"I have no desire whatsoever to go to Azkaban, Dumbledore."
Cyrus tried to gauge Dumbledore's state of mind. The man seemed supremely confident, but that was hardly surprising. Cyrus's current magical power was only comparable to Voldemort's just after graduation, nowhere near that of Dumbledore wielding the Elder Wand.
The old man had probably seen through his strength the moment they first exchanged spells.
Now, exploiting Dumbledore's confidence was probably his only chance of escape.
He simply stopped attacking and let both hands fall to his sides. Dumbledore could not help raising an eyebrow. "What trick are you trying to pull now, Tom?"
His tone was almost flippant. The atmosphere between them was nothing like the earlier tense standoff. It was as though he were facing not an enemy intent on a fight to the death, but a mischievous, naive, and foolish student.
Cyrus took out the Marauder's Map and ran his fingers over the blank parchment. "This really is a remarkable magical item, isn't it?"
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
He raised his wand and tapped the parchment lightly. Countless words and drawings immediately appeared across its surface.
Dumbledore's attention was drawn to his movements, his beautiful blue eyes resting on the Marauder's Map. He probably understood what was troubling Cyrus now.
"So, sometimes we must admit that young people have more wonderful ideas and can accomplish things we cannot," he said with a smile.
"But there's one thing I don't understand-" Cyrus looked straight at Dumbledore. "How did you manage to appear in the Headmaster's Office and stand before me at the same time?"
"That is quite easy, Tom. All it takes is a little help." Dumbledore calmly drew a golden pendant from his robes, a ring-shaped object with a tiny hourglass at