Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Marethyu, Beans, Malcolm Tent, Mike God of Lore,
The Sorcerer's Legacy
Chapter 12: The Duel
— Morrigan Raum-Black —
"You had better have a plan," Morrigan hissed, getting a raised eyebrow from Grayson. "Yes, you're in better shape now and your reflexes should help you, but need I remind you that you are magically weak? If you let someone like fucking Rosier win, you'll shame the entire family."
"I'm honoured by your concern, Mori," Grayson replied plainly, getting a scowl from her. "But I am more than capable of handling someone like Corvus Rosier."
"Prove it," Morrigan demanded, not commenting on his use of that infernal nickname. Only he and Damian were stupid enough to use it, and Damian did it because he was annoyingly good at dodging the curses she sent his way in retaliation. Grayson wasn't, and would be doomed if she took offence.
She couldn't let Grayson shame House Raum-Black, so she'd have to make sure he was ready for Saturday. Luckily, as weak as he was, Grayson was also a good student and the rules for honour duels had been set in stone long before the Ministry was created, and therefore the Ministry's laws on acceptable spells had no sway. If she was the one duelling Rosier, she knew a dozen highly illegal spells that would have nobody ever challenge her again.
Grayson sighed to himself, a small smile on his lips as he followed her. Technically they were supposed to tell Snape if they left the grounds, but fuck that greasy half-blood bastard. She went where she pleased and before long they were back at the Raum Manor grounds.
It seemed mother dearest wasn't home, but that was business as usual. She seemed awfully busy lately. It just meant they had the Manor's duelling room for themselves as she drew her wand.
"Defend yourself," Morrigan hissed as her wand snapped up, a modified, somewhat dark stinging curse on her lips before Gray could even respond. The blood-red curse flew from her wand, flying toward Gray who sidestepped it with time to spare as he drew his own wand.
His new reaction times were genuinely impressive, and she still needed to find a way to convince him to perform that ritual for her so she'd have the advantage during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
But not yet. She'd be chosen as the Champion by her own power, and then she would tip the odds in her favour. Her pride demanded nothing less.
She didn't let up, spell after spell sent his way as he tried his best to deflect and dodge. He didn't even bother trying to shield, for a damn good reason. Her magic would shred through his shield like it wasn't even there, and they both knew it. She had to be reluctantly impressed by his talents as he used his wand, the tip covered by a tiny shield, to redirect her spells instead. The much smaller shield was more durable, but it meant he had to essentially swat her spells out of the air, which took far more skill than just throwing up a shield and calling it a day.
And yet, it also meant he was one mistake away from disaster as he swung just a split-second too soon, only for her bludgeoning curse to strike his forearm. He didn't scream, letting out a pained grunt as the spell slammed into him. If she'd put more power into it, it would have shattered his arm entirely, rather than merely badly bruising it.
"Do you think Rosier is going to hold back like I am?" Morrigan demanded, crossing her arms with a glare.
"No, but I also think Rosier is a joke compared to you. Even holding back, your spells are far faster and more potent than anything that that inbred clown can manage," Grayson countered, and Morrigan paused before she gave him a nod of agreement. He wasn't wrong. "Is it so hard to just say that you are worried about me?"
"I am worried about our reputation," Morrigan growled, certainly not blushing. "The last thing House Raum-Black needs is for its heir to be beaten in such a public duel. We don't need every minor house with a grudge smelling blood in the water."
"A fair worry," Grayson agreed. "Which is why I intend to make an example of Rosier. Everyone sees me as weak, and I am the heir. I need to make them reassess that belief."
Grayson was at least smarter than Damian, understanding the politics needed to be the heir.
"Unless you lose, in which case it backfires and confirms to the world that you are weak, and therefore exploitable," Morrigan pointed out. "I will not have our house seem so pathetic. You will train with me each night until the duel."
"Again, is it so hard to admit you care?" Grayson asked with amusement, unbothered by the way her wand sparked with anger. "Thanks, Mori. I do believe I can handle Rosier, but I won't turn down the help. We both know you're the best duellist out of the four of us."
Damian would disagree, but at the same time, she won around 60% of her duels with her idiot twin, so she was the best.
