I became Voldemort

Chapter 251: The Winner of the First Game

The Fiendfyre began to burn.

Rodolphus was clearly all in, pushing himself to the brink. He knew how to control Fiendfyre, but right now, he had no intention of controlling it!

As the flames spread, he looked like a vengeful demon returning from hell.

"Die with me!" Rodolphus laughed madly amidst the flames, his pupils reflecting the firelight. The heat scorched his skin, making it appear as though he was covered in cracks.

In reality, Rodolphus did look as if he were about to shatter.

After over a decade in Azkaban, he had barely tasted freedom only to witness Voldemort's defeat once again.

Though he continued to serve among the Death Eaters, his heart was long past bearing any more weight.

Bellatrix's betrayal, Rabastan's death…

All of this had become the final straw that broke him.

Although he was a Death Eater, he didn't disregard everything. At least in Rodolphus's heart, family honor always mattered. But now, the Lestrange name was nothing more than a joke.

If that was the case, he might as well let everything burn to ashes in the Fiendfyre!

Bring his enemies before him, and even his own life, into the embrace of death—let death be the final judgment!

"What a madman..."

McGonagall stared blankly at the screen, and she wasn't the only one feeling anxious.

Once Fiendfyre spirals out of control, the consequences are incalculable. Beyond the Forbidden Forest itself, there were four lives at stake in there! The most innocent, of course, were Fischer and Krum.

The Quidditch star had finally regained consciousness after being defeated, but he was still suspended mid-air, unable to break free, his wand still in Fischer's possession.

Fischer hadn't forgotten about him, but there was no way to worry about that right now. He and Cassandra were completely surrounded by flames, staring at Rodolphus across the fire. The searing heat made it difficult to breathe.

Even Cassandra had lost her usual grace, her golden hair matted with sweat, clinging to her forehead.

"Hahaha," Rodolphus laughed, seeming not to care about his own life at all. His chest was filled with thick smoke and nothing but the thrill of revenge. "How ironic—you're trapped in your own web!"

He was, of course, referring to Cassandra's Anti-Apparition Charm, which had been intended to prevent Rodolphus from escaping. Now, it had turned into a prison, locking Cassandra herself in a sea of fire.

"What are we supposed to do?" Fischer asked urgently.

"Figure it out yourself; don't rely on me for everything. I'm not your mother," Cassandra said irritably.

She wasn't really joking, just feeling a bit annoyed.

She had anticipated that Rodolphus might cast the Killing Curse, in which case his disqualification would have been a sure thing. But Cassandra had never expected him to be so bold, choosing instead to bring them both down with him!

Through the flames, her emerald-green eyes narrowed like the depths of a dark pool.

Perhaps it was only through Fiendfyre—a spell that could consume everything—that Rodolphus could destroy the evidence of his Death Eater identity while taking lives in the process.

Just as Cassandra was considering her next move, the flames closed in. The surging fire rose up like a snake preparing to strike, its fiery fangs lunging toward them!

Cassandra quickly cast a spell to shatter the flames in their path, but halting the blaze entirely was beyond her power.

She and Fischer kept pushing back the flames, but their steps were forced ever backward, only to find a wall of fire behind them as well.

The distance between them and Rodolphus grew, and as Cassandra looked back, she could no longer see Rodolphus's figure, now lost completely in the inferno.

"Fischer!"

Cassandra shouted as loudly as she could.

Although Fischer was right beside her, the roar of the fire and the sound of large pine trees crashing down in flames drowned her out like a torrential storm.

Luckily, Fischer heard her.

The steadfast young man had just managed to pull Krum down from a tree, rescuing him just in time before the fire could consume him. Now, Krum stood beside them, looking dazed, his wand in hand, staring blankly at Cassandra and Fischer, unsure what to do.

Both he and Fischer had pinned all their hopes on Cassandra, waiting for her command.

"Do you have any bright ideas that might keep us from dying?" Fischer shouted.

"Stick your wands into the ground!" Cassandra raised her wand high, even standing on tiptoe, her slender form creating a graceful arc. In the firelight, she looked like a swaying willow.

Krum didn't speak much English, but he understood well enough from her gestures and tone. Both he and Fischer caught on to Cassandra's plan.

The three of them formed a triangle, leaning back to back.

The next moment—

"Finite Incantatem!"

Cassandra quickly crouched down, her flowing golden hair lifting with the motion, as she drove her wand into the ground.

"Finite Incantatem!"

"Finite Incantatem!"

From the point where their three wands pierced the earth, a golden veil began to spread outward, connecting and forming a massive barrier that blocked the raging flames from entering.

This method managed to temporarily contain the flames, but their magical strength wasn't enough to completely subdue the Fiendfyre. Once their energy ran out, escape might still be impossible.

"What do we do?" Fischer asked anxiously once again.

"Wait to die." Cassandra rolled her eyes.

They were in a stalemate. To hold off the Fiendfyre, they had to keep their wands in the ground, but that left them essentially stranded.

Trying anything else would require pulling out their wands, which would immediately give the fire an opening, and it would surge in, incinerating all three of them.

She looked beyond their safe zone. The blaze was growing, climbing up to the treetops where the lush needles sparked and flickered, burning brightly before falling like fiery rain.

The shadow of the massive runespoor had vanished—Cassandra didn't know whether it had fled or perished in the flames.

As for Rodolphus, the pitiful man had likely already become nothing more than a wisp of ash scattered across the inferno.

"We're doomed," Krum muttered in Bulgarian, his expression bleak.

"I have one last idea." Cassandra wiped the sweat streaming from her forehead and slipped off her cumbersome robe. Underneath, she wore a long pleated skirt down to her ankles, with a white blouse overlaid with a sleeveless sweater, her chest rising and falling.

