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

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[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)
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[PatrikWriter]

Our whole group was currently having breakfast at the Slytherin table. Tobias and I were enjoying our food as usual, while Draco, Agnes, and Theo were merely picking at their plates with one hand, clutching open textbooks convulsively in the other. It was interesting to note that all three of them had Transfiguration in front of them; clearly, they considered it their most difficult subject.

I didn't care. I knew I'd pass, and I wasn't at all worried about whether I'd get an 'O' (Outstanding). With a smile, I watched Agnes. She looked stressed, fidgeting, and it seemed she was moments away from biting her nails out of sheer nerves. Suddenly, she caught my gaze.

"What? Why are you grinning like a bloody idiot?" she growled irritably.

I smirked in amusement and just shook my head. She glared at me for a moment longer, but then she realized she had overreacted.

"Sorry," she muttered apologetically, "I'm just incredibly stressed."

"It's fine, I get it... But you're all talented and you've worked your asses off on both theory and practice all year. I don't think you should have any problem."

"We worked, yeah... but the grades during the year don't mean anything. Those are just indicative. The final exams are what decide everything. All that matters is what we show them now," Agnes snapped. "How do you not know that?"

"No idea. Where did you get that from?"

"Except for Binns, every professor has mentioned it during the year, Patrik..." Theodore smirked at me, though he still looked rather grumpy.

"Ah," I mumbled. "So maybe I'll end up with decent grades after all," I added with a grin.

"Pfft," Agnes snorted and went back to her book.

Draco didn't react to our exchange at all. It looked like his father was exceptionally demanding regarding grades—Draco was unusually pale.

As for the exams, each year had its designated day. Our exam Monday was shared with the second-years; we didn't meet directly in the classroom, but we took turns. We were starting with Transfiguration. The upper years had the day off today to gain more study time—after all, the fifth and seventh years were the most important, and the professors wanted to give them maximum peace for preparation.

Since I had learned that everything was decided by the final grade and the continuous results were only indicative, I decided I would truly make an effort with the result.

After breakfast, we sat for a while longer, but ten minutes before the start, we headed to the classroom. We stopped outside the doors; we had a few minutes to spare. We weren't alone; the corridor was full of Slytherins and Ravenclaws. I nodded a greeting to Sally, which she returned, but I noticed Agnes scowling at her. The truth was, however, that Agnes had been scowling since morning.

"Everyone, take a deep breath, hold it, and exhale. Several times in a row. Let's go," I commanded, and I began to breathe demonstratively myself. "You've worked hard all year, some ordinary exams aren't going to rattle you."

I noticed several students from both houses obeyed me and began breathing according to my instructions. Davis, Greengrass, Sallow, Sally, and even Parkinson... Only Zabini was "chilling," leaning against the wall. At least from what I managed to notice.

When the time came, the doors opened and we began to file into the classroom, where Professor McGonagall was already waiting. With a stern gaze, she checked the number of students, and when she saw we were all present, she gave the order:

"Before you lies a parchment with questions. You must answer every single one of them. You may only use the quill provided with the parchment, which has been charmed against cheating. You have thirty minutes. Prepare yourselves."

We all sat properly in our seats, and under her sharp gaze, we didn't dare start earlier without a signal. When she was satisfied, with a simple wave of her wand and a quiet, faint Depulso, she flipped the hourglass.

"Begin!"

The scratching sound was immediate as everyone lifted their quills at once. Quickly, I wrote my name and surname in the corner and began reading the questions. There were ten of them:

1. What is the difference between a specific and a universal transfiguration spell?
2. Which spell serves to reverse transfiguration, and what must be kept in mind when using it?
3. What is transfiguration unsuitable for?
4. What is the difference between single and multiple transfiguration? Give an example using the same magical power.

And so it continued, from practical questions to theoretical ones. Honestly, I made an effort and answered each one relatively comprehensively; I wasn't as brief as I usually was with my essays. The only thing that could be wrong with my test was the handwriting. I still scrawled like a cat.

I finished about ten minutes before the others—at least according to my watch. The hourglass was quite "old school," and I couldn't tell the time exactly by looking at the grains of sand... which, however, was not Professor McGonagall's problem.

"You have your final five minutes, students," she announced into the silence.

Some were calm, others frustrated. Agnes, fortunately, was finally at peace. It looked like she knew roughly everything, so I didn't have to worry about her wanting to stab me with a fork out of nerves. Sallow looked nervous, and Parkinson was tapping her foot rapidly under the table.

"That is enough, quills down," the professor commanded. She placed two books on the desk and flicked her wand. She tossed two books into the air and flicked her wand. The books transformed mid-air into simple, faceless stone figures that calmly walked around collecting the tests. Once the parchments were placed on her desk, another flick of her wand turned the figures back into books.

"Practical testing follows. A single spell and one minute of time. Enter through the doors one by one," she announced sternly. After a moment, she added: "Miss Patil, you are closest, you will go first."

Patil froze as if she were walking to her execution, but after a moment, she headed resolutely after McGonagall. When she returned a few minutes later, the others immediately swarmed her with questions, but she just shook her head—the professor had clearly forbidden her from speaking. Before the questioning could gain momentum, a voice called from inside: "Next!"

The students looked at each other indecisively, so I stood up. I wanted to get it over with.

I found myself in a spacious office. In front of me stood a table with an ordinary goblet, and McGonagall sat behind the desk. She immediately ordered me: "Mr. Rosier, transform this goblet into a snuffbox. You have one minute."

In my mind, I immediately visualized a snuffbox in silver colors with an emerald thorn pattern around the entire circumference. In the center, I placed our family crest. When the image was perfect, I uttered: "Verto!"

The goblet smoothly flattened and expanded until it became exactly the snuffbox I had planned.

McGonagall looked at me for a small moment with her mouth slightly open. However, she quickly recovered when she caught my gaze.

"I expected a specific spell, not a universal one, Mr. Rosier. Nevertheless... excellent work and great talent. I firmly believe that next year you will come to your senses and stop wasting your gifts. Your theoretical work and class participation have significant room for improvement," she praised and rebuked me at the same time with her typical scowl. Then she nodded for me to leave.

"Thank you," I replied with a smile and headed for the door.

As soon as I stepped out, everyone swarmed me with questions, but I just shrugged. Even if I told them what it was about, it wouldn't change anything—either you know the spell or you don't. Draco was already walking in determinedly, and I settled in comfortably, waiting for the others.

One by one they came out, and from their smiles, it was clear that all my friends had handled it without problems. However, anyone who expected them to be calmer after the exam would be mistaken. Agnes might have come out smiling, but it didn't last long; she immediately pulled out a spellbook and began preparing for Professor Flitwick. Once everyone from our group had been tested, we slowly moved to his classroom.

It wasn't long before our entire group from Slytherin and Ravenclaw was back in front of the doors. I noticed Davis breathing exactly according to my instructions, and she wasn't the only one. When the doors opened and the tiny Professor Flitwick appeared with a wide smile, he enthusiastically called us in:

"Enter, young wizards! The time has come to show what you have learned!"

Once again, we sat at the desks. With unconcealed enthusiasm, Flitwick repeated basically the same thing McGonagall had:

"Dear students, before you are the questions. I have charmed the quills myself against cheating, but I believe you will have no problem with the answers! You have thirty minutes. Prepare yourselves!"

When we were all ready, he gave a short nod and a wave of his wand signaled that we could begin. He uttered no incantation and there was no visible effect—not even any clocks moved. However, I felt a subtle magical breeze. I couldn't specify it exactly, so I preferred to get to work. Again, there were ten questions on the test.

1. How do we determine magical difficulty in spells?
2. Explain the emphasis on syllables in three spells of your choice.
3. Explain the effectiveness of the Alohomora spell—what can it open and what are its limits?
4. Regarding the Lumos spell—what does the color and intensity of the light depend on?

There were ten questions, and it seemed to me that this test was theoretically more demanding than Transfiguration. It had its meaning, though—if you overestimated yourself with a spell and misjudged the "magical price paid," you could die. Of course, that wasn't a threat with first-year spells, but I could vividly imagine what would happen if an average first-year without training and a strong core tried to conjure Fiendfyre.

