Chapter 9: Apex and Divergence (Year Seven)
Their seventh and final year at Hogwarts dawned with an air of grim anticipation, both within the castle walls and in the wider wizarding world. Grindelwald's war against the magical governments of Europe was reaching its bloody crescendo, and the name Albus Dumbledore was increasingly whispered as the only wizard capable of stopping him. Within Hogwarts, another, quieter but no less significant, power struggle was playing out, observed in its entirety only by Corvus Blackwood.
Tom Riddle, now Head Boy, moved through his final year with an aura of absolute self-assurance. He was the model student, charming to professors, inspiring to his prefect team, and a figure of almost cult-like adoration amongst his Knights of Walpurgis. He wore Marvolo Gaunt's ring constantly, a subtle emblem of his dark heritage and his secret power. Corvus, through the ever-present thrum of their connection, felt Tom's meticulous planning for life after Hogwarts. He knew Tom coveted the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, not out of a love for teaching, but for the access it would grant to ancient school secrets and a new generation of potential followers. He also sensed Tom's burning desire to complete his set of Horcruxes, with Slytherin's Locket, already in his possession after the unseen (but fully experienced by Corvus via Tom's memory and current thoughts) death of Hepzibah Smith the previous summer, awaiting its transformation. Tom had killed Hepzibah for both the locket and Hufflepuff's cup, framing her house-elf, Hokey. The cup was now hidden, but the locket remained with Tom, waiting for a murder he could use to create the Horcrux.
Corvus Blackwood, in contrast to Tom's outward perfection, was an enigma. His academic brilliance had transcended prodigy and entered the realm of the almost supernatural. N.E.W.T. level magic was child's play. He could perform feats of spellcraft, often wordlessly and wandlessly, that would challenge seasoned Aurors. His understanding of magical theory was so profound that his essays were less student submissions and more scholarly treatises. This year, the excuse of "the Blackwood library" was met with knowing, if slightly awed, silence from his professors. They had resigned themselves to the fact that Corvus operated on a different plane.
He cultivated this air of inscrutable genius. It was the best defense against uncomfortable questions about the true source of his abilities. In advanced Charms, when Professor Flitwick was demonstrating the notoriously difficult Patronus Charm – a spell not even on the N.E.W.T. curriculum but shown as an example of high-level protective magic – Corvus, after observing Flitwick's silver jackrabbit, closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, a silent, silvery raven of immense size and startling solidity erupted from his core, not his wand, circled the classroom with an almost regal grace, and then dissolved into shimmering mist. Flitwick had simply stared, his jaw agape, before awarding Slytherin fifty points and quickly moving on, clearly unnerved. Corvus felt Tom's brief, sharp spike of envious curiosity, quickly suppressed. Tom himself was struggling with the Patronus; his inner landscape too barren of the necessary pure, happy memories.
The catalyst for Tom to complete the Locket Horcrux came during the bleak midwinter of their seventh year. A vagrant Muggle had been found dead near Hogsmeade, his demise attributed to exposure by the local constabulary. Corvus, however, felt Tom's cold, opportunistic satisfaction. Tom, under the cover of a Hogsmeade weekend, had sought out this forgotten man, his life deemed worthless by Riddle, and with a quick, untraceable curse, had extinguished it. That night, back in the supposed sanctuary of his Head Boy dormitory, Tom performed the familiar, vile ritual. Slytherin's Locket, already imbued with dark enchantments from centuries past, drank in the fragmented piece of Tom Riddle's soul, becoming the third Horcrux.
Corvus experienced the ritual with a chilling, almost clinical detachment now. The third soul-splitting was less viscerally shocking than the first two, not because it was less horrific, but because he was becoming desensitized to the amplified echo of Tom's depravity. His mind, a fortress of logic, cataloged the nuanced differences in this Horcrux creation – the colder, more practiced efficiency of Tom's actions, the way the Locket seemed to almost eagerly accept the soul fragment, its existing dark magic resonating with the ritual. The knowledge gained was immense, deepening his understanding of how different enchantments and materials interacted with soul magic. He also felt the further degradation of Tom's own soul, a subtle hollowness, a chilling emptiness that was becoming Tom's baseline state.
Throughout the year, the news from the continent grew more desperate. Grindelwald's forces seemed unstoppable. Tom Riddle followed these developments avidly, not with fear, but with the focused attention of a student learning from a master – albeit a master he intended to surpass. He analyzed Grindelwald's successes and failures, his control of ideology, his use of potent symbolism. Corvus, as always, received this strategic analysis tenfold, building an unparalleled understanding of dark political theory and magical warfare.
Tom, confident in his academic prowess and his carefully crafted image, made his formal application for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post that spring, to take effect upon his graduation. He envisioned years at Hogwarts, delving into its secrets, subtly corrupting its students, building his army from within. Headmaster Dippet, easily swayed by Tom's charm and academic record, was inclined to grant it.
