A Rosier Legacy (HP AU M-SI)

[PatrikWriter]

Announcement

Hi everyone! Recently, a few readers (not many, but they're there) have voiced their dislike for the torture, violence, and overall darker themes in the story.

I want to be clear: I truly appreciate everyone who comments, discusses the magic system, or offers constructive criticism. I love the engagement! However, I have little patience for 'snowflake' behavior. In the real world, we see theft, murder, drugs, torture, and war every single day. I strive to write a realistic world, and that means depicting both the kind and the cruel sides of life.

If you have a problem with a gritty, realistic world, this story might not be for you, and that's okay. You are free to stop reading.

To everyone else—including the objective critics—thank you! I value every single one of your comments and your support.

---

I spent the rest of the day training, specifically focusing on water manipulation. While practicing the spell Os frangere—the Bone-Breaker—I realized that I was using magic too much like a butcher, when I needed to become a surgeon. I had already gained some precision while training common spells and hexes, but it hadn't yet reflected in my elemental magic.

Aside from drowning things and using brute force—where I simply swept away everything in my path with a wave—I had to learn how to conserve energy. At least as preparation for the future...

I could vividly imagine assassination attempts on my person. How do you kill a powerful mage, directly or indirectly? Plenty of indirect ways came to mind, but what if they wanted to take me out directly? They could just send waves of weak wizards. Someone wealthy would have no problem paying for them. Since there would be many of them, I'd be forced to sweep them away with brute force every time, which drains too much magic. So, how could I optimize energy output for elemental spells? And what if I encountered another powerful elementalist?

Borgin's book only contained the basics. I had to either get my hands on more advanced texts or invent my own techniques. And that was exactly what I was attempting.

"Aguamenti!"

I sent out a weaker stream of water, which formed into a water whip in a fraction of a second. It lashed violently against the opposite wall. There was a wet slap, followed by the cracking of stone and a dull thud. It had immense power, but the swing itself was still too slow. For actual combat, I definitely needed to speed it up.

"Aguamenti!" "Aguamenti!" "Aguamenti!"

By the end of the day, just before dinner, the speed of the whip was substantially higher, though it still wasn't ideal. In terms of pure impact, this spell was probably the strongest direct attack I currently had in my repertoire. It consumed less energy than Os frangere, and thanks to physics and dynamics, it had become a truly powerful weapon. I decided I would invest much more time into this technique.

I automatically tried to optimize the speed while developing other possibilities in my mind: "If I could cool the water instantly, it would turn into ice. What if I created a water dragon, let it petrify into ice mid-flight, and slammed it directly into the target?"

I recalled Hitsugaya from Bleach and his techniques.

A technique like that would be truly devastating. Hectoliters of water and ice would hold massive power, but the casting speed would have to be perfectly polished. I also had to think about the risks. What if I met an earth elementalist? They would be a direct counter to me. Flying using water would be inefficient, but what if I turned the water beneath me into an icy surface? I could fly through the air on ice platforms.

However, I was looking too far into the future; in terms of my actual current abilities, I was still just an amateur. But I certainly didn't compare myself to ordinary students. Power is freedom.

Just as I began to feel completely exhausted—both magically and mentally—I decided to end the session and headed for dinner.

---

With a feeling of immense satisfaction, I entered the Great Hall. Honestly, at that moment, absolutely nothing bothered me. Everything was going according to plan. My... friends, I guess? Yes, friends—were already sitting at the Slytherin table. I spent a lot of time with them, though I probably considered only Agnes a true friend.

With a smile, I sat down with them and immediately started piling food onto my plate. I skipped the meat today. Not that I planned on becoming a vegetarian; I just had a massive craving for sweets, and those pancakes looked divine. I immediately took a generous portion. There were bowls of maple syrup, chocolate, strawberries, and whipped cream on the table. Have I mentioned that I love the wizarding world? At least for the food, definitely.

As you can probably tell, I'm quite a "foodie." I'll have to invent a fat-burning potion sooner rather than later!

Theodore, Tobias, and Agnes were looking at me with surprise. I didn't blame them. Over the last few days, I had seemed nervous and chaotic, whereas now I was beaming with satisfaction, humming appreciatively with every bite. Agnes was used to me not talking while eating, but she clearly couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay, Patrik, spill it," she started right away. "What was up with you these last few days? I can see by your face that everything is perfectly fine now."

Theo immediately nodded in agreement, while Tobias continued to focus silently on his portion.

"Mm-hmm," I hummed with my mouth full, but I conceded that they deserved at least a brief explanation. I swallowed the bite, washed it down with plain water, and began to speak quietly.

"There was a dangerous Animagus hiding at Hogwarts, responsible for several lives. I figured him out and, with a little help from two other students, I captured him. I locked him in a cage, and today my aunt took him directly to the DMLE."

"Wait!" Theodore blurted out. "You had a dangerous wizard in our room? Sallow has been complaining non-stop in the common room for the last two hours! He was telling anyone willing to listen about some rat of yours!"

"Well, yes. I had nowhere else to put him. I don't really trust the teachers right now, and I wanted to make sure he got to the Ministry safely. Don't worry, he didn't have the slightest chance of escaping. That cage was a masterpiece."

He didn't look like that reassured him, but before he could respond, Agnes spoke up.

"Who was it? And how did you even find out that the rat was an Animagus?"

Before she could finish the question, I stuffed another piece of pancake into my mouth and chewed contentedly while Agnes shot me murderous glares. I intentionally dragged it out until she couldn't stand it.

"Patrik!" she shrieked and threateningly raised her fork. I didn't want it stuck in my hand, so I obediently swallowed and began to explain.

"Hmm... as for who it was, you'll find out very soon. I believe it'll be on the front page of the Prophet shortly. And how did I find him?" I asked, stretching out the answer a bit longer on purpose. I took a sip from my glass and finished with a satisfied smile: "That's a secret."

Agnes literally growled and waved her fork at me threateningly, but fortunately, she didn't actually dare to stab me with it.

"But why did you keep him in the room if he was a dangerous wizard? An Animagus, even! Not just anyone can do that. Why didn't you trust the teachers? I don't believe they wouldn't hand a criminal over to the Aurors. Dumbledore certainly would!" Theodore spoke up again.

"The point is exactly who that 'guilty' wizard rotting in Azkaban for life is. If it were anyone else, it wouldn't be a problem. But he's an important person with many enemies, and I wasn't going to take any risks. I know of at least two professors who wouldn't be thrilled if he were set free."

Maybe Dumbledore—so that Harry Potter would stay with the Dursleys and not pass under the protection of Sirius Black. Though I had probably already disrupted his stay with the Muggles with that echo-message to the police. Then there was Snape, whom Black had bullied in his youth. I wasn't going to risk his childhood bitterness burying Black's exoneration.

And what about the Malfoys? What if they were eyeing the Black family estate? They have no idea that, in terms of blood, I am in the same position as Draco. Or Crouch, who might want to cover up his own old failure in the case? He might not have as much power as he once did, but an old, experienced politician always has his contacts. Plus dozens of other families... It was simply too dangerous a situation.

"You could tell us, Patrik. No one will find out from us," Agnes pried. I could feel she was genuinely curious, so I didn't hold it against her.

"No, dear Agnes. You'll have to wait for the newspapers. There's still a high risk that something might go wrong. You'll know soon enough."

"Let it go, Agnes. It looks like he has big plans for that person in Azkaban," Theodore cut in. After a moment, however, he added with a frown: "But I don't like the fact that there was a dangerous wizard in our room at all! Next time, please let me know. At least so I know I'm in danger!"

"Mhm," Tobias agreed curtly.

"Anyway, what were you guys up to? I didn't see you in the classroom today," I brought up a new topic.

All three of them replied with a smile at the same time: "That's a secret!"

I confess, I quickly slipped into Agnes's mind. I saw that they were learning spells in a different room in the castle—presumably, they wanted to surprise me in our next duel.

"Hmm, and can you tell me something that isn't a secret?" I asked with a laugh.

"Next year, I'll have to start teaching Agnes Occlumency at the very least," I commanded myself mentally.

"Well, I was thinking," Tobias started cautiously. "That I might start learning how to heal. Honestly, I don't enjoy fighting that much, though I want to be able to defend myself."

He looked as if he expected me to dismiss him immediately. Of course, he was wrong. Every party needs its "healer." He's a valuable team member. In an MMO, I would be an extremely powerful tank and "carry," while Agnes and Theo would be lower DPS. Tobias as a healer would complete the lineup perfectly. In the real world, it was a great contact, so I supported him immediately.

"Excellent choice, Tobias. We can adapt your training to healing. We'll focus on defensive and neutral magic," I suggested without hesitation. "Do you need any help with that?"

He looked surprised, but after a moment, he smiled with relief: "No, no, I have everything. The foundation is biology and the Episkey spell. I can heal your bruises and injuries during training; it'll be good practice."

"I told you he wouldn't have a problem with it," Theo said, while Agnes nodded in agreement.

"I have no reason to have a problem with it; everyone's talent lies elsewhere... some are great at Potions like Draco, some at combat magic, some at runes and charms... others at transfiguration. The main thing is for everyone to improve in what they enjoy. And honestly? A healer is really useful to us. We already know almost all the common spells; so far we haven't used many spells that cause actual injuries, which is a mistake... real fighting hurts."

While Theo had no problem with that, I could see a slight worry about the future in Agnes. So, I decided to calm her down.

"Relax, Agnes. You're talented, and pain only hurts at the beginning. In time, thanks to the adrenaline, you won't even notice it."

It didn't seem like that calmed her much, though.

"How is it possible that you don't have a problem with pain? Who hurt you?" she paused for a moment, but immediately added: "Was it there?" I knew she meant the orphanage.

I couldn't tell her I was a grown man in a child's body. My mind was used to pain from a completely different life.

"It's not that anyone intentionally hurt me, but in the Muggle world, I did combat sports. They teach a person to accept pain as part of the game. It's completely normal and safe; you don't have to worry, Agnes."

Before Agnes could reply, an owl descended toward me. Without hesitation, it dropped an envelope into my lap and immediately, without waiting for a treat or rest, flew back into the night.

I immediately recognized our family crest. It was a message from Vespera. Without hesitation, I tore the envelope open and started reading.

The letter was brief but packed with information. I quickly scanned the lines:

Dear nephew,

The rat has been delivered. Bones received me neutrally. It was the right choice; she went to work immediately and the investigation has begun. She approved of your strategy and immediately called the Minister. He was persuaded and will use the Black case to consolidate his power and demonstrate the incompetence of the former administration. Expect news of Black's new trial and the discovery of Peter Pettigrew in the Daily Prophet soon.

By the way, Bones is interested in meeting you. She's curious about how you discovered his existence and how you captured him. She saw through me instantly—she knew it wasn't I who captured him, so I had to admit it was your work. Since she is someone I consider trustworthy, I had no problem with it, and I believe you can handle it. In case you find out when she's coming and need me, send me a message immediately and I will be there without hesitation!

With love, Vespera Rosier.

As soon as I finished reading the good news, a second owl arrived. It was curt, boring, and bland—I knew instantly that this was a bureaucratic owl. The envelope was adorned with a simple seal: a purple letter M and crossed wands. The symbol of the Ministry of Magic.

Without hesitation, I started reading:

Dear Mr. Rosier,

Expect me on Wednesday at 5:00 PM. We require additional information regarding the investigation of Peter Pettigrew, which your aunt was unable (or unwilling) to provide.

Sincerely, Amelia Bones Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

I had no plan to write to Vespera. I could handle Bones myself without any issues. I would justify finding Pettigrew with magical sensitivity, which was essentially the truth—as a wizard, he radiated a completely different energy than ordinary owls or rats.

I could see that the others were burning with curiosity, but no one dared to pry after I had closed the subject. So we finished our meal in peace and headed to the common room. While they started a game of chess, I decided on a relaxing bath. Later, once in bed, I wanted to focus on Vespera's book in peace. I was immensely curious about everything she had written in it; the book was impressively thick.

---

I quickly flipped through the entire book. It contained spells from white, black, and neutral magic, supplemented with practical tips and tricks. There were guides on how to handle combat transfiguration, descriptions of various shields, and even legendary spells. Vespera had written it purely practically—no unnecessary theory. Just the effect, common usage, and specific situations where a given spell was more suitable than others.

She had even included Protego Diabolica and Fiendfyre.

While for Fiendfyre she provided the exact procedure, warnings, and theoretical usage scenarios, the instructions for Protego Diabolica were missing. She only noted that few wizards had ever managed to use it, the last being Gellert Grindelwald, who famously used it in Paris, which nearly burned down. It was an extraordinarily difficult spell; many wizards who attempted to cast it were consumed by their own flames.

The book further offered advice on how to destroy transfigured monsters, how to take control of them using Legilimency, or how to simply end the transfiguration.

The more I flipped through the book, the stronger the feeling grew that Vespera had put it together in a hurry. It felt like insurance in case something bad happened and she was no longer here to teach me these things personally. It was her way of ensuring my power in the future, even if she remained only a memory.

Immediately, I felt a dark, burning rage. If anything happened to her, I would slaughter entire responsible families down to the last member. I had no choice but to grow powerful as quickly as possible and become the shield of my house. Let everyone think twice before they dare to attack. I would have to deal with Gregor as soon as possible; clearly, he wasn't as simple an obstacle as I thought if Vespera had real concerns.

Perhaps she didn't want to burden me? Did she still see me as just a kid—capable, but a child nonetheless? Hmm…

With restless thoughts, I finally fell into a deep sleep.

---

Author's note:
I've always found it strange how Fudge is often portrayed in fanfiction as someone desperately trying to get rid of Black. Sirius's case didn't happen during his time in power, so any halfway decent politician would jump at the chance to use the situation to their advantage. It's the perfect opportunity to consolidate political power and demonstrate "Justice" while cleaning up a mess left by the previous administration.

Then we have Vespera. Even though she doesn't show it, she's clearly worried about the future, which is why she decided to prepare a proper grimoire for our MC. What do you think about her motives? And more importantly—do you think she'll survive the coming events, or is she destined for a fate straight out of a G.R.R. Martin novel?

Patrik has a meeting with Amelia Bones coming up soon. Things are about to get interesting.

---

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The shadows are shifting... If you can't wait to see where the darkness leads, you can find the advanced chapters on YOU-KNOW-WHAT.

