Corvus unfolded the letter with deliberate calm, his turquoise silver eyes sweeping over Dumbledore's elegant, looping script.
To Mr. Corvus Black,
Assistant Professor of Durmstrang Institute,
It is with courtesy and formality that I extend an invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you are to serve as a Foreign Assistant Professor, it is necessary that your magical signature be bound within the wards of the castle. Ordinarily, this process occurs via acceptence letter for students. Upon receipt of their Hogwarts letters and while aboard the Hogwarts Express. However, as your position is distinguished and unique, special arrangements must be made.
You are requested to arrive tomorrow morning at precisely ten o'clock, via the Floo Network. Wards will lowered for your entry at the exact time. A fireplace has been prepared in the Professors' Common Room, an antechamber located behind the staff dais in the Great Hall. Once you arrive, the wards will be adjusted to register your magical presence, and you shall be introduced formally to the faculty. Professors Flitwick and Snape are especially keen to meet you, given that you will assume responsibility for the instruction of first and second year classes in Charms and Potions.
I trust this arrangement will be acceptable. Hogwarts awaits your presence.
Sincerely,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Headmaster
Corvus folded the parchment carefully, slid it back into its envelope, and made his way to Arcturus' study. He had no doubt the old man would be buried under another mountain of parchment, as had become his custom ever since they began binding the syndicates under the Black banner. The study had turned into a fortress of ledgers, contracts, and financial records stacked high in disciplined rows. The burden of administration had only grown heavier in recent weeks.
Corvus had suggested more than once that they bring in a squib secretary or two, bound by the same airtight contracts they used on their operatives to shoulder some of the work. But every suggestion had been dismissed with a wave of Arcturus' hand.
Corvus had come to realize it wasn't simply stubbornness. There was a gleam in Arcturus' eyes whenever he tallied the growing reserves of gold bars, a fierce satisfaction that seemed to restore some youth to his bearing. It was as if every new ingot was a personal triumph, proof that under his stewardship the House of Black had risen to its greatest prosperity. Corvus began to suspect that his grandfather's obsession was about more than securing the family's future. It was about preparing a legacy that would echo in the smug smirk of his portrait, forever reminding past and future Blacks that it was under Arcturus that the vaults had swelled to bursting.
Corvus rapped once on the heavy oak door before stepping inside. "Grandfather," he said evenly.
Arcturus raised his head, eyes sharp despite the lines of age. With a wandless levitation, Corvus sent Dumbledore's letter floating across the room. The elder Black caught it deftly, scanned the contents, and gave a short nod.
"I'll be going to Hogwarts tomorrow morning," Corvus said, his tone flat but firm.
Arcturus inclined his head, already lowering his gaze back to the ledgers as though the matter were settled. Corvus exhaled, moving closer to the desk. "Grandfather, think again about hiring someone to handle the simpler tasks. You've barely left this study in weeks."
Arcturus' lips curved into a crooked smile. "I'm working, Corvus. Do you realize? The Black family has reached its highest wealth in ingots under my hand. Higher even than at our so called peak. My portrait will have the joy of reminding every pompous ancestor who ever thought themselves clever. Can you imagine?"
Corvus raised a brow, but Arcturus pressed on, his grin widening. "Of course, your leadership will outshine mine in time. But until then, let me enjoy my victory. I'll sneer down at them all, as much as I please."
The elder wizard chuckled to himself, muttering the names of long dead Blacks as though rehearsing insults for the day his painted likeness would join them on the wall. Corvus pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slowly.
"Definitely Black madness," he thought, though the exasperation was tempered with a thread of reluctant amusement and affection.
--
The next morning dawned pale over Grimmauld Place, its muted light slipping through threadbare curtains and painting the ancient walls in tones of grey and silver. Corvus had risen well before sunrise, his habits shaped by discipline and recent demands. He dressed with deliberate care, immaculate black robes lined with silver stitching, a dark green tie knotted perfectly at his collar. Amblems of House Black and Durmstrang standing proudly. It was not vanity that guided his hands but strategy. Perception was as dangerous and useful a weapon as any spell. Every line of his clothing and every controlled gesture would speak as loudly as his wand.
Umbra perched by the window, feathers glossy, eyes sharp, issuing a low caw as if warning him against stepping into enemy territory. Viridith, coiled in his enchanted terrarium, flicked his tongue lazily, unblinking eyes following Corvus with a snake's inscrutable patience. At precisely ten o'clock, Corvus took a deep breath, cast one last look at his room, and stepped into the Floo. His voice was steady, commanding, "Professor's Common Room, Hogwarts."
Emerald fire roared up around him, heat licking at his robes. A heartbeat later, he emerged into the hidden chamber that lay behind the dais of the Great Hall. The air smelled faintly of waxed wood, parchment, and chalk. He brushed a trace of soot from his sleeve and straightened just as the door creaked open.
Professor Flitwick appeared, his small frame almost swallowed by the doorway, yet his presence radiated sharp energy. His eyes glimmered with curiosity. "Ah! Mr. Black. No, Assistant Professor Black. Welcome, welcome. We have been expecting you."