I almost shuddered at the thought of Rowling's original, where every other student mastered Confringo or Reducto, and psychopaths like Crabbe or Goyle conjured devastating satanic fire. To imagine what every other pyromaniac in town could do... thank God that in this reality, it wasn't that simple.

I got a bit lost in thought, but I quickly scrawled out the answers in my "cat-like" handwriting. Again, I made an effort and again I finished with time to spare. This time, however, I was thinking about what they taught us regarding the estimation of power needed for a specific spell.

Suddenly, Flitwick spoke: "Finished, dear students, quills down!" He waved his wand and all the tests flew to him and folded into a neat pile. I was sure it was a non-verbal Accio mastered to the extreme. With a spoken incantation, I could summon several objects, but I wouldn't be able to manage such a precise timing sequence with that many items even if my life depended on it. Two or three things maybe... but this? He must have trained it to perfection over the years.

Since I knew we would go according to proximity to the door, I stood right by it. Flitwick smiled at me, showing his pointed teeth, and called out: "Mr. Rosier first!"

I followed him inside. A feather was prepared on the table. Flitwick walked to the desk, and to sit down, he had to hop slightly. It brought a smile to my face that I didn't try to hide. I believed he valued honesty just as much as the goblins at Gringotts. In return, he smiled too.

"First, demonstrate Lumos and its counter-spell, then Wingardium on the feather. The third spell is up to you, but it must belong to my magical class."

"Lumos!" I conjured the light, which, however, shone with a pleasant greenish color. When he nodded to me with a smile, I extinguished it: "Nox!". This was followed by "Wingardium Leviosa!", as I described a perfect circle with the feather in the air.

Finally came the third spell. I held out my palm in front of me and by sheer force of will, fire ignited on it. Flitwick clapped enthusiastically: "Bravo, Mr. Rosier, bravo!" He paused and continued: "You have immense talent... if only your work on the essays matched it!" He shook his head. "But I suppose you have your reasons."

"Thank you," I nodded gratefully. Flitwick was definitely my favorite teacher. He didn't judge; he understood and supported. As a part-goblin, he had experienced the cruelty of others himself, and perhaps that was why he was the kindest professor at the school.

The professor signaled for me to leave, which I obeyed, but I turned back at the door.

"Professor, I heard you were a dueling champion," I began. With a smile, he motioned for me to continue. "I'm interested in dueling, and it occurred to me whether you would open a dueling club at Hogwarts."

"Are you interested in competing, or do you just want to measure strength with students for fun?" he asked with interest and a spark in his eyes.

"Both, Professor," I replied honestly.

"Hmm, a dueling club is opened according to student interest. For the last three years, there hasn't been enough, so our club, Crossed Wands, has remained closed. However, if enough interested people were found next year, we would certainly open it," Flitwick explained. "As for competitive dueling, I'm a bit out of the scene, as I last fought professionally twenty years ago. I do maintain a general overview, though. Outside of England and Ireland, dueling is still extremely popular, on par with Quidditch." He paused for a moment and added without a smile: "There are also plenty of sponsors for pure-blood wizards."

"Sponsors don't interest me. I just want to fight," I replied and shrugged.

"In that case, we need to gather at least thirty people to open the club," he answered me amusedly with a sharp smile. "In competitive dueling, there are categories for under seventeen and over seventeen. You would therefore have tough competition in the form of more powerful older students."

"That only pleases me, Professor," I paused. "What if I motivated the interested parties a bit?"

"Hmm?" he gestured for me to continue.

"For example, a thousand galleons for the winner of the Hogwarts dueling tournament."

Flitwick nodded with an almost dangerous smile. "I am not against it. Gold convinces many, Mr. Rosier."

"Then I'll get the people and promote it so we have that club," I promised.

"Good, and now give space to the others so we can get these exams over with," he nodded for me to leave and I finally stepped out. Immediately outside the door, a nervous and quite pale Draco was waiting for me. I had been inside much longer than usual.

He looked at me nervously, as did the others, but before he could ask anything, Flitwick spoke and was already calling the next one.

Eventually, everyone took their turn like on a conveyor belt. So far, all the questions and the practical part were a total breeze and everyone in my circle looked fine. Even Crabbe and Goyle seemed okay...

Exams in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Quirrell followed.

---

It was currently lunch. Everyone was finished with their exams and was finally relaxed and happy. I no longer had to worry about Agnes stabbing me; she was happily stuffing herself with pancakes and didn't care at all that she had dipped her robe sleeve into maple syrup. Either she didn't notice, or she just didn't care.

The others were eating with gusto as well. The exams were fine. The only subject I personally had a problem with was History of Magic with Binns—there I had to rely on Occlumency. The advantage of my "training" in his classes was that I perceived things passively, so I could return to the memories of his monotonous lectures without a problem. It took me longer, but I managed to write everything necessary within half an hour.

As for Potions, we had the practical part all at once. We brewed a Cure for Boils, so it wasn't a problem, but I was still sure that several students had surpassed me in precision.

When we finished eating, we sat in peace for a while longer until the silence was broken by Agnes: "Training?"

"No," I shook my head. "I need to go to the common room for a moment."

"What for?" Draco joined in.

"Come with me and you'll see," I shrugged and got up to leave. The others followed me with curious looks.

"Underworld," I spoke the password and we entered the Slytherin common room. It was half-empty, but I was sure that whatever I said in front of this amount of people, the whole of Hogwarts would know by evening. The older students mostly ignored me and were studying hard. I walked up the stairs to look down at them from a height and cleared my throat loudly: "Ahem, ahem!"

At that moment, many people looked at me. For a second, I felt like that pink toad from the Ministry, but I had no choice. I didn't want to risk the Sonorus spell bursting my vocal cords if I messed it up.

"I spoke with Professor Flitwick today!" I shouted into the room, though some were looking at me with annoyance. "Next year, Professor Flitwick is opening the Crossed Wands dueling club if enough people gather." I paused for a moment and then, with a provocative smile, threw down the gauntlet: "Of course, I know there are a lot of cowardly pussies here, so as a Rosier, I've decided to motivate all the duelists a bit. A tournament will be organized for club participants, where the winner will receive a thousand galleons out of my own pocket!" I promised with a wide grin.

Of course, I intended to win that money myself. My insult will motivate some, money will motivate others, but the main thing was that this news would spread through the castle faster than the coronavirus.

Immediately, a chatter arose in the room, but I ignored the voices and headed out, pulling Agnes and the others away from the common room.

"We can go train now," I said with a broad smile. "By the way, Agnes, you have maple syrup on your sleeve."

She looked surprised at her left sleeve, which was clean. However, when she noticed the right one, she cursed properly: "Fuck's sake!"

Half of her right sleeve was soaked with syrup. It was almost funny that she hadn't noticed it at all until now.

Accompanied by our laughter, which echoed through the corridors, we headed to the Room of Requirement to get some serious work done. Judging by Agnes's swearing, I concluded that I probably have a rather bad influence on her, which only amusedly confirmed to me that she was my best friend.

---

Author's note:

If magic in this world worked exactly like in the original canon—with no magical cores, no varying difficulty, and every average student casting lethal curses without effort—any psychopath could easily burn down entire cities with Fiendfyre. It would be way too simple to conjure hellfire, Disapparate immediately, and repeat it thirty times a day until every major city was turned to ash.

Also, in my opinion, Professor Flitwick is the absolute GOAT of all the Hogwarts professors in canon.

So, now we know what's coming next year!

---

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(15):
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
69. Ashes of Justice
70. The Scent of Despair

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[sergey54321060]

It would be way too simple to conjure hellfire, Disapparate immediately, and repeat it thirty times a day until every major city was turned to ash.

Click to shrink...

My headcanon is: the Ministry uses the combination of timeturners and the countrywide detection spells to strangle those incidents in the crib. Like, they can't prevent the incident entirely without causing a paradox, but they can have a squad of Aurors ready and waiting nearby to apprehend the perpetrator as soon as they finish casting fiendfire, after which they can move onto suppresing the fires. Of course that gives way too much credit to wizards and Rowling, so it will always remain just that - a headcanon.

