A Rosier Legacy (HP AU M-SI)

[PatrikWriter]

It didn't take long before I found myself beneath the spiral staircase. As I climbed, I smelled the familiar scent of owl droppings. Before I reached the very top, a frowning young student with an eagle emblem on her robes brushed past me. She looked to be of obvious Asian descent, and I had a feeling she was Potter's future love interest, though I couldn't recall her name. I bypassed her without a word.

Even before I stepped inside, I heard muffled sobs again... Is this fate? I was certain it was Sally. Why couldn't she find an empty classroom to cry in? And why the hell was she still wailing, anyway?

I entered with a slight sense of annoyance, and most of the owls immediately turned their gaze toward me. The Owlery was open and bright on one side, but Sally was huddled in the shadows at the back. I instantly got the answer to why she was sobbing right here—there were a few owls around her, letting themselves be scratched and occasionally hooting softly.

Not ten seconds had passed when my old acquaintance, a powerful owl I regularly used to deliver mail to Vespera, swooped down to me. It landed gently on my shoulder, careful not to hurt me with its talons. With a slow movement, I began to scratch its chest, and it hooted softly into my ear. I tended to it for a while longer, giving Sally time to notice me and pull herself together.

Then, I pulled an envelope from my robes. "Deliver this letter to Madam Bones, please."

The owl hooted in agreement and stretched out its left leg. I quickly attached the envelope; she gave me a gentle peck in greeting and immediately took flight toward London. I watched her for a moment until she vanished in the distance, and then, with an annoyed feeling but a calming expression, I turned to Sally.

"If this turns out to be some bullshit, I'm going to lose it," I thought to myself.

I walked slowly toward her. Her head was bowed, but in the time I'd been in the Owlery, she had surely noticed me.

"Hello, Sally."

"Ro—Rosier," she gasped, wiping her damp eyes with the sleeve of her robe. Her sleeves were completely soaked, her eyes and nose were red, and she looked a bit bloated.

Quickly, I bent down for a blade of grass covering the Owlery floor. I pointed my wand at it and uttered with concentration: "Verto!"

In a split second, the blade of grass transformed into a cotton, white-and-emerald handkerchief with a rose-thorn motif. I had thought about adding a snake to the design but changed my mind. Transfiguration didn't particularly appeal to me, but it had its uses. It was the first time I had used it outside of class, and I had to admit it was useful. The power of thought, magical strength, and imagination... the coefficient of magical power conversion regarding the missing mass was perfectly fine for such a small thing. The transformation from grass to cotton went smoothly.

She still wouldn't look me in the eye. I held the handkerchief directly in front of her face while she stared at the ground. She froze for a second, then took it.

"Thank you," she whispered into the silence of the room. The owls watched us curiously, as if we were some Turkish soap opera to them.

"Is someone at school hurting you?" I asked somewhat impatiently. "I saw a girl from your house leaving just now."

"N-no, everyone at school is fine," she shook her head, and for a moment, our eyes met. I felt fear, but it had a specific flavor—it wasn't fear for herself, but for someone else, combined with deep sadness. "That was Cho, she's okay," she added.

"Then why are you crying? Do you miss home?"

She didn't answer but raised her head again. Her pupils were dilated, and I knew I had hit the mark, though clearly not quite precisely. I couldn't stand it anymore and used Legilimency to enter her mind. Her shields were non-existent, so I was immediately pulled into the memory she was thinking of when I said the word "home."

I found myself hidden under a bed. I felt the chill of the cold floor, though I barely noticed it; it was dampened by paralyzing fear and anxiety. From the hallway outside the room, there was only shouting, thumping, and crashing.

"You bitch, you ruined my life! You hexed me and forced me to marry you!" shouted the masculine voice of Sally's father.

In response, there was crying mixed with her mother's screams: "Nooo, leave me alone!"

A dull thud echoed in the memory, followed by the heavy fall of a body. I felt tears streaming down my cheeks, and I was shaking like a leaf.