"At least you understand that much," Morrigan said, ignoring his utterly insane delusion.
— Grayson Raum-Black —
Morrigan was already an amazing duelist before she started training under Triss. That didn't change the fact that every single night was a symphony of pain under her not-so-tender caress, but I was genuinely learning a lot under her.
Her knowledge of questionably legal spells is impressive, even for a Raum, and to my surprise she invited Wednesday to join us because the pair are… well, I'd call them friends if they wouldn't both take offence to the idea. They have greatly enjoyed taking turns cursing me, and Wednesday is touched in the head enough to enjoy being the test dummy for my own curses.
Plus, it gets her worked up because pain is arousing to her, and that means she's more enthusiastic when we go to bed afterwards. She's apparently openly admitted that she's pregnant to several people, and having her as a mistress has done some good for my reputation.
But there's another use that Wednesday is going to serve, another way she can aid me with the duel. Because of course I am going to cheat, I'm a Slytherin.
Morrigan watches as Wednesday lays down in the ritual circle, unbothered by her nudity or the runes drawn upon her skin. Morrigan can play indifferent, but I know her enough to recognise her deep interest in my new talent for ritual magic.
Mounting Wednesday, I thrust into her right there on the stone floor, surrounded by the ritual circle and lit candles, glowing with purple flame. Wednesday doesn't moan, because the apathetic bitch is too busy studying the circle around us as I pound into her.
Sex with her is always an interesting experience, I'll say that much.
The circle hums, the low keening sound filling the room, and the candles flare and dim with each thrust, one of Wednesday's legs lifted and resting on my shoulder as I adjust the angle of attack.
She belongs to me already, as my mistress. She knew what she was agreeing to in her desire to acquire a demonic baby. But this is far more than just a mistress contract, this is me claiming her in a way that no vows, contract or agreement could compare with, our souls intermingling as mine dominates hers, just as I dominate her body.
Morrigan can't hide her interest in the show before her, despite her best attempts at indifference, amber eyes tracing the runic circle and both our bodies. Huh, is Morrigan bisexual? I don't think her staring at Wednesday's bouncing breasts is purely academic.
Interesting, and potentially useful.
But for now I focus on the girl of the hour, because it takes someone as twisted as Wednesday Addams to agree to be the subject of such a ritual to begin with. Doubly so when I admitted that this was my first time using it and couldn't guarantee I'd done it right.
Her interest in demonic magic surpasses her self-preservation, it seems. And yet, I know I've done this right because as I rut into my mistress' tight pussy, I can feel my domination over her body and soul growing all the stronger.
Wednesday can't remain apathetic with the feeling of me violating her very soul, moans growing louder and her other leg wrapping around my waist as her face grows flushed. Our very essence, our magic, intermingles and as I reach completion, she joins me in climax at the feeling of my magic and cum flooding her already-pregnant body.
For a moment, she hisses in pain as something sears into her flesh, but unlike any remotely normal girl, the pain isn't a turn off or downside for Wednesday as she tightens around me, her climax extended. On her lower stomach, above her womb, the sigil of Raum appears, marked into her body, magic and soul.
The bond between us remains strong as I pull out, watching her pant for a moment before she gets herself under control and her pleasured expression is replaced with her usual apathetic stare. I can feel it all, her mind, her thoughts, her magic, all mine.
The main purpose of this ritual is simple. I'll be able to draw on a fraction of Wednesday's magic to empower my own. It won't be enough to harm her, or even really weaken her unless she's duelling at the same time that I am, but the boost will be noticeable for me. It also gives me access to her mind, a backdoor through her Occlumency shields, her thoughts and memories exposed to me.
And why would she agree to this, even as my mistress? Multiple reasons, in truth. Firstly, there's a reason the seal has appeared directly above her womb. Even now, my own demonic mana is feeding into our unborn child. I can't access my demonic mana directly, I can't cast with it nor do I know how to use it through the seal, but this allows me to put it to use. When our baby is born, it'll have far more demonic power than originally expected.