 

[PatrikWriter]

When we entered the Room of Requirement, we didn't start practicing right away. We had subconsciously agreed on a brief conversation; it was a habit—settling in after school, finishing off essays, and only then moving on to practice. Now that essays were no longer necessary, we simply sprawled out comfortably in the relaxed atmosphere.

Agnes, of course, was the first to speak what was burning on her tongue: "A thousand galleons is quite a large sum, Patrik. Probably the whole of Hogwarts will get involved."

"I hope so," I nodded with a smile. "We all need to test ourselves against other duelists. Training amongst ourselves is fine, we're friends, but I don't plan on hurling lightning at you just yet... But at those older students?" I smirked, feeling eager excitement boiling in my veins.

"You're putting your entire allowance into this, aren't you?" Theo chimed in. "If needed, I can contribute a certain amount."

"No, thank you, it's alright," I shook my head gratefully. "Essentially, Potter sponsored it for us."

"Potter?!" Draco blurted out, nearly jumping out of his chair. "What do you mean, Potter sponsored it?"

Oops, wrong answer, I thought amusedly, and immediately decided to change the subject: "What are your plans for the holidays?"

"Don't deflect—" Draco began, but Agnes, with an amused smile, decided to cut him off and help me out: "Wleeell, probably the same as Christmas. I'm going with my father to the Magical Alps in Austria. Skiing is the bomb, and Dad promised he'd teach me how to use a magical snowboard too."

"Better be careful with that, snowboarding is very demanding on the tendons and knees," I warned her.

Personally, I had never stood on a snowboard, but I had on skis, and I was a total klutz at it. During my very first lesson, I broke my arm twice so badly that the bones were sticking out of my wrist. They had to put it back together with a metal pin. I hadn't stood on skis since, though a snowboard did look really cool. It was strange because I was otherwise talented at sports (modestly speaking), but on the snow, I was useless. Of course, I blamed the skis—they were longer than they should have been because my father wanted to save money at the time, figuring I'd eventually grow into them.

I shook my head to return to the cozy magical reality just as Theo replied: "Nothing special. My father will be dealing with nonsense as usual, so I'll just be sitting at the manor, and Tobias will visit with his father every now and then, or vice versa... Or we'll go to Draco's."

"They are business arrangements, Theodore," Draco corrected him haughtily and ostentatiously, but smiled immediately after: "When you come over, we can play Quidditch or we can duel!"

"Sure, sure," Theo grinned amusedly. "As long as you don't spend every other moment talking about your father... We'll help you out with Tobias, so you can be our Seeker!" he promised.

Draco flushed at the promise, but then realized how the sentence started and wanted to defend himself. However, Tobias cut him off: "Exactly what Theo says. Otherwise, I'll probably just be buried in books. Maybe Diagon Alley every now and then, right, Theo?"

Theo just nodded and then turned directly to me: "And what about you, Patrik?"

Hmmm, I had a fucking lot to do this entire holiday, and I'd have to summarize it before leaving so I wouldn't forget anything important... I still hadn't even replied to Black.

"Hm, honestly, it's going to be a lot..." I began thoughtfully. "I need to learn a few spells over the holidays; Vespera is going to help me with that. I'll also likely be traveling because there are things I need to acquire... And then in August, I've got that Order of Merlin thing from Fudge. A pure nuisance. I wish he'd just sent the money by owl instead..." I complained. "Then I have to stop by Manchester sometime in the summer... and there's a bunch of other things I'm currently forgetting."

As soon as I finished, Draco eagerly blurted out: "You can come over anytime during the summer, Patrik. We have plenty of room, and Mother would love to meet you."

I saw Theo silently open his mouth, pointedly mouthing "Mother?" in a silent question.

Draco ignored him and continued toward Agnes: "You can come too, of course... but without your father."

"What do you mean, without my father?" Agnes snapped at him, frowning.

Draco took a breath to answer, but fortunately, Theo cut in: "Draco is being a bit tactless, so I'll explain it a little more considerately," he began seriously, nodding at Draco to stay silent. "Your father betrayed many of his old friends, as you surely know. Our fathers are in this together... You are our friend, and our parents know about you and Patrik. But if you brought your father, conflict would break out immediately. I think mine would even try to kill him... Well, except for Draco's father; he certainly wouldn't want a bloody scene among his peacocks in the garden."

Agnes was breathing deeply with clenched knuckles, so I joined in as well: "Be a realist, Agnes," I said irritably. "The boys are right, even if Draco could seriously work on his tact." I pierced him with a look—fucking up a chill moment like this... "We're all friends here. If someone betrayed us, what would you do? Would you hang out with them as if nothing happened? Because I guarantee you'd set a traitor on fire first and ask questions later."

"But..." she began, but after a moment, she sadly closed her mouth. She caught our serious gazes and realized we were right. She looked down for a moment, then determinedly clenched her fists.

"You're right..." she uttered into the stifling atmosphere of the room. "Thank you for the invitation."

Draco just nodded wordlessly; he could still feel my sharp gaze on him.

"And what spells are you planning to learn, Patrik?" Theo decided to break the heavy silence.

"Better not to know, Theodore," I replied with a small, mysterious smile.

Everyone except Theo smiled amusedly; he, however, took me dead seriously and, after a moment, just nodded with quiet understanding.

"Why haven't you actually written back to Black yet?" Draco asked curiously. Probably the whole of Slytherin already knew I'd received a letter from him and that I was responsible for his exoneration.

"At the start, probably because I didn't have the energy for him... Sirius Black is one big ball of psychological issues," I shrugged. "And later, it just felt awkward to reply. In the end, I realized that a face-to-face meeting would probably be best."

"A ball of psychological issues?" Tobias prompted with interest. Of course, he was interested in medical status—young medic. Though if Tobias doesn't watch what he eats, in a few years he'll look like that pot-bellied ghost, the Fat Friar.

"Sure... Think about it. The cruel upbringing by his mother, which was public knowledge. Eventually, he ran away to the Potters, who were betrayed by their closest friend. The entire Black family dead, the surrogate family dead... Falsely accused, he ended up in Azkaban for ten years," I shook my head. "He lost everything. How old was he then? Twenty-one? The man can't even trust his own shadow..."

"And then there's the influence of the Dementors," Tobias nodded. "I read about them recently..."

"Exactly. So his psyche must be in shambles, and physically, who knows..."

"Physically he'll pull himself together in no time, and psychologically... probably as well," Tobias smirked, looking sequentially at Theodore and Draco. "Because a few years ago, certain anonymous pure-blood wizards contributed a large sum of gold to research potions that mitigate the conditions after a stay in Azkaban."

"Alright, alright, but it's the end of the year... How about a less serious topic? Or duels?" Agnes suggested with a small smile, her mood clearly returning.

"Who do you think will win the House Cup?" Draco threw out.

"Fifty galleons on us," Theo immediately jumped into the gambling.

"Fifty galleons on Gryffindor," I joined in.

"But we're leading by a lot, Patrik! Gryffindor would have to get over a hundred points now to skip Ravenclaw and catch up to us," Agnes noted wonderingly.

I just shrugged: "They've got Potter there for the first time, so we'll see how Dumbledore behaves. Let's get to those duels instead," I added, starting to push myself up from the armchair.

The others followed suit. The question now was how we would duel. It occurred to me that I could work on precise water control.

"Me against all of you," I proposed to them with a challenging smile.

"You'll just wash us away with water like always," Theo shook his head in disagreement.

"No. I'll only use water to precisely defend and attack. No heavy streams or waves, I promise," I pledged.

"We're in!" Agnes blurted out immediately, dragging Theodore to the other side before he could object. The others followed her uncertainly until I finally stood alone against the four of them.

I gave them a moment to consult. I saw Agnes energetically giving them instructions. After a moment, they stood ready with wands raised, spaced several meters apart. They wanted to catch me in crossfire.

"We can begin!" I called out. "Aguamenti!"

A stream of water immediately shot from my yew wand, splitting in front of me into two levitating sections so that I could clearly see my opponents and their incoming spells.

