Corvus' routine settled as as usual whenever he was in Hogwarts. He copied the Extreme Agility when his replication was ready. He tested the new edge after the absorbtion was complete. Extreme Agility settled into muscle and nerve like a key sliding home. Paired with Extreme Speed, it stopped the blur from becoming a stumble. He crossed the room, turned on a Knut, caught a chalk stick he threw before using the skill in midair, and drew a clean set of runes on the slate without any difficulty. A perfect set.
On the other hand, Potter kept pace in his own lane. Second year potions and charms finished. The boy has a knack for Transfiguration, which Corvus pushed him to delve deeper. He was already on third year curriculum. Hogwarts was really slowing down and weakening the graduates year by year. Back to Potter, Corvus was training him on duelling every other session. He learned to move his feet when a wand moved after some slightly dark hexes. Best defense was not a shield or a secret spell, it was not getting hit.
Tonight would be more than form and counters though. Corvus fed the boy with bits and crumbs of what healing rituals can achive through out the week. Potter took the bait hook and sinker. In truth Corvus was working on a ritual to seperate the horcrux leeching on the boy's magical reserves to stay alive without hurting the host. Tonight would be a delayed rescue and repair.
"Heir Black, can you conduct the healing ritual for my eyes tonight?" Potter ventured at the end of their lesson, rubbing his wrist after a string of offensive and defensive charms.
"We definitely can," Corvus answered, calm as a ledger. "There are many healing rituals for such minor things."
The boy's chin lifted. "I.. I want to go through and I am ready."
Corvus nodded and motioned the boy to follow.
They left the chamber and crossed the empty corridors. Stone breathed cold. Torches hissed. At the turn, Severus came out of shadow like the bat he was. "Professor Black." A slight incline at the throat, all edges and restraint. His gaze knifed to Potter and cooled further. "May I ask what you are doing with Mr. Potter this late after curfew?"
"Mr Potter has a fondness for corridors after curfew," Corvus drawled. "I thought the Forbidden Forest might cure him of the hobby."
A seam of satisfaction touched Severus' mouth. "Apples seldom roll far from their trees." He moved on, robes whispering. Corvus watched his back for a beat and let Memory Mapping open like a lens. The image came whole, he found the moment as well. Headmaster's office. Lily's name used like a leash. A promise forced out through clenched teeth. Protection, no matter the salt in the old wound. Occlumency meant little against a Dementor's skill. He dropped the images with a blink and returned to the moment.
They stepped through the great doors and into night. Frost bit the air. The wards sighed as they crossed the grounds. Forest welcomed them in silence. Corvus chose a dark clearing with a strip of clear sky. A quick look at the map told him the staff were inside, Quirrell included. He raised the needed privacy with a few neat turns of the wrist: sound locked, space cooled, trace damped. The crystalline rose Vinda had given him went to the stump at the edge; its quiet magic veiled eyes that were not present.
"Sit," he told Potter, a bench shaped at the edge of the clearing with a twist of his wand.
He transfigured the earth to be flat and ready for the arrays. Three circles nested into each other, each line measured, each junction counted. Runes formed node by node: expulsion in the first ring, containment in the second, restoration in the third. Four smaller circles budded off the outer band at the cardinal points. A single line was connecting him to the array. Glyphs tethered them to the lattice like rivets.
Potter leaned forward, eyes bright. "These… link the rings?" He pointed to the arrays.
"They direct the flow," Corvus replied, checking a bind rune with his thumb. "Your part is to lie still."
"Understood."
"Robes off."
He stripped to his underwear without fuss. This was the second time Corvus asked him this. First was to heal and remove the scars and belt marks on his back. Heir Black levitated him with a silent movement of his wrist and settled him in the heart of the array, spine aligned, hands at sides, chin straight. A soft stun put the boy under. Silence deepened until even the rose felt it.
Corvus checked the lines of the circles and wards he sat at the perimeter. Map confirmed the usual suspects were all in the castle. All clear. The chant began low and even. The first ring woke. Air buckled. A thread of black ooze seeped from the lightning scar like oil from a cracked lamp. It thickened, It rose as a black smoke, writhed against the geometry, found the boundary of the inner circle, and dragged along it looking for a seam, a way to escape. There was none. It struck again. The second ring caught and held. The soul shard started to screech.