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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written:
32. The Echo of Wool's
33. In the Shadow of Lineage
34. The Greater Good's Echo
35. Memory: Dumbledore vs Grindelwald
36. The Bitterest Ink
37. The First Blood

 

[PatrikWriter]

Our MC:

---

When I woke up the next day, I felt as if I'd been hit by a truck. My restless sleep stemmed from the realization that Vespera was in far greater danger than I had anticipated. It was a brutal wake-up call—a reminder that this world is, in fact, much more dangerous. The atmosphere of Hogwarts and the presence of children might have lulled me into a false sense of security, but reality was relentless.

Lockhart and his Obliviate charm were small fry, even though he'd built an entire career on stealing credit from more talented wizards. After all, a memory charm is just a drop in the bucket compared to what can truly be done in this world. A single Imperio on a wealthy Muggle, and suddenly you're a millionaire. Furthermore, according to Vespera, all it takes is five to ten spells, and any record of wand usage vanishes from history forever.

I went down to the common room where the others were already waiting, and together we headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. Mail usually arrived at eight; I was curious to see if news about Pettigrew and Black would finally show up.

We ate breakfast in peace. I had an omelet and sausages with beans—a relatively healthy meal with plenty of protein, though the fats, especially in the sausages, were quite prominent. It was interesting to observe that since the others started training with me, they mostly copied my eating habits. Apparently, they were convinced by my lecture on the importance of physical fitness and a quality diet for magical combat.

While Agnes and the boys discussed Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was our last class of the day, I was lost in thought.

I needed to get rid of Gregor Mulciber. The question was: how? Honestly, I feared for Vespera's life. She had grown dear to me. For now, I had no choice but to believe in her and trust her power. After all, she was an exceptionally capable and powerful witch.

Precisely at eight, with a loud hooting, a wave of owls descended into the Great Hall, dropping newspapers for students and teachers alike. It didn't take long for the Daily Prophet to land in front of me.

On the front page, a massive headline blared: "MINISTRY SCANDAL: PETER PETTIGREW LIVES! SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT?"

Instead of diving into the reading immediately, I watched the reactions at the High Table. Dumbledore went pale, and in his surprise, his cutlery slipped from his hands. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Snape looked like he was about to kill someone at any second; he crushed the newspaper in his fists as if he wanted to throttle it. If looks could kill, Sirius Black would have dropped dead right there on his own photo. I also noticed McGonagall—with watery eyes and trembling hands, she devoured every line. Quirrell read with a frown, though I saw no signs of anger on him, only concentration.

Agnes and Theodore were completely absorbed in the article, while Tobias honestly "couldn't care less." He calmly continued his breakfast. If he keeps this up, he'll soon be wider than he is tall, unless I invent that fat-burning potion. Before the others could start bombarding me with questions, I began to read as well.

***

MINISTRY SCANDAL: PETER PETTIGREW LIVES! SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT?

By Rita Skeeter

Yesterday evening at the Ministry of Magic was no ordinary day of bureaucracy. It was the day one of the greatest lies in our modern history collapsed. Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, visibly shaken yet determined to restore order, called an emergency press conference to deliver news that sends a chill down the spine: Peter Pettigrew is alive.

Yes, dear readers, you read that correctly. The very same "hero" who was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, in memoriam twelve years ago for allegedly being blown to pieces by the mass murderer Sirius Black, has spent an entire decade hiding under the guise of a common household pet. While we ask how this rat could deceive our security systems, a more important question arises: Who is to blame?

Minister Fudge did not mince words, pointing the finger at the "tragic failures of the previous administration." In the spotlight is none other than the then-Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch Senior. It was Crouch, a man known for his ruthlessness and—as it now appears—blind arrogance, who sent Sirius Black to Azkaban without a trial.

Black was branded a traitor to the Potters and their Secret Keeper without a single shred of evidence or an interrogation. Why was Crouch in such a hurry? What were his motives for closing the case faster than the ink could dry on the warrant? We must not forget the shocking fact—Crouch's own son was caught as one of You-Know-Who's most devoted followers. One must ask: Did Bartemius Crouch simply need a quick scapegoat to divert attention from his own family's failure? Did he want to clean up his own doorstep by mercilessly destroying someone else?

"It is a stain on our justice system," Minister Fudge declared, emphasizing that under his leadership, such barbaric methods would never be permitted. "We will investigate every single decision Mr. Crouch made during that period."

And what of our "great" Albus Dumbledore? The Hogwarts Headmaster testified against Black back then, confirming he was the Secret Keeper. How is it possible that a wizard of his caliber failed to see through such a primitive lie? Was he too busy with his aura of untouchability, or did it suit him to have Black moved out of the way without a chance to defend himself?

While Sirius Black, now officially an innocent man, recovers from twelve years of wrongful imprisonment, the Ministry promises a purge. Bartemius Crouch faces disciplinary action, and the public demands answers: How many others are rotting in Azkaban due to the ambitions of one man?

***​

I had to admit, it was a brilliant article. Rita had a real talent; she wrote it like a juicy "treat," and Fudge would come out of it looking like a hero. Since he announced it to everyone so quickly, no one had time to bribe him. Now it would be too late—all of wizarding Britain, and undoubtedly the world abroad, would be discussing it. The House of Black was exceptionally well-known in Europe, especially for its dark and bloody history.

"Patrik?" Agnes called out softly, while the boys were already staring at me intently.

"Not here. We'll talk later," I replied curtly.

I saw the entire hall whispering excitedly. Draco looked thrilled, proudly proclaiming that Black was his uncle and that justice had finally prevailed. I ignored it and began to stand up from the table. The others followed me immediately, and together we headed to our first class—Transfiguration with McGonagall.

---

By the time class started, McGonagall had managed to compose herself and looked properly stern again. Instead of casting spells, we were back to theory and the risks involved if Transfiguration didn't go as planned.

"At the moment, as we are transforming simple objects such as a match into a needle, there is only a small chance of something going wrong. Concentration and imagination are key in this process. In the future, however, we will be transforming inanimate objects into living ones, and there the risk of failure is substantially higher. Any failed transformation can be reversed with the universal spell Reparifarge. By the end of the school year, you will all be expected to master it," she explained, pausing for a moment to scan the room with a sharp gaze.

Then, she flicked her wand. Chalk began to write on the board in sync with her narration: Transformation, Untransfiguration, Vanishment, and Conjuration.

"We are currently learning Transformation. We will cover Untransfiguration next year, as we progress in the difficulty of the transformations themselves. Vanishment and Conjuration—bringing things into existence—await us later, though we will try simpler spells like Avis or Serpensortia as early as our second year." She tapped her wand firmly on her desk. "It is essential that you gain a sufficient theoretical foundation in your first year. I do not want us to be delayed in the future by explaining basic principles." She waved her wand, and a large letter X appeared on the board. "However, there are limits. It is not possible to…"

---

The day dragged on in a boring fashion after the first class. Although it was important to know why I shouldn't try to transfigure a stone into food, the theory exhausted me. I had to admit it was necessary, though; a lack of theoretical knowledge would hinder my path to power, especially if my future opponent happened to be a master of transfiguration.

Currently, we were sitting in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which reeked brutally of garlic.

Quirrell explained the material with a stutter: "V-vampires are divided into n-natural and t-turned. Natural vampires, those b-born, are more powerful, faster, have sharpened senses, and limited magical abilities. They master the mind arts, which they use very successfully when hunting Muggles. The most powerful among them can even use elemental m-magic, though they have no access to our type of wizarding magic or wands. Turned vampires—whether from Muggles or w-wizards—lose access to m-magic entirely and gain only physical advantages. A turned vampire is very difficult to control at first and is d-dangerous to everyone around them. They are found mostly in the d-darker corners of Europe, such as Bulgaria, Romania, or Czechoslovakia."

He paused for a moment, which I took advantage of to ask a question: "Will a stake through the heart kill them? And what about silver or a cross?"

Quirrell looked at me with surprise in his restless eyes, as if he couldn't believe I'd asked such a thing.

After a moment, however, he answered: "I-interesting questions, Mr. R-rosier. A stake through the heart is... let's say... effective for almost all creatures. A spell, a sword, and a stake in the heart will all k-kill a vampire. S-silver? That is a s-superstition from the M-muggle world; in our world, it works more on w-werewolves. And a cross?" He paused for a moment and then continued: "Abs-absolutely nothing happens. In the m-magical world, Muggle faith has no significance. There are theories that their s-savior was merely a p-powerful water mage, nothing more."

"And garlic? Is it fatal to them?"

At this, Quirrell gave a chilling smile and spoke without a single stutter: "No, garlic will not kill them. It only bothers them immensely. The allicin in garlic irritates them, and being near it burns their mucous membranes. It is the price they pay for their sharpened senses. While it wouldn't stop a determined and hungry vampire, if they had a choice between two victims, they would undoubtedly choose the one who doesn't smell of garlic."

It was more than interesting. I highly doubted Quirrell would know exactly what was in garlic. But Voldemort? He was powerful and educated. I had no doubt he studied everything, even the composition of food, to become the most powerful wizard in history.

After a while, he ended the class, stuttering once more: "S-so, today's l-lesson is over. For your h-homework, write how you would d-deal with a vampire. At least ten i-inches of parchment."

We were already heading toward the exit when his voice stopped me—this time perfectly clear, without a single stutter: "Mr. Rosier, a word, please."

I stopped. What was he after? I didn't believe I was in any immediate danger at this moment. Voldemort was incredibly powerful in his own body, but from Quirrell, I felt only weakness. I believed that in the worst-case scenario, I could kill him in this body.

Agnes, Tobias, and Theodore stopped with me, but I immediately sent them away. In a conflict, they would only get in my way. Since they didn't expect anything bad, they obeyed without issue and left for the next classroom. If only they knew I was staying in that room with Voldemort.

"Yes, Professor?" I said calmly.

"I heard from Professor Snape that you come from Wool's Orphanage," he spoke, and there was no trace of stuttering in his voice. "How is it possible that a member of a powerful pure-blood house ended up in an orphanage? It must have been difficult... growing up among those filthy Muggles."

Mhm. Voldemort had completely revealed himself with that last sentence. He clearly assumed I would share his hatred and prejudice. For a moment, I weighed my answer. Finally, after evaluating all the pros and cons, I decided on honesty. I was curious about his reaction. Even though he couldn't sense a lie through my shields, sometimes a person reveals a falsehood through unconscious physical gestures.

I nodded with a slight smile. "Yes, I come from Wool's Orphanage. Honestly? Growing up there wasn't as bad as it might seem. We had a matron who took exemplary care of every child. Moreover, she already had experience with one magical boy, so she knew what to expect," I paused, watching as Voldemort observed me with feigned indifference.

"It turned out that Matron Benson grew up in the same orphanage as that young wizard. She admitted to me that when she was a foolish child, she wasn't exactly kind to him. However, she acknowledged that the previous matron was a horrible old harpy and, along with the local vicar, they tormented that boy. The more they hurt him, the worse it got. It was only over time that Benson understood that what happened to him wasn't right. That's when she swore she would help every future magical child so that history wouldn't repeat itself. That is actually why she became the matron."

I saw anger and hatred flicker across Quirrell's face, but beneath them lay a strange, nostalgic melancholy. I decided to finish it. "To this day, she regrets not knowing what happened to that boy. And me? It was only this year that I learned my father was a loyal follower of the Dark Lord and why I actually ended up in the orphanage. Alastor Moody is to blame for everything. He killed my mother and threw my father into Azkaban," I finished with genuine hatred in my voice.

I felt Voldemort's magic pulsing in the room. It was saturated with anger and madness, but in Quirrell's weak body, there wasn't much of it.

"Did Voldemort go mad because of dark magic or because of the Horcruxes?" I asked myself a vital question while his magic slowly calmed down.

"And as for Muggles? Honestly, I don't care about them at all. Wizards are naturally superior to them."

"Y-you h-have that in common with your f-father," Quirrell stammered. "I am g-glad you grew up among the M-muggles alright and it w-wasn't as bad as I th-thought. You may go, Mr. Rosier."

I calmly said my goodbyes and left the classroom. I walked on guard, ready for the possibility that Riddle might, in a fit of madness, decide to attack me in the back. But nothing happened.

---

Upon arriving at our practice classroom, I saw Agnes finishing a duel against Theodore and Tobias, who were dodging frantically before her.

"Everte Statum!" "Incarcerous!"

Her multitasking was going quite well. Theodore was thrown back a few meters after being hit by the orange beam, while Incarcerous immediately bound Tobias. I watched with interest.

Incarcerous was technically the most difficult spell Agnes knew. It required the ability to conjure something from nothing—in this case, ropes—and impose a specific function on them: to tightly bind the first thing they touched. It was much more complex to execute than a simple disarming charm. After a moment, she noticed me. While the boys were picking themselves up off the floor, she walked over to me.

"What did that stutterer want with you?"

"Nothing interesting, Agnes. He just heard that I grew up in an orphanage," I replied neutrally, but then I decided to warn her: "Keep an eye on him. He's more dangerous than he seems."

She immediately gave me a puzzled, almost disbelieving look. "That trembling wretch? He's afraid of his own shadow."

"Not everything is as it seems at first glance. Trust me, he is extremely dangerous."

She was already taking a breath for more questions, but I decided to stop her. "I can't tell you more. First, you must learn Occlumency. And before you ask—it is the art of mind defense that prevents others from reading your memories or thoughts. Currently, your mind is open to any capable mage."

Agnes became visibly uneasy. Theodore and Tobias listened intently to my every word.

"Occlumency? You mean someone can see into our heads right now?" she asked with unconcealed concern.

"No, Legilimency requires direct eye contact," Theodore spoke up immediately. We all looked at him in surprise. He just casually shrugged his shoulders.

"My house makes a point of us mastering at least the basics of Occlumency. It's a precaution to prevent someone from stealing family secrets. I'm no master, but I would likely feel an attack on my mind."

Excellent. Theodore could teach them at least the basics while I fully devoted myself to spell practice. However, his defense was clearly quite leaky; I occasionally picked up his emotions subconsciously, which meant his shields were more theoretical than practical.

"Theodore, try to explain the basics of Occlumency to Agnes and Tobias," I commanded him in a firm, authoritative voice. Then I shifted my gaze to the other two. "If you want to know more and have access to more important information, you must have at least basic mental shields."

Theodore nodded in agreement, Agnes put on a determined expression, while Tobias still seemed a bit unsure.

