Corvus finished examining the new batch of Squibs, each one carefully tested through Legilimency and bound by the contracts. Once satisfied, he assigned their roles after cross checking with the syndicate leaders and Squib liutenants they inserted to each one of the organizations already under Black influence. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Later, in the study, he and Arcturus spoke at length about the next step. Infiltrating the International Confederation of Wizards. The first targets would not be the powerful European delegations, but rather the small communities and weaker countries whose votes often tipped the balance. The plan was simple in principle yet deadly in execution. Replace or control the representatives through the members of Acolytes and the Alliance. Only those under ironclad oaths would ever be considered to replace the actual representatives.
Corvus leaned back in his chair and fixed his sharp turquoise silver eyes on Arcturus Black. "Grandfather, I want a similar oath from Vinda Rosier. She may be a trusted comrade and a dear friend to you and I do not doubt your judgment nor your past. But we both know there are ways to strip secrets even from the strongest Occlumens if they are not bound by oath. I would rather take no risks."
Arcturus considered in silence, the lines of his face etched deeper in the firelight. At last he inclined his head. "You are right. We should avoid taking unnecessary risks. I will speak to her myself." His tone carried no reproach, only grim understanding.
Three days before term starts, the time came for Corvus to move to Hogwarts. He entered Arcturus' study, where the great hearth already blazed, Floo powder at hand, Arcturus was waiting for him. His expression as sharp as the man he had once been on battlefields. Umbra perched silently on Corvus' shoulder, while Viridith was coiled lazily but alert around his arm, scales glinting in the firelight. The old Black's gaze softened for a heartbeat. "Be careful of Albus' schemes, Corvus. He will try to outplay you."
Corvus smiled faintly. "Do not worry, Grandfather."
Arcturus shook his head, a rare note of warmth in his voice. "I will worry. Not only are you my heir, but you have become more than that, Corvus. Be careful, not only for your sake but for mine as well. And never forget.."
"That I am a Black," Corvus finished for him, his voice steady. "And Blacks never bow."
Arcturus reached out and patted his shoulder firmly, pride and steel mingling in his touch. "Go now, boy." He said and throw the powder to the fire. Corvus stepped into the flames, and vanished in a swirl of emerald fire, leaving his Lord Black alone with the hearth's glow and the heavy silence of Grimmauld Place.
--
Upon arrival at Hogwarts, Corvus' first act was to settle into his chambers. He placed Umbra's perch by the tall window, giving the raven a commanding view of the grounds, and Viridith's enchanted terrarium opposite the doorway, ensuring his snake could act as a vigilant sentinel. Tibby, his elf, was called to arrange his clothes, books, and toiletries, while Corvus himself chose to wander the castle, taking its measure with calculating eyes. The watchful portraits tracked him silently, their whispers echoing faintly in the long hallways.
He lingered in the Trophy Room, his smirk widening as he read the inscription: Tom Marvolo Riddle, Special Award for Services to the School, 1943. Corvus chuckled under his breath. 'Dumbledore does have a grim sense of humor. Unless the award was for opening the chamber and murdering a student.'
His footsteps carried him further through Hogwarts' labyrinthine corridors. He passed the statue of the One Eyed Witch, eyeing the hump with interest. The activation spell eluded his memory, as he never bothered to memorize it but he filed the location away, he would keep a close eye on the Weasley twins when term began. Their map would do nicely until he could craft one of his own.
He noted other familiar landmarks, the trick staircase that swallowed steps, the entrance to the kitchens behind the fruit bowl painting, the Vanishing Cabinet tucked away on the second floor, It's partner already in his room at Grimmauld Place and lastly the suits of armor that rattled slightly as he walked by. Each detail he memorized with a soldier's precision, his mind quietly plotting how best to use, or exploit, them later.
Hours later he returned to the third floor and entered his Potions classroom. With deliberate care, he began etching runic circles beneath each desk, subtle protections and safeguards. He set fresh keeping wards onto the cupboards so that ingredients would stay fresh for longer periods as they were kept.