Secondly, our bond works both ways. She can't call on my magic, of course, because I'm the head of the house… but as I mark more and more people, it will essentially make a… shared pool of mana that we can all call on. Wednesday, as my mistress, will be higher on the totem pole and have more control over that pool than most. She's counting on me marking dozens, maybe hundreds, of people that she can then use to empower herself.
Finally? I promised to share my knowledge of demonic rituals with her if she took part. Our minds are connected now, and her spellcraft is mine to call on, while I can share my own knowledge with her.
This is the start of something beautiful, as I give Wednesday a soft kiss.
Despite everything, somehow, a gentle kiss is more unnerving for her than her very soul being branded and she freezes up in confusion before she relaxes and opens her mouth, deepening it.
What a strange woman.
— Hermione Granger —
She still wasn't happy about Juliet's vassalisation, seeing it as incredibly archaic and unfair… but the fact that the very day she'd confronted Gray over it, he'd ended up agreeing to an honour duel over it had done a lot to prove he wasn't spewing hot air.
That some Slytherins were so angry they couldn't target Juliet freely that they'd challenged Grayson to a duel that could, potentially, be to the death had left her aghast.
Naturally, she'd done her research and found just how dangerous honour duels could be. This duel was purely for honour, though she'd found that normally both houses would wager something as part of the duel.
Rosier apparently intended to demand Juliet's banishment from House Raum if he won, but he'd been so frightened by the idea of having to duel Morrigan that he'd forgotten so now this was just a matter of ego. An honour duel was only over when one participant died or their surrender was accepted by their opponent.
Just surrendering meant nothing if your opponent decided to reject it and continue the duel. Professor Flitwick had agreed to officiate, but even he couldn't end it by himself. Apparently Professor Merigold had volunteered first but she was Grayson's godmother and as such seen as too biased.
Word had spread rapidly, and it seemed that half the school was here to watch this archaic, brutal method of settling matters.
Sirius had warned them that Rosier's father had been one of the inner circle in the last war, put to death for an immense amount of crimes against muggles and muggleborns. Yennefer Raum-Black had been the one to ensure he'd gone through the Veil of Death.
Corvus Rosier's reputation made it pretty clear that if Lord Voldemort returned, he'd be the first in line to start cursing muggleborns, and there were rumours that he was one of the upper-year students who'd triggered the ward in Juliet's room.
So, while she hated the idea of vassalisation, there was no question whose side she was on as the duelling ring was set up. Originally this was just going to be between two students, but the fact that it was the heirs of two pureblood houses had gained a lot of attention. Some press were here and even Madam Bones, the Head of the Department Magical Law Enforcement, was in attendance.
She didn't look happy, because this could end in the death of one of the duelists and she had no say in the matter. Even if these two started the duel by tossing the Unforgivables at each other, she couldn't touch them.
Rosier was apparently the last of his family, and the Daily Prophet had shamelessly pointed out that the next in line to inherit Rosier's estate would be… Yennefer Raum-Black.
Her mother was Druella Black née Rosier. Bellatrix was in prison, Andromeda was disowned, so Yennefer would inherit the Rosier lordship should Corvo die here.
Which would naturally go to her heir, Grayson Raum-Black. They were a minor House, fairly poor after the fines and punishment for supporting Voldemort, but they held a seat in the Wizengamot. Which would leave Yennefer with three seats, more than anyone else.
But… surely they didn't believe that a fourth year student would kill another Hogwarts student for financially or political gain?
"Hello, Hermione," Juliet said quietly, distracting her as she turned to see her little sister. Juliet gave her a small smile, far more confident than the usual shy looks Juliet would give people.
"Juliet," Hermione greeted. "Do you want to sit with us?"
"Ah… no, I'm sitting with the rest of House Raum," Juliet explained, her hand reaching up to brush against the amulet around her neck.
She looked good. Her hair was still curly, but rather than untamed, it was styled professionally with a single braid over her right shoulder. Her muggle clothes had been replaced with an expensive-looking black and dark green dress. She looked-
She looked like she belonged in the magical world, as Hermione looked down at her own jeans and T-shirt for a moment.
"Are you doing okay?" Rose asked, shaming Hermione out of her thoughts.