The draw began. The shard thinned and shredded, pulled into runes that drank it down. Corvus absorbed it rune by rune. Cold lifted, then broke in a prickle along Corvus' arms as the last smear gave way. Magic ticked inside his chest, a bare increment and a string of unwanted yet useful memories brushed his mind. He anchored and let them sit for a more suitable time.
The goats came next. Four small figurines to each small circle. A touch restored them to wool, meat, blood and bone. A second touch silenced and stunned them before fear could sour the work. The chant changed tone. The third circle brightened like capillaries under glass and ran along the channels through to center. The air tasted metallic. Potter's skin shimmered. One by one the goats fell as dried husks, turning to ash. The last pulse hit the boy's sternum and vanished. The array dimmed of its own accord, like breath leaving a mirror.
Corvus levitated Potter to the edge of the clearing. The circles unwound in reverse order, last rune first, until the ground was only ground again. A pair of vials clicked onto the plank beside the boy's hand. Invigoration and Nutrients. He conjured an armchair and asked Tibby to bring tea. Time to see what really happened on that eventful night.
Potter stirred as Corvus cast an enervate on him. The first thing he did was squint, then blink hard. His mouth parted. "I can see the embroideries on your sleeve," he whispered, half laughing, half stunned. "Without glasses."
"Drink." Corvus passed the first vial. "Then this." The second followed. "Stand slowly. Tell me if you feel lightheaded."
He obeyed in full, clumsy only for the first step. "What did it do? I mean the… healing."
"The ritual healed you from inside out." Corvus answered. "Sealed your body's channels, corrected damage, set your sight as it ought to be. There will be no scars where there were once, the one on your temple included. It will fade within a week."
Potter reached for his temple and found a scab, he winced slightly. The hand fell away. He faced the trees and inhaled like a swimmer breaking water. "Thank you."
"Tonight you will sleep like a stone. Tomorrow you will read from different distances to tire and test your sight. Consider this 'healing' to be included in your vow of silence. Bring no one into this clearing, not ever. If anyone asks, you were in detention doing lines about corridors and curfew. I brought you to the forest to make you understand night is a dangerous time for magical beings. As for your eyesight," Corvus transfigured the the old glasses to ordinary glass. "You will wear these fakes for a couple of weeks. By that time the residue of the ritual will be long gone. You will dump your glasses and when asked, answer with; I woke like that. Diagnostics will not show anything at that point."
He managed a grin. "I can do that."
"Make sure you do." Was the answer in a stern tone.
He swept the site clean. The rose went back into Corvus' pouch. Wards fell without a sound. They walked out under a narrow moon. When the castle doors closed behind them, the stone gave back their footfalls and the world felt smaller again.
At the stair, Potter touched the rail. "Was it hard.. to learn all these?"
"It was precise," Corvus answered. "Precision and discipline is the signature of an heir. To those who do not measure though, it is only a hardship."
"I will measure," the boy promised.
"Good night, Heir Potter."
"Good night, Heir Black and thank you again.."
Corvus watched him take the last flight with no stumble, then turned back toward his chambers. The speed was his. The control was his. The boy's path, for once, was a degree straighter. Fourth Horcrux was eliminated. All was in order.
--
January's session drew members of the wizengamot to the chamber. Robes whispered. Rings tapped. The silver gavel kissed the block and the last murmur sank into stone.
On the Traditional bench, chairs had shifted. Avery, Nott, Yaxley, and Travers no longer clustered behind Malfoy. They took places beside and just behind Lord Rosier. Quills noticed. So did the gallery.
Arcturus settled at the Minister's chair and angled his profile toward the dais. "Chief Warlock, the order of business."
Dumbledore drew breath for the litany. Corvus rose before Dumbledore could start. He inclined his head. "Minister."
A faint curve touched Arcturus's mouth. "Lord Rosier."
"I deliver a prisoner to lawful custody," Corvus went on. He stepped down the well and set a glass cage upon Amelia Bones's desk. Inside, a gray rat lay breathing in shallow pulls, still as a pebble.