Suddenly, I was back in the Owlery. Sally was staring at the ground again, which snapped me out of her mind. I no longer felt the cold, the tears, or the fear. I didn't enter others' minds at Hogwarts as often as I did in the Muggle world, so I was confused for a fraction of a second. At the same time, I gained the feeling that if I focused more on the thought and used more magical power, I could remain in her mind even without direct eye contact.

"What do you want, Rosier?" she asked quietly.

I completely ignored her question and asked my own: "Are you afraid for your mother, Sally?"

She flinched and stared into my eyes again, her mouth agape. After a moment, she recovered and blurted out: "How do you know?!"

"I can see into your head, Sally," I replied with a wide grin. I would have tried to wink, too, but I never could quite manage that.

She stared at me in surprise for a while longer, but then she burst out laughing.

"Right, sure," she nodded. "You see into my head," she repeated amusedly, gently wiping her eyes with the handkerchief. "Impressive Transfiguration, by the way. I thought universal transformation wasn't taught until second year."

"One can always study ahead..." I replied with a small smile. "As a Ravenclaw, I have no doubt you study ahead too."

She nodded in agreement. "I study, but I don't practice spells, Rosier." She shook her head and added: "According to your theory grades, you mostly just practice spells."

"No. To cast a spell successfully, one must know the theory too... I just don't give a damn about essays, and that's reflected in my theoretical grades."

"Aren't you worried you'll have trouble finding a job in the future?"

"I don't plan on being employed," I replied amusedly.

"Oh, right, the Slytherin Prince," she snorted. "It must be nice to be born rich."

I shook my head in disagreement. "Sally, any wizard can be rich. A bit of cleverness and the whole world is within your reach. Magic is power... why on earth would you want to toil like a Muggle for a few Galleons?"

She looked thoughtful. She was quite shrewd—I noticed how skillfully she changed the subject from her family situation to magic, but I wasn't going to let that happen. I didn't want to see her wailing here for a third time.

"What's going on at your home, Sally?" I snapped her out of her thoughts. "If I can, I'll help you."

"You're a first-year, what could you possibly do?" she shook her head, but she began to explain: "My father is a Muggle, my mother a Muggle-born witch... In short—they started dating, my father got her pregnant with me, and his parents forced him to marry my mom. Later, she confessed to him that she was a witch, and it immediately clicked in his head that she must have hexed him. And so I can only fear what's happening at home."

"Does he hurt you too?"

She shook her head uncertainly. "He insults me now and then, and sometimes I get a slap when I try to protect my mom..."

"And where do you live?"

"I don't know what you need it for, but Delaney Court, Harpurhey, Manchester M9 5BF... Apartment nine."

"Just curiosity. Maybe I'll stop by for a visit this summer... By the way, United or City?"

"City, of course! If I supported United in my neighborhood, I'd be stoned... But they're the best anyway!"

"Pfff, United is the way," I smirked amusedly. "Everything will be fine, Sally, you'll see..." I added quickly, just as she was about to start an argument over the Manchester clubs.

My assurance caught her off guard. That was enough for me—she had stopped crying, the letter was sent, and so I could take my leave.

"If you need anything, let me know," I told her before leaving.

As I headed down, I heard her shouting after me: "Rosier, Manchester City is the best!"

I grinned. I had no desire to train; instead, I had a craving for a proper cake. So, before the seventh floor, I turned around and headed straight for the kitchens.

As soon as I walked in, an enthusiastic Dudi ran up to me. With a flap of his ears, he bowed deeply, and this time he was followed by the other elves, which was quite strange—usually, they returned to work immediately.

"What's going on, Dudi?"

"Young master gave the elves a great gift! Our elder has started teaching Dudi and some others to read slowly! It goes slowly, but Dudi does not give up, young master, oh no, he does not give up!"

"Ah, that book of fast-food recipes," I thought amusedly.

"Well, when you master the first recipe, I hope I'll be the first to taste the food," I remarked with a smirk.