"Oh, I'm fine. It's Rosier who needs to be worried," Juliet laughed softly, shaking her head. "Gray will handle it."
Her words had some serious faith in them. Like no other outcome was imaginable.
"You could come sit with us? You are technically a Black, right? Lady Yennefer said I could invite you and your friends to their box," Juliet explained, making Rose pause.
"I thought I wasn't, since my Dad disowned himself," Rose pointed out, remembering what Gray told her.
"Lady Yennefer double-checked the dates, and your mother was pregnant at the time, and your father didn't actually disown you at the same time, nor would he have been able to. Legally, you technically are but it's apparently a confusing grey zone," Juliet explained with a shrug. "I read some books on it, but Lady Yennefer says that unless she, Gray or you finalise it, you're still technically a Black. It's a weird one. Even Lady Yennefer had to write to an expert about it."
"Huh," Rose said, blinking in confusion. "What'd you think, Hermione?"
"The view will be better there," Hermione finally answered, getting a shrug of agreement from Rose and Ginny.
Heading over, the… intense Yennefer Raum-Black barely glanced their way as she flicked her wand and produced three new seats, still chatting with Keira about… schoolwork?!
"Aren't you worried?" Hermione asked, disbelief in her tone as the violet eyed woman turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "Corvus Rosier is a sixth-year."
"Not a particularly talented one," Yennefer responded plainly. "Certainly not good enough to defeat my Grayson."
"Gray should have left it to me, I'd have turned Rosier into a smear right there in the common room," Morrigan scoffed, arms crossed. Damian was nowhere to be seen, oddly enough.
"And then Grayson would get a reputation for not being able to fight his own battles, a poor thing for any soon-to-be Lord. One only needs to look at your cousin for that. What is her favourite phrase again?" Yennefer asked, getting a snort from Keira.
"My father will hear about this!" Keira mocked in a shrill voice.
"Just so," Yennefer agreed with a roll of her eyes. "A pathetic showing for any heir or heiress to be entirely reliant on their family name alone. Honestly, what was Cissy thinking letting her child become such a spoiled, useless brat?"
"Wait, shouldn't Lyra be in this box, if I'm here?" Rose pointed out, getting a snort from Keira.
"Yeah, if she wasn't the one to convince Rosier to do this to begin with," Keira agreed with a derisive laugh.
"Narcissa is a smart woman. She'll know exactly what it means that I didn't invite her or her idiot of a daughter to join us," Yennefer confirmed.
Hermione's eyes moved over the crowd, spotting Lyra and her mother sitting with the other parents. Narcissa did not look happy and Lyra looked downright nervous.
"If Lyra was just a bit smarter, she might have been able to lie that she did this to benefit House Black by wiping out House Rosier. She isn't, she just wanted to get back at Grayson," Yennefer explained plainly. "This fight had two outcomes. Grayson loses, weakening House Black, of which Narcissa and Lyra are members. Or Grayson wins, wiping out a Noble House, adding their power to ours, all while antagonising us in the process."
"But that's only if they kill each other, right?" Hermione asked, and for a moment Yennefer seemed surprised. As if the idea that this could end without anyone dying was out of the question.
"Rosier wants to kill Grayson, because I ensured his father was killed. He's as stupid and brutish as his father, and not even half as talented," Yennefer snorted. "In his mind, this is as close as he can get to revenge. Grayson won't let someone who actively wants to kill him walk away. He's a Raum-Black."
Turning back to the ring, she watched as Corvus paced back and forth while Grayson stood as still as a statue, her heart clenching. She didn't want anything to happen to Juliet, of course, but the idea that someone was going to die just so Juliet could attend school without being harassed felt so damn unfair.
— Grayson Raum-Black —
Lyra hadn't considered the consequences of this.
In her mind, this ended with a schoolyard duel between me and an upper-year, where I got publicly humiliated, but at worst, spent some time in the infirmary.
But that's not how honour-duels happen, especially when it comes with such bad blood. I don't think Corvus himself had considered actually killing me before the media blitz, pointing out that he could do so without consequences.
Well, legal ones. He won't survive a week if he manages to kill me. It'll be a race to see which Raum gets him first.