They didn't wait around, though. White, orange, grey, and red jets whistled through the air toward me. There were so many that I immediately merged the water streams into a single mass and positioned it at a sharp angle against the trajectory of the spells. Part of the incoming magic instantly splashed the water apart, but the spells that didn't dissipate continued harmlessly meters away from me. However, I immediately pulled the splashed water back into the main volume with a magical tug. I planned to fight with only this amount.

"Incarcerous! Incarcerous!" Agnes and Theo shouted simultaneously. Ropes flew toward me, twisting greedily in the air. Before they could hit me, however, I deflected them to the side with a water jet. I made sure not to block anything directly in front of me, but always at an angle.

I just managed to dodge a red and orange beam coming from the side—likely Expelliarmus and Everte Statum. I didn't have time to track the exact incantations; I was just defending. I was certain, however, that if I remained passive, I'd lose. Theo and Agnes kept me busy from the front, while Draco and Tobias tried to flank me.

I split the water again. I decided to take out the weaker links first. I sent the first part directly at Tobias, who only managed to cry out: "Protego!" The second part flew at Agnes, who immediately returned fire: "Stupefy!" Theo didn't hesitate either: "Petrificus Totalus! Everte Statum!" he roared.

I knew I could evade their attacks, so I sharply veered the second part of the water, originally aimed at Agnes, toward Tobias. His Protego held against the first impact, but the second wave bypassed it entirely. The water hit him hard in the stomach, causing him to double over with a groan.

Draco didn't wait and attacked immediately: "Aculeus! Everte Statum!"

I managed to avoid the red beam from Agnes, as well as the white one from Theo, but his orange spell hit me directly in the shoulder as I dodged. He had clearly put a significant amount of power into it. It immediately spun me around violently, and I felt a sharp pain, as if my shoulder were dislocated. I couldn't hold back a groan of pain, but I immediately dove to the side—just in time. Both the purple and orange beams from Draco flew harmlessly past me.

Draco had a problem, though. Part of my water was still near Tobias, who was writhing on the ground, and I immediately sent it at Draco from behind. Peripherally, I saw Theo sending a blue beam at me while Agnes was silently moving closer to my flank. She was trying not to draw attention to herself with spells, so I focused fully on deflecting Theo's Flipendo with the water at the right angle.

I only had time to notice my water violently sweeping Draco's legs out from under him. He flew into the air epically and landed on his back with a surprised, painful cry. He immediately began gasping for breath.

Theo didn't let up the pressure: "Expelliarmus! Everte Statum! Flipendo!"

Red, orange, and blue beams flew at me in rapid succession. I focused on them so intensely that I almost forgot about Agnes. She, of course, reminded me at the worst possible moment: "Everte Statum! Incendio!"

Fuck! I didn't know what to do first. I immediately pulled the water toward me. Three spells were flying directly at me, another from the side, and on top of that, a stream of ravenous fire. In a split second, I had to decide. I dove to the side, more toward Agnes, hoping Theo had aimed too precisely at my original spot and would miss me. I managed to deflect Agnes's Everte Statum at an angle, but immediately after, I sent the rest of my water against her fire. I realized instantly that I was making a mistake—my amount of water simply wasn't enough for that heat. A tactical error.

Reflexively, I raised my left hand in front of my face to protect my eyes. My water evaporated in the flames instantly, and the fire swept further. I felt a sudden heat, and a moment later, my sleeve caught fire. To make matters worse, Theo's Expelliarmus hit me from the side in the confusion. I felt my wand ripped from my palm, flying in an arc directly toward him.

Fortunately, no further spells came. Even without a wand, I instinctively cried out in slight panic: "Aguamenti!" A massive stream of water poured from my right palm, immediately extinguishing my burning sleeve. I exhaled with immense relief; I was no longer on fire. Once the adrenaline subsided a bit, I began to calmly look around the battlefield.

The only one still standing firmly against me was Theo, with a satisfied, almost appreciative smile. Draco was still trying to catch his breath, Tobias looked like he might vomit at any moment, and Agnes was kneeling on the ground. She was breathing heavily, beads of sweat running down her forehead, and she was shaking all over from magical exhaustion.

I immediately rushed over to her. Peripherally, I saw Theo following me. As soon as I reached her, he handed me my wand, which I flashed back into its holster.

"Are you alright, Agnes?"

She tried to say something shakily, but then changed her mind and just nodded exhaustedly. Theo immediately shouted to the rest of the group: "Tobias, get over here! You can puke later!"

I smirked amusedly. It was clear that Agnes was just totally drained from the massive magical output. Tobias and Draco trudged over to us like two wrecked piles of misery. With a wave of my wand, I removed the vomit from Tobias's collar. He took a heavy breath but then pulled vials of Wiggenweld Potion from his pocket and started handing them out.

Theo refused his, but Draco, Tobias, Agnes, and I knocked them back in one go. Color immediately began returning to Agnes's cheeks as she stood up with difficulty, while Draco's breathing finally stabilized and the pain in my shoulder gradually faded.

"A great end to the school year," Theo stated amusedly.

"We won!" Agnes nodded tiredly with a small, triumphant smile. "Finally."

Draco and Tobias looked sour for a moment—after all, taking water to the stomach and landing on your spine wasn't exactly the victory they had imagined—but after a moment, they nodded in friendly agreement.

---

Author's note:

Who do you think will take the House Cup this year?

That was the final duel for now, and everyone is fired up! It's going to be interesting to see what new spells the gang picks up over the summer—it's definitely time to expand their repertoires. We'll see how it all pays off in the duels next year. They've all mastered the basics brilliantly, so the real fun is just beginning…

---

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(15):
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
69. Ashes of Justice
70. The Scent of Despair
71. The Old Bird's Wisdom

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[PatrikWriter]

Hey everyone, from now on there'll be a new chapter every Monday. Summer's starting, the sun is shining, and my girlfriend's getting mad that I'm not spending enough time with her .​

---

It was the very end of the school year. We were sitting at the Great Feast in our usual places. The Great Hall was decorated in green and silver, draped with Slytherin banners, as Slytherin had won the House Cup for the last few years in a row. However, I had expected things to be different this time—that Potter would be awarded points and Gryffindor would win... exactly as it was supposed to happen.

Quirrell had been missing from the upper-year exams; he had simply vanished, and an Auror from the Ministry had to step in to examine the older students. Bizarre rumors were flying all over Hogwarts: that he had fled because a vampire was hunting him, or that Trelawney had rejected him and he had left with a broken heart before the term ended. I, however, knew the reality was far darker. The problem was that Potter hadn't ended up in the hospital wing. I saw him every day in the Great Hall or the corridors. Had they even met?

Dumbledore remained silent regarding his disappearance. His eyes were still twinkling contentedly, just as they were tonight. Once he was certain we were all present, he stood up with a smile, tapped his wand against his throat, and began to speak:

"Welcome, dear students! Another school year is behind us, and the house points stand as follows: In first place, once again, Slytherin with 472 points! Followed by Ravenclaw with 426 points, Hufflepuff with 352 points, and in last place, we have Gryffindor with 312 points."

At that moment, I was convinced the famous awarding of points to Gryffindor was coming, but he continued as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Congratulations to Professor Snape, and a huge round of applause for Slytherin!" he shouted. Our table erupted in joy and thunderous applause, while only a faint, dry, yet polite clapping drifted from the other tables.

"You owe me fifty Galleons, Patrik," Theo whispered to me with a smirk.

"After the feast," I nodded thoughtfully.

Theo shook his head in disagreement. "I'm kidding, we didn't even shake on it! Smile, Patrik, we won." He tried to cheer me up, but I couldn't stop thinking. Potter hadn't met Quirrellmort. What had happened to Voldemort? I didn't care about some pathetic house points; I needed information.

"The final exam results are also finalized. Don't forget to check them tomorrow morning on the noticeboard by the doors!" Dumbledore continued. "The school year is over. To our graduates, I wish you all the best for the future, and to those of you continuing—I'll see you in a year! Departure is after breakfast, so don't oversleep! And finally..." he paused for a split second and, with a wide grin, shouted those strange words of his: "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

The moment he finished the last word, food appeared on the tables.