I liked this Slytherin behavior. Theodore accepted it as an order without unnecessary talk; he valued how much he had progressed magically in our circle, and I was sure he would fulfill what I had assigned him. In my past life, if I had ordered a classmate to do something like this, he would likely have ignored me completely and gone to play FIFA instead. Here, however, different rules applied. Young wizards were more mature, more serious, and fully aware of the price of power.

While Theodore pulled them aside to explain the basics of Occlumency, I decided to move on to the advanced spells from Vespera. I needed a more stable shield and a more destructive curse. Protego was fine, but during duels, I discovered its greatest weakness: under constant attack, it had to be continuously fed with magic, which exhausted me in the long run.

I chose two spells that I intended to learn first.

Reducto—a spell with enormous lethal potential. It literally erased the hit portion of an object. If I remembered correctly, Molly Weasley later used it against Bellatrix. It was dark magic, no doubt about it. Though it was a murderous spell, it wasn't among the Unforgivables; it could be blocked relatively easily by a shield, whereas Avada Kedavra passed through almost everything except solid physical obstacles.

The problem, however, was that there was nothing left in this classroom on which I could safely test Reducto. I needed better facilities. There had to be plenty of hidden rooms in Hogwarts—perhaps the house-elves could advise me on where to retreat?

I therefore decided to focus on the second spell: Aegis Aurum. It was a powerful golden shield, extremely popular in ancient Greece. Vespera speculated in her notes that it was a favorite of the Spartans. What was fascinating about it? It was significantly stronger than Protego or even Protego Horribilis. While it required a large amount of magic to cast, this value was constant—it couldn't be "refilled" with magic like common shields. I calculated that although casting Aegis is more expensive, during intense fire, the ratio of energy consumed would shift in favor of this golden shield after just a few seconds.

I tried to cast it with the same inner mindset as Protego, though I expected failure beforehand. I was curious, however, about how the magic would behave.

"Aegis Aurum!"

A golden glow flared around me for a fraction of a second. However, the almost transparent dome immediately evaporated with a quiet hiss. The spell failed.

Vespera emphasized in her notes that the spell required more than just the desire to defend oneself. I had to summon a feeling of steel-like solidity in my mind. I imagined the massive bronze shield of Greek warriors forming an impenetrable wall in battle. With this vision, I gripped my wand firmly again and continued my practice.

---

Author's note:

So, Fudge acted like a true politician and immediately went on the offensive against the previous administration. For now, nobody important suspects that Patrik was the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, but we have a conversation with Madam Bones coming up very soon.

Things are also getting interesting with Voldemort/Quirrell. He has discovered that Patrik grew up in the same orphanage as he did, and he's already starting to draw parallels between their lives.

Finally, as our MC begins to learn more powerful magic, he realizes he needs a proper place to train.

What do you guys think? How will the meeting with Amelia Bones go, and what kind of consequences will it bring for the future?

---

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:
33. In the Shadow of Lineage
34. The Greater Good's Echo
35. Memory: Dumbledore vs Grindelwald
36. The Bitterest Ink
37. The First Blood
38. The Black Legacy

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[PatrikWriter]

Just beat Hogwarts Legacy. After 20 hours of wiping out half the wizard and goblin population (standard procedure, really), our story(A Rosier Legacy) feels super soft so far . And no, I didn't rat out Sebastian! ​

---

"Aegis Aurum!"

A golden dome materialized around me once again. I gritted my teeth and concentrated, trying to reinforce it and saturate it with magic. I wanted it to function as a perfect barrier against everything. Unfortunately, the spell failed again. Or more precisely, it half-failed.

Aegis Aurum was supposed to be an impenetrable shield protecting me from all sides. The problem was that mine had holes; some parts of the dome were visibly more transparent than the rest. Did it mean my focus was wavering? Or was I not pumping enough magic into it?

Fuck, I wasn't sure, and honestly, defensive magic never really entertained me. The best defense is a good offense, but that had one catch—I still hadn't found the Room of Requirement where I could safely start practicing Reducto.

Sure, I remembered it should be on the seventh floor, but where the fuck exactly? The seventh floor was massive and full of dead ends. I was walking up and down there like a total wanker, and the result was zero. The room was supposed to appear only to someone who truly needed it, but apparently, my "I want to blow something up properly" wasn't a noble enough reason for the castle.

I was back in our classroom. While the others drilled duels and Occlumency, I failed repeatedly. Occasionally, I felt their admiring glances—the golden defensive dome was undoubtedly a powerful show for them—but I was far from satisfied. I was beginning to understand why most wizards settled for a simple Protego. It was just easier.

"Aegis Aurum!" I shouted again.

This time, I poured double the power into the spell. The result? The dome still had its transparent cracks, and the parts that were solid before grew even thicker under the pressure of the new force. So, did that mean the problem wasn't a lack of power, but focus? Imagination?

Frustration grew. I had an hour left until my meeting with Bones, and I no longer had the nerves for this training. Fuck it.

I headed toward the others and just caught a snippet of their conversation.

"Why shouldn't I have the same shield as you?" Agnes was asking.

Theodore saw me coming, but Agnes and Tobias were sitting with their backs to me. I decided to answer before Theo could get a word in.

"To put it simply: if everyone had the same Occlumency, an enemy would eventually find a universal back door and weak spots to penetrate your mind. Every mind is unique. Some need absolute order; others feel best in chaos. You have to choose what is natural to your nature."

Both turned toward me with a startled jerk.

"And what kind of Occlumency do you have?" Agnes blurted out before she could engage her filter.

"Agnes! That is confidential information; you shouldn't ask that," Theo snapped at her immediately.

Theodore was right. In our world, it wasn't wise to share information that could harm you in the future. But honestly? Everything depended on the type of defense. Many had only common, dull barriers with known weaknesses that could be breached with a bit of effort.

But me? My defense was extremely exotic. I doubted it would help anyone at all to know exactly what awaited them in my mind. That was precisely why I decided to answer without concern.

"Hmm, imagine a stormy sea and lightning. Either a person drowns, or they get fried by an electrical discharge," I replied with an amused smile.

"Elemental Occlumency? That's considered a myth!" Theo blurted out, unmistakable awe in his voice.

I just shrugged indifferently.

"I started learning Occlumency on my own, and naturally, since I grew up in an orphanage. If a wizard doesn't know something is impossible, it immediately becomes possible for them. I feel natural in rain, water, and storms. It made sense to me to use these elements, and it turned out to be a great choice."

I paused for a moment, then looked directly at Agnes. "Based on your behavior, if I were you, I'd try fire instead of a standard defense. You're quite the spitfire, Agnes. Flames would suit your nature better."

"And by the way, it's not a myth. I doubt the Dark Lord or Dumbledore have just ordinary walls or labyrinths in their minds," I added quickly when I caught Theodore's disbelieving look.

Theo just nodded slowly, as if trying to process this new reality. Meanwhile, Agnes muttered under her breath, "Fire... right, fire." A dangerous spark flickered in her eyes.

However, I decided to move on to the topic that interested me most at the moment. I needed money. Not urgently, but a few extra Galleons would definitely come in handy. I had to start building capital because money means power. In the wizarding world, perhaps a bit less so than in the Muggle one, but it's still true that money makes the world go round.

It occurred to me to sell a ritual to someone who is rich, young, and who would profit from it the most. Someone with full vaults but absolutely no knowledge of how magical society works. Moreover, the possibility of casting spells legally even during the summer would be irresistible to such a person. You can probably guess who I'm talking about.

"What can you tell me about the Potter family?" I suddenly asked all three of them.

Agnes immediately looked at Theodore, silently yielding the floor to him. She saw that Theo had sunk into deep thought. When I gave her an inquiring look, she leaned toward me and said:

"We all know their family, but it's a bit of an open secret that Theo's grandfather wrote the book Sacred Twenty-Eight. As an expert, he should be the one to speak."

Theo straightened up, determination flashing in his eyes, and began to speak in the tone of someone leafing through forbidden chronicles:

"Well, look... officially I'm not admitting anything, nobody knows who wrote that book," he paused for a moment and then continued. "The Potter family, hmm... originated sometime in the twelfth century. The founder was Linfred of Stinchcombe, an extremely respected Potions Master. He invented several healing concoctions and over time earned the nickname 'Potterer,' which was later shortened to Potter. Thanks to revolutionary potions, they acquired vast wealth. They have always been neutral, though friendly toward Muggles. Historically, they fought for what they considered morally right. They even supported dark lords once—who, of course, became the light ones in history after victory. That's why they are considered a neutral family."

He paused for a moment to take a breath and then added:

"According to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, they don't belong among the 'Sacred,' even though they are pure-bloods. It's a similar situation to Crabbe or Goyle—they have surnames that are too common and occur in the Muggle world as well, which is why my... I mean, the author didn't include them in the list. However, they still have a seat in the Wizengamot and are disgustingly rich. If I remember correctly, the 'Golden Boy's' grandfather was another brilliant potioneer and supposedly multiplied the family fortune even further. So, in short: a warrior family, masters of potions, and a family that follows its own principles. They fought only for what they believed in, even if they had to stand against the whole world."

"If they are so rich, then why does Potter walk around in those huge, ragged things when he's not wearing his robes?" Agnes asked with blatant disgust in her voice.

Theo just shrugged as if it were an irrelevant mystery to him, but I decided to answer directly.

"Potter didn't grow up in the magical world, Agnes. He was raised by filthy Muggles," I replied coldly.

Agnes stared at me in surprise, and Theo just nodded quietly, as if this information finally fit the puzzle of the "Boy Who Lived."

"I need to meet with him. Without witnesses," I said into the silence. "Agnes, can you get him here somehow? I have an offer for him."

After a moment's thought, she nodded. "I can try, though he hardly moves an inch away from Weasley and Granger."

"Do you want to involve him in our training?" Theo asked, doubt audible in his voice. "His spells are powerful, I'll give him that."

I shook my head in disagreement. "No. He's exactly in the middle between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. I'll offer him a small deal. I make a profit, he gains an advantage—if he accepts it, of course. And maybe I'll motivate him a bit for the future, in case he happens to become a valuable ally. It's a shame for the heir of such a powerful family to know nothing about his ancestors and walk around ragged, even though he has a fortune in the bank."

"Good. I was worried what our parents would say if they found out we were training with the Golden Boy," Tobias finally spoke into the silence.

I nodded in agreement. Each of us had parents who were or still are Death Eaters. The risk was too high.

"Alright, I'm off. I'm meeting Bones in fifteen minutes; I don't want to be late," I said goodbye and headed for the door.

"Good luck!" Agnes called out after me.

---

I entered the Great Hall. At this time, it was yawning with emptiness, which suited me. I had three minutes to spare, so I sat down comfortably and waited until the silence of the room was broken.

Precisely at five, the doors opened with a muffled creak. Snape walked in, and in his wake trailed a young witch with a stern expression. I noticed that a gray strand shimmered here and there in her dark hair—likely a toll for the stress at the Ministry, as she could have been in her late thirties. She wore no makeup but appeared neat and elegant in a high-quality, tastefully tailored robe.

This was exactly how I imagined a fair and successful woman in government. Unfortunately, she was just one of many in this corrupt system.

Snape's gaze swept across the hall and stopped on me, cold and unreadable as ever. The woman stopped a few steps from my table and sized me up with a look that mixed professional curiosity with bureaucratic detachment.

"Good afternoon," I greeted politely first as they approached.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Rosier. My name is Amelia Bones. I sent you an owl with information about my visit," she replied and immediately turned to the professor. "You may go, Professor Snape. This is a private investigation."

Snape, however, replied in his typically silky, cold voice, as if he had expected such an attitude: "Mr. Rosier is a minor. In the event that he does not have a family member with him, I am obligated to be here as supervision and support," he paused for a moment and fixed his black eyes on me. "Of course, if the minor so wishes."

Bones knew he was right, and though reluctantly, she accepted it and sat down. I, however, faced a dilemma. I trusted Bones when it came to a sense of justice and discretion, but Snape was too big a risk for me at the moment. I didn't plan to initiate him into my magical sensitivity, which I wanted to rely on with Madam Bones. Even if Dumbledore likely already knew about it, Voldemort didn't. And Snape was a bridge through which this information could leak to the wrong side.

"Thank you, Professor Snape, but your presence will not be necessary," I said, looking him directly in the eyes with a grateful smile. Using Legilimency, I sent him a clear feeling of gratitude so he would understand that I appreciated his gesture of help, but needed privacy.

He understood. He gave a short nod, his robes billowing behind him as he made a slow exit from the hall.

Bones stared at me in surprise. She hadn't expected the son of a feared Death Eater to stay alone with her calmly, and at his own request.

I wondered what was going on inside her at that moment. What must it have felt like when half her family was slaughtered by Lord Voldemort—the man my father faithfully followed? She must have seen in my features the face of a man who stood on the opposite side of the barricade. Despite that, there was no hatred in her gaze, rather a deep, professional caution.

"You have courage, Mr. Rosier," she said after a while, her voice steady, though a bit quieter than before. "Many people in your position would demand Professor Snape's presence. Perhaps they suspect that the Ministry doesn't exactly have the friendliest relationship with your name."

"Justice doesn't need supervision, Madam Bones. And I believe that is exactly what brought you here," I answered calmly.

There was a moment of silence while Bones observed me searchingly. Finally, she decided to break it.

"We received a confession from Pettigrew to all his actions. Veritaserum was very helpful, and Sirius Black is already at St. Mungo's. It looks like all the damage Azkaban did to him can be undone with the help of the right potion treatment. You acted like a hero, Mr. Rosier. I am surprised, however, that you handed a Death Eater over to the Ministry when your father was one of them."

Though she spoke matter-of-factly, I felt an unspoken question in her voice. I decided to answer directly.

"I am not my father," I shrugged. "Sirius Black didn't deserve to suffer in Azkaban for his loyalty to the Potters. Honestly, I feel a great aversion toward traitors and cowards."

I noticed a faint, almost imperceptible smile appear on her face after my answer.

"How did you know it was Pettigrew?"

"I saw Ron Weasley's rat up close in the library. Coincidentally, he was missing exactly the part that was found at the scene of Pettigrew's supposed death. At first, I had no idea who it was, but it kept bugging me until I remembered old articles. An issue of the Daily Prophet then only confirmed my suspicions."

She nodded with understanding but immediately followed up with another question. "And how did you know it wasn't just an ordinary rat?"

