Slytherin's salvation is nothingness

The three returned to the principal's office, and Dumbledore called out a table of desserts and drinks for Cyrus, "Cyrus, please forgive my curiosity. I have never seen any young wizard, or even an adult wizard, have this Such an ability. Although an old friend of mine also has magical eyes...but his ability is inherited from his family."

"I don't know why I have such an ability and where it comes from. Principal Dumbledore, do you feel that you are a little too persistent in wanting to control everything? Or that you are too cautious."

Cyrus pointed to the Pensieve again, "Please." Dumbledore rubbed his eyes under his glasses tiredly, "Well, I am indeed old, maybe I can consider retirement."

Then he walked slowly towards the pensieve. Cyrus looked at Snape sitting next to him and wanted to take a look but felt it was inappropriate. "Sir, please come with Headmaster Dumbledore." Snape turned his face and came to the pensieve very rudely, and the two of them stuck their heads into the mist.

"After you see the real me, will you still regard me as a student..." A subtle murmur sounded, but neither Dumbledore nor Snape could hear it.

Every day I fell asleep amidst the stink and roars of various beasts, and woke up again on the cold, damp floor. According to what the adults told outsiders, this is a circus that trains strange-looking magical creatures to perform for the audience.

Behind the gorgeous stage were placed various punishment props and iron collars stained with blood. At first, I was just responsible for delivering food to various wild beasts to prevent them from starving to death. Sometimes, injured and violent beasts are treated, and injuries are inevitable.

The person in charge there is a middle-aged wizard with a bloated figure and a fierce face. He said that I was his appendage and I must listen to what he said.

He will take me to capture magical creatures. I only need to move forward to attract their attention, and there is nothing else to do. If you are injured, you are injured. If you die, you die.

My hands and feet were always shackled, but I never thought about escaping and what I would do after I escaped. Sometimes I don't even know if I am alive or dead. I don't like to talk. How can I express it in words when my numb heart has no waves.

The owner of the circus felt that ordinary magical creatures were not attractive enough, so he began to conduct cross-breeding experiments privately, sometimes using ordinary animals as experiments. The effect of hybridization was not good, so he thought of injecting the blood of magical animals into ordinary animals.

That day I saw a female dog with a swollen belly was caught in the circus, was he another experimental subject? That night I heard the bitch panting heavily, with four naked puppies lying under her. A few days later, I went to clean up the body of the female dog. The puppies next to her had long since died. A faint cry came from the haystack nearby, and the only puppy survived.

I picked him up, not knowing what to do. His brothers, sisters, and mother were all gone. It seems that just like me, I came into this world with nothing. I hid this puppy, and from then on we ate and lived together. No one gave me a name, so I will be the one who gave you a name, Angus.

Since having Angus, the nights no longer seem to be long, and every time I face a beast, I don’t seem to want to die anymore.

Angus was eventually discovered. They didn't want another freeloader and wanted to use him for experiments. I showed resistance for the first time. I knocked over various potions and the blood of monsters, and protected Angus' body with all my strength, letting the whips hit me one after another.

The man was very angry. He picked me up and pulled out a fine, retro-looking syringe, and stuck it into my neck. Two kinds of blood surged in the body, his eyes stung, and his whole body twitched. The rain hitting my face woke me up, and I was no longer in the stinky iron cage of the past.

I was thrown into the garbage, and I could still vaguely hear the voices of the man's men: "What should I do with this beast?"

"Take it back for experiments. You're going to die anyway, so it might as well have some effect before you die."

I pushed myself up and saw Angus, who was obviously injured, being grabbed by the neck and hanging in the air. His eyes were bloodshot, and the blood in his body was boiling again. I wanted them to die, so I picked up the gravel next to me and rushed over regardless of the pain all over my body.

When those people saw the already dead body getting up again, they cursed in disbelief. I was no match for them. Angus was thrown to the ground.

The murderous intention became more intense. With blood overflowing from their eyes, the men who rushed towards me seemed to have been suspended in time, motionless, and then fell to the ground one by one.

I picked up rocks and threw them in their faces one by one. I didn't have anything, why? Why take away Angus! Only he cannot be harmed! My whole body felt hot, and I felt an inexplicable sense of pleasure. I couldn't help but hum a song.

My mind was empty and I fell to the ground. Angus is calling me, am I going to die? Are you finally going to die, or will you return to the void and continue the cycle? What will Angus do if I die... I can't die, at least for Angus' sake!

I feel someone is approaching and Angus is in danger! I used my last strength to look at the person coming, but was knocked away by the curse. At the end of my fainting moment, I looked at Angus, I must... protect you. I only have you left.

The man in black robe saved me. After I came out of the house, I looked for Angus like crazy. When I returned to the alleyway, Angus was gone.

I saw the circus carriage where Angus was taken back. Stepping into that hell again, the circus owner was also surprised by the success of the blood experiment on me, and I took Angus's place in the experiment.

Various experimental drugs were injected into my body, and I was tortured from the inside out day after day, but fortunately they would not let me die easily. But since the first experiment was successful, no more miracles have happened. Nothing happened except torture of body and soul.