"Of course, young master, Dudi swears you shall be the first!" He bowed deeply and asked: "Do you have a craving for something? I baked a strawberry cake today!"

"Then I'll take two pieces, please."

"Of course, right away, and with some cold milk," he promised.

But when I turned toward my corner spot, I noticed a group of red-haired boys watching me from there.

"If young master needs, we have another place to sit," Dudi offered before heading off for the cake.

"No, that's fine, I'll join them," I replied and walked toward them with a slow, calm pace.

I had time to look them over. They looked... simply wrecked. Tired, their hair had lost its luster, and they had visibly lost weight. It wasn't just the twins, but Ronald as well. From him, I would have immediately expected hatred toward my uniform, but he only watched me apathetically.

"Hi," I greeted and sat down calmly.

There was a double "hi" and an attempt at a smile from the twins, but no reaction from Ron. The Pettigrew situation had certainly taken its toll on them. Just then, the strawberry cake appeared before me, and I tucked in with gusto. The kitchen echoed only with the muffled chatter of elves, the clatter of pots, and my fork. The Weasleys were silent.

"By the way," I said after the first piece. "Fudge completely ignored your help, you know with what... But I'll share the Galleons," I promised them.

"We don't need the recognition," the right twin said with a shrug, and it seemed to me they came alive for a second.

I nodded. I didn't give a damn about public recognition either. "The Galleons, then. When I receive them this summer, I'll give you half."

"How much will it be?" the left twin asked, while Ron still watched me apathetically.

"Two thousand in total. You'll get a thousand."

They both nodded, and for a moment, I thought I saw a genuine smile. I was curious, but I didn't want to pry inappropriately. It was a massive trauma... I couldn't even imagine experiencing something like that. I also didn't want to use Legilimency. Partly out of moral reasons, but mainly because I didn't care about the details and I really didn't want to know the specifics. It made me nauseous just thinking about what Pettigrew was doing there.

I slowly finished the second piece of cake. It hit the spot, though my appetite was slightly dampened by their apathetic and quiet behavior. They sat there like wrecks—not eating, not drinking, and not talking. It was possible, though, that I had just disturbed their quiet family relaxation, even though their older brother was missing.

But not today. I would have to figure out how to lure my friends away from the room for a while so I could have complete peace for my search.

---

The following day, we were all enjoying breakfast at our house table in the Great Hall again. There was less than a month left until the end of the school year. Who knew how the finale between Voldemort, Potter, and Dumbledore would turn out, but I refused to get involved. I was certain the Stone was a fake, and I didn't care about any of them in the slightest.

Agnes and Theo were enthusiastically discussing the final school tests that awaited us soon, while Tobias ate contentedly and Draco talked with Zabini and Sallow nearby.

We were just finishing up when the owls appeared in the Great Hall with the Daily Prophet. On the front page, of course, was a large article by Rita Skeeter with a photo of a familiar rat.

THE BURROW: END OF THE HOUSE OF HORRORS – THE RAT'S LAST KISS

By Rita Skeeter

Yesterday morning at seven o'clock, in the freezing cells of Azkaban, one of the most repulsive chapters of our modern history was closed. Peter Pettigrew, the man we considered a dead hero for years, finally ceased to exist today. Not with a hero's death, but under the cold touch of a Dementor. He who hid like a coward for a decade finally faced the justice we have all been waiting for.

A Decade in the Shadows of Obliviate
As I reported in the previous edition, Pettigrew's presence in the Weasley family was no accident. This parasite chose The Burrow as his sanctuary and turned it into a private prison. Under the guise of a family pet, he systematically dismantled the lives of everyone under that roof. While the Weasleys appeared to be a harmonious, albeit poor, family on the outside, the reality was chilling.