"My answer is a family secret. I would be reluctant for it to reach anyone else," I replied seriously.

Amelia thought for a moment. "In the event that it doesn't significantly affect anything and isn't dangerous, you can count on me, Mr. Rosier, to keep it to myself. It won't be part of the official investigation file," she promised in a firm voice.

I trusted her character, and therefore, I admitted without hesitation: "I am magically sensitive."

I saw understanding flash in her eyes, so I continued. "That rat stank like a wizard. It disgusted me immediately when I saw Weasley catching him and carrying him in his robes. Who knows what all he did in that household over the years."

A barely suppressed anger appeared in Amelia's eyes.

"That is still a subject of investigation and, unfortunately, another serious crime against the Weasley family."

"Hmm, so he probably didn't just eat and sleep there," I thought angrily, but outwardly I just nodded understandingly.

"And how did the capture go?" she asked.

"Fred and George Weasley helped me with that. I confided my suspicions to them, and they were persuaded. They took the rat from Ron in the library. Their help was crucial in his capture," I answered honestly.

Bones reflected for a moment. "Your family can be proud of you, Mr. Rosier. Another would have concealed the merits of others," she paused for a moment and added: "Minister Fudge has nominated you for the Order of Merlin, Second Class, and the associated financial reward. I will try to arrange a reward for the Weasleys who helped you as well."

The money was perfect for me, but I didn't care for the award—it would only mean unnecessary attention. Therefore, I decided to ask: "Could one accept only the financial reward? I have no interest in any public honors that would draw unwanted attention to my person. I'm sure you understand that thanks to my father, I am in a rather... interesting position."

Amelia immediately realized where I was going with that. "It is possible to accept the award and remain anonymous. A ceremonial mask is used during the ceremony, so the public will not learn your name."

Uncle Malfoy would, of course, know immediately who it was, but the general public wouldn't. There was nothing to be done, so I just nodded.

"Does anything else come to mind, Mr. Rosier?"

I shook my head in disagreement. I didn't plan to mention Voldemort's presence at Hogwarts to her.

Bones stood up and began smoothing her clothes, speaking with a faint smile: "Thank you, Mr. Rosier, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic. You have shown great courage and a sense of justice in catching a killer and freeing the wrongfully convicted Sirius Black. Mr. Black is now in your debt and will be informed of your merits. After the case is closed, we will inform you regarding the reward."

She paused for a moment and added in a quieter, almost personal voice: "Your family can be rightfully proud of you. If you maintain this moral compass, I would be happy to welcome you into the Auror Corps in the future and will be your personal sponsor."

It was a huge compliment. Having a sponsor from someone so high-ranking in the Department of Law Enforcement practically meant skipping selection procedures and demanding tests—they would place me in the academy immediately. A great shame that a career as a lawman wasn't what I desired. Of course, I didn't let that show.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bones, I appreciate it immensely," I thanked her with a smile and politely said goodbye.

As I left the hall, more plans were already spinning in my head. I have to go back to the classroom and practice Aegis Aurum again. However, I need to find the Room of Requirement as soon as possible so I can safely move on to practicing more destructive magic. It occurred to me that I could give searching for that room as a task to Agnes. She has exactly the right passion for such... challenges. While she scours the seventh floor, I'll be able to fully concentrate on magical training.

---

It was Friday, the last period of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Quirrell, of course, was explaining stutteringly and boringly how sunlight and daytime are the enemies of most vampires. While turned and common vampires couldn't be in the sun because it immediately incinerated them, pure-bloods with a long lineage could withstand daylight for a certain time. Here, blood purity played a direct role in their power and resilience. If Quirrell didn't stutter so damn much, it would be quite interesting.

Throughout the lesson, however, he kept throwing strange looks at me, and I was starting to suspect that he would call me over after it ended. Voldemort was an intelligent wizard and couldn't have missed the Daily Prophet or Bones's subsequent visit to Hogwarts. It probably didn't take him long to figure out that she came specifically for me. A simple deduction was enough, and he must have known that I was responsible for Pettigrew's capture.

And so it happened. As soon as he ended the lesson, he added dryly toward me: "Mr. Rosier, a word."

I signaled to the others to go ahead. Since it wasn't the first time I stayed behind with Quirrell after class, it didn't seem strange to anyone. I, however, was on maximum alert, feeling a sharp rush of adrenaline. Would it be a fight, or just a calm conversation?

With a gesture of his hand, he navigated me to the back of the classroom where he had his private chambers. He sat behind a massive desk and invited me to sit opposite him.

"Tea?" he asked politely. I just shook my head.

I had no intention of risking Veritaserum.

---

Author's note:

Aegis Aurum continues to be a bit of a headache for our MC—are you guys even surprised? High-level magic is hard.

Regarding the Potter family history: I'm sticking to Rowling's established lore, of course, though I might have skipped mentioning the Peverell heiress marrying into the line. Historically, they were always "muggle-friendly" and stood on the "right" side of morality. As for them occasionally following Dark Lords... well, I took some creative liberties there, but it feels like a logical fit for their world, doesn't it? And let's not forget—those potion-making skills made them incredibly wealthy.

What are your thoughts on Madam Bones? Did the conversation with our MC go the way you expected? It must have been quite a shock for her to see the heir of a Dark House actually caring about justice (even if she doesn't realize it's a very selective kind of justice yet ).

And finally, we have that "oh shit" moment with Voldemort. What do you think is coming next?

---

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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:
34. The Greater Good's Echo
35. Memory: Dumbledore vs Grindelwald
36. The Bitterest Ink
37. The First Blood
38. The Black Legacy
39. HP: The Boy Invisible
40. Theory, Tears, and Hidden Things

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[PatrikWriter]

Quirrell watched me in silence, as if evaluating whether I was a friend or a foe. I wasn't worried, though. Within his body, Voldemort was exceptionally weakened, and although Quirrell was an adult wizard, the possession was taking a heavy toll on his magical core. I had no doubt that he was kept alive only by his own will and unicorn blood.

The problem, however, was that Voldemort would remember this meeting. By the time he returns in three years, I must be powerful enough that murdering me wouldn't be worth his while. Though... with his irrationality caused by the Horcruxes, one never knows.

"You are quite the hero, Mr. Rosier," he began in a calm voice. "You caught a Death Eater and freed an unjustly convicted man. Bravo."

He gestured a round of applause, a flash of madness flickering in his eyes for a moment. It was a dangerous situation, especially looking toward the future. I shook my head in disagreement and began to lead him exactly where I needed him.

"I don't consider myself a hero. I believe his capture is something absolutely everyone would approve of," I paused, adopting an expression of deep thought.

"Oh?" Voldemort prompted in a chilling voice with heavily suppressed anger.

"While the true and loyal rot in Azkaban, Pettigrew—like the common rat he is—ate, slept, and did God knows what at the Weasleys'. He is responsible for the Dark Lord's fall, for the fact that my father and others ended up in Azkaban. He is nothing but a filthy traitor. A coward who betrayed his own friends."

I saw a flash of understanding in his eyes, and the madness faded. It was replaced by coldness. Was Voldemort a sociopath, or had the Horcruxes truly destroyed him that much?

"So you consider Pettigrew a traitor to your father as well as his master?" he paused for a moment and added, "After Madam Bones' visit, it seemed more like you desired to be a hero."

"Professor, you sound almost like a sympathizer of the Dark Lord," I remarked with a slight smile. I immediately continued, however: "Purely hypothetically, of course."

Quirrell gave a cold smirk and nodded: "Purely hypothetically... yes."

"Well then—had it not been for Pettigrew, our side could have won long ago. My father wouldn't be in Azkaban, and a golden age of wizards would have begun. Pettigrew betrayed his closest friends. But why?" I threw out the theoretical question and followed up immediately: "What if it was all just Dumbledore's plan? He sacrificed both the Potters and Pettigrew..."

A chilling silence fell over his chambers. Madness and anger returned to his eyes; it seemed I had successfully redirected him toward a thought that would consume him. He feared Dumbledore, and if he killed Pettigrew in a fit of rage, it would be no great loss.

Finally, he broke the silence in a freezing voice: "Only the Dark Lord knows that."

I could have pointed out "knows?", implying he was dead, but I certainly didn't feel suicidal.

"As you say, Professor," I nodded neutrally. "Is there anything else you're interested in?"

Thoughtfully and with anger in his eyes, he shook his head, but quickly returned to his mask: "Y-you may go, Mr. R-rosier. It w-was an i-instructive conversation."

The only person who could buy his stuttering would have to have a single-digit IQ. He truly didn't have a high opinion of children. I, however, was glad he was such an idiot. I stood up immediately and left after a brief farewell. I had work to do.

On the way to the training classroom I had claimed at the beginning of the year, I had time to think. The situation was becoming increasingly serious for me. I was surrounded by magical titans, and both were showing an unhealthy interest in me. Although Dumbledore was the better choice, I still considered him a dangerous and sadomasochistic manipulator.

As an apology, Dumbledore offered to teach me something, provide me with a magical book, or grant me a favor. The problem was that mastering the entire book from Vespera would keep me busy enough. Besides that, Morgana's rituals awaited me. I already had one of them in mind, but for that one, I needed the summer holidays to hunt a troll. I needed to get stronger, but how? That was the key question.

The answer hit me just before I reached the classroom. I didn't need any new spell or book. I needed a memory that would give me more than anything else—I wanted to see the legendary duel between Grindelwald and Dumbledore. When I see two magical giants fighting at their peak, I will know exactly what level I need to reach to be a serious competitor to them.

If I obtain that memory, I will be able to replay it in my head non-stop using Occlumency. I will learn the spells they used, understand their fighting styles, and estimate their stamina, speed, and physical and magical dispositions.

I was firmly determined. Sooner or later, I would go to him with this request, but now it was time to continue training the Aegis Aurum, which was still giving me such trouble.

---

Time passed, and it was now the middle of March. I spent the last month training elemental magic and attempting to master the Aegis. Elemental magic was substantially more demanding magically than the Aegis. The problem was that although elements are natural to control and mainly require power and imagination, the subsequent honing of precision is difficult. Even though I was still just an elemental amateur, this form of magic came surprisingly easy to me.

My water whip was already as fast as Expelliarmus or Os Frangere. However, the effect was more devastating, even though the whip was, let's say, blunt for now. I had speeded it up, but what if I sharpened its edge? The strike would be just as strong but would also cut. Currently, a blunt hit could kill a person with a bit of luck, but what if the whip cut them right through? That would be a powerful technique.

Truthfully, I didn't even have a choice. I couldn't train Reducto because we still hadn't found the Room of Requirement. Agnes was trying sincerely and, instead of training, spent at least an hour every day "pacing" on the seventh floor. I was grateful to her; I knew she was doing it only because I wanted that room. However, we would all benefit from it.

While Agnes was missing from the classroom, Tobias and Theodore had an interesting duel nearby. I wasn't afraid of them hitting me—I was paying attention, and besides, I had a golden defensive dome created around me every few moments.

"Aegis Aurum!"

Once again, the golden dome flashed around me from all sides. I felt the radiating power and the strength of steel from it. I felt like a Spartan in a shield wall. The problem was still there, though—smaller, but it persisted.

In some places, the shield was more transparent. It was substantially better than when I started, and I was sure my power and concentration were sufficient. With every day of training, these "weak spots" were diminishing. Did I really just need endless repetition to master such powerful magic, until the spell soaked so deep into my mind and magic that it came out perfectly? Time was gradually proving to me that the answer was a definite yes.

"Aegis Aurum!"

I didn't give up and continued. I couldn't wait for the moment I would use this spell in a real fight. The golden dome appeared around me again. It seemed to me that there were slightly fewer transparent spots again, but it could have just been a figment of my frustrated mind. I had never had such trouble with any spell before, and I seriously felt like throwing it all in, getting a beer, and lighting a cigarette. Fortunately, I had neither alcohol nor cigarettes with me, so I patiently continued.

"Aegis Aurum!" "Aegis Aurum!" "Aegis Aurum!"

In the middle of training, the door suddenly opened. Agnes walked in with a triumphant smile, followed by Harry Potter, who was looking around the room with interest. When his gaze fell on me and my glowing golden Aegis, the interest in his eyes was replaced by pure fascination. With a wave of my wand, I immediately cancelled the shield.

"As you wanted, Patrik, Harry Potter is here!" Agnes announced to me triumphantly, as if I didn't have eyes.

"Excellent, Agnes. Thank you," I replied, while the others approached us with interest. Immediately after, however, I added: "Leave us alone, please."

Agnes immediately frowned and wanted to protest. Theo and Tobias headed for the exit without a word and in peace, so I just added to her concilatorily: "I'll explain it all to you later, Agnes, but this is a private conversation." I could still see that she felt like resisting, but in the end, she obeyed me and left.

As soon as the door closed, Potter spoke up curiously: "I'm here, Rosier. What do you want from me? DeMille has been trying to persuade me for the last two weeks until I finally gave in."

"Good old Agnes," I thought gratefully.

"I'm offering you a deal," I began. When I saw immediate suspicion in his eyes, I quickly added: "A mutually beneficial one."

Even though Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, I knew that in his heart, he had a piece of Slytherin as well. I wasn't surprised at all when he finally nodded.

"I'm listening."

"Without meaning to offend you, it's obvious you grew up with Muggles," I began matter-of-factly. Harry remained silent, so I continued: "And with some of the worst ones at that."

"Get to the point, Rosier. I'm not interested in your racism," he snapped coldly.

I shook my head in disagreement. "This isn't racism, Potter. Just like you, I grew up in the Muggle world, in an orphanage. While I mostly had good people around me, you lived with the lowest of the low. That is just a statement of fact."

His green eyes widened in surprise.

"What? But you're pureblood! The son of a Death Eater! How could you end up in an orphanage? Ron said pureblood families are all connected and stick together!" he blurted out, stunned.

"It's quite simple. In the bloody wars, it wasn't just your parents who lost their lives. The dark side lost people too; entire families were massacred. My mother, who wouldn't hurt a fly, was murdered by Aurors. I ended up in a home, and my father in Azkaban," I paused for a moment. "I know Muggles; there are good and bad ones. But wizards value their offspring substantially more—there is power in the blood, after all."

Harry stared at me in silence. I decided to break the silence that fell over the classroom with another blow.

"Every now and then, a child would come to the orphanage who had the same characteristic traits as you. Can you guess which ones they are?"