Amelia lifted two fingers. Aurors brought the Chair of Judgment. Chains yawned from its arms. She looked once to the still rat afterwards to Corvus. "Lord Rosier?." A question lived inside the name.
"Minor inconvenience," Corvus replied. The rat rose from the cage at a flick. A clean, hard pulse of magic crawled over the tiny body. Fur blurred into skin. Bone lengthened. Peter Pettigrew landed on the flagstones in a heap, much thinner and full of bruises. Still under the coma curse.
Corvus lifted it, He vanished the memories of the 'polite' sessions from the rat's mind, yet left the bone deep fear linked to him. Pettigrew's eyes went to Corvus, opened wide and without looking around or thinking he tried to scuttle. Corvus did not bother with a word. A white lance cracked the air. Smell of ozone spread sharp and cold. Pettigrew jerked, stiff as wire, then collapsed. Two aurors hauled him into the chair. Chains woke, slid, and locked.
Amelia's mouth thinned. "Necessary, Lord Rosier?"
Corvus returned to his bench. "He is a runner."
"Healer to the floor," Amelia called. A mediwitch hurried in, wand low. After several diagnostics spells she turned to Director Bones. "Nerve ends destroyed and healed many, many times. Bones broken and settled wrong, nearly all of them."
Amelia's gaze zoomed on Corvus, his innocent smile was not assuring, yet what was she to say or do? She sighed and turned to the healer.
"Can he be questioned?" Upon receiving a positive answer she called again. "Veritaserum." A vial arrived on a tray. Three drops shone on Pettigrew's tongue.
Dumbledore leaned forward. "Director, the propriety of..."
Arcturus did not raise his voice. "Chief Warlock, your interference will be recorded. Allow the Director to conduct a lawful interrogation." A rustle of approval ran the ring. Even a few from the Progressives nodded, cautious and small.
Amelia watched the potion bloom in Pettigrew's eyes. "Name, date, and place of birth."
"Peter Pettigrew. Ten April nineteen sixty. Yorkshire."
"Were you the Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter."
"Yes."
"How did that come to be."
"I pressed them to switch. Everyone would think it was Sirius. They laughed about the joke."
Sighs answered him from three benches at once.
"Where were you on Samhain, nineteen eighty one."
"At Godric's Hollow. I gave the secret to the Dark Lord and lead the way. He fell to the curse that bounced from the boy. I took his wand and ran."
"When did you join the Dark Lord."
"Sixth year. Lucius introduced me. I took the Mark after graduation."
Quills scratched. The gallery found its breath and lost it again.
"On the first of November, nineteen eighty one. Did you kill the twelve Muggles in London."
"Yes."
"How did you escape."
"I bit off my finger. I changed and ran into the drain."
"Where have you lived since."
"With the Weasley family. As their pet. They called me Scabbers."
The chamber went still. Dumbledore rose half a hand from the arm of his chair. Amelia turned. Her wand rested on the desk, close enough. "Chief Warlock, you will abdicate for this item. Weasley you ally."
Arcturus folded his hands. A happy smile on his face. "The Director is correct. Who will sit, Director."
Amelia scanned the ring. "Lord Longbottom."
Frank Longbottom stood from the Neutral benches. The old auror's face did not move much. He crossed to the dais, took the Warlock's chair, and placed both palms flat on the wood.
"Proceed, Director," Frank offered, voice even.
Amelia faced the prisoner again. "State your animagus form."
"A common rat."
A hum rolled the circle. Corvus did not look away from Pettigrew. The little man's eyes kept skittering to him and breaking off. Fear lived there, old and raw.
"The wand you took," Amelia pressed. "Where is it."
"Taken from me."
"By whom."
"I do not know."
Amelia's gaze moved to Corvus, who nodded in return with a grin. She marked the answer and let it stand. "No further questions at this stage." She lifted her hand to the clerk. "Record the admissions and prepare charges for trial."
Frank inclined his head a fraction. "So ordered."
Arcturus's ring gave a single tap. "We had heard enough. He rose. "This chamber will recess for half an hour. When we reconvene, trial of the traitor will start."
Benches emptied by slow degrees. In the well, Pettigrew sat very small inside very old chains. Corvus passed without looking at him. Amelia's eyes followed, she really have no idea how to deal with him.