While traditional dishes like steaks, chicken, potatoes, and mash appeared everywhere else, a hamburger with fries landed in front of me. It wasn't just any burger, though; it was the special one from the book. Instead of a white bun, it used a dark whole-grain one, and the meat inside was a bit lighter—if I remembered correctly, it was a blend of low-fat chicken and beef. In the middle was avocado with green lettuce leaves, and the dressing looked more watery, clearly low-fat. The only thing that looked traditional were the fries, though even they looked baked in an oven rather than fried in oil.

"Thank you, Dudi," I whispered toward the table. I felt a faint waft of magic that vanished in a heartbeat. I almost thought I'd imagined it and immediately tucked into the food.

I had just taken a hearty bite of the burger when Tobias asked curiously, "What's that you've got?" He immediately started looking around the table to see where he could find one too, but in vain. "And why do only you have it?"

I didn't want to answer with my mouth full, so before I could finish chewing, Agnes reacted: "It's definitely from that book he bought for the elves," she said, shaking her head in disapproval. I nodded in agreement and continued enjoying my meal.

Honestly, it tasted great. I'd bet my life that the elves had mixed a bit of their magic into the food because that burger was perfect, even in its healthy version.

Theo and Draco both had steak with roasted potatoes and a side salad. Agnes helped herself to some chicken with rice, though of course, she immediately prepared a pile of pancakes on a side plate. Tobias took a bit of everything—a massive plateful—and I was sure he'd be going back for seconds.

"Look at McGonagall, look at that sour face," I heard Pansy Parkinson saying to Millicent Bulstrode after a while.

I looked at the staff table, and it was a funny sight. Snape was glowing with as much enthusiasm as he was capable of—which meant he was scowling slightly less and wore a microscopic hint of a smile. McGonagall was saying something to him, presumably offering her congratulations, but judging by her sour and forced expression, it was an ordeal for her. She was clearly far too competitive.

Flitwick was smiling kindly at everyone with his sharp teeth. He didn't mind at all that Ravenclaw hadn't won; he sincerely wished success to everyone.

Suddenly, I caught a competitive look from Granger directed straight at me. Ron Weasley sat next to Potter, and although he was still thin, he seemed to be slowly pulling himself together. Since our meeting in the kitchen, he had put on a bit of weight, and color had returned to his cheeks. He was, however, decidedly quieter and no longer gulped down his food as greedily as before.

Sallow, meanwhile, was bickering with Zabini. It looked like they had become those kinds of snarky friends, even though Sallow was still very much a loner. I was slightly curious about what was bothering him, but not enough to start actively investigating.

Out of all the girls, it seemed to me that Greengrass had matured the most. While Davis was still very much a little girl, Daphne was taller, her cheeks were losing their childhood chubbiness, and her blonde hair glowed with healthy volume. Her lips were more defined, and her figure was beginning to take on a womanly shape.

Rookwood was talking to Mulciber. When Mulciber noticed my gaze, he gave me a nod of greeting and they continued their debate. It looked like there would be no trouble with his house. Blanár was quietly eating his portion and responded to my look with a nod as well. He had been watching me regularly since our duel; I was certain he was training for a rematch. Judging by the state of his robes, it was clear to me that he would definitely be joining the Dueling Club.

"What do you think the exam results will be?" Draco brought up.

"Fifty Galleons that Patrik will be first overall!" Theo immediately engaged his gambling streak.

"I'm in," Agnes grumbled sourly. Tobias just shrugged, and I followed suit a moment later. He wasn't competitive, and I basically didn't care.

"We'll see. I'm sure I'm not even in the top ten for Potions," I remarked.

"That'll be a battle between Potter, Draco, and Greengrass," Tobias concluded.

Draco frowned and nodded. "I'd like to be first," he said, shaking his head, before adding, "But probably not. I have to admit, Potter's potion was better than mine after all..."

"Ohoho, that must have hurt!" Theo laughed mockingly.

"Pff, you lot cleared my stomach well enough last time for me to be a realist," Draco snapped.

"We'll see. Things are quite strange between Potter and Snape now..." I noted with a smile.

"Do you mean how Potter thanked him with a smile for every insult?" Agnes asked amusedly.

I nodded. "Yeah. But forget the grades. We're going home tomorrow."

Our relaxed conversation continued until, with full stomachs, we headed to the Slytherin common room and straight to bed. I planned to read for a bit, practice the precision of my water manipulation, quickly drain my core with fire magic, and finally do some Occlumency. But I fell into a deep sleep while still reading.

---

In the morning I woke up, but I couldn't remember my dream at all. One would think Occlumency would help with that... According to the clock, I had just enough time, so with a yawn, I pulled back the bed curtains. Theo's were still drawn.

With a quiet "Aguamenti!", I conjured an amount of water equivalent to a large bucket. With skillful manipulation, I moved it under the bed frame, behind the edge of the curtain, and upward. Once I was sure it was hovering directly over him, I released my control.

Theodore's scream rang out immediately. Zabini and Sallow jerked their curtains open, looking surprised at what was happening. Theo followed them a moment later—sopping wet, he poked his face out and gave me a truly murderous look. I, however, darted toward the showers with an amused laugh.

It didn't take me long. I got ready quickly, and on my way out, a scowling-yet-smiling Theo replaced me in the bathroom. Fortunately, it took him no longer than it took me—thank god for hygiene and grooming charms. On the way down the stairs, he didn't forget to give me a "friendly" jab between the ribs, but I didn't react with anything more than an amused smirk.

Tobias, Draco, and Agnes were already waiting for us in the common room. For the first time in a while, Draco had put back on his slicked-back "mafia" hairstyle. During the year, since joining us, he hadn't bothered with it, but now he clearly felt the need to impress his parents in London. Agnes was also dressed up; she had nice gold earrings in—nothing over the top, rather elegant. The only three who didn't give a damn were me, Theo, and Tobias.

As soon as they noticed us, Agnes commanded: "Let's go, let's go! I'm dying to see the results!" She marched out of the common room, and we followed. It wasn't that she was so extremely worried about her grades; it was more that typical mix of curiosity, competitiveness, and her natural fire.

On the way from the dungeons to the Great Hall, we met plenty of Slytherins heading for breakfast. The closer we got, the more students from various houses joined us. As soon as we entered the Hall, my friends immediately rushed to the noticeboard with the results, where a crowd of people was already jostling... I couldn't have cared less. I subtly detached myself from them and went straight to sit at our table.

Contentedly, I began helping myself to an omelet with fresh bread and a glass of water. I was always wary of ordering omelets in restaurants or hotels, but at Hogwarts, I had absolute faith in the freshness of the ingredients. I savored every bite. Of course, I had to salt it a bit more—considering how much I had sweated during training all year, my body was craving minerals and subconsciously asking for them in saltier foods. I managed to eat half my portion before my friends finally joined me from the noticeboard.

"So?" I asked between bites. "How did the results turn out?"

Agnes answered tersely as she served herself some omelet: "You're first in the whole year. You got full marks in every subject, except for Potions and Herbology."

"And that was enough for first place? Granger isn't ahead of us?" I asked, amused.

"She was higher than you in Potions and Herbology. But in practical subjects, she finished behind all of us," Agnes explained.

"And Potions?" I turned to Draco.

He looked sour but admitted: "I finished second. Potter beat me."

"And the overall rankings? How did you lot do?"

"I was seventh," Tobias spoke up. "My Transfiguration and Defense results were worse. In Herbology, I finished behind Longbottom."

"Third," Agnes replied dryly.

"Second," Theo announced amusedly, giving Agnes a triumphant smile.

"Sixth," Draco muttered.

"Fourth and fifth?" I asked. "I'm guessing fourth was Potter and fifth was Granger."

Draco looked even more disgusted, while Theo and Agnes exchanged competitive looks. Tobias just gave me a silent nod: "Yes, exactly."

"I bet Granger lost points for literally copying the books, and she was worse off in practice than Potter," I concluded.

Only Draco and Tobias were listening; Agnes was currently threatening Theo: "Just you wait, next year I'll settle the score in a duel—with interest!"