He shook his head wordlessly.

"Constant vigilance, avoiding attention, hunching your shoulders and shrinking into yourself just so you don't draw attention. Becoming attached too quickly to anyone who shows a bit of positive emotion. Hiding problems and downplaying your own pain."

I saw that he understood exactly where I was heading. I decided to rip the band-aid off completely.

"All these children came from abusive households. From environments where they were mistreated."

"What do you want, Rosier?!" he cried out angrily, tears of fury glistening in his eyes. "Do you want to mock me? You said you wanted to offer me a deal!"

"I certainly don't intend to mock you. No child deserves to suffer, and you are definitely not the only one who has gone through something like this. Once, witches were burned; today, they are mistreated behind closed doors if they have the misfortune of being born to Muggles," I paused for a moment. I saw him taking a breath to reply, and it was immediately clear to me that he wanted to mention Granger. I stopped him instantly.

"Don't bring Granger into this at all. Both her parents are dentists—they are educated and belong to the upper class. Uneducated and narrow-minded people treat children differently, especially if those children are different. I could name several people you know whom Muggles mistreated, or whose families were irreversibly scarred by the actions of Muggles."

Potter didn't give up, though. He was still clinging to the idea that the Dursleys were just some isolated anomaly.

"Oh yeah? Then I'm listening!" he challenged me defiantly.

I didn't plan on revealing Snape's past. I liked Snape more than Dumbledore, so the choice was easy.

"One powerful wizard you know comes from a respected family. They were a happy family with talented children who had only one misfortune—they lived near Muggles," I paused for a moment to give my words the necessary weight and a harsher effect.

"Until their daughter used uncontrollable magic while playing outside. By pure chance, Muggles saw her doing it. Can you imagine what they did to her?"

Potter didn't even breathe from the tension. He just nodded silently.

"Multiply it. They tortured her cruelly, and there are speculations that they also raped her. The girl was barely six years old. When she later returned home in a wretched state, her father, in a fit of rage, decided to take revenge. He killed those Muggles."

I paused for a moment. It was a foul and unpleasant history, like all the suffering of the helpless.

"What happened then?" Harry blurted out quietly.

"Her father ended up in Azkaban, and the daughter forever lost the ability to control her power. Her mother was left alone with three children, without money. When the girl was older, her magic exploded within her and killed her own mother. Three orphans were left. That powerful wizard and his friend then decided they would take over the world so that a similar tragedy would never happen again. They wanted wizards to rule over Muggles and establish order."

"That wizard who decided to take over the world... was it Lord Voldemort?" Harry asked with a hint of understanding and unexpected sympathy.

It made me laugh, though. I laughed from the heart for several seconds while he stared at me in wonder. When I finally calmed down, I decided to continue the story. With a smile, I shook my head in disagreement.

"That powerful wizard had a brother, but he was the eldest and was supposed to take care of his sister. But that went against the ambitions of both powerful mages. One evening, a conflict arose and a duel broke out—every man for himself. By unfortunate accident, Ariana got in the way of a curse... and died. The coalition fell apart, the hatred between the brothers has lasted to this day, and thanks to the failure of this powerful wizard in fulfilling his ambitions, children like you suffer today."

Potter clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white. After a while, however, he ventured to ask:

"Who were those people? You said I know that powerful wizard."

"One of them was Gellert Grindelwald. He became a Dark Lord and almost conquered the entire world. He was a champion of wizards and wanted to establish the supremacy of magic so that no child would ever suffer at the hand of a Muggle again. However, he was defeated and is currently rotting in Nurmengard," I paused for a moment in amusement to deal him the final blow: "The other one, whom you know, is named Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Harry stared at me in shock. He was speechless.

"Dumbledore felt such enormous remorse that he began to stand against anything that could cause conflict. So children continue to suffer, corruption prevails in Britain, and the magical world has moved nowhere in the last fifty years. Unfortunately, after his victory over Grindelwald in that legendary duel, he gained three significant positions through which he anxiously maintains the status quo."

I watched Potter as emotions flickered through him. Anger, hatred, sadness, understanding, and sympathy. After a while, however, he calmed down and asked: "What are we going to do about it?"

I had to smile at his naive question.

"We are going to do nothing about it. We are still young and helpless. Perhaps in the future, you can set it as your goal as the Boy Who Lived. In helping children, you will have my full support," I paused for a moment. I saw that he wanted to object, but he was still too inexperienced to understand how the world works.

"I didn't call you here so that we could change the world right away, Potter. I called you to offer you a deal that will be mutually beneficial. I have explained to you why I know you need me, and I have clarified the historical reasons why you are in danger in the Muggle world. I can help you with that."

"How? You aren't allowed to do magic in the Muggle world. Hermione explained to me that the Ministry of Magic is watching us, and we can be expelled from Hogwarts for multiple violations of the regulations."

I shook my head in disagreement and frowned.

"You shouldn't listen to Granger in everything, Potter. Her literal interpretation of the rules is more of a hindrance to you. You know yourself that what someone writes or says doesn't have to be true. The children's books about your adventures are pure fiction. No one would just expel you, the Boy Who Lived, from Hogwarts—you are a symbol. Besides, you are a Potter, a member of a wealthy and powerful family with a long history."

"Potter? A wealthy and powerful family with a long history?" he asked curiously.

I admit, at that moment I sympathized with him, so I decided to answer him, although I felt like moving on to the deal immediately.

"Yes, your family has a documented history since the twelfth century, and I assume it existed long before that. Your ancestors became famous for inventing potions that are still used in healing today. The Potters always fought for what they considered right. You are exceptionally wealthy and come from a line with deep roots. It's a shame you walk around in ragged Muggle clothes. You should change that and start learning about your heritage."

I felt gratitude from him for this information. He probably thought until now that he was just an extraordinary boy from a completely ordinary family.

"Your problem is that you are defenseless in the Muggle world. Without magic, you can't protect yourself. And that is exactly what I can help you with. I know a ritual that I went through myself. it got rid of the Ministry's tracking for me. So I can do magic even in front of Muggles without anyone knowing."

"What do you want for it?" he asked with interest.

He didn't ask about the risks or anything important at all. Fool.

"A thousand Galleons, Potter. As a wealthy heir, you can afford it," I suggested matter-of-factly.

I saw that the price didn't deter him, but he immediately asked: "And the risks? The negatives? Rituals are dark, aren't they?"

Okay, I take it back. He wasn't such a fool.

"No, just like magic, rituals vary. This one is white/neutral and purely beneficial. It will rid you of all foreign magic you carry within you—including the tracking spell they placed on you during your first boat trip to Hogwarts. Thanks to it, the Ministry monitors wizards under seventeen. Another person will undergo this ritual too, so you can watch them in peace to see that there is no danger."

"Hm, sounds good," he paused for a moment and added: "I'll think about it and let you know."

I nodded in agreement. "The sooner the better, Potter. So we can plan it."

He was already heading for the exit when I decided to do one more good deed.

"Potter! Your father was a gifted Transfiguration master, while your mother was a master of Charms," I paused for a moment. Harry stopped right in front of the door. "Voldemort is still out there somewhere. It would be a shame if your parents' sacrifice went completely to waste just because you remain academically and magically at Weasley's level—even though your spells are already relatively powerful."

I stared intently at his back. "Stop holding yourself back, or you'll regret it in the future."

Harry nodded silently and left without a word.

I remained in the classroom alone and finally had time to think. Black still hadn't reached out. There was no news in the Daily Prophet, apart from the usual conspiracies. I wrote to Vespera regularly; she mentioned no problems. Every day I felt more powerful, although I assumed I would make the real jump forward only after the summer ritual.

I was sure Potter would accept my offer. I would have a thousand more Galleons and at the same time build an important, albeit secret for now, relationship.

I no longer felt like practicing the Aegis, so I headed to Dumbledore for the promised bribe.

---

Author's note:

So, did the encounter with Voldemort live up to your expectations? I hope you weren't looking for a duel just yet. Voldemort, despite his fractured sanity, is still playing the long game for the Stone and has no intention of revealing himself too early. However, this confrontation gave our MC exactly the motivation he needed—and finally, a clear goal for what to demand from Dumbledore.

While the Aegis spell remains a stubborn challenge, "dear Agnes" came through and brought Potter into the mix. I'm curious, did Dumbledore's dark family history catch you off guard? I had a good laugh writing the scene where Harry asks if Patrik is referring to Voldemort—the irony was just too good .

Given that Harry's only prior interaction with the Dumbledore was a fleeting moment at the Mirror of Erised, this conversation is bound to leave a mark. How will this change him? Will we see a Potter who is more pragmatic, more powerful, or perhaps even darker? We shall see...

---

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:
35. Memory: Dumbledore vs Grindelwald
36. The Bitterest Ink
37. The First Blood
38. The Black Legacy
39. HP: The Boy Invisible
40. Theory, Tears, and Hidden Things
41. A Potter's Ambition
42. Pain as a Teacher

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[PatrikWriter]

Writing this chapter was quite a challenge, but I think it was worth it! I was listening to '1HXSX,WNORG17 - Revenge' while writing this clash of titans and honestly? I had goosebumps the whole time! ​

---

I stopped in front of the stone gargoyle, the entrance to the Headmaster's office. I didn't even have a chance to try a password before the gargoyle leaped aside, clearing the way.

I headed up the spiral staircase to the very top, not even bothering to knock on the door. I knew Dumbledore was aware of me – otherwise, the gargoyle wouldn't have moved without a password – and at the same time, I was certain the portraits had informed him of my visit long ago.

Fawkes was missing this time, so I walked straight to Dumbledore, who was watching me from behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Good day, Headmaster."

"Good day, Patrik," he paused for a moment, but then asked: "I am a bit busy. Can I help you with something, or have you come for the promised apology?"

I didn't intend to waste time either, so I answered directly: "The promised apology, Professor."

There was a brief silence. He examined me searchingly, curious about what I would choose, until he finally gestured with his hand for me to continue.

"I want to see your legendary duel against Lord Grindelwald."

I saw him stiffen for a moment. I had surprised him. He likely expected me to want to learn some advanced technique or ask for a rare book. Dumbledore slowly took off his glasses and began to clean them with the hem of his robes. A classic move to gain time to think.

After a moment, he sighed heavily and spoke: "That is... a very unusual and personal request, Patrik," he said in a quiet, serious voice.

I stared at him in silence. I knew this was exactly what I wanted.

"Lord Grindelwald? I sense more respect for Gellert from you than you hold for me," he tried to stall further, but I kept my gaze steady and unrelenting.

I saw the moment he finally decided to grant my wish. His shoulders slumped, and a deeply hidden sorrow surfaced.

"As you wish," he paused, then stood up and waved his wand.

In the corner of the room, a cabinet opened with a creak of wood, revealing a glowing Pensieve covered in ancient runes.

"An interesting artifact, it must be quite expensive," I thought. "Could Master Vane create something like this too?" I asked myself internally.

In deep concentration, Dumbledore beckoned me forward. His wand was pressed to his temple. After a moment, he slowly pulled it away, and a long, silvery thread of memory stretched from his mind. With maximum precision, he moved it with his wand into the basin, whose runes briefly glowed with a bright blue light.

Noticing my questioning look, he decided to explain: "This is a Pensieve. An artifact in which you can view memories – your own or those of others. You only need to submerge your head, and it will draw you into the event. You will see what you desired so much."

He paused and added in a sad voice: "I shall return to my work. The Pensieve will return you once the memory ends."

I didn't wait. My heart was pounding against my ribs, but my mind was ready. I leaned over and plunged my face into the silvery surface.

MEMORY: NURMENGARD, 1945​

Dumbledore walked at the head of a massive army toward the fortress. The dark stone tower, surrounded by walls with narrow embrasures, bore an inscription over the gate in beautiful German calligraphy: "Für das größere Wohl." Snow-capped mountains loomed behind the stronghold. Wizards' breath was visible in the freezing air, while ice cracked and snow squelched beneath their feet. The ground thundered with every coordinated step.

Dumbledore showed tension, anxiety, and sadness. He was considerably younger, his hair still auburn. As the army approached, the fortress gate suddenly burst open, and another army began to emerge slowly. The ground shook under the impact of thousands of feet. However, their leader was not at the head.

The two armies stopped opposite each other at a distance of about half a kilometer. Dumbledore's feelings shifted in that moment; sadness was replaced by pure, icy determination. He drew his wand, and at the same moment, everyone else did the same. Thousands of wands whistled through the air, and I got goosebumps from the sheer accumulation of power.

Dumbledore held his wand to his throat and whispered: "Sonorus."

His voice immediately echoed through the surrounding mountains like thunder: "Gellert! Where are you? Show yourself!"

A murmur went through the opposing army. With a slow rumble, the center of their formation parted, creating a two-meter corridor. A blond wizard walked through it. With every step he took, the wizards of his army placed a clenched fist over their hearts and bowed their heads in deep respect.

Grindelwald walked forward, and Dumbledore stepped out to meet him at a slow pace. They stood there alone, two epic titans. A freezing silence fell, in which only the tense breathing of the two armies and the sound of snow hitting the cold ground could be heard.

They stopped right in front of each other. Grindelwald spoke first in a sad, almost tender voice:

"Here I am, my love. Did you miss me, Albus?"

"You must stop this, Gellert. This is not the way," Dumbledore replied. He paused for a moment, a lone tear rolling down his face, and added: "Death and suffering... all of Europe is burning."

"For the greater good, Albus. You were in this with me until you betrayed me. And now? Now you are just a common dog of the corrupt ICW. You listen to insignificant bureaucrats while innocent wizards suffer."

"The greater good was not about death and suffering, Gellert!" Dumbledore shouted. "We were supposed to change the world for the better!"

"A cowardly idealist, as always. How did you want to change the world?" Grindelwald asked indignantly. "Did you want to ask them nicely to give up their power?!"

Dumbledore, however, was stubborn and set in his ways, shaking his head in disagreement. "Surrender, Gellert. So many wizards do not need to die."

"From the moment I met you, Albus, I saw the future. Our duel is destiny," he spoke sadly. "No wizard needs to die except for us..."

He paused and continued: "One on one. Let our power and conviction decide."

Dumbledore considered for a moment, then nodded resolutely. "I agree."

Silence fell. I saw Grindelwald struggling with himself, but finally, he spoke: "Order your army to retreat. So they do not die in vain."