I, also, had no intentions to kill the idiot when I accepted. Mori would have, without hesitation, but I can't deny that the idea is… unsettling to me. He's an idiot, likely inbred, and most of his bold claims about ending my life are just boasting to try and make himself look powerful and dangerous in his five minutes of fame.
But claims like that don't just go away. The more he runs his mouth, the more people become convinced that this fight can only end with someone dead. He's put himself in a corner, because his bold claims have earned him some respect and support from the old guard, his father's former allies who survived the war and hate my mother. He's promised them blood, and whether he meant it or not, they expect him to pay up.
They are here to watch the son of one of their most hated enemies die. They won't be happy if Rosier wimps out and can't follow through with his boasting. Basically, he's fucked no matter what happens.
I don't know what my mother is playing, inviting Rose to the box that she had prepared for the Raum-Blacks. I am fairly certain the box is just her reminding Rosier that he has nobody. No family left to support him, the closest relatives he has left are the ones he's challenged.
She always was good at psychological warfare like that. Seeing a box full of powerful people supporting me while he has nobody at all is already demoralising him. He's under no delusion that my mother would play by the rules if he managed to kill me.
Not a single spell has been cast and he's already pale and sickly.
Meanwhile, I'm equally trapped. If I kill him, any chance of appearing neutral goes out of the window and any business with the more progressive 'light' families is equally fucked. If I don't, I appear weak and the traditional families will see me as too soft to be Lord Raum-Black.
That's not even mentioning the fact that I'd be executing someone in front of half my school, it feels like. Fucking Lyra.
As Flitwick calls for us to take position, I can tell he's thoroughly unhappy about this. He's not the only one, that's the deepest frown I've ever seen on Dumbledore's wizened old face. It makes his wrinkles even more pronounced.
"Ready to die, blood traitor?" Rosier says, indulging in a bout of pre-fight banter. I ignore him entirely as I hold my wand straight up, getting into proper duelling form.
He pauses, before trying to copy me. He's never had to duel in an official capacity before, has he? His stance is sloppy and downright wrong in some places. Even now, I see several frowns as people reconsider who the underdog here is.
"I want a good clean duel," Professor Flitwick says, already knowing he won't get it. He's used to the duelling circuit where banned spells and rules mean something. This is an honour duel where the only rule is 'kill the other guy for shaming your family name'.
Honour duels and the rules around them are as ancient as the castle behind us but they'd never been used for something so… stupid as this. Even some of the more traditional families are scowling at the farce. But he's the last Rosier and it's his right to call for one.
I suspect some are worried that this mess will lead to calls for honour duels being outlawed, another Pureblood right stripped away after an idiot student got himself killed in one.
And who would take the blame for such a right being removed? Not Rosier, because he'd be dead, having paid for his mistake with his life. Not me, I merely defended my family name in a way they have to respect. No, they'd blame the idiot who egged him on. No wonder Lyra is so pale, because Aunt Narcissa looks furious.
Flitwick raises his wand, preparing to let off the sparks that will mark the start of the duel.
I've done my research on how he 'fights'. Okay, fine I asked Keira to but she has friends everywhere.
Rosier is predictable. A brute of a fighter, favouring heavy, flashy spells. No finesse, simply overwhelming power to try and crush his opponent. It's not a bad strategy, Mori and Damian fight the same way.
The difference is that they have overwhelming power while Corvus Rosier is actually quite whelming.
Big spells are tiring, especially when cast in quick succession. He'll tire fast, but a single well-landed spell could seriously hurt me.
As the sparks fly, we both make our move. His wand snaps toward me, a sickly brown spell flung at me. Lung puncturing curse, highly illegal. Amelia Bones' scowl grows twice as severe.
But as I said, he's predictable and it splashes against the duelling shield as I sidestep. I don't dive out of the way, conserving energy as I take a single step to the side and let it barely miss, adjusting my form so I'm turned sideways, minimising how exposed I am.
My response, a bone-breaking curse, hits his hastily summoned shield, dissipating harmlessly. His smirk grows, because bone breaking curses are nothing special. Advanced for my age, sure, but not even restricted.