Just as Theodore was drawing breath to reply, it was time to leave. We slowly began to pack up. Our trunks were to be moved from the common room to the train by the house-elves. Snape was already waiting for us in the common room. He gave us a quick farewell speech—in short, it was about not bringing shame upon noble Slytherin—and then escorted us to the gate. There, the carriages with Thestrals were waiting. While others only saw carriages that moved by themselves, after Gregor's death, I saw them in every chilling detail.

The carriage ride was comfortable, peaceful, and fast. Soon we were boarding the train. The others headed straight to claim a compartment, but I decided to quickly find Potter.

"I'm going to go take care of something, I'll be with you in a second," I tossed over my shoulder. I heard Agnes's curious question, but I ignored it and headed forward.

It took me a while to find him, but I eventually succeeded. I knocked calmly and slid the door open. The complete Gryffindor trio was sitting in the compartment. One would expect Weasley to jump at me aggressively, but no... a girl's voice spoke up.

"What do you want, Rosier?!" Granger snapped imperiously.

Weasley just looked at me disinterestedly. It seemed the situation with Pettigrew had opened his eyes—the traitor was from their own house, so he didn't protest my presence.

"Rosier," Potter nodded with a slight smile.

"Can I have a second, Potter?" I asked, completely ignoring the little swot.

"Sure," Harry replied, stood up, and followed me out into the corridor.

As soon as I closed the compartment door, I immediately cast: "Muffliato!" Potter didn't even react to the spell; he just waited patiently to see what I wanted.

"At the end of the year... did you meet Quirrell?" I asked seriously.

I felt his surprise, but he answered honestly a moment later: "Yes, he examined me for Defense Against the Dark Arts, after all."

"Was that the last time you saw him?"

He nodded in agreement, but then asked with interest: "Why? What's going on?"

I hesitated whether to tell him or remain silent. In the end, I chose partial honesty. "I have a feeling Quirrell was a servant of Lord Voldemort. Maybe he was directly possessed by him."

"What?!" Potter blurted out.

"He wanted what was hidden in Hogwarts..." I shook my head. "I thought there would be some epic showdown."

"We're not in a fantasy book, Patrik," he smirked at me. "Are you sure about that?"

I shrugged amusedly: "Who knows. Maybe I'm wrong. It's Dumbledore's doing... That's all, Potter, just wanted to know that."

When he nodded, I turned to leave. He called out after me: "Get in touch with Sirius! He's still waiting for your message."

"Sure. Have a good holiday, Potter," I waved to him and headed toward the front of the train to the compartment with my friends.

The future had changed with my presence. And only time would tell if for the better, or for the worse.

---

Author's note:

Originally, I thought that the final rankings were decided by grades accumulated throughout the entire year. It wasn't until later, when a reader pointed it out to me, that I realized it was only the final exams that truly mattered—which explains why Hermione was always so stressed out in the books! So, here are the results, based on the overall evaluation agreed upon by the professors in their staff room.

As for our MC, he's nothing special when it comes to Herbology and Potions, but he truly excels in practical magic. His Occlumency also gave him a significant boost with the theoretical side of things. Regarding the others: while Agnes is technically more powerful than Theo (both magically and in practical duels), Theo is generally more naturally gifted across the board.

And Potter? He's been working his tail off. I have a feeling he's going to be giving Dumbledore quite a few gray hairs as well…

---

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(15):
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
69. Ashes of Justice
70. The Scent of Despair
71. The Old Bird's Wisdom
72. Toujours Pur

Join the Inner Circle - tgdTNZYVKt (Discord)
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[theoretisch cool]

First of all, make sure you show your girlfriend plenty of love. Otherwise, you might end up having to sleep on the couch. I think what happened here is that Quirrell reached the Stone but was stopped by Dumbledore. Since Harry is studying so much more, he probably had less time to think about adventures. And then there's the worry about the Weasleys, too. Agnes is—as always—super!

 

[PatrikWriter]

First of all, make sure you show your girlfriend plenty of love. Otherwise, you might end up having to sleep on the couch. I think what happened here is that Quirrell reached the Stone but was stopped by Dumbledore. Since Harry is studying so much more, he probably had less time to think about adventures. And then there's the worry about the Weasleys, too. Agnes is—as always—super!

Click to shrink...

Haha, your warning came too late! Two days ago, I actually did end up on the couch (voluntarily, though). She got sick and couldn't breathe very well, so she was snoring like Chewbacca from Star Wars... so I chose the couch instead .
You guessed it completely right, that's exactly how it went. And now, summer is officially starting in the story too!

 

[PatrikWriter]

I was planning to release one chapter per week, but it turns out I'm writing a bit too fast. So, expect the next chapter on Thursday—as long as I can keep the you-know-what buffer intact.​

---

POV: Vespera Rosier

Even as a young child, Vespera understood that she was a privileged girl—it wasn't difficult to notice. Their castle library was immense, filled with stories that reached all the way to the high, vaulted ceiling. Would you believe that Vespera once actually thought every child in the world lived in a castle? Her surprise was all the greater when she discovered the reality from the books her beloved brother, Evan, would secretly slip to her. The ones from her brother were always a thousand times better and more interesting than those her father thrust under her nose.

At first, she read her father's selections only out of necessity, not wanting to disappoint him. But the more she leafed through her brother's books, the more clearly she saw the subconscious manipulation. Why else would her father constantly give her those silly romance novels, where some gallant pure-blood wizard was always rescuing some incompetent witch?

Vespera didn't care for romance; she wanted proper battles! She longed to read about how Merlin fought Morgana, or how the mighty mage Vlad Dracul defended Romania against the Ottoman raids.

In their castle, it was a daily occurrence for her father to catch her with some fantasy combat book featuring a powerful and self-sufficient heroine. That was exactly who she wanted to be. She could see he didn't like it, and more than once, a row would explode between him and Evan, their voices echoing through the most distant corridors. The only one who could stop them was their mother, with Carina's help. Yet, her father never reproached Vespera for anything. She knew she was "Daddy's girl," and she used it to her full advantage.

When he called her into his study, she assumed another stupid romance would land on the desk, intended to hammer into her head how perfect marriage was... She wasn't wrong; something was waiting for her there. But it wasn't some vapid romance; it was mind magic. Finally.

In that moment, more than ever, she wanted to be a proud member of the House of Rosier—the kind who could see right through people, reading their thoughts and emotions. To her, it was the finest magical affinity their family could possess. Who cared about fire or Parseltongue? Mind-reading! That was true power.

While Vespera was lost in her own reflections, her father watched her with quiet pride. She had been a warrior since she was in swaddling clothes, but he knew better—the magical world was cruel, and doubly so to women. The history of their house and the very walls of this castle told their own dark stories of it. Was it so wrong that he wanted her to marry? To be safe and protected? He didn't know how to show it—truthfully, he barely knew how to feel it—but he loved his family above all else.

Her thoughts, however, were not hidden from him. Even though she tried to passively dampen them, she stood no chance against his Legilimency—he read her like an open book and knew exactly what was going on in that little head of hers. She was still a child without experience, having no inkling of what real life was about. With a heavy sigh, he finally committed to the most difficult decision the other Houses had agreed upon.

"You will not be going to Hogwarts next year," he spoke firmly and coldly.

He saw Vespera flinch, but he continued immediately, before he could lose the strength to change his mind. "As the second child, you will go to Durmstrang. You will expand our influence among the magical elite of Europe. You have exactly one year to master our family's talents." With a sharp tilt of his head, he indicated the book lying between them.

Vespera felt stinging tears welling in her eyes. It was a shock she couldn't process immediately. After a long moment of silence, she spoke, her voice nothing more than a quiet, trembling whisper: "Is it because I don't want to read those stupid novels? Are you hoping I'll fall in love there in some foolish way?"

She paused for a second. She saw that tiny twitch on her father's face—she knew he felt sorry for her tears, but the pain within her was stronger than pity. She continued with rising anger: "I won't marry anyone! Did Mother come up with this?" she finished almost with a shout that bounced off the stone walls of the study.

