I became Voldemort

Chapter 137: The Secret in the Pensieve

Bodrick's mind was no longer able to think about obtaining any ancient magic, nor did he think about the wonderful life of goblins ruling wizards and enslaving wizard women after they defeated wizards.

At this moment, he just wanted to escape from this hell!

And he did so.

He fled to the entrance of the vault in a panic. In his panic, he stepped on an arm and fell.

But he didn't have time to get up, so he used his hands and feet - this was not difficult for a goblin whose arms were so long that they looked like they were about to touch the ground.
He crawled in fear - like a wild dog with its tail between its legs.

Bodrick was afraid that he would run too slowly, so he hurriedly took off his heavy armor while crawling.

Behind him, the remaining goblins were still fighting.

He didn't dare to make any sound, otherwise, the goblins would find that he had become a fleeing rat, and they would immediately give up fighting with the knights and turn to tear him apart.

He knew the cruelty of goblins towards a traitor better than anyone else.

He was in a state of disgrace, but he finally got close to the copper door. Bodrick had a tragic smile on his face, and his hand reached out to the narrow metal door.

It was exactly the narrow door of salvation in the Bible.

He could even see invisible light shining outside the door. As long as he passed through it, he would be saved.

But just when his fingertips were about to touch the door, the door closed.

The smile on Bodrick's face didn't even have time to disappear. He froze in place, watching the handsome wizard looking at him with a smile on his face.

The roar of the mechanism inside the metal door was so inconspicuous and so harsh in the earth-shaking shouts and killings not far away.

"Where are you going, Mr. Goblin?" Cyrus asked coldly.

The fire in Bodrick's heart went out.

"Sir, please..."

He shifted into a submissive position in front of Cyrus without any hesitation, with a sad plea on his face. He stretched out his hand and tried to grab Cyrus's trouser legs, but Cyrus took a step back.

He was unwilling to have dirty bugs crawling on his body.

"Good night, Mr. Goblin." Cyrus raised his wand in the air, and Bodrick's head turned to one side uncontrollably.

*Crack--*

His cervical vertebrae instantly shattered into powder.

Cyrus had no sympathy. He was not killing an innocent person. This was a war between him and the entire Goblin race.

His golden pupils looked at the battlefield in the vault. The goblins were still fighting with their eyes red, and the repair magic in the knights' bodies was constantly consuming magic power during the repeated triggering process.

In the end, only one in ten of the remaining goblins remained, and their fighting spirit had been exhausted. More importantly, some people had discovered that their leader had disappeared at some point.

They lost their will to fight and began to retreat, even though the knights were already in tatters.

The spells on many knights seemed to still be in effect.
The broken bodies were pieced together again. They moved forward again but collapsed after a few steps, like a building block that had lost its support and scattered all over the ground after a piece was taken away.
It was finally quiet here, and the flickering light dimmed, and darkness came again.

But this time, Cyrus wanted to light it with fire.

"Fiendfyre!"

He held the fire in his hand, and the erratic Fiendfyre was as quiet as a harmless cat.   
However, when Cyrus tilted his palm downward, the flames immediately flowed down like magma. They immediately revealed the terrifying appearance they should have, and the snakes in the flames let out silent roars.

Under the fierce fire, no matter whether it was the knight or the goblin, they could not escape the fate of burning. Whether it was the limbs that could no longer be distinguished, or the goblins struggling in the fire, as if they were trying to tear their skin apart, in the end, nothing was left.

Cyrus stepped over the flames, noticing a flowing trail guiding his way forward.
This trace extended all the way to the deepest part of the darkness, and it was also the only guide to the real secret vault.

He slowly walked into the darkness.

On his side, countless, exactly the same white stone pillars stood, making people dazzled.
Cyrus looked back, and the battlefield just now had disappeared in the darkness.

The scenery was exactly the same everywhere, and it was impossible to distinguish.

If someone could not see the traces of ancient magic, even if he defeated the knights, he would get lost in this dark space.

But for Cyrus, this was just a maze with the correct path marked.

He walked for a long time until he saw a huge three-dimensional spiral symbol.
He picked up the wand and tapped it. The symbol seemed to dissolve and merge into the ground, then it immediately surged up and turned into a door.

The real secret vault finally appeared in front of Cyrus.

Cyrus walked through the door and came to a gorgeous hall.

It was very high here, and the whole room was round. The walls were carved with very detailed and gorgeous patterns. It looked like a church rather than a vault.

The buildings here, even if they were just torn down, would probably be enough to fund the Weasley family's trip to Africa.

But what truly caught Cyrus's attention was far from these surface-level treasures—it was knowledge, it was power!

He stepped on the ground that was as solid as the surface of water.
In the center of the hall, which was also the center of the magical water flow, was something that looked like a pool. Of course, it was actually a Pensieve.

The Pensieve contained the liquid that made memories appear, and the memories of the keepers were quietly floating above it.

It didn't seem to be anything special -

it only required a levitation spell, and even a crappy wizard could do it. The premise was to ignore the fact that the keepers of ancient magic had been dead for hundreds of years.

Generally speaking, when the caster dies, their magic will disappear.

After Voldemort was completely destroyed, his curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts class disappeared; after the Potters died, the Fidelius Charm also lost its effect. Because when the caster disappears, the spell they cast has no source of magic.

But there are also many exceptions. The most familiar example is Hogwarts.

This ancient castle has existed for thousands of years, and its creators, the four founders, have long died. But to this day, the castle's magic has not shown any signs of dissipating.

Either the entire castle itself is a product of ancient magic, or Hogwarts has a huge source of magic.

Or -

both?
Cyrus didn't know, but he knew that the secret of ancient magic was right in front of him, and this time, no one would suddenly appear to interrupt him.

"The keepers went through so much trouble to set up so many tests, it can't be just to protect a memory that has no value."

Cyrus picked up the exquisite little bottle suspended above the Pensieve and poured a stream of silver, mercury-like liquid into the Pensieve. The water in the basin immediately swirled.

"Let me see your secret~"
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