I suppose he's been dreading what secret Black or Raum spells I'd pull out, and seeing such a frankly simple spell has soothed those worries. I can almost hear him thinking 'I can do this!'.
He was probably expecting some lost curse from the Dark Ages that would animate his ribcage and shred him apart from the inside. Instead he got a spell half the fifth-years know.
It's clear he's picked his side. A lung puncturing curse isn't necessarily fatal if healed quickly enough, but using it as an opening screams that he's decided to take my life.
After all, if it had hit, I couldn't be healed until the duel was over and I can't surrender through a mouthful of blood as my lungs are turned to Swiss cheese.
A blood boiling curse is deflected away from me, a darker and far more dangerous variant of the bone breaking curse is ducked under, as Rosier proves my intel correct. He favours heavy spells that could end the fight in one hit, but lacks the stamina to keep up this pace as I dodge and weave through them, returning fire with far more mundane spells.
His arrogance grows, but so does his frustration. Yes, he's smug that my spells have been so lacklustre but at the same time, what good are massive powerful spells if they're hitting a duelling shield and fuck all else?
But he does seem to have something resembling a thought in that bloated head of his as he switches tactics. This is why I've been conserving my own power.
As he loses his temper, he unleashes a powerful blasting curse and he's learnt his lesson. Rather than aim at me where I could dodge or deflect, he's aiming at my feet and before the first has even landed, he's casting a second.
Casting my own spells, two of them, I transfigure the ground in front of me to rise up as a stone wall, a shield spell flung between me and that wall as his first spell strikes and sends stone and dust flying around the arena. Some of the debris hits my shield, but that's not why I raised it as the second blasting curse strikes my shield directly. It falters and breaks, but the power of the spell is wasted.
Thank you, Wednesday.
Rosier pants, unable to see me through the dust, but my Arcane Eye, set up in the sky above us, gives me a perfect vision of the arena, and I smirk as I cast my retaliation.
It's just a simple repulsion charm, but that doesn't make things better for him as all the debris and shards of stone fly at him. He tries to hastily erect a shield of his own but he makes a mistake.
The shield he raises is a somewhat more advanced version of the Protego which is good at dealing with spells… and bad at handling physical attacks. A regular Protego would have been better, but in his mind the 'more advanced' spell is always the right call, right?
Well, no, as shards of blasted rock pierce through his shield and pepper him. It's mostly harmless, beyond some bruises and the sharper rocks slicing his robes and skin. Just flesh wounds, entirely manageable
What is less manageable is the disarming charm hidden in the mess. A simple Expelliarmus, baby's first duelling spell, tucked away behind rubble. I doubt he noticed it until it struck centre mass and his wand was flying towards me.
One quick summoning spell and it's firmly in my hand, pocketed away in my enchanted robe. On his face, aside from several cuts from being hit by the rubble he made, is a look of disbelief and humiliation that quickly turns to anger… and dread.
A silence fills the air, as what seems like a thousand people ask themselves… now what? He doesn't have a wand, and for all his flashy idiocy, he can't do any of his big, illegal spells without one, can he?
But I've used schoolyard shit this entire time, which has led to people asking if I even have the gall to finish him. Do I even know any spells that could kill? Well, obviously, a well placed cutting charm could still slit a man's throat.
Once more, I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. Trapped by Lyra's stupidity and Corvus' boasting. A lose-lose situation where I face setbacks no matter what I do.
So, I do something incredibly stupid and take a deep breath, 'letting my guard down' for just a moment… because Keira found out something interesting.
Corvus Rosier carries his father's wand everywhere with him.
Letting out the sigh of relief at my 'victory', I go to speak as he scrambles up from the ground, hand in his robe as he pulls out his spare wand. It isn't a good fit for him, but it's better than nothing and he does catch me by surprise with his spell of choice. I expected something big and flashy, something I could dodge thanks to his panic, or otherwise shield…
"CRUCIO!"
Screams fill the air and before I can stop myself, a shout of agony leaves me but my Occlumency shields give me a moment, a second of clarity through the pain as my wand snaps up and I draw on all of Wednesday's magic and knowledge, words slipping through gritted teeth as a blood-red spell flies straight at him. We're both in bad shape, his spell of choice genuinely catching me by surprise, and him through the fear and pain, so there's no dodging, no shields.
