and were determined to uphold the Statute of Secrecy to the end—Cyrus might not have seen eye to eye with them, but he was willing to respect their stance—there were actually some who went so far as to accuse him of murdering Dumbledore.
"Your accusation is absurd, Mr. Nuno Bush," said Babajide, frowning.
They were currently at the headquarters of the International Confederation of Wizards—inside the courtroom, no less.
Cyrus had changed back into a suit, standing tall at the defendant's stand. No one spoke in his defense—but of course, he didn't need them to. Wizarding trials might look similar to Muggle ones on the surface, but they were fundamentally different. A ridiculous and farcical accusation like this could never hold up from the start.
Cyrus didn't even need to prove his innocence. The only reason he appeared was to use the opportunity to raise his visibility within the wizarding world—as the man who might have murdered the greatest wizard of their time, Albus Dumbledore!
Just look—no one could resist clicking on that headline.
In a way, Cyrus had become the very kind of person Harry now resented.
He was using Dumbledore's death to gain greater influence—and he felt no guilt about it.
He accepted Dumbledore's passing more easily than anyone else, because he had already seen it happen once.
Though this time had come suddenly, he had been mentally prepared. He didn't feel grief or sorrow—because for Dumbledore, death was simply another great adventure.
Back in the courtroom, Mr. Nuno Bush didn't seem to think he was wasting his time.
He had no idea he looked like a clown putting on a show for attention.
"My accusation is not absurd, Mr. Babajide," he replied seriously. "On the contrary, I believe Grindelwald's defense of Cyrus is what's truly ridiculous."
"Death?" he repeated mockingly. "There's no such thing as Death! That's just a myth!" He made a slow circle around the plaintiff's stand, locking eyes with every juror present—each one a prominent figure in the wizarding world. "Surely none of you still believe in fairy tales meant for children?"
"I'm afraid even Muggles wouldn't take wizards seriously with that attitude," Bulstrode commented with a sneer.
He was one of the Death Eaters loyal to Cyrus, just like Bellatrix had been loyal to Voldemort. He had followed Cyrus to North America, and now held a high-ranking position in MACUSA, joining the Confederation as an official representative.
He stood up, his old-fashioned bearing clearly commanding respect among the gathered wizards. "But wizards are real, and we've found that the Deathly Hallows—once considered legend—are real too. Fifty years ago, Grindelwald obtained one of them. That's what allowed him to nearly conquer the world."
Bulstrode tactfully framed the magical ministries of various countries in a better light, crediting Grindelwald's dominance to the legendary wand.
This helped ease the embarrassment of those nations—because if they didn't believe in the Elder Wand, then they would have to admit they had been thoroughly defeated by one man.
He continued, "Later, Dumbledore defeated him with incredible power, and the Elder Wand passed into his hands. The existence of the Deathly Hallows suggests that Death itself… may not be just a myth."
Just as Nuno Bush was about to lash out and call him ridiculous, Bulstrode spoke up first: "I'm not claiming that person is truly a god, but he is at the very least an extraordinarily powerful wizard—powerful enough to craft such terrifying magical artifacts, powerful enough to survive across the ages... If he could create the Resurrection Stone, then perhaps crafting a Philosopher's Stone wouldn't be beyond him either."
Bulstrode's words were clearly far more rational.
"As Mr. Bulstrode said, we have reason to believe this is an unimaginably powerful wizard—one who may have survived for centuries using means unknown to us, and who now disguised himself as Mr. Cyrus to brutally murder Dumbledore," said Babajide.
He was even beginning to suspect that the man might be Voldemort himself.
It had to be said—even though Cyrus had always looked down on Voldemort and considered him far from truly powerful, the shadow Voldemort had cast still lingered heavily.
Cyrus stood quietly in the defendant's seat.
He didn't seem to care at all about how the trial would unfold. He didn't look like someone on trial—instead, he seemed like an observer, watching a verdict being passed on someone else.
He wasn't even really listening anymore.
The heated debates sounded distant and blurry to him. What occupied his thoughts was—what exactly did Death want?
Killing Dumbledore for his noble soul—Cyrus could understand that. But why take Voldemort's body? Why go so far as to assume my appearance?
Maybe what he really wants is chaos. The death of tens of thousands, Cyrus thought.
With the situation as it was now, even with Grindelwald's testimony to defend him, the suspicion surrounding him couldn't be fully cleared. Grindelwald was, after all, a notorious dark wizard. Fifty years ago, he had tried to abolish the Statute of Secrecy. Fifty years later, Cyrus harbored the same ambition.
Who was to say they hadn't simply found common ground?
Inflame divisions among wizards. Let it spiral into a third wizarding war—or even a war between wizards and Muggles… and while chaos reigns, He hides in the shadows, reaping countless lives with just a sweep of His scythe.
"…"
Cyrus's thoughts returned just in time to catch the final exchange.
"Your accusation does not stand, Mr. Nuno Bush," Babajide said sternly, striking the gavel in his hand. "If you wish to accuse Mr. Cyrus, then I expect you to provide concrete evidence—not assumptions born of your own imagination."
Nuno Bush was still unwilling to give up. "I suppose Cyrus can't prove his innocence either."
"Innocent until proven guilty. A man who is truly innocent has no obligation to prove he didn't do something he didn't do," Babajide said, shaking his head. His words were, in essence, the final nail in the coffin for this trial.
Clearly, this elder's approach was completely different from Dumbledore's. If it had been Dumbledore, perhaps he too could have resolved the issue—but he would almost certainly have fallen into the trap of trying to prove his own innocence.
"Court is adjourned—" Babajide struck the gavel. Everyone began to prepare to leave, but just as they were about to step away, a white blur burst through the window, crashing in clumsily.
"Hedwig?"
Cyrus froze for a moment, then caught her.
________
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