It was the last thing he said. Without waiting for a sign of agreement, he headed toward his people. I followed Grindelwald; I desperately wanted to hear what he was saying to his army. Unfortunately, instead of words, I heard only a murmur. I saw his army reluctantly retreating – they wanted to fight for what they believed in.

I didn't care what Dumbledore was saying, so I only watched Grindelwald's wing. Standing right by his right side was a woman who looked incredibly like Vespera. Vinda Rosier. Lord Grindelwald's legendary right hand. I saw anger in her face and realized she had almost identical facial expressions to mine.

After a while, she too retreated with the rest of the troops, and Gellert returned to the center where Dumbledore was already waiting. They stood facing each other with wands drawn and bowed simultaneously.

The battle began.

Grindelwald was faster. "Fulmino!" A bolt of lightning shot from his wand, intended to end the duel instantly. Dumbledore, however, was not caught off guard. With a sharp flick of his wand, he raised the earth, which transformed in a fraction of a second into a steel structure. It safely grounded the lightning.

Dumbledore didn't wait. With another movement of his wand, he sent a pack of dogs at Grindelwald. Gellert, however, eliminated them instantly with a series of Bombarda spells. Grey beams hit every creature with surgical precision.

Meanwhile, Albus patiently transfigured the surrounding environment – trees came to life, and birds flocked from the sky toward Grindelwald. Although Gellert was considerably faster and crushed every transfiguration that approached him with offensive spells, Dumbledore flooded him with a vast number of targets.

"Confringo!" "Reducto!" "Os frangere!" "Spatha Cutis!" Grindelwald fired one attack after another.

Dumbledore was slower in his movements, but his transfigurations were numerous and willingly threw themselves in the path of the Dark Arts. His defense was practically impenetrable. Grindelwald, however, did not give up. He dodged the blow of an animated tree with a roll and sent an orange beam: "Everte Statum!"

The moment of surprise worked. Dumbledore was thrown back violently. Before another attack could hit him, a stone gargoyle jumped in front of Albus, only to be blown apart by the following "Confringo!" and "Reducto!"

"Protego Horribilis!" Dumbledore cried out, and a pulsing blue shield appeared before him, absorbing another curse with a loud crack.

Grindelwald was now on the defensive. He shattered a walking ent with a Bombarda, but had to constantly dodge a pack of wolves. There were so many that he barely managed to fend off their fangs. Dumbledore, meanwhile, recovered: "Avis! Engorgio!" Massive eagles filled the air, joining the wolves' attack.

"Fulmino!" Grindelwald roared. Most of the eagles instantly disintegrated under the onslaught of lightning, but the last wolf managed to sink its teeth into Grindelwald's calf. With an angry cry, Gellert blew it to dust with a close-range Bombarda.

They stopped for a moment, warily measuring each other. Then, as if by silent agreement, they both attacked at once.

Grindelwald sent another series of Dark Arts: "Reducto! Confringo! Spatha Cutis!"

Dumbledore, meanwhile, lightning-fast transfigured the surrounding ground into more animated creatures. He barely managed two flicks of his wand before the first Reducto reached him.

"Protego Horribilis!" Albus shouted. The shield absorbed the blue beam of the Reducto curse, while the fiery orange blast of the Confringo hit it with a loud snap. The shield still held, but the sickly yellow beam of the final spell shattered it for good.

At that moment, however, it was Grindelwald who had to defend himself. Dumbledore accelerated, and his transfigurations increased faster than Gellert could destroy them. Although Grindelwald was significantly faster at casting curses, he was beginning to lose. Transfiguration had the upper hand – it was crushing Grindelwald with sheer volume, and he had had enough.

"Protego Diabolica!" he roared angrily. Immediately, a ring of blue fire erupted around him, in which specters of dragons, chimeras, lions, and hydras danced. The flames incinerated everything in their path. Nothing from Dumbledore's army could get close.

Sweat trickled down Grindelwald's temple; it was clear how much energy this spell was costing him. The fire, however, no longer drew from him – it fed on the transfigurations themselves, which it devoured. Dumbledore stared thoughtfully into the flames for a moment but then decided to continue.

"Avis! Avis! Avis! Avis!" He conjured hundreds of birds that rose into the sky in a cloud directly above Grindelwald. They then began to dive straight into the ring of fire. The Diabolica flared up violently, and the ring became a massive pillar of fire that turned everything approaching it to ash in a second.

Considerable fatigue was visible on both of them. Turning the Diabolica into a pillar of fire must have cost an enormous amount of strength, and Dumbledore, though his transfigurations were not as taxing individually, was paying a high mental price for their vast numbers. Both felt that the end of their legendary duel was inexorably approaching.

As if agreeing in a single second, they both shouted elementary charms at once: "Ventus!" "Aguamenti!"

A fierce vortex of air erupted from Grindelwald's wand. It grew stronger and larger with every step he took, until it became a destructive tornado tearing up the ground beneath it. Dumbledore opposed him with a massive stream of water that surged and grew until it turned into a predatory tsunami.

Both poured the remnants of their magical power into their elements. A shadow of understanding flickered across Grindelwald's face – he knew he was on the losing side of this clash. Despite this, he did not give up, pushing more and more magic into the spell until his tornado was half a height taller than the approaching wave.

With a deafening crack and rumble, the two elements collided. The sound of the impact echoed off the surrounding mountains while water and air fought for dominance. For a moment, it seemed balanced; the tornado raged, sucking huge masses of water into its center.

It didn't last long. With a deep thud, the tornado collapsed from the bottom. Only weakened, chaotic eddies full of water remained of it. Dumbledore's wave, however, did not stop – it advanced with thundering certainty, completely ignoring the remnants of the wind.

An opaque elementary curtain rose between the wizards, and for a moment, I completely lost sight of Grindelwald. After a while, a deafening boom was heard. A bolt of lightning struck right into the center of the water wall, evaporating a huge amount of water in an instant.

Although the wave weakened, the rest of the mass rolled forward. That's when I saw him – Grindelwald. His face was contorted with determination, refusing to give up. He flicked his wand again: "Ventus!"

The air vortex carried him high above the wave, and with incredible speed, he found himself directly in front of a surprised Dumbledore. "Reducto!" "Confringo!" he fired without mercy.

"Protego Horribilis!" Albus called out with his last remaining strength. His shield absorbed the blue beam, but the fiery blast of the Confringo shattered it with a snap and threw Dumbledore back several meters.

Albus hit the ground with a heavy thud. After a series of uncontrolled rolls, he lay in the dust, losing his grip on his wand as it fell, rolling half a meter away from his outstretched hand.

"What the fuck? Grindelwald was supposed to lose!" flashed through my mind in total shock.

Gellert approached him with a heavy, exhausted step. A single spell was all it would take to finish Dumbledore for good as he struggled to rise from the ground.

But then I saw something in his face I didn't expect. A vast sadness flashed through his entire expression, and his eyes reflected deep love and tenderness. He was fighting with himself. The world or love? In that fateful second, his will lost; he couldn't bring himself to cast the final curse. He hesitated until it was too late.

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell caught Gellert completely by surprise. The wand flew from his palm straight into the air, where Dumbledore skillfully caught it.

Before the memory began to fade, I managed to catch one last glimpse of Grindelwald. It was full of bitter betrayal and immense suffering. Dumbledore just stood there silently, his face mirroring the same infinite sadness.

END OF MEMORY: NURMENGARD, 1945

I found myself back in Hogwarts. It took me a moment to recover from the disorientation, but I was immediately flooded by a surge of anger.

That duel was one giant tragedy. Grindelwald showed mercy, and that is precisely why he lost. He chose love over power over the world, and because of that, the magical community remained stuck in time under Albus Dumbledore's baton.

I couldn't blame him, though. I would have chosen love myself, even if the whole world around me had to burn. The only difference was that he wanted to change the world. I was relatively indifferent to it. Life was truly unfair, and my respect for the prisoner of Nurmengard only deepened in that moment.

I felt Dumbledore's sad gaze on me. When I looked up at him, I saw a quiet expectation of my verdict in his face. Inhale, exhale.

"Thank you. It was a... constructive duel," I said coldly, but immediately continued: "What would have happened to the world, however, if Lord Grindelwald had not shown love and mercy back then, Professor?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I turned to leave, ignoring his sad eyes burning into my back. I didn't care. While Dumbledore sat here in safety and luxury, a great man who wanted to build a better world was rotting in a cold and desolate prison.

---

Author's note:
Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald were both gay according to Rowling, so it's canon. What do you guys think about their duel? It's probably obvious that I sympathize with Grindelwald.

The Elder Wand didn't fully display its legendary power in this fight... in my story, it amplifies magical spells, which is why Dumbledore's shields were shattering under the sheer pressure of magic. However, as we saw, when a transfigured object jumps into the path of a spell, the spell's raw power becomes irrelevant.

This also explains why the wind is relatively "weaker"—all it takes is a powerful spell to disrupt the structure of a tornado, and the entire thing collapses.

---

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:
36. The Bitterest Ink
37. The First Blood
38. The Black Legacy
39. HP: The Boy Invisible
40. Theory, Tears, and Hidden Things
41. A Potter's Ambition
42. Pain as a Teacher

Join the Inner Circle - tgdTNZYVKt (Discord)
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Support the craft and keep the darkness spreading. Your support directly allows for faster updates.

 

[PatrikWriter]

Explanation of the Magical System (AU) – Read carefully

Some readers may have forgotten that this story is an AU (Alternative Universe), and therefore many things have been altered—especially regarding magical combat. In the films, for instance, we saw very few people actually vocalizing spells; it was simply a pretty beam of light that made something crumble upon impact. However, if I were to write only about someone casting a "red beam," when multiple spells share the same color, how would the reader know what is actually happening?

Difficulty and Dark Arts

Another point: in the films, we saw various Hogwarts students using spells like Confringo and Reducto, even though according to J.K. Rowling's canon, these are lethal curses. Reducto essentially erases you from existence, and Confringo acts as if a grenade has detonated on your person. In our story, these are exceptionally demanding spells that most certainly fall under the category of Dark Arts.

If I write that someone cast Reducto, we immediately know they attempted to kill their target. If it were just a "blue beam," it could just as easily be Stupefy. Do you see the difference? If opponents only exchanged anonymous colored bolts, the reader would lose track of the combat dynamics.

The Magical Core and Epic Scale

From the beginning, I have built this story on the principle that a wizard possesses a Magical Core, which expands through training and genetic predisposition. To some, sending a tornado that can wipe out an entire army and half a small town doesn't feel "personally" epic enough... but take the fire serpent Voldemort summoned in the film—that was magnificent. (With books, you must engage your own imagination; if tornadoes, tsunamis, or lightning bolts aren't epic enough for you, your imagination needs a restart.)

Non-Verbal Spellcasting

Non-verbal casting in my story works on the principle of "the grind." A wizard must know a spell perfectly from A to Z, cast it thousands of times, and have the mental intent mastered 100%. Only then can they discard the need for an incantation (e.g., Dumbledore and his universal transfiguration).

However, I am curious about your opinion: if a spell were flying at you and you couldn't dodge it or conjure a shield, would it help you to at least know what was about to kill you? If I wrote strictly according to the books, we would have 30-second power struggles between red and green beams or nonsensical "blind" firing from point-blank range, which feels unrealistic.

Combat Realism

I don't know how many of you have experienced real physical conflict, but in a fight, one rule applies: if I have a chance to land a "high kick," I simply kick. I don't perform unnecessary spinning pirouettes if the result would be the same. If Reducto reliably kills a person, why on earth would anyone use 30 different killing curses? A wizard may know them all, but in combat, they seek efficiency.

Our main protagonist (MC) is nowhere near the level of Grindelwald, Dumbledore, or Voldemort(Right now!). He cannot cast Reducto or Confringo even at an average level; his magical core is tiny compared to theirs. He doesn't even know spells like Spatha Cutis, and Protego Horribilis (a higher version of the shield) is beyond his strength. Elemental magic? Our MC collapsed when he tried to save himself with wind magic during a fall from a height. His water magic is currently just a weak ripple compared to Dumbledore's tsunami. Not to mention transfiguration.

Legendary Wizards vs. Born Warriors

Grindelwald and Dumbledore were primarily academics, not soldiers. Despite this, they were the most powerful because their magical cores were gargantuan compared to others. All they need is a bit of proper elemental magic, which an ordinary wizard cannot handle, and they can erase an entire army. Anyone can manage a basic Protego or Expelliarmus, but two average Confringo spells would utterly exhaust a common wizard—if they could even manifest them at all.

On the other hand, Voldemort was a pure-blooded warrior. From a young age, he sought to dominate and conquer. He genuinely enjoyed duels and the subsequent torture, which gave him a ferocity and aggressiveness in battle that the academics lacked.

Characteristics of the Unforgivable Curses

The Avada Kedavra curse is extremely demanding on both magical power and strength of will and intent. Certainly, not just any Death Eater can cast it. Cruciatus is a powerful curse that only above-average wizards can master, where the psychological intent to cause pain is key. Imperius, meanwhile, is a mix of magic and mental fortitude; it requires a specific talent for dominating another's will.

Conclusion and Duel Dynamics

Will we encounter other fighting styles and different spells in the story? Absolutely, but gradually. The rule remains: if I master Reducto and it kills my target, I will not cast another 30 curses with the same effect. In a fight, only one thing matters: defending oneself and attacking. The difference between curses and regular spells lies in magical demand, concentration, and training.

Even a simple Diffindo aimed at the neck—a low-demand spell—will kill you. However, it lacks power, so a shield will easily deflect it, whereas a mighty Reducto can destroy the shield itself. If we master a spell perfectly, we can infuse it with a precise amount of magic or increase its power through raw force to break through defenses. If it passes through a shield, the spell will be weakened by the energy it had to expend to shatter the protection.

Harry Potter was not originally conceived as "combat fantasy." We have perhaps 10–20 combat spells, and in the films, we mostly saw duels where two beams pushed against each other, which didn't make much sense(We will get many more).

Spell Spamming: It is impossible to use Reducto three times in a row. Even if you have enough power, you need a strong mental intent, which may fail during repetition. There will be exceptions in the form of titan-level wizards, but even for them, it will not be an infinite process.

A Few Final Words

This is everything that occurs to me for now. I try to write realistically—in a way that I like and that makes sense to me. I understand that some people will prefer the classic clash of two beams pushing against each other for a minute while the screen cracks and the wind blows. That is perfectly fine. Similarly, it is fine if someone prefers a snap of the fingers that erases kilometers of territory without the need for magical energy, or a single ordinary punch to destroy the most powerful enemy (One Punch Man is great!).