Corvus inclined his head in respect. "Professor Flitwick, your mastery of Charms precedes you. It is an honor to meet at last."
The compliment drew a pleased beam from Flitwick, who puffed up with pride. "Kind words, very kind indeed. Come along, the others are waiting."
They moved down the hall, voices from beyond the staff room door already buzzing. When the door opened, conversations ceased. All the eyes turned to regard him, some curious, some wary, some openly cold.
Professor McGonagall rose first, her tartan robes sweeping about her. She extended her hand with rigid formality. "Mr. Black. Or rather, Professor Black. Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Thank you, Professor," Corvus replied, leaning slowly to kiss the back of her hand, smooth and measured, his grip gentle and firm.
Her lips thinned, but she inclined her head. From the corner, Hagrid's booming laugh rang out. "Blimey! So you're the lad everyone's been on about, duelin' champion, youngest master this, youngest master that!"
Corvus allowed a small smile, extending his hand. "Your praise is generous." He could see how people will take advantage of this Half Giant. This was a child in this massive body.
Professor Sprout gave him a warm, earthy smile of welcome, while Sybill Trelawney muttered into her teacup about omens of death and dark shadows. Bathsheda Babbling studied him as though he were an equation to solve. Professor Vector inclined her head politely, sharp eyed. At the head of the long table sat Albus Dumbledore, eyes twinkling with calculated warmth.
"Mr. Black," Dumbledore began, his grandfatherly tone echoing through the chamber, "how delightful to welcome you among us. You have yet to meet with Professor Quirrell taking a leave abroad. He will be ready at first of September."
Corvus gave a shallow nod, his expression unreadable.
Then Severus Snape broke the calm, his voice a low, venomous drawl. "So. The Black heir finally graces these halls. I had wondered when your family's shadow would crawl back."
Corvus met his glare, turquoise silver eyes glinting with steel. "Severus Snape. Your skill in potions is acknowledged, but your disdain for my House is equally infamous. I will not tolerate discourtesy to my name, nor disregard for proper etiquette. I suggest you remember yourself. Consider this as your first warning."
The room stilled. Snape's eyes narrowed, a faint ripple of Legilimency brushing against Corvus' mind. A mistake. Corvus' wand was already in hand, grip relaxed but intent, and a piercing curse cracked across the space. It struck Snape's hand with surgical precision. He hissed, clutching it, blood welling between his fingers.
"Please," Corvus said, his voice soft as velvet, deadly as poison. "Try again, give me a reason to end your miserable existence. If you dare pry into my mind, why would you hesitate to do the same to students? The Wizengamot would be most interested to hear of such liberties."
Gasps filled the room, McGonagall rose, Sprout's hand flew to her mouth, Flitwick squeaked in alarm. Dumbledore raised his hand as if to calm the storm. "Corvus, my boy, surely this is all a misunderstanding..."
Corvus turned his gaze on him, wand still leveled at Snape. "Headmaster, three things. First, I never granted you the right to use my given name. Second, do not cloak your condescension in endearments. And third, leash your hound. If Snape cannot restrain himself, then he is a danger to every heir within these walls."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Corvus' tone cut it like glass. "I will not take potion classes to assist this filth. And I will ensure he answers for this. House Black will not hesitate to see him stripped of position and sent to Azkaban."
With that, Corvus turned, robes billowing behind him. The staff room doors shut with a reverberating boom. Crossing the Great Hall beneath the enchanted ceiling, he strode out past the gates of Hogwarts. Only once he was beyond the wards did he Apparate away, leaving behind a chamber steeped in shock and the lingering scent of blood where his curse had struck.
--
After Corvus left the chamber, the tension clung to the air like smoke, thick and choking. Dumbledore exhaled heavily, the grandfatherly twinkle long gone from his eyes as he turned sharply on Snape. His voice, stripped of warmth, was edged with steel.
"Of all the people you might choose to antagonize, Severus… you had to provoke him. Do you not see? The Minister would crawl to please him now. The boy's star is blazing in every paper. And you, with foolish grudge, may have given him more ammunition than a thousand interviews ever could."
Snape's lip curled, his sneer sharper than ever despite the faint tremor in his jaw. "The brat needed to be reminded he is not untouchable, not everyone will bend for him." he spat, though the tightness around his eyes betrayed the pain he was in.
"Reminded?" Minerva's voice cut through the room like the crack of a whip. She stood rigid, her lips pressed thin, her eyes blazing. "Reminded that one of our own professors thinks it acceptable to violate a fellow member's mind? What on earth were you thinking, Severus? Black did nothing wrong, you taunted him, disrespecting his family. You've endangered the very reputation of this school!"
Snape opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Flitwick's high, sharp voice chimed in. "Minerva is correct. It is not a question of If, but when. Word of this spreads and Hogwarts' already faltering reputation will sink even lower. Parents will demand to know why their children are being taught by a man reckless enough to violate minds in front of faculty."
Sprout, who had been silent until now, folded her hands and spoke in a low but steady voice. "Severus, think of the students. If they hear of this, it will not only frighten them but undermine everything we do to keep trust between us and their families. We already struggle to assure them that Hogwarts is one of the best schools."
