The revelation was complete.
The Book of the Jew Abraham was a magical book. The moment it fell into Cyrus's hands, he was destined to become the next person capable of creating a Philosopher's Stone.
Voldemort, inside the Diadem, thought that person was him and was immensely pleased with himself.
Not only was he Slytherin's heir, but fate itself favored him.
Cyrus, however, knew perfectly well that none of this had anything to do with Voldemort. Voldemort could not obtain Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone, much less create a true Philosopher's Stone himself.
But he also knew that he would feel no guilt whatsoever about offering the lives of evil dark wizards in exchange. The trouble was, he was currently possessing Draco Malfoy. Where was he supposed to find so many dark wizards?
Yet Cyrus could not bring himself to use the lives of the innocent young wizards in the Castle. A person might be cruel, but they should at least keep one line they would not cross-not for anyone else's sake, but simply to keep themselves from becoming a monster in human skin.
Voldemort had probably misunderstood him, assuming he was worried that sacrificing so many lives in the Castle would invite Dumbledore's retaliation.
"In our current state, we certainly can't draw too much attention to ourselves. But don't forget, there are plenty of lives in the Forbidden Forest!"
The Forbidden Forest!
An image of swarming hordes of Acromantulas instantly flashed through Cyrus's mind.
Acromantulas were particularly fond of eating humans. After Aragog, whom Hagrid had raised, died, the colony had lost all restraint and ultimately sided with Voldemort. Cyrus would feel no guilt about sacrificing those creatures.
"The Forbidden Forest. Looks like I'll have to pay it a visit." Cyrus took the Diadem off his head and instantly felt