Her father shook his head in disagreement. With a heavy sigh, he decided to explain the situation to her plainly. She was a child, yes, but she was bright enough. "Several pure-blood English families have decided to send their second children to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. The reality is, Vespera, that after the war with Grindelwald, England has remained quite cut off from international relations. Well, except for a few chosen people. We need to restore those ties, whether they be alliances or trade."

"But I'm no diplomat!" Vespera cried out indignantly.

"That, you are not," her father smirked weakly at her. "I know that no boy from the English families has interested you so far. I firmly believe that among the Europeans, someone will be found." He immediately raised his hand to stop her, seeing her drawing breath for another protest.

He continued sternly: "I know, I know... no weddings. Firstly, you are still young for that. Secondly, I am sending you to a school that focuses heavily on combat magic. And thirdly..." he paused so his words would truly ring in her ears, "it was founded by a woman."

He felt both her fear and her ambition, but he also saw those uninvited tears in her eyes. Her thoughts lay before him like an open palm. In that surge of emotion, Vespera had completely forgotten the foundations of their House, and so he decided to remind her of them immediately.

"Close your mind, Vespera," he said sternly. "You are forgetting the basics. And here I was, just thinking you might soon be ready for the more advanced techniques in this book."

He knew this provocation would work. He knew his daughter far too well, and he wasn't at all surprised when, at his words, she defiantly thrust out her chin and squared her chest. The moment she braced herself, he stopped feeling her emotions. The chaos in her head was replaced by silence. Cold and firm.

"You have a year to improve your Occlumency," her father reminded her just before she left. "Your current defenses are weak."

Then he just watched his daughter's back in silence. Vespera left the study with her head held high and the book in her hand.

---

A year passed, during which Vespera worked stubbornly on her Occlumency. Evan helped her with Legilimency, though he constantly warned her to be careful about whom she used it on at Durmstrang. Some families might take it as a massive insult and declare war on them.

During that year, she managed to read everything she could find about Durmstrang. Its exact location was a secret; all that was known was that it lay somewhere in Scandinavia. It was founded by a woman, specifically Nerida Vulchanova of Bulgaria, and even one of the most powerful Dark Lords of all time—Grindelwald—had studied there. Vespera liked that dark history. She also liked the emphasis on combat and the Dark Arts. She wanted to be powerful and respected, just like Morgana.

That didn't stop her from feeling afraid, though. It was a foreign place full of strangers with origins similar to her own. She was certain she wouldn't be privileged there in any way. Durmstrang was a place for pure-blood and magically powerful children from all over Europe and beyond. They either had power, immense wealth, or both. It was a cold uncertainty of the unknown. However, she was comforted by the fact that she wasn't going from England alone. Although most families sent their children to Beauxbatons, a few ended up at Durmstrang—the Mulciber family, for instance.

Gregor Mulciber was boring and far too serious, as he tried so hard to meet his father's expectations, but he was reliable. So, when they met at the Ministry, they took hold of the charmed Portkey together.

From books, she roughly knew what to expect, but she was still a bit disappointed. The four-story smaller castle nestled among the mountains looked more like a stark defensive fortress prepared for a siege. It didn't look like a school at all. Vespera immediately wondered what kind of life the school's founder must have led. Was it truly full of bloodshed, just like in the stories?

After a while, she and Gregor, along with the other students who had appeared there, headed toward the castle.

Durmstrang was a shock from the very beginning. Professors disciplined disobedient and noisy students directly with Dark Magic. During the first week, she often heard complaints from various children about how they would tell their parents back home. The professors only laughed and grew even harsher. After a few days, the complaints ceased entirely. The Lords of the Houses wanted their spoiled children to become powerful wizards, and they knew exactly how things worked at Durmstrang.

Vespera, fortunately, was careful from the start. She preferred to stay quiet and observe how things ran at the school. Duels and fights directly in the castle were nothing unusual; they were even openly encouraged. Of course, everything had its rules. As long as there was no death or permanent consequence, students could fight as they pleased. Everyone was careful, though, because the punishments from the professors could be quite cruel—depending on the severity of the offense.

This resulted in students clustering into small groups that went everywhere together. The Scandinavians stuck together, the Germans with the Austrians, and the Czechoslovaks with the Poles. Duels in the school corridors thus usually looked like skirmishes between one group and another. Others watched them curiously from a safe distance, but since someone was occasionally hit by a stray spell, everyone quickly learned at least a basic Protego.

That was how it worked only at the beginning. Communication wasn't a problem thanks to the Babelian Charm, which anchored the translated language directly in the mind. Over time, the original groups dissolved and new, international ones formed... That was exactly what happened to Vespera's English group. Gregor was reliable but boring, and the others weren't much better—everyone was somehow devoid of humor. Vespera felt completely alone among those boys, but at least she knew she could rely on them if necessary.

Vespera was immensely interested in one lonely, pale, dark-haired girl. She was the same age as Vespera, and she knew the girl came from Czechoslovakia. Everyone, however, treated her with hostility. She was often attacked by several students at once, and although she was skilled, she always lost against the numbers. She had no chance against a whole group, even if she managed to take down a few opponents. Vespera was fascinated by her pride—she didn't give up, didn't complain, and never cried. She fought, lost, got back up, and fought again next time.

It didn't take long for Vespera to find out her name: Elizabeth Báthory. Her family originally came from Hungary, but at this time, they were designated as Czechoslovak. They were one of the darkest families in the world; they were extremely feared but also hated. Their family history was exceptionally bloody. Rumors swirled around the school that one of the family members had sacrificed more than two thousand young girls in blood rituals.

Vespera didn't understand one thing: if her family was so feared, why did those stupid boys constantly attack her? Shouldn't they be trembling with fear instead?

Vespera considered for a moment whether to stand up for her. The girl's courage was likable to her, but in the end, it was boredom and a sense of fair play that convinced her. If it were a one-on-one duel, it would be fine. But to be bullied by such a massive majority for long months? Vespera's patience ran out. When Elizabeth was under attack again one day, she simply joined her side. Of course, they still lost—the triple advantage did its work. But when Gregor and the other boys heard that Vespera had been injured, they immediately retaliated. Thanks to Vespera's support, Elizabeth was no longer such an easy target, and that was exactly what made them friends.

It turned out that the Báthory family was feared mainly for their knowledge. After centuries of hatred, they had become more like pacifists who, however, did not hesitate to use family rituals for bloody vengeance if necessary. For the last century, they had tried to change and integrate among the European families, but the distrust of their surroundings was still immense. Elizabeth herself was initially quiet and uncertain, yet still combative. She was, however, significantly more peaceful than Vespera, who never hesitated to take revenge.

As they grew and studied, they became inseparable friends and gradually detached themselves completely from the boy group.

The coursework became harder with each passing year, and the professors more rigorous. While other students began looking for romance in the corridors, Vespera remained passionate about combat and Dark Magic. She knew, however, that she simply didn't have enough raw magical power to match her idols. Therefore, instead of loud and magically demanding spells, she focused on precision and technique. Not that she was weak—she was among the most powerful in her year—but she understood she wouldn't be a second Morgana. Together with Elizabeth, they formed a feared dueling duo that few dared to stand against.

While Elizabeth's parents gave her a free hand, Vespera's father pressed her during every holiday, presenting her with marriage proposals. How was she to explain to him that she was interested in no one? She knew Gregor was in love with her, and she really wanted to give it a chance, but she felt nothing for him beyond friendship.

At first, she thought she was simply broken. It was Elizabeth who explained her sexuality in more detail and forced her to experiment a little. Vespera kissed the most handsome Finnish boy in school, who had hair like a Viking, and she even tried kissing Elizabeth. She felt absolutely nothing, however.

How was she to admit to her father and the entire House that she was asexual? She had no interest in romantic love, and so, with a feeling of shame, she began to avoid her family. Instead of returning home for the holidays, she went to the Báthorys'. She replied to her relatives, but she ignored her father's messages and insistence.

She enjoyed the summer with Elizabeth in their family castle in Cachtice, until it was too late. Elizabeth's parents respected Vespera's lack of interest in men and granted their own daughter the same freedom. It was the calm before the storm. But when Vespera received a message from her cousin Narcissa, her world collapsed at its foundations.