At that precise moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled in, her wand already in hand, her expression a mixture of outrage and clinical focus. "Step aside!" she ordered, striding to Snape and beginning a flurry of diagnostic charms. After a moment, she pursed her lips. "A dark piercing curse," she confirmed grimly. "It'll scar unless the caster removes it personally. Otherwise you'll carry the mark, Snape."
Her words only seemed to deepen Snape's scowl. He sat there like a wounded beast, bristling, but silent now, perhaps realizing that any excuse would sound pitiful under so many condemning stares.
Minerva folded her arms, her gaze burning. "This will not remain behind closed doors. Corvus Black is not just anyone. He is the heir of a most noble house, and the whole country is already watching him. The Prophet will have a slander party after this. Hogwarts will be the laughingstock of Europe."
Flitwick nodded gravely. "The dueling circuit will eat this alive. A boy celebrated for discipline and control, attacked by one of our own professors."
Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose, fatigue etched across his features. Without another word, he turned and swept from the chamber, already calculating how to smother the fire before it burned down half his carefully laid plans.
While the faculty simmered in their outrage, Corvus returned to Grimmauld Place. Arcturus was working in his study, the old man looking up from a ledger as his heir entered.
Corvus recounted the entire scene in calm detail, the insult, his retaliation, the reactions of the staff. When he finished, his eyes hardened. "Grandfather, this cannot go unanswered. I will not have the House of Black disrespected by anyone with delusions of authority. We will go to the Ministry. We will file a complaint. Oh and I will register my Animagus form officially while we are there."
Arcturus' silver eyes gleamed with approval. "Well spoken, boy. Yes. We'll press the matter until the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has no choice but to act. And if I know Cornelius Fudge, he will fold faster than wet parchment once his reputation is threatened. "
The same afternoon, both Blacks strode through the Ministry's atrium, their presence commanding attention. The echo of their boots carried through the marble hall, and whispers followed them as they cut through the crowd. They arrived at the DMLE offices where Kingsley Shacklebolt himself was on duty. The tall Auror inclined his head respectfully. "Lord Black. Heir Black. How may the Department serve you today?"
Arcturus gestured to Corvus, who spoke with crisp precision. "I wish to file a formal complaint against Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts. He used unauthorized legilimency and attempted to violate my mind. Unprovoked, I might add. In the presence of multiple witnesses. I expect the DMLE to act swiftly."
Shacklebolt's expression tightened, but he nodded gravely and summoned parchment. "The complaint will be recorded at once." He scrawled the details, then gestured for them to follow. "Director Bones will want to hear this personally."
In Amelia Bones' office, the formidable witch listened with her usual cool focus, her monocle glinting as Corvus laid out the facts. Arcturus added his weight, his voice cold and authoritative. "The law will be followed. Snape will face the consequences. I want to make an example of him. If a Hogwarts professor may assault my heir without consequence, what message does that send to the world?"
Amelia inclined her head. "Very well. Shacklebolt, take two Aurors and bring Severus Snape into custody for questioning. Effective immediately."
As the Aurors departed, Corvus excused himself to complete his Animagus registration. He chose to register his Tiger form and keep the Raven to himself. The law, after all, required an Animagus to register a form, not forms. Under the DMLE, The Improper Use of Magic Office recorded his Tiger form with raised brows, the monstrous White Tiger filling the registry chamber. The clerk fumbled with the quill, muttering that this was "most irregular," but nonetheless logged it officially and handed the parchment of registration with a moving photo of the tiger on the right corner of it.
Meanwhile, Arcturus had other business. He swept toward the Minister's office, intercepted only briefly by Dolores Umbridge, who fluttered anxiously before him. "Lord Black, How delightful to see you here…"
"Take me to Fudge," Arcturus snapped, his voice thunderous.
Moments later, Cornelius Fudge was stammering in his chair, sweat beading at his brow as Arcturus loomed over him. "If Snape remains in a DMLE holding cell, this story will spread like Fiendfyre. Parents, papers, the Wizengamot they will all know Hogwarts' Potions Master is rotting in a Ministry cell for attempting to violate the mind of a minor, and worse, a fellow professor. Most importantly, he attacked the heir of the House of Black. But if he is sent to Azkaban? Then it will be handled quietly. I'll wait for the next Wizengamot session to rise the issue. The House of Black will accept nothing less."
Fudge swallowed hard, trembling, then asked weakly, "Wh.. where are the other victims, Lord Black?"
Arcturus blinked, his expression darkening. "Other victims? There are none. The boy is all three, the minor as he is still sixteen years old, the professor, and the heir. Do not insult me with such incompetence."
Fudge nodded so quickly his bowler hat nearly toppled. "O.. of course, Lord Black. Yes. Yes, to Azkaban it is. No need to make this… public."
Arcturus' lips curved into a thin, satisfied smile. "Wise decision. For once. Perhaps there's hope for you yet, Minister."
Within minutes, Amelia sent a Patronus to Shacklebolt about the 'slightly' changed accusation and the order to transfer him to Azkaban, high security ward.