Calling softly for assistance, a Hogwarts elf appeared with a sharp crack. "Professor called?" the creature squeaked, its large eyes blinking up at him. Corvus studied it for a moment before asking, "What is your name?"
"The name is Pimsy, sir."
"Good. Pimsy, you will be the only elf to clean this and my other classroom. My chambers will be tended only by my personal elf. No other elf is to enter or touch anything. Is that clear?" His voice was calm but firm.
The elf nodded vigorously, ears flapping. "Yes, Professor Black! Pimsy understands."
"Good," Corvus said, thanking and dismissing it with a nod.
As he turned to leave, the door knocked and opened. Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, a parchment in her hand. "Good afternoon, Professor Black," she said with her customary formality. "I've brought you your teaching schedule."
Corvus accepted the parchment, scanning the neatly inked timetable. Five straight days filled with lessons. He frowned, pulled a quill fashioned from one of his own raven feathers, and calmly adjusted the schedule, freeing his Fridays. A quick, silent Gemino produced a copy, which he handed back. "I prefer this, Professor. Everyone deserves at least one free day during the week."
Minerva exhaled softly, her lips thinning. "A luxury for most of us. Even Professors Flitwick and Snape worked without such freedoms before your arrival. I only wish you had chosen Transfiguration instead of the Dark Arts for your masteries, then you might have taken some of my classes as well."
Corvus arched an eyebrow. "You seem under the illusion that my being here is voluntary. Allow me to clear the miunderstanding, It is not. My presence is nothing more than the result of meddling by an old, shrewd manipulator who broke this institution and now seeks to patch it. The last part I still doubt."
Minerva's eyes softened with a trace of sadness. "Do you truly think so poorly of Albus or of Hogwarts itself, Heir Black?" She had shifted her wording deliberately, addressing him as the scion of his family rather than a fellow teacher.
"This school is a shadow of what it once was," Corvus answered. "Do not take that as an insult to your mastery of Transfiguration for it is not. I do respect you and most members of the faculty. But even you cannot deny it. Hogwarts coddles children, not rasing witches and wizards, never teaching them spells that even brush the Dark Arts or any offensive magic. Magic is balance, Professor. To cling only to 'light' is as dangerous as surrendering to 'dark.' The Patronus and the Killing Curse both demand deep, raw emotion. One is revered, the other reviled, but both are the same in their essence. Spells fueled by emotions. To deny one, is to betray Mother Magic herself."
Minerva stood silently for a long moment. At last, she decided to act as if the whole conversation did not happened. inclining her head, though sadness lingered in her expression. "The faculty usually gather for dinner on quiet evenings of the break. You are welcome to join us, Professor. The meal is served at eight we'll be at great hall." She gave a slight nod and withdrew, leaving Corvus alone among the runes and shadows of his classroom.
--
Corvus joined the other professors in the Great Hall for dinner, the long desk serving as the faculty's table. He gave a polite nod to the assembled staff before taking a seat beside Professor Flitwick, who greeted him warmly with a squeaky, "Good evening, Professor Black. A pleasure to have you join us."
The conversation over dinner flowed easily at first, polite inquiries and small observations. Midway through the meal, Professor Bathsheda Babbling leaned forward with keen interest. "I have heard," she said, her tone curious, "that at Durmstrang, Runes and Ancient Runes are taught as separate subjects. Is that true, Professor Black? And, " she added with a faint smile, "allow me to congratulate you on your remarkable appointment. Sixteen and already an Assistant Professor. Extraordinary."
