Corvus stepped out of the ritual chamber, the heavy stone doors closing with a groan behind him that echoed like a tolling bell through the cavern. The goblin shaman was waiting, flanked by two armored guards, while the cursebreakers and Arcturus stood close to Tornhook. The chamber smelled faintly of singed stone and old blood, a reminder of the foul magic that had been destroyed only moments before. The shaman extended his clawed hand without ceremony, and Corvus placed the Hufflepuff cup into it, feeling its weight leave his palm.
The shaman's guttural chanting filled the cavern, each syllable scraping like iron across stone. His voice carried a gravity that made even Tornhook straighten. The cursebreakers nodded at intervals, their sharp eyes scanning the cup as if to confirm its new emptiness. At last, the shaman returned the artifact to Corvus, his expression grim. "I will not ask what became of the foulness within," he said. "But remember this, sanctity of the soul is not a line any being should cross. Wizard, goblin, or elf, our souls are the essence of who we are. To splinter them is to mock Mother Magic herself. You have served Gringotts this day, and in turn honored that truth. Your contract is fulfilled, and your reward duly earned. Farewell, wizard." He inclined his head once before turning on his heel. His guards and the cursebreakers followed, their footsteps fading into the depths.
Tornhook cleared his throat, sharp teeth flashing in the torchlight. "Understand this, young Black, today was more than parchment and ink. You have destroyed an abomination, one that insulted all of us who walk under the gaze of Mother Magic. By doing so, you honored her. Few wizards have the sense, let alone the courage, to do such a thing. Now, unless you plan to rob me blind" he grinned wickedly, "I shall return to counting the ingots your grandfather insists on flooding my ledgers with."
Arcturus scowled at the barb, though his eyes twitched with reluctant amusement. Tornhook nodded stiffly and left, muttering about gold and greedy humans, his laughter echoing faintly.
The cart rattled them back up through the tunnels of Gringotts, torchlight streaking across jagged walls. When they emerged into the marble halls, the grandeur of the bank seemed lighter, as though the vaults themselves had been cleansed by the act. Arcturus and Corvus apparated to Grimmauld Place. Inside the familiar gloom of the study, Corvus wasted no time. "Grandfather," he asked, "how went your meeting with Dumbledore?"
Arcturus' lips curled into a rare, satisfied smile. "Better than expected. He agreed to persuade the progressives not to oppose our proposed trade and tax laws. I'll have someone from the traditionalists introduce them so it doesn't look orchestrated. As for that muggleborn act…" he waved a dismissive hand, "he hesitated. Which tells me his control is not as deep as he brags indirectly. It is fractured, no matter how loudly they pretend unity. The cracks are showing."
He leaned back, savoring the recollection. "And I secured three favors. One of them is my personal seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors." His grin widened, eyes gleaming with triumph. "Imagine it, Corvus, I'll be watching his every step, reminding that crooked nosed manipulator whose voice truly matters."
Corvus smirked. "And about Snape?"
Arcturus chuckled darkly. "Dumbledore promised he would 'speak' to the dungeon bat. Perhaps groveling will follow. If not, let him rot in Azkaban. That, too, is a lesson."
At that moment, Tibby appeared with a tray of steaming tea, his ears twitching nervously as he poured. Corvus introduced him formally. "This is Tibby, my personal elf." Arcturus raised a brow but accepted the cup, sipping with silent approval at its flavor.
Then, Corvus drew the Hufflepuff cup from his pocket. Arcturus leaned forward, his lined face tightening, both awe and distaste flickering across his expression. "So House Black now holds two relics of the Founders."
Corvus turned the cup slowly, the badger emblem catching firelight and glinting with subdued menace. "Who knows, Grandfather? Perhaps we'll find Ravenclaw's diadem as well. Then we would hold three."
Arcturus' eyes narrowed with intrigue. "And the fourth?"
Corvus' smirk sharpened. "That one, I suspect, will come in time." Corvus has no intention to even move the diadem an inch as it was the extraction tool for clowns hired by Dumbledore as DADA professors.
The old Black chuckled softly, pride and hunger mingling in his gaze. "Then let us prepare, Corvus. At long last, I believe fortune has tilted her scale toward the House of Black."
--
It had been three days since Severus Snape was dragged off to Azkaban, and already Albus Dumbledore was forced into a humiliating errand. The Black heir's demand was clear. A public, heartfelt apology from Snape before the entire Hogwarts faculty and student body. Only upon this confirmation would Corvus withdraw his complaint. As the small enchanted boat cut through the cold, grey waters toward the prison island, Albus' mind wandered back to the meeting he had recently held with Arcturus Black.
It had taken place in the Chief Warlock's office at the Ministry of Magic. Albus, seated behind the imposing desk that had been his domain for decades, had been surprised at how composed and unyielding Arcturus looked. The old Black patriarch has came to bargain. And he bargained hard.
Arcturus laid out the laws he intended to push through the Wizengamot. Tax reforms and trade measures designed to benefit the traditionalist families, and by extension, House Black. Albus, with that familiar twinkle in his eye dimmed, knew resistance was useless. If he wanted Corvus mollified, he had to give ground. So he agreed to use his influence with the progressive bloc to ensure they would not oppose the trade and tax measures. But when Arcturus mentioned the act requiring muggleborns to be sponsored by a pureblood family before advancing beyond clerical positions, Albus faltered. Even he could not guarantee control over all of his wing. He admitted as much, carefully hedging his words, but Arcturus was too old and shrewd not to sense it.
The Black lord had pounced, extracting further promises while Dumbledore's back was against the wall. First, that Arcturus himself would take a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, granting him direct oversight of the school. Second, additional concessions whose details Albus preferred not to dwell on as the boat rocked under him. He had cursed Snape under his breath more than once during that meeting. All this maneuvering, all this political currency spent, because one man child still clung to his schoolyard grudges and lacked the restraint to leave the Black heir alone.