However, I have been setting up this magical system consistently since the very first chapter. It is therefore strange if it shocks someone only at chapter thirty-five, as if they hadn't even read the previous parts. My final advice is this: please read with comprehension and a little more slowly.

 

[PatrikWriter]

I spent the entire rest of the day thinking about the legendary duel I'd had the honor of witnessing. The immense respect of the wizards standing behind Grindelwald versus the bureaucratic army behind Dumbledore. Honestly, I found Grindelwald's side more sympathetic. That memory gave me a lot; thanks to it, I understood that I wouldn't last even a minute against a magical titan. Both were capable of elementally decimating entire armies and countries.

My style is closer to Grindelwald's – I prefer powerful Dark Arts curses and elemental lightning. Gellert was visibly a master of rituals, as his speed was otherworldly. I don't believe a normal human could fundamentally move that fast and cast spells in such a sequence. It simply wasn't possible. Dumbledore, however, was his perfect opponent. A total "counterpick."

His mass transfiguration and conjuring were too much even for Grindelwald, who eventually had to burn everything around him with the legendary Diabolica. For Dumbledore, however, it was mentally exhausting. And then, when it came to elemental power...

Grindelwald was magically more powerful, but elementally he found himself at a disadvantage. Lightning couldn't pass through that mass of water, and his tornado, though larger and more powerful, was fundamentally destroyed by the massive volume of water from Dumbledore. It was interesting that he had an affinity for the same element as I did. In the end, Gellert overcame even that – he cleverly used the mobility of the wind and the power of his magic to defeat Albus. Yes, he defeated him. Dumbledore wasn't more powerful. It was only because of Gellert's momentary mercy that Dumbledore managed to take his wand. In the end, Grindelwald was so broken in spirit that he didn't even attempt wandless magic.

I read more about the Bombarda spell in Vespera's book. It was a neutral spell, not too demanding. Its essence lay in exploding an inanimate object. It had basically no effect on a living target, unless it was overpowered – then it could at least slightly move the living target. It was originally invented for sieging castles; a group of wizards could use it to break through gates and stone walls if the location's protections were insufficient.

What a master of magic Grindelwald must have been to successfully use a single spell so many times in a row. With each use, a specific concentration was required, which was, so to speak, consumed by the casting of the spell. So either his mind had to be as fast as his spellcasting, or his thought was so powerful that it worked even at a lower level of concentration.

I'll have to learn Bombarda. And I also need to figure out a way to defend against mass transfiguration. Grindelwald was stronger and faster, but the transfigured army still gave him a hard time.

A simple water wave would wash away transfigured objects, but would it be able to completely destroy them? I doubted it. And that's where the "Hitsugaya" style could help. Water and ice. Freeze them and then shatter them into thousands of pieces.

I was already lying in bed, my head full of thoughts. It was really a lot for me. Aegis Aurum was still giving me trouble. I needed to learn more powerful Dark Arts curses, gain a deeper understanding of transfiguration, and defense against it. Conjuring animals would also come in handy, and improving my elemental magic was absolutely essential.

How could I be hidden under a shield and attack at the same time? Maybe if I finally master Aegis, I'll be able to modify it. What if I could hold it in my left hand like a real shield and continue casting curses with my wand?

"Damn it, I'm still only twelve years old. Where am I rushing to? I have time," I whispered into the quiet bedroom, where only Sebastian's occasional snoring echoed.

Inhale, hold, exhale. Once I was at least a little calmer, Occlumency followed, and preparation for sleep. I fell asleep instantly as soon as I finished the training in my mind.

---

The following morning I woke up a bit tired. Not that Occlumency didn't help or calm me down... but a person's mind, even when controlled and protected, sometimes does what it wants.

I dreamed I was in Grindelwald's shoes – I took mercy on the enemy and lost everything because of it. I dreamed someone murdered Vespera in Knockturn Alley, right at Borgin and Burkes. I dreamed Umbridge tortured Agnes.

Just nasty, stupid dreams. So it was no surprise that I was completely out of sorts at breakfast. The others saw it, so they didn't even try to involve me in the conversation. Even the omelet with sausage didn't taste as good as usual.

It wasn't long before owls flew into the hall. I wasn't expecting any mail, so I was surprised when a stout eagle owl landed in front of me with an envelope on which the Black family crest with a flock of crows was clearly visible.

With a slight sense of reluctance, I opened the envelope and took out the letter. I had to force myself for a moment before I started reading. I wanted to help him, but by all accounts, Sirius had that fanatical mindset of a black-and-white world without any shades of gray. But people change, so I began to read.

Death Eater's Brat Rosier,

I admit this is the bitterest ink I've ever dipped a quill into. My mother would be thrilled – finally writing to one of "our circles." Our families always watched each other's backs over expensive whiskey and promises that were meant to last forever. Then the war came, and I spent a full decade in Azkaban. Ten years in the cold, Rosier. All that time I waited for someone from the "Light" side whom I trusted. No one came. Everyone wrote me off before the Potters' bodies had even gone cold.

And in the end, you're the one who pulls me out. The son of a Death Eater. It's an irony that makes my stomach turn – your "dark" blood had more conscience in it than everything I fought for.

But let's not lie to ourselves, in our families, nothing is done for free. You're not a charity. So write to me straight, what favor do you expect from me in return?

I owe you my freedom. That's a fact that even my bitterness won't change. So speak up, what is Lord Black to do for young Master Rosier?

Regards (and with a good dose of distrust),

Sirius Black

Interesting. The letter was written in elegant, proud calligraphy, for which I certainly had no practice. I scratched like a cat and writing with a quill was difficult for me, even though I tried. However, it showed me two things: first, Sirius put effort into the letter, as he wrote it neatly and without a single smudge. And second, that that harsh pureblood upbringing was still in him somewhere, whether he liked it or not.

I noticed that Potter was also reading a letter from the same envelope I had received. At least now that Black is free, he won't have to return to the Dursleys.

"Yay, good deed done," I said to myself matter-of-factly in my head.

Moodless, I stood up and headed to the first Potions class. I felt eyes on me from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. I managed to notice Granger looking at me with wary distrust. Had Potter perhaps confided in her about my offer and my knowledge?

I didn't really care. From a global perspective, those thousand galleons from Potter were just a drop in the ocean. Black owed me, and if I asked him for money, he would undoubtedly pay. But I didn't intend to do that. Family knowledge was much more valuable to me.

I believed that if Sirius found out I grew up in an orphanage and was the son of Carina Black, he would approach me differently. Given that either I or Draco could accept the Black family ring... his choice might be clear. It would be enough for Potter to be left some money; he had more than enough of that anyway.

---

I calmly entered the empty Potions classroom, where the smells of various ingredients, herbs, and long-standing dampness mingled in the air. I settled comfortably into the last desk on the right side as usual. I took out my cauldron and other tools; I still had plenty of time before the others arrived.

I sat there depressingly alone for about ten minutes until the first students arrived. Among them were my friends. Agnes immediately sat next to me; she cast a concerned look at me but remained silent. Theodore, as always, sat with Tobias. Then the "golden trio" walked in, with Granger sitting next to Longbottom.

Gradually, the whole room filled up. Honestly, I only noticed the more prominent people. Draco classically sat with one of his trolls, while the other sat with Bulstrode. Davis sat with Greengrass, and Zabini with Sallow. That was strange – Sallow had been a major hater of other Slytherins for almost a year now.

But I didn't have the energy to deal with it. Snape marched into the classroom with his cloak billowing, and the lesson began. He stopped in front of the blackboard and turned sharply. His black eyes swept the room and stopped on me for a moment, but immediately he fixed his attention on the Gryffindors.

"Today," he began in a silky, dangerous voice, "we will attempt the Wiggenweld Potion. It is a challenging solution that heals minor injuries and sterilizes wounds. It also serves as an antidote to sleeping drafts and the Draught of Living Death. This potion is among the basic but extremely important mixtures and frequently appears in O.W.L. exams."

With a wave of his wand, he animated a piece of chalk, which began writing instructions on one side of the board. With a second wave, he brought a second piece of chalk to life, which began listing the ingredients. The list was quite long. Potions really weren't easy – this one required almost fifteen different ingredients, even without professional preparation.

I was more interested in his animation of the chalks, however. He could bring objects to life without a single word and force them to write specific text. There was no mention of it in the first-year textbooks. At the moment, I had too many other things for self-study, but I should look into it in the future. It would definitely make my life easier.

Snape gave the signal. While I remained lost in thought, Agnes willingly brought me all the ingredients. I set to work. I gradually poured salamander blood into the cauldron and stirred, causing a wild play of colors – from red to orange, yellow, and green to a deep turquoise.

Under strict supervision, I regulated the heat until the surface turned indigo blue and then pink. I threw lionfish spines into the mixture and added thick Flobberworm mucus, which turned the potion purple and then orange again. The finish belonged to honeywater and a few drops of berry juice, which returned a turquoise luster to the liquid. After half an hour of slow bubbling, I extinguished the flame and let my work cool in silence.

My potion had the right color. I was sure I hadn't messed anything up, so I decided to secretly fill vials for myself as well. One would go to Snape for approval, I'd keep ten, and the rest, after approval, would go to the hospital wing as usual. Agnes's potion turned out just as well, and she was observant enough to notice what I was doing. Without a word, she imitated me, took ten vials of the healing solution, and carefully packed them into her bag. Technically we weren't supposed to do that, as the ingredients were school property, but I was betting on Snape ignoring it. After previous experiences, I knew he didn't mean me ill.

We began to pack up gradually depending on how fast each person brewed their potion. Students handed in samples to Snape, who, of course, criticized the Gryffindors significantly more than the Slytherins; for them, he only evaluated what they had done wrong in a quieter voice. He was a true expert. At a glance, by the color alone, he knew exactly at which step the error had occurred. I wondered how many times he had brewed this potion himself.

When it was Draco's turn, the whole class heard what a great potion he had brewed. Of course, he got fifteen points and walked out of the classroom puffing out his chest like a peacock. I had to admit that Draco probably had the greatest talent for Potions. In spellcasting, however, he was only average, while Agnes, Tobias, and Theodore were absolute top-tier thanks to our hard training.

When we handed in our samples, Snape frowned at us. He noticed very well that we had poured some of the potion for ourselves, but since Agnes was with me and I was his favorite, he ignored it and dryly graded our potions with an O – Outstanding.

The rest of the day passed classically and extremely boringly. School didn't entertain me, and I missed combat and adrenaline. I felt a growing tension within me and a desire for a proper, bloody fight.

---

After school, we were in the classroom again. Tobias sat in the corner with a healing book, and Theodore was training hard with Aculeus on the opposite wall. Meanwhile, I was putting myself through a physical workout, which the others weren't very keen on yet. I really didn't feel like training Aegis; failing over and over again was already demotivating. Besides, I'd had a miserable mood since morning, and a hard workout was the best cure for that. Endorphins and dopamine are the foundation of a good day.

Agnes, as was her habit, was missing for the first hour. She was still trying to find the secret room I had told her about. She didn't give up, though I wouldn't have lasted even half that time searching for that cursed room.

I was just doing clap push-ups. My arms were already shaking, my triceps were burning, and large drops of sweat were falling from my forehead onto the floor. With a final clap, I stood up. It was time to move on to squats when suddenly the door burst open and Agnes walked in. I wouldn't have paid attention to it if she didn't look so incredibly happy and satisfied.

"Don't tell me she found the room?" I thought incredulously and stopped immediately.

Agnes shouted enthusiastically at the top of her lungs: "I've got it! I found it, Patrik!"

I immediately put myself back together magically and went after her eagerly.

"Let's go then, Agnes. I'm really curious."

I wasn't the only one interested in the secret room. Theodore had been listening to Agnes's curses about not being able to find it for quite a while, and Tobias, as a loyal friend, followed us too – at least he took a short break from the healing textbook.

We walked quickly up to the seventh floor. We followed her to the painting where some madman was trying to teach trolls to dance ballet. Agnes began to pace decisively in front of the bare wall while I watched her with anticipation. Suddenly, a large, massive door materialized on the wall.

"Finally," I whispered, feeling a surge of genuine joy.

---

Author's note:

What do you think of the duel analysis? I see Grindelwald as a true master of rituals and the Dark Arts, whereas Dumbledore stands as a master of Transfiguration and an adept of the Water element. I wanted to highlight that clash of completely different magical foundations.

Sirius is... well, he's Sirius. Even our MC has those moments where he just doesn't have the energy to deal with someone's drama.

And finally—the Room of Requirement! We're about to make full use of it, so stay tuned for some serious training!

---

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:
37. The First Blood
38. The Black Legacy
39. HP: The Boy Invisible
40. Theory, Tears, and Hidden Things
41. A Potter's Ambition
42. Pain as a Teacher
43. Blood and Runes
44. Blood, Sweat, and Special Editions

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[PatrikWriter]

The door opened with a soft creak, and we stepped inside eagerly.

The room looked exactly as Agnes had imagined it—she had clearly summoned it based on my description of a training classroom. It was a spacious, grand hall, at the end of which stood wooden mannequins with targets, their wooden arms twitching occasionally within a one-meter radius.

"Satisfied, Patrik?" Agnes asked me immediately, a wide grin on her face.

"Yes, Agnes, thank you! This is exactly what we needed for the privacy of our training and... more destructive magic," I replied enthusiastically. I walked up to one of the mannequins without delay.

"Os frangere!" I shouted, and a white-gray bolt slammed into the wood. A massive crack echoed through the room, and I watched as the mannequin's ribcage turned red upon impact.

"Os frangere!" I cast the spell again, this time aiming for the arm. There was a quieter snap, but the arm went limp instantly and also turned red.

"Perfect!" I blurted out. "Now, if only they could reset themselves..."

Before I could even finish the sentence, the mannequin was as good as new. The room, saturated with the castle's magic, listened to everything happening within its walls.

"God, if she were alive, I'd bring her flowers!" I thought to myself contentedly.

I began unbuttoning my robes; I planned to work up a sweat just in my T-shirt. Finally, I could practice real magic—I had been preparing for the Reducto curse for a very long time.

"What are you doing?!" Agnes snapped at me. "You can't be serious? We're going to celebrate! We'll train tomorrow."