Using the Obliviate charm, Pettigrew erased traces of his actions and abused the unsuspecting Molly Weasley. However, the tragedy affected the entire family. Arthur Weasley, a man whose job at the Ministry is to uncover the misuse of objects and protect order, had his own memory so shredded by Pettigrew's interference that he lived in deep ignorance for years. It is bitterly ironic that a man who spends his days looking for enchanted Muggle kettles failed to notice the monster in his own bedroom.

Justice That Came Late
Today's execution is a victory, but also a bitter admission of the colossal failure of our system. It is inconceivable that a mass murderer and abuser was able to evade Aurors and Ministry inspections for ten whole years, right under the nose of a government official. Justice in this case was not just blind; it was completely paralyzed.

Witnesses to today's sentencing confirmed that Pettigrew showed not a shred of remorse until the last moment. As the Dementor approached him, he could only muster a cowardly whimper and a desperate attempt to transform into a rat. It was in vain. A single long contact with the Dementor's freezing lips ended his existence. Only an empty shell without a soul remained—exactly what Pettigrew had inside him long ago.

Sirius Black and the Silence After the Storm
Naturally, I attempted to obtain a statement from the man whose name was cleared after years thanks to the exposure of this monster. However, Sirius Black remains unreachable for our newspaper. Whether he is avoiding the public due to past trauma or simply cannot find words for the atrocities his former friend committed remains a mystery for now.

The rat is dead, but the stench of betrayal will remain in The Burrow for a long time. We wish the Weasley family strength in treating their shattered minds and finding their lost memories. They will need it to remember who they truly are after years spent in the shadow of a monster.​

After finishing the front page, I just managed to notice the sudden departure of the Weasleys from the Great Hall. Interestingly, no one made fun of their suffering. Everyone was likely completely horrified…

---

Author's note:

Here we have Sally again... and we're starting to find out more... Manchester City... yuck.

Just a little fun fact: I personally can't wink with one eye in real life, so our MC can't do it either. Now, you might be wondering—why is a witch being abused by a Muggle? Why does she let it happen? Realistically, many victims are too terrified to defend themselves or ask for help. It's a sad reality.

I'm still debating how to format the Daily Prophet reports in the story. Should the entire article be in italics? Or should the main text be standard and only the quotes in italics? Let me know what you think and what would be easiest for you to read!

---

Step into the Restricted Section

The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.

Enter the Restricted Section here: you-know-what/PatrikWriter

Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(14):
54. Deus Vult
55. The Underworld Gambit
56. The Boy Who Sponsored
57. The End of the Year
58. VR: The Warrior of Durmstrang
59. The Mind of a Rosier
60. The Lioness and the Black Blood
61. A Rosier, Not a Goyle
62. The Babel Charm and the Emperor's Dagger
63. Business and Bloodshed
64. Cruelty for Cruelty
65. Adopted by Fate
66. The Scent of Darkness
67. Socks, Sandals, and Sorcery

Join the Inner Circle - tgdTNZYVKt (Discord)
(Vote on plot | Dark FF recs | Chat with the Author)

Support the craft and keep the darkness spreading. Your support directly allows for faster updates.

 

[theoretisch cool]

Snape's mother was also abused by her Muggle husband. However, he told Saly a true fact: since almost anything is possible with magic, she should be able to become rich (not as rich as the old families, of course, but rich enough). It's good that he wants to stop by.

 

[PatrikWriter]

Snape's mother was also abused by her Muggle husband. However, he told Saly a true fact: since almost anything is possible with magic, she should be able to become rich (not as rich as the old families, of course, but rich enough). It's good that he wants to stop by.

Click to shrink...

True, and she was a pure-blood witch too. I believe she was actually quite talented. Domestic abuse statistics are unfortunately quite high; for instance, my own neighbor was bullied by his wife... poor guy just endured it until the kids grew up. There was constant shouting and slapping, but he never called for help because he knew that if he even mentioned it, people would just mock him.

Our MC is certainly no angel, but stopping by and lending a helping hand is the least he can do, haha!