Under the puzzled gazes of Krum and Fischer, Cassandra rolled up her sleeve, revealing her pale left arm. On the inside of her wrist, a swirling gray mark coiled like a wisp of smoke.

"What's that?"

"Ancient magic," Cassandra replied without looking back.

"Fischer, when I pull my wand from the ground, both of you immediately cast a protective charm. You must keep the Fiendfyre outside!" she instructed, her gaze more serious than ever.

They only had a brief moment to act — they needed to close the gap with the protective barrier the instant the general counter-curse faded, or they'd all be done for.

On her end, Cassandra couldn't guarantee this method would work.

"Let's try it!" Krum nodded firmly. As a Quidditch player, he lacked no courage.

"Got it!" Fischer nodded earnestly, gripping his wand tightly, ready to cast at any moment.

Cassandra gripped her wand with the hand bearing the mark, her right hand pressing against her left forearm, with her thumb pressing onto the ancient magic mark.

The mark seemed to come alive.

The power of ancient magic began to flow. It was like a wisp of smoke, or ink spreading through clear water, diffusing within Cassandra's body and merging seamlessly with her innate magical energy.

At this moment, Cassandra felt an extraordinary force coursing through her. Her emerald eyes seemed to take on a golden hue, and she exhaled slowly, "Get ready!"

Krum and Fischer's hearts leapt into their throats.

Then, Cassandra pulled out her wand!

In an instant, the Fiendfyre, like a raging flood, found a vulnerable opening, surging towards Cassandra like molten lava.

The intense heat almost singed her hair, turning it dry and curled—

"Protego!"

Luckily, Fischer and Krum didn't falter. They placed their utmost trust in Cassandra without hesitation, with Fischer abandoning his own protection so that the shield charm could fully shield Cassandra.

If it hadn't been for Krum's spell working in tandem, Fischer himself would likely have perished.

Now, they were like two fragile bubbles in the vast ocean, constantly on the verge of being crushed by the sea of flames pressing in.

But Cassandra raised her wand high, as if wielding the authority of a deity:

"Flame Separation!"

In an instant, the fiery sea parted, revealing a narrow, scorched path through the flames. The fire surged as if against an invisible wall, unable to engulf the path—as though it burned just to create this very passage!

Krum and Fischer stared in astonishment, but Cassandra knew that the separation charm wouldn't hold for long. Though it drew on the traces of ancient magic Cyrus had left in the mark, its strength depended entirely on the caster's skill.

"Hurry up!" she shouted, sprinting forward without looking back.

In the Quidditch stands, McGonagall and the others, who were still deliberating on a rescue plan, were momentarily stunned.

Fiendfyre's threat was one that even they handled with extreme caution, and extinguishing it was no simple task. Cassandra's bold maneuver had completely taken them by surprise.

"If she weren't so ruthless, her performance would be quite remarkable," Lupin remarked to Sirius, who was watching as a champion's family member.

"The real issue now is putting out the fire," Sirius said seriously.

The Fiendfyre was still raging, and if it kept spreading, it would soon engulf the entire Forbidden Forest.

"I suspect Dumbledore will soon notice the fire," Lupin remarked.

Lupin was right, but the one who arrived wasn't Dumbledore—it was Cyrus.

Shortly after Cassandra and the others escaped the flames, Cyrus appeared, riding a dragon. He had sensed the magic mark Cassandra activated and tracked it here, just in time to see the three escape the blaze.

Instead of pursuing them, he rescued the Runespoor Serpent, barely alive, from the fire and then subdued the flames.

"Impressive—Cassandra managed to kill both Death Eaters. I imagine Barty Crouch Jr. must be quite annoyed," Cyrus chuckled softly.

To him, two Death Eaters were no more than ants—whether they lived or died mattered little. But they had served well to test Cassandra's abilities, so their deaths hadn't been in vain.

The Runespor, with its high magical resistance, hadn't been burned to death by the Fiendfyre but had suffered greatly. It twisted its body in agony, emitting the faint scent of roasted snake flesh; a good portion of it had already been seared.

The two less intelligent heads on the right and middle, wincing from the pain, couldn't resist glancing back, as if considering tasting themselves.

If Cassandra's Separation Charm had been impressive, Cyrus extinguishing the raging fire with a simple gesture was even more astonishing.

He stood with the dragon on the scorched wasteland, where once-mighty pine trees now remained as stunted, blackened stumps, gray smoke rising from the ground.

"It's about time to conclude the first task."

The two Death Eaters were dead, and Cyrus had gathered nearly all the intelligence he needed.

He looked toward the finish line, and the Romanian Longhorn Dragon instantly understood, soaring in that direction.

Awaiting him at the finish line were several Portkeys; a single touch would instantly transport him to the Quidditch pitch.

As Cyrus observed the twelve Portkeys, he knew that a few of them would go unused.

Everyone could see Cyrus approaching the finish line. They had just emerged from a tense and thrilling life-and-death struggle and were now holding their breath, ready to cheer for the first champion to cross. Although this champion wasn't Dumbledore, as many had anticipated.

Speaking of Dumbledore, he was fully engrossed, acting as if he were truly competing as a champion, eagerly seeking clues for the second task, and stubbornly traveling on foot.

That was why he lagged behind everyone else, still nowhere near halfway through the Forbidden Forest.

For someone over a hundred years old, participating in the Triwizard Tournament was a novel experience, and the competition offered its own thrill and challenge. After all, at the end, both Cyrus and Grindelwald awaited him for a showdown.

And Dumbledore was still an old lion!

He craved vitality and adventure.

With a "pop!"

In the vast Quidditch pitch, the golden-haired, sunlit figure of Cyrus appeared.

In that instant, over a thousand people erupted into cheers, rising to their feet with raised hands, celebrating his arrival.

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