My fist clenches tightly enough to draw blood as my nails dig into my palm, nearly snapping my wand, but the pain vanishes… as my spell hits.
After all, you need to keep your wand pointed at your victim to continue the Cruciatus curse… and he doesn't have a wand anymore. Or a right arm, for that matter, as my severing charm hits him right on the shoulder and the entire limb is cut clean off, hitting the ground with a meaty thud as he screams in pain and grabs at the wound where his arm once connected to his shoulder.
Not so schoolyard now, huh?
Corvus pales, both from blood loss and terror as he realises his absolute defeat, because I summon his second wand before he can try to grab it, and unless he has a third hidden up his arse, he's done. It's over.
And I just showed that I know far more than disarming charms. I can literally disarm him too.
"I surrender!" Corvus cries out. "I surrender, you win!"
I don't respond for a long moment, my wand sparking slightly as I stare him down. The clearing goes silent, and I can feel so many eyes on me. Some are begging me to accept, despite the Unforgivable that I just got hit with. Others are saying 'get on with it'.
But fuck them all. I am the Heir of House Raum-Black and I carve my own path.
"Accept vassalage, and I'll accept your surrender," I say, my tone cold, and just a little uneven from my brief encounter with the fucking Cruciatus curse. "House Rosier becomes a vassal of House Black, deal?"
Corvus doesn't respond for a moment, but his eyes flicker to my wand and then his missing arm, pale and sweating before he nods.
"D-deal! I accept, I, the last of House Rosier, accept your offer of vassalisation!" Corvus stutters. "Now, please-"
"I accept your surrender," I say simply, nodding to Professor Flitwick as Madam Pomfrey rushes forward. His arm will be fine, it wasn't a dark curse and it shouldn't leave any lingering effect to prevent reattachment.
Taking a moment to gather myself, with several deep breaths, I stare down Rosier for a long moment before I toss his wands at his feet and walk away, ignoring the sounds of cameras snapping and the various reactions.
Ruthless enough for the traditional families, merciful enough for Dumbledore and his followers of light. Mother gives me a proud smile as I continue this facade.
"Aunt Narcissa," I call out, getting her attention. Despite her composed figure and calm face, I know she's panicking because she knows Lyra set this entire thing up. She's wondering if I'm going to take my anger out on House Malfoy and really… who would blame me when Lyra's scheming ended with me being given a taste of the Cruciatus.
I have no doubt that this was one of the weakest casts of the Unforgivable. A misfitting wand, a weak will, and a panicking caster. It still hurt like a bitch and I don't think I'd have been able to keep composure for much longer.
It's no wonder that spell is forbidden when so many other pain curses exist.
"Grayson," Narcissa greets, following my example by not being formal.
"As a member of House Black, I was hoping you could take our new vassal under your wing. Clearly his lack of parents have not served him well, and it is entirely unbefitting of the last member of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," I say, and for a moment I see her freeze before a genuine smile blooms on her face.
"It would be my honour, my Lord," Narcissa agrees with a bow. I'm not Lord Black yet, but nobody comments on her 'slip'. I don't need to add the subtext of 'get your fucking daughter under control' because I know she heard it loud and clear. She also knows she owes me, but I don't need to remind her of that either.
"My thanks. Lyra," I nod, highly amused by her full body flinch. She is not quite as composed as her mother as I move onto my next step. "Madam Bones, as the Heir of House Black, I'd like to request a trace be placed upon Corvus Rosier's wand until I, or my mother, deem it fitting to be removed. Clearly, he's learnt some… unsavoury things."
"Easily done," Amelia agrees with a deep frown. I suppose it must sting to have watched someone cast an unforgivable in full view of hundreds… and not be able to do anything about it. "I'll file the paperwork and send it to Lady Raum-Black."
Enjoy knowing your every spell is being tracked and traced until I decide otherwise, you fucking bastard.
Heading over to my family, I let them fuss over me (and Madam Pomfrey scan me for aftereffects of my brief exposure). She orders me to drink a pain-relief potion twice a day for three days and to come into the infirmary for a full check-up.