The boat reached the stony shore of Azkaban, and the oppressive weight of the Dementors seemed to thicken the very air. An auror escorted Albus inside, through iron gates and into a cold visiting chamber where the walls seemed to sweat misery. Severus was brought in a moment later. The man looked almost unrecognizable: his eyes were sunken hollows, his skin the color of parchment. Even the simple act of sitting down made the enchanted chains binding him rattle and clang.
"I cannot take this, Headmaster," Severus rasped, his voice hoarse, as though scraped raw by despair. "Find a way to get me out of here. Even the Cruciatus is preferable to this… this hell."
Albus studied him in silence for a moment, weighing his words. Then, with a weary sigh, he spoke. "The Black Heir has made his condition clear. You are to stand before the entire faculty and the student body. You will admit your fault and offer a sincere apology. Nothing less will satisfy him, Severus."
At that, Snape's eyes flashed with fury. For a brief moment, Albus thought the man would spit curses then and there. But Severus closed his eyes, his Occlumency walls snapping into place, locking down his emotions as he did not want to ring the lunch bell for the damned creatures so they could swoop in on the anger and despair upon his return. His voice was flat when he finally answered. "I will."
Dumbledore inclined his head gravely. "Good." he said and took out the parchment Corvus Black gave him for Severus to sign. The Potions Master eyes were twitching and his injured hand shaking while signing the contract. "Hold fast, Severus. I will hasten the Ministry's processes where I can. But until then, steel yourself." was the last words of Dumbledore before he left.
Severus said nothing more, his gaze fixed on the stone floor. Albus rose, his robes whispering against the cold flagstones, and left the chamber. As the aurors led him back toward the boat, the headmaster's heart was heavy. He had played the game for decades, but never had the pieces on the board felt so costly, or the players so bitter. One reckless spy, one ambitious heir, and a patient patriarch had forced his hand in ways he had never wished to imagine.
--
The following morning, Corvus received a letter from Hogwarts. This time it came not with flowery language or vague pleasantries but with a clear request. He was invited to Floo directly into the Headmaster's office. Corvus didn't rush his reply. He deliberately waited three hours before sending back a short acceptance, ensuring that poor Severus enjoyed another cold, miserable night in Azkaban. Less than half an hour later a second owl arrived, Dumbledore clearly wasting no time. Corvus chuckled at the thought of the venerable Headmaster pacing his office, wringing his hands while his beloved spy endured the chill of the Dementors.
At last, he threw Floo powder into the fireplace and called, with precise diction, "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts." Stepping through the emerald flames, Corvus emerged into the circular office. He hardly spared a glance for the shelves of curious instruments, or the ancient portraits leaning forward on their frames to study him. His eyes were immediately caught by the bird perched proudly near the desk. The phoenix, Fawkes.
Corvus' replication talent sparked alive at once. Cards shimmered into being, all burning red and edged in golden flame: Healing Tears,Fire Travel,Song of Courage and Purity,Rebirth through Fire,Resistance to Dark Magic. His lips twitched. He desired nearly all of them, but for now he focused. With a whispered compliment toward the magnificent bird, he chose to replicate Fire Travel. Phoenixes could ignore nearly every ward, gliding through barriers that would halt even the most clever Animagus. Methods to block them existed, but they were so rare and difficult that almost no one bothered with how low their population was. He paused the absorption, for a more appropriate time.
Only then did Corvus turn his gaze on Albus. "Headmaster," he said, giving a slight nod, perfect etiquette in every line of his stance.
"Welcome, Heir Black," Albus replied warmly, gesturing to the armchair before his desk. The portraits overhead leaned forward as if drawn to the tension. "Allow me to extend my apologies for Professor Snape's… poor judgment during your last visit."
Corvus lowered himself into the chair, smiling faintly. "I do believe the Ministry is still processing my complaint against Mr. Snape," he answered, deliberately omitting the title of Professor. His voice was smooth, almost pleasant, but the sting in his words was clear.
Albus inclined his head, adjusting his half moon spectacles. "I have visited Severus in Azkaban. He has agreed to your terms, Heir Black." He reached for a bowl of lemon drops as if only just remembering them. "A sweet to lighten the mood?" He asked while giving the contract back to Corvus.
Corvus reclined politely and waved it away. After checking and making sure it was sealed. "Headmaster. I'll be withdrawing the complaint, of course. Still, as it is already the afternoon, perhaps it would be better to visit Madam Bones in the morning. I would hate to impose on her busy schedule." A subtle curve touched his lips.
Albus mirrored the smile with effort. "I would urge you to reconsider, Heir Black. Severus remains in Azkaban as we speak. Surely you would not want him to endure another night in that place."
Corvus tilted his head, considering. "Naturally, Headmaster. I'll make haste to the Ministry, if this is so important for you." He rose smoothly to his feet.
Albus also stood. "Please, use the Floo, it will be faster. And if you don't mind, I should accompany you." His voice was calm, but the sharp eyes behind the spectacles betrayed the weight of his calculation.
Corvus smirked, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze. "Why ever not? Though I confess, I hadn't realized Mr. Snape's Occlumency was quite so fragile. Curious that a man so free with mind arts proved unable to defend himself."
"Everyone makes mistakes, Heir Black," Albus said, tone heavy with the practiced patience of decades.
"And everyone must face the consequences of those mistakes," Corvus returned evenly. He dropped a pinch of powder into the flames. "Atrium, Ministry of Magic!" he called, and vanished into the green fire.
Albus lingered for a heartbeat, the portraits watching him in silence, before following with a soft sigh.