The family was dead and her brother was in Azkaban. Suddenly, she was the last member of the House of Rosier at liberty. It looked as though if she didn't produce an heir, their name would perish along with Evan, who was to spend the rest of his life in custody.

The following years were an agony. She stayed more in magical Czechoslovakia and Poland than home in England. Elizabeth and her family supported her quietly and stood by her, but the world outside had changed. Gregor had changed, too. From an old friend, he had become someone else entirely—driven by greed. Instead of the sincere love he once felt for her, Vespera now saw only a desire for the property and the name of her House in his eyes. For a moment, she considered accepting his marriage proposal after all to save the family, but the idea of marriage was so utterly repulsive to her that she couldn't do it.

Vespera was consumed by guilt. If she hadn't avoided the family, they might all still be alive. One extra wand in the family manor could have meant the difference between life and death. She loved her family, and because of her own selfishness, she had lost them. She often woke with a start; her dreams tortured her, and in them, she constantly saw the dead faces of her loved ones.

She still had a good relationship with Narcissa, though she sometimes hated her almost irrationally. Vespera knew her cousin wasn't to blame for anything, but sometimes she was sure Narcissa knew exactly what she was thinking—that sympathetic look gave her away. But they could sympathize with each other; just as the House of Rosier had fallen, so had the House of Black. Narcissa never mentioned her sister's death in the Rosier manor, but Vespera felt she was suffering internally, though she was ashamed to admit it. They preferred to avoid the topic. Vespera visited her regularly, but... each time, she dreaded what news the owl would deliver next.

When she learned that a young Rosier had appeared at Hogwarts, looking exactly like a young Evan, she refused to believe it. Vespera was overcome by hysterical laughter. Narcissa had once completely destroyed her with one message, and now, with another short message, she had poured new hope into her veins.

From September, report after report piled up about a young heir who wore the family ring on his hand. Ranrok confirmed to Vespera that the boy was legitimate, but at the same time informed her that, at Patrik's own request, he had not informed her of his existence sooner. He also warned her of his brightness and that he had taken a dagger from the family vault.

Vespera immediately thought that he was afraid of her. That he might want nothing to do with her. However, Elizabeth led her out of these dark thoughts and the paralyzing fear of rejection. She forced her to suppress her worries, and Vespera finally resolved to visit him directly at Hogwarts.

The moment her eyes landed on Patrik, she knew he was a true Rosier. And in that same second, it was clear to her that she would do anything in the world just to keep him safe. She would kill for him, and if necessary, she would lay down her own life without hesitation. Every facial expression, every gesture, and every word painfully reminded her of what she had once lost and what she must now guard at all costs.

When she first saw him, she wasn't entirely sure who his mother was. Patrik, however, had features in his face that he undoubtedly shared with the Black family—and only one woman from that House had grown up directly in their manor.

Vespera used all her connections to expedite the permit to visit Azkaban. For the first time in years, with shame in her heart, she saw Evan again. He didn't reproach her for anything at all. Although her Occlumency was as firm as a rock, she felt like that small, inexperienced girl again before her brother—just as she had when he taught her Legilimency before her departure for Durmstrang. She felt as though he could see her every thought, every hidden emotion and memory.

Evan confirmed the origin of his son. Even though he looked physically broken and destroyed by the Dementors, the look he gave her was still as authoritative as it had once been. When he commanded her to guard Patrik as best she could, her knees buckled. With complete seriousness, she promised him that she would lay down her own life for her nephew.

On that day, Vespera Rosier definitively stopped running from her name. She had a goal. She had a family. And she had someone for whom it was worth living again.

Christmas with Patrik was the best she had experienced in years. She melancholically recalled the time when she was still a child in the family circle. Vespera wasn't sure at first how to behave toward her nephew—there was a large age gap, after all. But Patrik acted older and was more intelligent than she expected. He didn't act like a child, so it was quite simple. She began to treat him as an equal.

His talent and magical power amazed her. Once, when she was younger, she would certainly have envied him, but now she hoped he would be the most powerful wizard that ever existed. He certainly had the talent and the power for it. Of course, at Hogwarts, he joked about murders more like a Black than a Rosier... but everyone has some flaws. Vespera, for example, knew she was quite cold and stiff, so she didn't blame him for it.

It was a huge surprise for Vespera when she woke up at St. Mungo's after an attempted murder. She was certain there was no one with a sufficiently serious motive. And on top of that, a loud, bright Confringo? She dimly recalled how the necklace from her nephew had jerked her and how she had instinctively cast Protego. It was a reflex built up in the corridors of Durmstrang. She still refused to admit, however, that it could have been Gregor. Why would he do it? She believed that somewhere deep in his soul, a piece of old friendship still lived.

The next day, it was too late. Her beloved nephew had killed Gregor without mercy when he came to visit her. Was it really him who wanted to kill her? That was a question she would no longer get an answer to. It was sad, but Gregor was already a stranger to her. That young Gregor who once had her back, however, would remain in her memories forever.

At Mungo's, they put her back together quickly. Most of the spell was fortunately stopped by her Protego, so they restored her burned skin without problems, and the organs damaged by the pressure wave healed just as quickly thanks to potions. Vespera was already looking forward to the first big holiday in the family manor with her nephew. They could also go to Elizabeth's in Cachtice, to magical Krakow, or to Rome... the world was big.

From a distance, she watched him disembark the Hogwarts Express with his friends. She noticed the young Malfoy among them, a red-haired girl, and the young Nott. She didn't recognize the others by appearance, but she saw how the girls from different houses were eyeing him. And also, how the other students subconsciously stepped out of his way as he left the train.

She would have wondered why others so subconsciously stepped out of his way, were it not for the fact that several curious families had already contacted her. They had heard of his wandless fire magic in front of Dumbledore and took it as a challenge from a future Dark Lord. Fools. He also walked with far too much confidence. Vespera only strongly hoped he would be powerful enough to maintain that confidence.

Of course, on the very first day, they ended up in the training room after eating. Vespera was curious about his magical progress. Most people go through levels of magic gradually—from Everte Statum through Os Frangere to the higher ones. Patrik, however, wasn't interested in moderately powerful spells and skipped straight to the murderous Reducto. Vespera was amused by this, but she had full confidence that he would master it. He certainly had the talent for it, and even if he didn't, he could always come back to it later.

Instead of asking about Reducto or other, weaker magic, however, he straight away caught her off guard with something else entirely. Vespera wasn't sure she had heard correctly.

"What? Repeat that for me, please," she asked him, hoping he was just joking.

He wasn't.

"Could you teach me the Unforgivable Curses?" Patrik smiled at her charmingly. He was already as tall as she was, and so Vespera stared directly into his eyes in disbelief. The only thing that still betrayed his age was the slightly breaking child's voice and chubby cheeks. Vespera immediately grabbed them and started stretching them.

"Aunt Vesperaaaa!" he tried to defend himself.

She reluctantly let him go and asked curiously: "Why the Unforgivable Curses, and why now?"

Even as she finished the question, she knew internally that she would show them to him. She would try to teach him everything he could think of. Vespera was certain that no child should learn such dangerous magic... only Patrik definitely wasn't an ordinary child. When she compared him with those spoiled brats from various social events she had experienced in her life, he was somewhere else entirely. Though she had to admit that her love for him might have been skewing reality a little.

He was already drawing breath for an answer when she laughed and grabbed his cheek again.

---

Author's note:

This was quite a substantial chapter focusing on Vespera Rosier's background. Like many adults in this world, she carries her share of psychological scars. Having lost so much, our MC has become everything to her—she's developed a deep, almost singular fixation on him. I wanted to capture how the Heads of Houses shaped their daughters from a young age, molding them to accept their place in the family hierarchy and their predetermined futures.

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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.

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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(16):
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
69. Ashes of Justice
70. The Scent of Despair
71. The Old Bird's Wisdom
72. Toujours Pur
73. The Emperor of Mankind
74. Two Romans Walk into a Bar...

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[sergey54321060]

Oof, so that's why she never married or had kids. No wonder she latched onto MC so strongly - watching her entire family die with her must've felt like a personal falling