I became Voldemort

Chapter 248: Morning Stroll

Bella's anger could no longer be suppressed. Although Cyrus had used ancient magic to eliminate the negative effects of the dark magic and Azkaban on her over the years, making her more elegant, the madness in her bones would not disappear so easily.

At this moment, she put one foot on Umbridge's chest, bent over and glared at this ugly thing, and the bent wand almost pierced Umbridge's eyes!

"What are you doing, Lady Bellatrix?" McGonagall shouted.

In an instant, the other wizards in the stands instinctively drew their wands, surrounding Bella with the tips of their wands aimed at her like barrels of guns.

"Put the wand down, Lestrange!" Scrimgeour ordered sternly.

He had no fondness for Umbridge, but the violent incident involving Ilvermorny was one thing; now, Bella's sudden attack clearly escalated matters to another level.

"I don't associate with House Lestrange anymore. You shall address me as Black!"

"Y-You dare kick me?" Umbridge glared at Bella, livid. "You dare to kick me!"

The humiliation of being trampled underfoot—her, the Deputy Minister of Magic—was unbearable!

"Shut up, you toad!" Bella stared icily at her. "Say one more thing about HeadMASTER Cyrus, and I'll make sure you get a lesson. Don't worry—it won't be over too quickly!"

"You!"

"Okay," McGonagall hurried in to stop Umbridge from continuing to act stupidly and annoy Bella. She pulled Bella away from Umbridge, "I think we all need to be more rational."

"Rational? How am I supposed to be rational?" Umbridge shrieked like a madwoman.

"Her! Have you all forgotten what she really is? A Death Eater! She was locked up in Azkaban for twelve years! She and that person from Ilvermorny are both bad blood!"

Screaming, she leapt up from the ground, her voice raw and grating, "We must provide Beauxbatons with justice! The tournament must be stopped! Ilvermorny should be immediately disqualified, and the murderer and those two criminals should be sent straight to Azkaban!"

A series of crisp knocks on the table cut through Umbridge's tirade.

Durmstrang's headmaster, Vinda, who had remained calm and detached throughout the entire scene, quietly tapped her hand on the table.

"I think... why not ask Madame Maxime's opinion on the matter?" Vinda said softly.

All eyes turned to "Maxime," revealing her still sitting calmly in her chair, appearing as though she were an outsider to the entire incident.

With everyone watching him, Barty Jr. felt conflicted.

Cassandra's killing of Rabastan was difficult for him to accept, but now was not the time for Cyrus to be eliminated. Placing Cyrus's name in the Goblet of Fire was his master Voldemort's directive, while adding Harry Potter's name had been his own decision.

In the current situation, even if Harry were eliminated, he could not allow Ilvermorny to lose its place in the tournament.

Besides, he already had secrets to keep—if things escalated, even Rodolphus's identity could be exposed.

He could only grit his teeth and swallow this bitter pill.

"The tournament will proceed!" Barty Jr. said icily.

"The Triwizard Tournament isn't child's play. Beauxbatons' champion was prepared for this sacrifice."

"Gasp!"

With even the supposed victim choosing leniency, Umbridge had no choice but to back down, no matter how badly she wanted to stir up trouble. She could only glare at Bella with frustration and malice.

Bella had returned to her calm demeanor, completely unfazed by Umbridge's animosity.

After all, why bother with someone who would soon meet her end?

Clutching her wand, Bella took small, deliberate steps back to her place, a dangerous smile lingering on her lips.

...

Back in the Forbidden Forest:

Cassandra couldn't see what was happening in the stands, though she could guess the crowd's reactions well enough.

Killing someone wasn't a trivial matter, and she had been fully prepared to be expelled from the tournament for her actions.

This was also why Cassandra had knocked Harry out—partly to teach the kid a lesson, to make him less naive, and partly as a form of protection.

As for the trouble that killing Rabastan might bring Cyrus, Cassandra wasn't concerned. This action had been taken with Cyrus's tacit approval; otherwise, he wouldn't have shared the Dark Mark's usage with her.

She—or rather, Cyrus—had already anticipated Barty Crouch Jr.'s reaction.

Lucius mentioned that Voldemort wanted Cyrus to participate, so Barty Jr. wouldn't dare eliminate him early. Not only would he have to swallow this setback, but he'd also need to protect Cyrus and Ilvermorny's standing.

It was almost amusing; Cassandra had thought she might lose her eligibility in the tournament, yet nothing came of it. The Dark Lord's followers were more cautious than she had expected.

"Once the tournament is over, the other students will probably be afraid of me, won't they?" Cassandra sneered, clearly indifferent to what those younger students thought.

She was a serpent by nature; why would she care for their words of praise?

...

Rodolphus made several turns before finally finding Grindelwald.

Grindelwald had already separated from Dumbledore by now and didn't look like he was here for the tournament. He looked more like an old man out for a morning stroll.

After fifty years locked in Nurmengard, even strolling through a forest like this felt like a luxury to Grindelwald.

The damp mist in the air was the taste of freedom.

Sniff Sniff—Though, of course, marred by the stench of rot coming from the Death Eater.

"Will you come out willingly, or shall you stay hidden forever?"

Grindelwald stood in the forest, eyes closed, as if savoring the crisp morning air. But even without opening his eyes, he sensed everything around him.

Rodolphus skulked forward, like a sly, defeated wolf.

"Mr. Grindelwald," he began, knowing exactly the kind of enemy he was facing, and thus taking a very submissive stance. "I've come to propose an alliance."

"An alliance?" Grindelwald let out a scoff, as if he'd just heard a joke.

"You're from France," he said, opening his eyes, one of which glowed a distinct silver-blue. "Surely you know that my most hated place is Paris?"

Rodolphus: "???"

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Rodolphus stammered, quickly adding, "We work for the Dark Lord!"

"You all?~" Grindelwald repeated the word, almost mockingly.

Rodolphus felt a surge of anger at his tone, but he dared not confront Grindelwald, swallowing his resentment in silence.

"We share a common enemy. Dumbledore and Cyrus are allies. I know you're powerful, but both you and the Dark Lord could benefit from an ally," Rodolphus pleaded earnestly. "Fighting alone is rarely the wisest course."

"You make a good point, Mr. Lestrange," Grindelwald replied with a mocking smile. "But why don't you take your own advice?"

"What?"

"I mean, your dear brother..." Grindelwald's silver eyes seemed to flicker with reflected flames.

"If he had stayed with you, perhaps he wouldn't have been killed so easily."

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