Chapter 10: The Dark Lord's Genesis and the Silent Sentinel (Post-Hogwarts - The 1950s)
The decade following their graduation from Hogwarts saw Tom Riddle and Corvus Blackwood diverge onto paths that, while running in vastly different directions, remained umbilically linked by the invisible tether of their shared birth year and Corvus's unique, dark gift. As Tom meticulously shed his former identity and forged himself into the nascent Lord Voldemort, Corvus consolidated his own formidable power, becoming the silent, unseen master of House Blackwood, privy to every shadow that lengthened in the wizarding world.
Tom Riddle, true to the plans Corvus had sensed, initially took a position at Borgin and Burkes. It was a demeaning role for a wizard of his prodigious talent, but Tom played the part of the charming, knowledgeable assistant with consummate skill. Corvus felt Tom's revulsion at serving a déclassé clientele, his contempt for Caractacus Burke, but also his thrill at being surrounded by objects of dark magic, his fingers itching to claim their secrets. Borgin and Burkes was merely a means to an end – a hunting ground for information on coveted artifacts, particularly Ravenclaw's Diadem.
Corvus, meanwhile, had established himself as the undisputed head of House Blackwood. Lord Cassian, recognizing his son's unparalleled intellect and magical prowess, had gracefully stepped aside, allowing Corvus to direct the family's considerable fortunes and political influence. Corvus, with his amplified understanding of strategy gleaned from Tom's own ambitious machinations and his analysis of Grindelwald's war, proved to be an exceptionally astute leader. He diversified the Blackwood investments, subtly shifted their political allegiances towards a carefully maintained neutrality that would weather any future storms, and poured resources into arcane research, transforming Blackwood Manor into a veritable fortress of magical knowledge and defense. The ancient wards were now interwoven with enchantments of his own devising, so complex and potent that Dumbledore himself would have found them formidable.
The multiplier continued its relentless work. As Tom, in his guise as a humble shop assistant, charmed elderly witches and extorted information from desperate collectors, Corvus received a masterclass in espionage, manipulation, and the subtle acquisition of secrets. He learned of forgotten lore, hidden collections, and the dark underbelly of the wizarding artifact trade.
The creation of Hufflepuff's Cup into a Horcrux had already occurred with Hepzibah Smith's murder before their graduation, the locket following soon after. The next target on Tom's list was Ravenclaw's Diadem. Corvus felt Tom's painstaking research into Rowena Ravenclaw's history, his focus narrowing on the legend of her lost diadem, said to grant wisdom to its wearer. He experienced Tom's pursuit of Helena Ravenclaw's ghost, the Grey Lady, within Hogwarts during Tom's last year, and the subtle coercion used to extract the diadem's hiding place: a hollow tree in a forest in Albania.
Shortly after leaving Borgin and Burkes – having gathered all the information he needed and perhaps pilfered a few choice items – Tom Riddle disappeared from public view in Britain. Corvus, however, was with him every step of the way. He felt Tom's arduous journey to Albania, his relentless search through desolate, forgotten forests. The thrum of their connection conveyed Tom's frustration, his obsessive determination, and then, the triumphant surge as he located the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, tarnished and hidden, but still radiating ancient magic.
The creation of the Diadem Horcrux required another murder. Corvus felt Tom's cold, dispassionate selection of an unfortunate Albanian peasant who happened to cross his path. There was no personal animosity this time, merely the clinical execution of a necessary step. The ritual was performed with chilling efficiency, Tom's soul now further tattered, his connection to humanity almost entirely severed. The Diadem, once an object of wisdom, became a vessel of profound darkness, infused with a fragment of Voldemort's soul. Corvus absorbed the amplified knowledge of this ritual, the unique interaction of the diadem's ancient enchantments with the soul magic, and the further degradation of Tom's spiritual essence. He now possessed an understanding of Horcruxes so intimate, so complete, it was as if he had co-authored their creation.
It was during these years abroad, as Tom delved deeper into the most forbidden branches of magic, experimented with self-transfiguration, and consorted with the darkest creatures and wizards, that he truly began to shed the last vestiges of Tom Riddle. Corvus felt the mental shift as Tom started referring to himself, even in his most private thoughts when addressing his Horcruxes or planning his future, exclusively as Lord Voldemort. The name, once an anagram whispered with defiant pride in the Chamber of Secrets, now became his sole identity.
Voldemort's physical appearance began to subtly alter. His features, once handsome, grew sharper, more snake-like. His skin paled, his eyes sometimes seemed to gleam with a reddish light. These changes, born of his immersion in dark magic and the fragmentation of his soul, were relayed to Corvus, who noted them with a detached, analytical interest. He understood the magical principles behind such transformations, the price of power sought through such unnatural means.