Normally I'd refuse, but my mother agrees before I can and… well, that's the end of that. I suppose she knows full well that the Cruciatus is no joke. Even when cast by an idiot.
As my family congratulates me, Madam Bones returns to us with a different issue. I suppose we should have seen this coming as she quietly admits that she'd had to arrest Damian.
It's times like this that I have to admit that Damian is intelligent because he's done his own little investigation on who the fuck was egging Corvus on, beyond Lyra setting this up to begin with, and tracked down a pair of alleged minor Death Eaters who had apparently been training Rosier while I was being trained by Morrigan.
But he's still a fucking idiot because he decided that the best way to deal with this was for him to just jump them as they tried to leave the audience.
As I said, Rosier fights a lot like Damian… but Damian actually has the overwhelming force that Rosier simply believes he has.
As the pair of now-hospitalised men learnt.
Naturally, Damian is unapologetic as mother gets his dumbass out of trouble. Again. As Mother works her magic to get the brash clown out of trouble, he turns and gives me a wink and… finger guns?
Somehow, it is worse than the unforgivable I was subjected to. I know he cares about me, despite going out of his way to make my life harder, but by Merlin you couldn't have just given the information to Mother and let her handle it?
— Bonus Scene — Hermione Granger
As the chaos of the day came to an end, she was left with some seriously mixed thoughts.
Nobody died, and that was a downright miracle. She'd heard people from old pureblood families talking about how wise Grayson was, how he'd 'saved House Rosier from extinction' and was 'acting as befitting a Pureblood lord'. She got the feeling they didn't actually give a shit about Corvus himself, only that he was the last male carrying the Rosier name and now one of their ancient families wasn't going extinct.
She'd also heard people saying that he'd done the best he could in a terrible situation. He couldn't just shrug off the challenge, especially not after being hit with an unforgivable curse, but he found a way to spare the idiot rather than being forced to take a life.
She was just glad she didn't have to watch someone die so Juliet could go to school without being harassed. And Grayson had certainly achieved that, making sure that people knew that targeting Juliet would have severe, maybe even fatal, consequences.
The fact that one of the people who was targeting Juliet had used multiple highly illegal spells terrified her. Grayson's warnings about people targeting her little sister had landed, but only now did she understand just how unsafe Juliet had been without that amulet declaring her a part of House Raum.
She'd been seeing it as… schoolyard bullying, but when one of those bullies knew the Cruciatus? The muggle equivalent would be a bully bringing a gun to school, she supposed, and clearly willing to use it.
This was brutal, archaic, Grayson just cut a man's arm off, but… Juliet was safer because of it. Nobody died because Grayson found a middle ground.
Seeing Grayson heading back to the castle, she rushed to catch up with him, asking to speak in private for a moment. Grayson paused, giving her a tired look for a moment before he acquiesced and they went into one of the empty classrooms, Grayson casting a quick privacy charm. She really needed to learn some of those for herself (and Rose).
"Yes?" Grayson asked, clearly tired and his social batteries exhausted from being the center of so much attention. Hermione went to speak, but her words failed her for a moment as she reconsidered what she wanted to say.
She wasn't going to pretend to be happy about Juliet being his vassal. She thought this entire thing was insane, but…
"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, getting her point across in as few words as possible. Grayson went to respond, no doubt with something like 'I didn't do it for you' or something equally clipped and superior.
He didn't get them out as she closed the distance and planted a kiss on his lips, catching him entirely by surprise. Shock was a cute look on his usually so composed face as she pulled back, face red.
She opened her mouth to speak again, but her words abandoned her once more. Discretion was the better part of valour, and as a Slytherin she was sure he could appreciate her tactical withdrawal, running away with burning cheeks.
Author's Note: Gray is just magical Jin sometimes. Scheming little bastard (affectionate).
This entire thing is simply a step forward in his goals (toward banging Narcissa). There's the politics thing too, but it's mostly about Cissy's milf booty.
Mike God of Lore's note: Demonic rizz at work again, drawing in even the most brave of bookworms.
Written: 09/06/2026
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