 

[PatrikWriter]

In the morning, right after a quick breakfast, I finally set out for a proper exploration of the Room of Requirement. All those hidden objects were just waiting for me. I had already prepared sturdy gloves so that I could go through all those robes, books, jewelry, weapons, and similar nonsense quickly and without excessive caution.

The others didn't mind when I announced that I wanted to be there alone today, in privacy. Everyone obeyed without a word. It also helped that our final exams were tomorrow, so the whole castle was diligently preparing. Aside from breakfast, I hadn't met a soul—everyone was either hoing up in their common rooms or the library.

I, of course, had prepared myself so that I could browse through the items continuously. I was certain that if I flaked on it again, I would find it hard to force myself later to go through everything that had accumulated in the room over the centuries. Dudi had prepared sandwiches for me with butter, ham, cheese, and finely chopped green pepper.

Barnabas was still teaching trolls to dance ballet, something I was already used to... After a moment of pacing, the door appeared, and so, without waiting, I slipped into the room.

Things were exactly as I had left them last time—thank God for small mercies. At the same time, it was only now, on my second visit, that I noticed the room and the objects weren't dusty or dirty at all. It looked as if the magic of Hogwarts eliminated dust and grime. Even though I wasn't an allergy sufferer in this life, layers of dust would have bothered me. I procrastinated for a moment longer, scanning the racks, shelves, and cabinets with my eyes... Then, with a deep sigh, I pulled my black dragon-hide gloves out of my magical pouch.

I stood still for one more second, but then I stepped forward with determination. I decided on a bit of a "speed run"—to rush through everything quickly, inspect every item, and sort them systematically.

Books and diaries without magic in one pile; the same for those with a magical trace in another. I chose the same "drill" for every category: weapons with and without magic, clothing, jewelry... well, you know the drill.

Some things from last time were already at hand... for example, a magical dagger that had an unpleasant trace, so I moved it to serve as the base for the pile of magical weapons. I did the same with a copy of rituals in Old English. I was certain I wouldn't dare perform any of them just like that. Only when I'm older and more experienced in all aspects of magic might I be able to judge their correctness or danger. For now, I moved it straight to the books without a magical trace.

I had to pause and think about the old potions. They shouldn't be spoiled, but as an amateur lacking enthusiasm for this subject, I wouldn't dare even touch them. Perhaps they would serve as a gift for Snape? So, I decided to pile them up in a separate place.

Another pile, of course, belonged to things I was sure were pure junk—like that wig.

I moved the furniture telekinetically. It went without a hitch with the lighter pieces, but I broke a bit of a sweat with the heavy, high-quality furniture made of real oak. One table was fine, but dozens of pieces? It was quite a good workout, so this day definitely wasn't wasted.

I went through the items, sorting them quickly. For a moment, however, I had to stop—not from fatigue, but, so to speak, from excitement. Forget the daggers; on a stand was a real, genuine knight's sword. It was quite ordinary, without runes, without magic, without anything... But let's face it, what man wouldn't draw it and fight off a few imaginary enemies?

With excitement, I pulled it from its scabbard. The steel gleamed in the room, and I gripped it firmly with both hands. It was a two-handed sword and quite heavy. We had swords at the Rosier castle too, but I had never picked one up—out of respect for history and a lack of time. But here? Here, I took a stance and slashed from side to side; I even tried the "falcon stance" from above. I enjoyed it until a bead of sweat ran down my forehead. Then, with a sigh, I returned it to its scabbard. Enough procrastination; I had to continue the exploration and sorting.

I already had several old copies of Charms and Spells by the same author, though some had newer and others older bindings. It seemed that spells had hardly changed over the ages, so after a while, I started tossing those books onto the pile from a distance.

I also came across a "specialty" titled A Guide to Etiquette for Pureblood Heirs, which, of course, I immediately tossed into the junk. I might live for a century; I didn't have time for such nonsense.

I also found several diaries, which I set aside with a certain respect. I didn't have time to study their contents now; if there's something precious in them, I'll be grateful; if just common thoughts, maybe it will be fun. If they turn out to be nonsense, I'll simply burn them.