"But Agn..."

"No buts! There's plenty of time for training. We'll play chess and that'll be that!" Agnes declared, immediately dragging me out of the Room of Requirement to the loud laughter of Tobias and Theodore.

I suppose I was the only "grind junkie" in our group, obsessed with constantly improving my magical power. She was right, though. I had made the same mistake in my previous world. When I was a kid, I used to be obese, but with puberty came the motivation to be attractive to girls. It hit me so hard that I spent two hours in the gym every day after school, tracking every single gram of macronutrients. I refused alcohol and had practically no social life outside of school, games, and the gym—well, except for the girls, whom I rotated like Pokémon on a GameBoy.

Then came the first serious relationship. That was followed by a break from other women because my girlfriend forbid them out of jealousy (naturally). After the gym, I pivoted to combat sports, but after the breakup, the carousel started spinning again—I was back to cycling through girls, going to parties, and catching up on missed drinking. Fortunately, that one loyal friend always stood by me, whether we were traveling the world or hitting the bars.

Then came another serious relationship, another break, and then more girls again. It was simply an unhealthy mindset; I only learned how to truly unwind after I turned twenty-five. I had a few acquaintances, but only with that one friend did I have a truly deep bond—until I found myself in this world. And so, I let Agnes pull me away without further protest.

---

We found ourselves in the Slytherin common room, which was almost full today. I certainly hadn't spent much time here all year, so it was interesting to see so many people gathered together. As soon as we entered, I felt curious eyes on me. Agnes, however, immediately ran off with a smile to fetch her luxury chess set, while I settled into a far corner with the boys.

It didn't take long before she was back. "Who's first?" she challenged immediately.

Tobias and I instantly looked elsewhere, lest she interpret our gaze as accepting the challenge. The only one still looking at her was Theodore... an obvious choice. They divided the pieces—Theodore took black, Agnes white.

Agnes made the first move without hesitation. Among us, she was the uncompromising champion, and I just enjoyed the relaxation. Over time, these people had truly grown on me. Tobias, sitting next to me, continued studying healing spells, though so far he hadn't had the chance to use even an Episkey on any of us.

The chess match got underway. Pieces clashed on the board, Theodore scowled over every move, and Agnes confidently rested her chin in her hand. Tobias quietly mumbled incantations from his book.

"I should write back to Black," I thought. "But then again... wouldn't it seem more serious if I didn't reply during the school year, but waited until sometime in the summer? He's useless to me for now anyway."

I also needed to thoroughly scout the Room of Requirement on my own. There could be seriously valuable things there, but mainly, I couldn't risk Agnes or the boys stumbling upon Voldemort's Horcrux, which was supposed to be hidden there.

Just then, Agnes made the deciding move. Her queen brutally crushed Theodore's knight.

"Checkmate, Theo," she declared triumphantly, leaning back in her chair.

"What I wouldn't give for a shisha and a can of beer right now," I must have muttered aloud, because Agnes looked at me with amusement, but with obvious curiosity in her eyes.

"What's a shisha, Patrik?" she asked, tilting her head.

Agnes wasn't the only one interested. Theo looked up from his lost game, and Tobias from his book.

"It's an interesting relaxation tool. You pull it into your lungs like tobacco," I explained.

Agnes made a face of disgust and blurted out, "Oh, like those cigars? My father smokes them and it stinks terribly. He's always blowing smoke dragons at me and laughing."

"Yes, something like that," I replied with an amused smile, though in my mind I was already wondering if there was a magical variant of a shisha. I had been to Muggle Turkey, but what about magical Turkey? That sounded interesting.

"My father and grandfather smoke cigars too, and drink Firewhisky with them. Every evening in the library," Theodore shared, but added immediately, "I think it stinks too, I don't understand how they can smoke it."

Tobias just nodded in agreement. "It's the same at our place."

I had to laugh. Kids.

"You'll figure it out in time. We'll look back on this conversation with pleasure one day, my friends," I remarked with a smile.

They gave me incredulous looks, as if they thought cigars and alcohol would bother them for life. But I knew better.

I noticed a scowling, tall, and slightly heavyset boy with an unremarkable, almost generic appearance walking toward us. He had no rings on his fingers or any jewelry to identify him, so he wasn't anyone I was supposed to know.

As he approached, I met his gaze. In his mind, envy, a sense of inferiority, and anger prevailed. I knew immediately that a conflict was coming—though I didn't know the reason, his emotions spoke clearly. But I kept smiling; this day was getting better by the minute.

I wasn't the only one who noticed him. Prefect Farley, as soon as she saw him heading our way, interrupted her conversation with a classmate and quickly moved to intercept him. The entire common room went dead silent, eyes fixed on him. Agnes shot me a worried look, to which I responded with only a reassuring smile.

The fact that he was three times my size meant absolutely nothing in the world of magic. Honestly, I wouldn't have been afraid to take him on physically either. When I was training jiu-jitsu, I was put in a submission many times by a guy half my weight—at least in my early days.

All these thoughts flashed through my head in a single second.

"You first-years should shut up and stop making noise," he started in an aggressive voice as soon as he reached us.

I knew he wanted a conflict, so I decided to give him one.

"Or what?" I asked with a mocking smile.

"You think you're someone, don't you, Rosier? Born with a silver spoon in your mouth and now you strut around arrogantly as if you own Hogwarts. I challenge you to a duel!" A satisfied glint appeared in his eyes. This was exactly what he wanted.

"Challenges are forbidden for first-years, you know the rules, Blanár!" Prefect Farley cut him off instantly.

"Did she always have such pretty eyes?" I thought. While the boy didn't interest me in the slightest, I was starting to notice her considerably more.

He took my silence for cowardice. He clenched his jaw aggressively and threw a final sentence at me as he turned to leave: "This is the only thing protecting you, coward. But next year, I'll deal with you."

That snapped me back to reality. I stopped ogling the prefect and focused on him. "Wait, wait, where are you going? I accept your challenge, of course," I said, standing up with a smile. "I didn't even know Slytherin challenges existed!"

"You don't have to accept this, Rosier. The rules are here for a reason and Professor Snape would certainly be against it," Farley stated dryly.

"No, no, I definitely accept. And Snape isn't here right now," I replied, heading toward the area designated for magic practice.

Blanár followed me with an enthusiastic grin. We stood opposite each other when a familiar voice suddenly rang out.

"Kick his ass, Patrik!"

Laughter rippled through the room at the encouragement. My opponent's smile froze on his lips, and he gripped his wand tightly out of nerves.

"Bless you, Agnes," I thought, summoning my wand into my hand. "Will you start us off, Farley?" I asked with a smile.

Again, I felt that familiar bloodlust. The excitement made the blood sing in my veins, and I had to focus hard to keep myself in check. I didn't expect Blanár to be a capable opponent. If he were, he would have challenged someone from his own year to earn real respect. As it was, his position was lost from the start: if he beat me, he only beat a first-year. If he lost, he would be disgraced before the entire house.

"Three, two, one... START!" Farley signaled.

"Conjunctivitis! Everte Statum! Os frangere!" He immediately unleashed a series of spells. He didn't wait for anything. I, however, gave him space; I wanted to see what kind of duelist he was, and honestly, I was feeling a bit cocky.

The purple beam of the blinding curse flew over my head. I barely pulled my shoulder back in time to avoid the orange jinx, and the bone-breaker missed me by a meter. "He's definitely taking this seriously," I thought contentedly. Aside from Everte Statum, the other spells were at the level of advanced Dark Arts.

He saw my smile and took it as a taunt, since I still hadn't returned fire.

"Everte Statum! Aculeus! Furnunculus!" I danced between the curses, enjoying myself more and more. I was loving it, happy and grinning. Blanár was red in the face with frustration and decided to escalate.

"Os frangere! Everte Statum!" There was a longer pause for concentration, and then: "Confringo!"

I dodged the first spells without a problem, but the massive fire-orange beam caught me off guard. I had no chance of dodging that, and what was worse—if the spell exploded near me, it could still seriously injure me. It was a deadly curse, though not as elegant or powerful as Reducto.

"Protego!" I immediately poured a large portion of my power into the shield. I didn't plan to underestimate this curse, and I was right.

The fire-orange beam didn't splash against the shield; it exploded against it with a loud bang. I felt the enormous pressure, but the shield held. I knew, however, that it wouldn't withstand another impact like that. I understood then why Dumbledore had to use Protego Horribilis against Grindelwald.

I burst into loud laughter out of pure joy, my voice filling the common room. To the others, I must have looked like a complete lunatic—an attempted murder right before everyone's eyes, and I was laughing happily in the middle of a fight for my life. Confringo could have killed me, but I didn't perceive it as a threat yet. I had magical power to spare, my physical condition was enough for dodging, and honestly... I had missed fighting incredibly. Constant training without risk was just boring.

Blanár was breathing heavily; Confringo had taken its toll, but I certainly didn't plan on ending things so soon.

"Is that all? Come on, come on, show me more," I taunted him with a smile.

He glared at me with pure hatred but continued. "Everte Statum! Expelliarmus!" While I had to leap away from the orange beam, the red jet of the Disarming Charm flew meters away from me. Fatigue was visibly ruining his aim.

"Oh, come on. You didn't have that silver spoon in your mouth, so show me your real power!"

Desperately, he pressed on: "Os frangere! Conjunctivitis!"

"Protego!" My shield only pulsed briefly with blue light as both the white-gray and purple curses simply shattered against it.

"I hope that's not all after all that talk," I continued teasing with feigned disappointment.

I could see how hard he was struggling to keep his hatred under control. In his eyes, a new, cold determination to win suddenly appeared.

"Yes, exactly. Fight," I thought with satisfaction.

"Flipendo! Everte Statum! Expelliarmus!" he fired off a focused combination of weaker spells in quick succession.

"Protego!" I deflected them and watched as they shattered against my shield.

Blanár, however, didn't lose his resolve; I saw him thinking hard, trying to come up with a strategy. I didn't know what he was trying to plan—Confringo at the start of the duel had visibly exhausted him. It wasn't a spell he could just toss around one after another.

"Well, Confringo wasn't exactly the best choice, was it? You don't have much energy left," I asked amusedly, and immediately sent my own spell: "Everte Statum!"

He didn't expect it. The orange beam struck him hard in the chest and threw him back several meters, flipping him over several times. I gave him time as he stood up with a wheeze. Had I knocked the wind out of him?

As soon as he was up, he began casting desperately: "Everte Statum! Flipendo! Petrificus Totalus! Aculeus!"

I dodged him with a smile, succeeding until the moment he shouted another one: "Diffindo!" Just as I was dodging a purple beam, the red jet of the Severing Charm hit my right shoulder. I felt a stinging pain, and a few drops of my blood hit the floor. But that was all—he was losing strength and couldn't put enough magic into his fifth spell in a rapid sequence.

I heard a frightened gasp from the direction where Agnes was sitting. While Blanár flashed a triumphant smile, I didn't lose mine. With total calm, I touched the wound on my shoulder. It wasn't deep—just a slight, long cut. Nothing serious, just a superficial injury.

"First blood is yours," I nodded with an appreciative smile. "I underestimated you."

He saw that things were going south when I raised my wand as if nothing had happened, even though the injured shoulder should have hindered my movement. I was right-handed, but the pain was too faint to stop me from continuing.

Blanár's smile froze completely. I decided to crush him once and for all, and he knew what was coming.

"Fulmino!" I yelled.

"Terra!" he reacted in panic.

A massive bolt of lightning erupted from my wand, while the ground rose before him into a thick wall. He didn't even try to attack; he was just trying to survive. With a loud crack and a thud, my lightning slammed into his wall. His element held, but I wasn't finished. I decided to try for the first time a spell I had seen in Dumbledore's memory against Grindelwald.

"Bombarda!"

The gray beam literally blew his earthen wall to pieces.

"Protego!" I shouted immediately, and other students in the common room joined in to protect themselves from the flying debris. Chunks of rock and dirt landed all around along with swirling dust.

Blanár wasn't so lucky—the exploding earth swept him off his feet, and his cry of pain rang through the room.

I walked toward him while he struggled to his feet with a groan. I heard him mumbling quietly: "Get up, get up. You're better than them. Don't give up. Your blood is just as good as theirs. Don't be weak. Fight."

He was already on one knee, his legs shaking from the strain. When I walked up to him, he was still kneeling—kneeling before me, defeated.

When he looked up, he knew he had lost. He stared at me with bitter eyes, expecting his punishment. I couldn't help but smile. That fight had made my day. I honestly liked his determination and the fact that he didn't give up. I didn't, however, like his fixation on heritage. Blood didn't matter; power did.

The entire common room waited in silence and tension to see what I would do. I didn't have to think long. I grabbed his hand and pulled him sharply to his feet. He stared down at me from his height with a surprised gasp, as if he couldn't believe what I had just done.

"You are certainly powerful, Blanár. Great duel, thank you," I thanked him loudly into the tomb-like silence of the common room. A feeling of happiness and power swirled within me. "I don't know who you are or what your story is," I continued amusedly. "But the last Dark Lord was a half-blood. So you still have hope of becoming a powerful wizard. Power isn't in the blood; power just is."

I felt the jaws of everyone else in the room literally drop. Not everyone knew the truth about Voldemort. Blanár stared at me in silence, as if seeing me for the first time. One last time, I patted him on the shoulder with a smile and headed toward my friends. The common room watched me, completely frozen.

As soon as I reached them, Tobias pulled out his wand with a smile, ready to treat my shoulder. But he didn't even get to cast a spell before Draco stepped toward us with an unusually serious expression on his face.

"We need to talk, cousin."

---

Author's note:

Agnes is a tough boss and she wants to unwind, which is something our MC should do as well.

A new character has appeared, and he will have his own little story. Hogwarts is a huge school and it was impossible for Slytherin to be composed only of pure-bloods. That's how stories like this one come to be... and our MC crushed him, showing his thirst for combat once again.

By the way, Blanár actually managed to surprise with his magic.

Did any of you expect him to lift his opponent back to his feet, or were you expecting a cruel curse? Tobias is glad he can finally try his hand at healing, and what the hell does Draco want?

---

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:
38. The Black Legacy
39. HP: The Boy Invisible
40. Theory, Tears, and Hidden Things
41. A Potter's Ambition
42. Pain as a Teacher
43. Blood and Runes
44. Blood, Sweat, and Special Editions
45. Precision of Water, Chaos of Rage

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