After I returned to the circus, I couldn't use my eyes for some unknown reason. No matter how much the boss used medicine, blood, or physical torture, I couldn't use that magical ability, and my life was no longer precious.

Every time he thought about how much time and money was wasted on my eyes, he would put a mark on my face, sometimes with a knife, sometimes with a cigarette butt, sometimes with a heated iron rod.

The blood experiment failed completely, and he opened an underground colosseum. Magical creatures that are unattractive in appearance will die in battle after battle.

Audiences who came to the Colosseum liked this exciting scene of overflowing blood and gushing blood. And what they like most is the most primitive fight between man and beast.

I was pushed into the ring, and at first I was just an ordinary beast, and I just kept dodging. This kind of scene was obviously not liked by the audience, so he later used Angus as a threat to get me to attack.

"People who come here don't come here just to watch you dance on the stage and give them the stimulation of blood, you know!? Whether it's your blood or the blood of those beasts!"

Sometimes I unilaterally slaughtered defenseless animals, and sometimes I almost lost my life to a jackal. For the high stakes, he would not ask me to die either. The animals I fought against each time would be my limit.

Gradually, I got used to the pleasure of piercing the beast's throat with a dagger amidst the deafening screams of cheers, blood boiling, and wandering between death and life. That's when I finally felt a little bit alive.

The odds got higher and higher, the magical creatures I faced became more and more dangerous, and I was no longer sure I could make it out of the ring every time I started.

The large amount of blood loss made my body cold, and I could no longer hold the dagger in my hand steadily. Opposite me, the tiger and lion, which were also covered in wounds, rushed towards me. Days like this seemed quite boring.

The dagger fell to the ground, and I opened my arms and waited for the eternal darkness to come. Angus screamed in pain, and the audience's screams were so harsh. The man with a fierce look stabbed the knife into Angus's abdomen, and opened it to me to remind me:

"If you die, it will die!"

The pain of fangs piercing my arm came, and I couldn’t die yet! The air around him was slightly distorted, and the familiar burning sensation in his eyes came over him.

The tiger-lion's movements were obviously deadlocked. He grabbed the dagger and inserted it into its right eye. The force was so deep that it directly penetrated into the brain. The huge beast's body fell to the ground, followed by excited shouts from all sides.

But I couldn't hear anything except tinnitus at that time. When I walked backstage, what I saw was the thin figure lying in a pool of blood... That night I experienced another magical riot, which was more intense and uncontrollable than before.

All the lives that came into my eyes were taken away by me one after another, and the dazzling light in my life was extinguished. Then what reason do you have to continue to live?

"How I wish it was me who died, not you."

The white floc on Angus gradually dissipated, and I tried to control the magic power to surround it. If the magic power was not enough, I used my soul. I don’t know how, I just used everything I could control to prevent Angus’ soul from disappearing. I lost a lot at that point, but Angus came back.

A fire burned away the haze of these years, and I took Angus away. I don't know where I can go, but anywhere with Angus is fine.

We met a hunter in the forest and he said he would adopt me and let me go home with him. Angus and I were extremely weak and were dragged away by him.

He said that by adopting me, I could receive additional government subsidies. He didn't ask who I was or where I came from, and he didn't care. He told me to take off my clothes and said I was disgusting when he saw the scars all over my body. He told me to put on clothes that could cover my whole body and not to take off the bandage on my face.

He needed to go into the mountains to hunt and sell the skins of magical creatures to make money, while Angus and I needed a place to sleep. I didn't reveal my magic or abilities, so he thought I was a Muggle, but he kept me here for the grant.

Occasional verbal humiliation and beatings are nothing. He can use a shotgun, but his use of magic is very poor. I follow him every day as a beast bait to observe, and Angus acts as a hound to chase injured animals.

When he was in a good mood he would teach me how to hide and evade wild beasts in the forest. The people in the village never looked down upon us, saying that he was an alcoholic and could never accomplish anything. Once when he was drunk, he cried out a person's name and sat by the window whispering all night long.

Once after hunting he asked me what my name was, and I remembered the words of the man in black robe and wrote "Cyrus" on the ground. He was very emotionally unstable, sometimes roaring violently, sometimes sobbing quietly, sometimes punching and kicking me, and the next day he would throw me medicinal herbs for treatment.

One time when we encountered a brown bear while hunting, he didn't abandon me as usual, but told Angus and me to run away first. When he was slapped by the brown bear and fell to the ground, he was still yelling at me to leave quickly. I didn't understand his capriciousness, so I stepped forward to pick up the dagger he dropped, unwrapped the bandage and ran towards the brown bear.

A familiar thrill came over me, as if I was born to hunt wild beasts. After the battle, I looked at him sitting against a tree. He laughed until his voice was hoarse.

He looked at the shotgun next to him and said, "You should know how to use it...point this here...pull the trigger...kill me."

He raised his finger and pointed at his forehead, but still smiled, "Kill me... living... is the most painful... Cyrus."

This was the first time he called his name.

I picked up the shotgun and, amid his hoarse, ugly laughter, pulled the trigger.

After that day, I finally understood why my heart was always empty, and why I could only experience the feeling of being truly alive when faced with a life threat.

I have always longed for death, the end of true peace. It turns out that it is because of being alive that I feel so painful.