However, Albus Dumbledore, whose influence in the school and the wider wizarding world was growing daily, intervened. Corvus felt Tom's summons to Dumbledore's office, the polite but unyielding refusal. Dumbledore, his blue eyes blazing with a rare, cold anger, told Tom that he was unsuited for the post, that he sensed a darkness in him that Hogwarts would not abide.
Tom's reaction, filtered through the multiplier, was a terrifying storm of suppressed fury, humiliation, and a cold, venomous vow to one day return and make Dumbledore pay. His carefully laid plans had been thwarted by the one wizard he could neither charm nor intimidate. This rejection, Corvus knew, would significantly alter Tom's immediate post-Hogwarts strategy, likely accelerating his quest for the remaining Horcrux artifacts and his descent into becoming Lord Voldemort.
N.E.W.T. examinations arrived. For Corvus, they were less an assessment and more a perfunctory demonstration. His performance in Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy was not just outstanding; it was legendary. Examiners whispered of spellwork and theoretical understanding that hadn't been seen in a century. He answered questions before they were fully asked, performed magic that was technically post-N.E.W.T. by decades, and offered solutions to arcane problems that were elegant and terrifyingly insightful.
Tom Riddle also achieved top marks in all his subjects, a brilliant student by any normal measure, but his results were inevitably overshadowed by Corvus's almost divine performance. Corvus sensed Tom's simmering resentment, the frustration of being eclipsed, even if only academically, by someone whose true advantage he could not comprehend.
Graduation day arrived, coinciding with momentous news from the continent. Albus Dumbledore had finally confronted Gellert Grindelwald in a legendary duel, emerging victorious. Grindelwald was defeated, his reign of terror over. The wizarding world erupted in celebration.
Corvus felt Tom Riddle's complex reaction to this news: a grudging respect for Dumbledore's power, a clinical analysis of Grindelwald's downfall (his reliance on a single artifact, the Elder Wand; his failure to secure true immortality), and a renewed determination that his own ascent to power would be flawless, his defenses absolute. For Tom, Grindelwald's defeat was not a triumph of good over evil, but a lesson in the limitations of a flawed Dark Lord.
The graduation ceremony was a blur of speeches and accolades. Corvus and Tom, standing at the apex of their year, received their N.E.W.T. certificates. As they filed out of the Great Hall for the last time as students, their paths crossed momentarily.
"An eventful seven years, Blackwood," Tom said, his voice smooth, his dark eyes holding an unreadable expression. He wore the Gaunt ring, and Corvus could almost feel the cold throb of the Horcrux within it, and the faint, dark pulse of the locket hidden beneath his robes.
"Indeed, Riddle," Corvus replied, his grey eyes meeting Tom's. "The world awaits. I trust we shall both find our chosen paths illuminating."
It was the closest they had ever come to acknowledging the strange, unspoken current that had flowed between them for seven years, a current Tom felt as academic rivalry and Corvus knew to be the source of his extraordinary power.
With their Hogwarts careers concluded, they went their separate ways. Tom Riddle, armed with his Horcruxes, his formidable intellect, and his burning ambition, disappeared into the world, initially working at Borgin and Burkes, a stepping stone to acquire more artifacts and knowledge. Corvus sensed his plans to hunt down Hufflepuff's Cup and Ravenclaw's Diadem, to further solidify his power base before eventually re-emerging as Lord Voldemort.
Corvus Blackwood returned to Blackwood Manor, no longer a student, but a wizard of almost unimaginable power and knowledge. His parents, Lord Cassian and Lady Lyra, greeted him not just as their son, but as the undisputed future and master of their ancient House. The sheer magical aura he now possessed was palpable, a comforting shield of power to his family, a terrifying prospect to any potential enemy.
In the solitude of his ancestral home, surrounded by centuries of accumulated magical lore, Corvus began to implement his own long-term strategies. His first act was to reinforce the wards around all Blackwood properties, weaving enchantments so complex, so potent – drawn from Blackwood family magic, ancient runic lore, and the deepest understanding of magical theory siphoned from Tom Riddle – that they became virtually impregnable fortresses, shielded from scrying, teleportation, and any form of magical assault.
His primary focus was the security and prosperity of House Blackwood. He had no desire for public office or overt displays of power in the way Tom craved. His influence would be subtle, his research private. He delved into the profound magical mysteries he now understood, from the fundamental nature of magic itself to the intricacies of soul lore (purely for defensive understanding, he assured himself). He was aware of Tom's every move, every dark ritual, every step taken towards becoming the Dark Lord Voldemort. This foreknowledge, this constant stream of amplified intelligence, was his greatest asset.
The world had defeated one Dark Lord, Grindelwald, only for another, potentially far more dangerous one, to begin his silent, insidious rise. Corvus Blackwood stood apart, a hidden powerhouse, his destiny inextricably linked to Tom Riddle's darkness, ready to navigate the coming storms, protecting his own, and perhaps, when the time was right, subtly shaping events from the shadows, always to the benefit of his House. The game had moved beyond Hogwarts, onto the world stage, and Corvus, with his unique, dark gift, was more than ready to play.