Corvus nodded accepting the praise, smiling faintly. "Thank you, Professor. Yes, the subjects are taught separately at Durmstrang. From what I gather, here at Hogwarts you cover primarily the Elder Futhark, Roman, Anglo Saxon, and Nordic runes under the banner of Ancient Runes. At Durmstrang, those four are categorized simply as Runes. Ancient Runes, on the other hand, focuses on older and more diverse scripts. Egyptian hieroglyphs, Sanskrit, Cyrillic runes, Mayan, Aztec, Aramaic, Hebrew, even Arabic glyphs, though the last two overlap heavily. We also study several still unidentified runic systems and the correlations between all of them."
Professor Babbling's eyes widened in astonishment. "And you completed both courses?" she asked, almost breathless.
"With top marks," Corvus answered without arrogance, his tone calm and measured. "Durmstrang believes in testing every ounce of a student's skill."
Professor Sprout, cheeks flushed from the warmth of the meal, leaned in curiously. "That must give you such breadth. I imagine it helps you see the connections between magic and the natural world?"
"It does," Corvus replied. "Runes are the framework on which much of ritual and ward magic rests. They aren't static symbols, they breathe, shift, and adapt when you know how to read them. Even in Herbology, runic bindings can enhance growth cycles or stabilize dangerous flora."
Dumbledore, who had been silently listening until now, spoke in his calm, measured voice. "I understand Rituals were among your strongest subjects at Durmstrang, Professor Black." His tone was light, but his eyes sharp behind the half moon glasses.
Corvus turned his gaze to him, his smile faint but steady. "Indeed, Headmaster. Rituals are the spine of magic. Complex, fundamental, and endlessly adaptable. It is a pity they are banned here in Britain."
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "And tell me, which branch of ritual work do you consider your specialty?"
"All of them," Corvus replied evenly. "Ceremonial rites, blood rituals, bindings, sacrificial workings, summoning and conjuration, elemental, ancestral, transformative, even divinatory practices. I am well versed across the field. But I think, Headmaster, you have a particular accusation in mind. Please, do ask plainly." His smile held just the barest edge of mockery.
Dumbledore's expression did not flicker. "Rituals and the Dark Arts are the most perilous paths. They tempt witches and wizards toward darkness. I am proud to have played a part in ensuring they are forbidden here."
Corvus' tone was calm, his smile still in place. "Ah. Then you must be Mother Magic's chosen, Headmaster. No doubt your vision has already secured Hogwarts' students a future brighter than any of their peers abroad."
The headmaster's eyes cooled, though his voice remained gentle. "There is no need for such barbs, Professor Black. This gathering is not the place." He leaned back, signaling he would say no more.
Professor Flitwick, quick to break the tension, piped up cheerfully. "Professor Black, I have long wished to hear more about Battle Transfiguration and Charms. Durmstrang is known for combining both in combat calsses."
Corvus' expression softened at the change of subject. "Battle Transfiguration is about shaping the environment to win the fight before it begins. A stone wall is not only cover, but a weapon if collapsed at the right time. Charms woven into transfigurations can make them burn, freeze, or even explode. Duels are dances, but combat is chaos, these disciplines prepare you for both. Therefor Durmstrang makes it one of the most important subjects of it's curriculum."
Flitwick clapped his hands together, eyes sparkling. "Splendid! Quite enlightening indeed."
Professor Sprout and Babbling both murmured their agreement, clearly impressed by his depth of knowledge. Even Professor Vector asked a few sharp questions about Arithmantic applications of battle wards, which Corvus answered with precise logic.
By the time the meal wound down near ten o'clock, the tension of earlier had dissipated. Professors Sprout and Flitwick both urged him warmly to join their table more often. "It has been a most enlightening evening," Sprout said with a smile. Flitwick nodded enthusiastically, adding, "Yes, please do make this a habit, Professor Black."
Corvus inclined his head politely. "If my schedule allows, I will gladly join you."
For the next two evenings, he did just that. The conversations, though at times edged with politics, were stimulating. And when September the First arrived, Corvus took his place at the staff table with the rest of the faculty, eyes sharp as the first of the students began to pour into the Great Hall, the banners of the four houses fluttering in welcome.