I also stumbled upon a magical book from which I felt an unpleasant and dangerous aftertaste of magic. Thanks to the gloves, I grabbed it without fear and read the title: A Thousand and One Magical Moulds. I was sure it was cursed and caused the mould itself. It couldn't even be opened—clearly just a fake book with a curse.

I discovered a silver watch with the inscription "Deus Vult" engraved on it. However, it kept time poorly, running five minutes late. Either it was junk, or someone had cursed it. Wizards were essentially atheists; they didn't believe in God because history knows details about many powerful mages whom Muggles mistakenly regarded as deities.

I also found an old pouch with a few Galleons. I, of course, poured them into my magical pouch with the other coins and threw the empty pouch onto the junk pile. There were many broken things here, for instance, a golden cauldron with a hole, which was valuable only for the metal. I set that aside with the precious but currently useless items. Broken broomsticks I threw straight into the junk.

The clothes ended up on the same pile—they were either long out of fashion or damaged. Although I had nothing against second-hand items, I had enough money to wear custom-tailored pieces from Madam Malkin's.

I was getting a bit hungry. I grabbed an old robe from between the shelves, threw it on the ground, and with a simple "Verto!", the fabric turned into a chair in mid-air, landing on the floor with a soft crack.

The chair was austere, plain, and wooden—exactly what I had quickly thought of. I sat down and pulled out the sandwiches, tucking into them with gusto. I don't know how Dudi did it, but the bread was fresh and the pepper crunchy... Literally heaven in my mouth. These were definitely not some dry petrol station sandwiches.

According to my watch, it was already one o'clock in the afternoon, so I had been running around here for quite a while. However, I had the whole day ahead of me and didn't plan to spend it preparing for theory; I had a solid grasp of the spells.

After a quick lunch, I continued sorting the room. I stopped at one book, though; although I felt no magic from it, the title caught my eye: Pseudo-Elementary Spells by Septimus Smythe. I flipped through it quickly—among the spells were Glacius, Fiendfyre, Confringo, but also Protego Diabolica and others. Some had their origin and incantation listed, while others only had interesting facts and warnings. I put this book straight into my pocket, planning to read it later. Since I was a water mage and was trying to master ice through water, pseudo-elementary spells could be an interesting read, and Glacius could help me in my refinement.

I continued browsing through items until another magical object stopped me. It was a gilded key. I felt a distinct magic from it, but it didn't seem dangerous. I didn't know exactly what it did—maybe it could unlock or lock absolutely anything. I took it to the pile with the other valuables. I moved a few potion scales either to the junk or to the rare pieces, depending on their appearance.

"Hopefully, I won't get rid of something truly precious," I thought, but with a shrug, I moved on.

I also came across a brass telescope covered in runes. Magic radiated from it, so I carefully moved it to the correct pile. Personally, I didn't need it and couldn't imagine it being useful to me in the coming years, so it would go straight for sale. Besides that, there were plenty of ordinary pieces of jewelry—silver, gold, with and without gemstones. There were also golden goblets and similar trinkets.

For a while, as I went through the shelves, racks, and aisles, I found nothing rare or useful. When I felt a slight compulsion, however, I was sure it was coming from the Horcrux. I could sense it calling to me, but of course, I ignored it and continued sorting. I approached the diadem unhurriedly.

It seemed Riddle had hidden it among total junk. It gleamed, perched on a bust—it was truly a beautiful piece; Rowena had taste. I considered for a moment whether to take it, but in the end, I rejected the idea.

Possessing pieces of his soul would mean a strategic advantage in the future if I needed to trade with him or blackmail him. But it was a powerful artifact, disgustingly defiled by filthy magic. To a magically sensitive person, it was literally nauseating. If I took it among students without Occlumency, they would succumb to it very easily—and my friends were pure amateurs in mind magic.