While Voldemort was forging his new identity in the crucible of dark magic and murder, Corvus Blackwood was cultivating a different kind of power. He had no interest in conquering the world or inspiring fear. His ambition was for the absolute security and preeminence of his House. He spent years in the deepest archives of Blackwood Manor, cross-referencing the knowledge siphoned from Voldemort with his family's ancient grimoires and his own burgeoning insights. He didn't just learn spells; he deconstructed them, understood their fundamental grammar, and began to create his own unique enchantments – wards that were self-repairing and adaptive, charms that could subtly influence probability within a localized area, and defensive spells that were elegant, potent, and virtually unknown.
He also began to consider the future of the Blackwood line. While passion played little part in his calculations, the necessity of an heir was undeniable. He made a strategic, if emotionally detached, alliance through marriage with a daughter of another ancient, neutral pure-blood family, securing political ties and ensuring the continuation of his lineage. His wife, Lady Isolde Blackwood (née Travers), was an intelligent, magically competent witch who understood the pragmatic nature of their union and respected Corvus's need for solitude and intense research. Their relationship was one of mutual respect and shared dynastic goals, rather than romance.
The first whispers of Lord Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters – a more menacing and organized evolution of the Knights of Walpurgis – began to circulate in the late 1950s. At first, they were dismissed by the Ministry as isolated incidents, unconnected acts of dark magic. But Corvus knew better. He felt Voldemort's strategic planning, his careful recruitment of disaffected pure-bloods, his exploitation of werewolf and giant communities, his methodical infiltration of key institutions. He saw Voldemort learning from Grindelwald's mistakes, avoiding overt, large-scale confrontations too early, preferring instead a campaign of terror, assassination, and destabilization.
Corvus, now a mature wizard in his early thirties, watched these developments from his impregnable sanctuary. He was a silent sentinel, his power a deeply hidden secret. He used his unparalleled knowledge of Voldemort's plans to make subtle, strategic moves that benefited House Blackwood. When Voldemort began to pressure certain ancient families for allegiance or assets, Corvus had already ensured the Blackwood vaults were secure, their alliances diversified, their public stance one of unshakeable neutrality and formidable, if understated, strength. He never acted overtly against Voldemort; that would invite direct confrontation, which was not in his interest. But he ensured his own domain was untouchable.
One particular feat of magic Corvus performed during this period was the creation of the 'Aegis of Blackwood,' a vast, multi-layered warding scheme woven into the very fabric of Blackwood Manor and its extensive estates. Drawing on his amplified understanding of Voldemort's own experiments with protective enchantments for his Horcruxes, combined with ancient Blackwood family magic and his own innovative theories, the Aegis was a masterpiece. It didn't just repel intruders; it absorbed and redirected hostile magic, created illusions to misdirect attackers, and could even selectively nullify specific magical effects within its boundaries. It was a living, breathing defense, powered by the ambient magic of the estate and Corvus's own formidable will. The creation of the Aegis took him nearly a year of focused effort, a constant, silent duel of will and intellect as he perfected its intricate enchantments. Tom Riddle, light years away in his own pursuits, would have felt nothing of this specific endeavor of Corvus's, as the multiplier only worked from Tom to Corvus, not the other way around.
Corvus often reflected on the strange duality of his existence. He possessed the knowledge of a Dark Lord, the strategic insights of a master manipulator, the understanding of the foulest magic imaginable – all acquired without personally succumbing to the darkness that had consumed Tom Riddle. His soul remained whole, his core identity intact, shielded by his analytical mind and his unwavering focus on his own pragmatic goals. He was a library of forbidden lore, a repository of amplified evil, yet he used it not for conquest, but for preservation.
As the 1950s drew to a close, Lord Voldemort was poised to launch his first open war on the wizarding world. His Horcruxes were mostly complete and hidden, his Death Eaters loyal and increasingly bold. The Ministry, complacent after Grindelwald's defeat, was ill-prepared. Corvus Blackwood watched, listened, and learned. He knew the coming years would be a maelstrom of conflict and terror. But within the impenetrable sanctuary of Blackwood Manor, under the silent watch of the Aegis, he and his House would remain secure. He was the unseen variable in Voldemort's equation, a silent sentinel armed with the Dark Lord's own amplified knowledge, waiting to see how the great, terrible game would unfold. His loyalty was to Blackwood, first and always. The rest of the world would have to fend for itself.