I became Voldemort

Chapter 227: Feel pain to understand sharpness

Then, she took her own wand and pointed it from a distance at an open ledger. The book began to flip rapidly from the first page all the way to the end, without stopping for a moment.

The receptionist's brows furrowed even tighter as she tried again, but the result remained the same.

Her tone became more rigid.

"Apologies, but this wand doesn't seem to be registered. I'll need to see your wand permit. If you don't have one, I'll have to contact the Aurors."

In the American wizarding world, all wizards were required to obtain a permit before carrying a wand. Due to historical reasons—mainly the chaos caused by waves of European wizard and Muggle immigrants during the 17th century—this land had been rife with conflict. Purifiers had kidnapped wizards and No-Majs, causing widespread destruction.

To counter this, the Magical Congress had implemented the wand permit system, which helped curb the rampant actions of the Purifiers to some extent.

"That's one of the reasons I've come to the Magical Congress today, ma'am," Cyrus replied, unperturbed by the lack of a permit.

He didn't care at all.

Rules were a game for the powerful, and the fact that he was willing to follow them now was already a show of mercy.

If anyone in the Magical Congress intended to make things difficult for him, Cyrus was ready to respond forcefully.

After all, the entire Congress combined wasn't a match for him. Heh~

"I recently acquired this ancient wand from Ilvermorny. I haven't had the chance to register it yet."

"Ilvermorny? An ancient wand?" The receptionist's eyes widened in shock.

She suddenly recalled a recent article from the New York Ghost, reporting that someone had inherited the ancient wand of Salazar Slytherin and had become the successor of Ilvermorny.

This news had been verified by multiple sources, though unfortunately, the reporter had not managed to capture the successor's face.

Now, looking at the dark green wand in her hand, it did seem rather extraordinary.

It was slightly curved, like a snake. The head of the snake served as the wand's handle, and the tail was its tip. The snake's head was intricately crafted, lifelike, with gemstones seemingly embedded where its eyes would be.

It looked as if it might spring to life at any moment and bite her!

She had already found it hard to take her eyes off Cyrus, and now she practically felt glued to him. "So, you're Mr. Cyrus? The new Headmaster of Ilvermorny?"

Her gaze was half-filled with doubt.

It wasn't surprising, given how young Cyrus appeared.

He looked as if he was still in his teens, with youthful, smooth skin. His handsome appearance was striking enough that he could have easily been a celebrity in the No-Maj world.

The receptionist was more inclined to believe that Cyrus was some official's kept boy—either a female or male official's pampered companion—than to accept the idea that he was actually the headmaster of a magical academy.

"Sorry, sir, I need to confirm this first..." the receptionist, now flustered, said.

However, just as she was about to pick up the phone, another voice interrupted her.

"No need, Catherine."

A man wearing a white shirt with a vest over it walked over from a distance, his hands in his pockets, looking very sharp. The well-built figure beneath his shirt made it clear that he was a skilled duelist.

Cyrus narrowed his eyes; there was something familiar about the man's features.

"Mr. Graves!"

The receptionist, Catherine, stood up in surprise when she saw the man and respectfully bowed. Hearing the name "Graves," Cyrus quickly deduced who this man might be.

More than half a century ago, Grindelwald had disguised himself and infiltrated MACUSA. At that time, he had assumed the identity of a wizard named Percival Graves.

Clearly, this man was a descendant of Percival Graves.

"Gareth Graves," the man introduced himself as he walked up to Cyrus and extended his hand, his attitude somewhat arrogant, as if he looked down on Cyrus. "So you're the one who inherited Ilvermorny?"

"Cyrus," he introduced himself, not minding Graves' attitude. In fact, Cyrus was actually looking forward to it.

The rise of MACUSA had been as rapid as the country's own growth.

Despite its relatively short history, its influence in the wizarding world was becoming more and more significant.

In contrast, the old British Ministry of Magic had long passed its prime, resembling an aging relic, already exuding the stench of decay.

And since Cyrus had come from Britain, it was only natural that there would be people in MACUSA who didn't look favorably upon him.

Anything that rises to prominence usually carries an air of arrogance, especially a colossal entity like MACUSA. Although Cyrus' position had already been recognized by the staff and students of Ilvermorny, not everyone in the Congress would accept his authority.

There would always be some who were foolish enough to challenge him.

In truth, having someone try to stir up trouble wouldn't be such a bad thing. It would give him the perfect opportunity to crush them all in one go.

They'd have to experience pain before they could understand the sharpness of his power!

Since Cyrus planned to establish his influence starting in North America, he wanted to eliminate any internal discord.

He had no intention of facing the same kind of situation as Dumbledore, who, despite preparing to confront Voldemort, found the Ministry of Magic not only unhelpful but an outright hindrance.

At this moment, Cyrus narrowed his eyes, quietly waiting for Graves to make a move against him.

However, to his surprise, Graves merely glanced at the snakewood wand still in Katherine's hand and then slightly raised his chin, signaling for her to return the wand.

"Originally, we should have taken you to the Federal Wand Permit Issuing Office, but the situation is urgent, so it's best for us to go to the Major Crimes Investigation Department first."

Catherine blushed and was about to hand the wand back when another rough voice suddenly rang out.

"Wait!"

The voice was so loud that it echoed through the vast MACUSA hall, drawing the startled attention of all the office workers who had been hurrying about.

Cyrus looked toward the source of the voice and saw a middle-aged man with a grim expression and a vicious scar across his face. He was wearing a long trench coat and striding toward them with several other wizards in tow.

It was clear from their demeanor that they had come with ill intentions.

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12 Advance Chapters—