The only option would be to order a special container from Master Vane. After all, the diadem isn't going anywhere. With one last look, I continued my exploration, even though the diadem kept calling to me.

When I was done, it was almost evening. I felt a sense of satisfaction that I had finally gone through the entire room and sorted everything exactly as I had planned.

I returned to the beginning of the room to the sorted items. Junk made up maybe 98% of the content; it was a huge amount. While I had stacked the furniture neatly to the side, the junk remained thrown in one pile.

"Shall I burn it, or just move it along?" I wondered aloud.

Before I could decide, Hogwarts itself gave me the answer. A massive open fireplace with black marble cladding slid out from the wall near me. It was interesting that while I was inside, I couldn't change the room at will—but here, the castle itself had expressed its opinion, clearly wanting to get rid of the layers of old stuff. The junk lay a short distance from the fireplace, so I quickly kicked it closer and with a simple Depulso, shot it directly inside.

I aimed my wand and called out: "Incendio!"

A fireball burst from the tip exactly as I had imagined and ignited the pile. Old robes caught fire immediately, but the rusty steel and other solid waste didn't burn as I had pictured. I didn't have to say the incantation aloud, but with a shout, the magic was more powerful and easier to focus. However, it exhausted me significantly more intensely than my own element. But I wanted to oblige the castle, so I shouted again: "Incendio!" and added much more magical power.

A massive but narrow stream of fire shot from the wand, which I kept alive by constantly pumping magic. One would expect the room to fill with foul smoke from the burning junk, but it didn't happen. Hogwarts extracted the fumes itself. After a while, when sweat was already running down my forehead, I cut off the stream of fire.

The only thing that remained was glowing, melting metal. After a moment, it disappeared along with the entire fireplace, as if it had never been there. I felt as if the magic of the castle itself embraced me gratefully, but it might have been just a delusion caused by exhaustion. The magical flow of a foreign element had brutally drained me.

I quickly packed the valuable items into my magical pouch, which still had sufficient capacity even after all those captured objects. I also took the old potions for Snape; it would be a final gift for him and perhaps a bribe for the future for me.

The most valuable, however, were still the books and diaries, which I kept for myself. The other items would likely bring me a profit that would come in handy in the future, although I was sure Vespera would help me solve my finances this summer.

Starving, I finally headed to the kitchen. Even though it was dinner time in the Great Hall, I craved a bit of privacy. I was far too hungry to be able to eat in a socially acceptable manner.

Tomorrow, we had final exams and tests in various subjects. That didn't worry me, though; it was enough for me just to pass them. Vespera wasn't particularly interested in my grades either, as long as I sufficiently mastered the practical side of magic.

The end of the year was inexorably approaching.

---

Author's note:

I wrote this chapter while I was pretty much starving, and writing that part about Dudi's sandwiches was honestly a struggle. I'm currently on a "Lean Gains" protocol (16/8 Intermittent Fasting) since summer is just around the corner and I need to get back in shape. If you're looking to get shredded, I highly recommend it!

The Room has finally been explored, and later on, we'll dive into the contents of the books, diaries, and so on... and of course, a visit to Borgin is a must. Summer is almost here!

---

Step into the Restricted Section

The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.

Enter the Restricted Section here: you-know-what/PatrikWriter

Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(14):
55. The Underworld Gambit
56. The Boy Who Sponsored
57. The End of the Year
58. VR: The Warrior of Durmstrang
59. The Mind of a Rosier
60. The Lioness and the Black Blood
61. A Rosier, Not a Goyle
62. The Babel Charm and the Emperor's Dagger
63. Business and Bloodshed
64. Cruelty for Cruelty
65. Adopted by Fate
66. The Scent of Darkness
67. Socks, Sandals, and Sorcery
68. From Peaks to Plates

Join the Inner Circle - tgdTNZYVKt (Discord)
(Vote on plot | Dark FF recs | Chat with the Author)

Support the craft and keep the darkness spreading. Your support directly allows for faster updates.