A Rosier Legacy (HP AU M-SI)

[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...

---

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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:
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

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

 

[sergey54321060]

"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?"

Click to shrink...

Eh, wasn't his plan to enslave/kill all muggles or smth retarded like that? I'd say no matter how big of a fuck up Dumbles is, he's still better than Grindewald, who is literally magic Hitler.

 

[PatrikWriter]

Eh, wasn't his plan to enslave/kill all muggles or smth retarded like that? I'd say no matter how big of a fuck up Dumbles is, he's still better than Grindewald, who is literally magic Hitler.

Click to shrink...

Not really—you might have been reading some weird fanfiction! Grindelwald wanted to establish wizarding dominance to stop Muggle wars, end the Statute of Secrecy so wizards wouldn't have to hide anymore, and prevent the chaos caused by Muggles.

Personally, I think he was justified in every step... He didn't plan any genocide or enslavement.

 

[Vanbers]

Eh, wasn't his plan to enslave/kill all muggles or smth retarded like that? I'd say no matter how big of a fuck up Dumbles is, he's still better than Grindewald, who is literally magic Hitler.

Click to shrink...

The core of Grindelwald's ideals, iirc, was 'Muggles are fucking crazy, and we shouldn't trust our future to them being reasonable'. He was a Magic-Supremacist, but I don't really remember him being super gung-ho about 'kill all muggle's or 'put all the muggles in camps' or so on. I'm pretty sure he wanted to take over the world, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't full-on a wizard nazi.

His reputation as 'magic hitler' wasn't from any actual policies or ideals, but rather because he was the big bad of the wizarding world at the same time hitler was the big bad of the muggle world, so people outside the series conflate the two since there used to not be much on him.

At least, from what I remember, I could be wrong. But I'm pretty sure 'magic hitler' is a fanfic interpretation, or at least a fanon one.

 

[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.

 

[sergey54321060]

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).

Click to shrink...

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.

Click to shrink...

So, in theory, he only needs to master five spells for a viable fighting style? Expiliarmus to disarm his opponents(and effectively silence them since nobody is trained to fight without wands), wandless Accio in case he gets disarmed himself, Stupefy or Diffindo to finish them depending on situation, and Protego to, well, protect himself from pretty much anything they can throw at him, with the only exception being Avada Kedavra.
Wait, actually, he doesn't even need to master diffindo or stupefy, just basic proficiency with them would be more than enough as his opponents will be all but helpless by the time he uses them. Man, I've spent years mocking Harry and his extremely unimaginative fighting style, but he really never needed more than basic shit, huh?

 

[PatrikWriter]

So, in theory, he only needs to master five spells for a viable fighting style? Expiliarmus to disarm his opponents(and effectively silence them since nobody is trained to fight without wands), wandless Accio in case he gets disarmed himself, Stupefy or Diffindo to finish them depending on situation, and Protego to, well, protect himself from pretty much anything they can throw at him, with the only exception being Avada Kedavra.
Wait, actually, he doesn't even need to master diffindo or stupefy, just basic proficiency with them would be more than enough as his opponents will be all but helpless by the time he uses them. Man, I've spent years mocking Harry and his extremely unimaginative fighting style, but he really never needed more than basic shit, huh?

Click to shrink...

If you're talking about canon, then yeah, that basic stuff was more than enough for Harry.

While the Killing Curse is incredibly powerful, it can be dodged with good reflexes or blocked using Transfiguration. However, in our story, those basics definitely won't cut it.

For example: our MC knows Protego. But if Grindelwald hit him with a Reducto like the one he aimed at Dumbledore, there would be nothing left of our MC. Every shield has a limit on how much it can be overpowered. That's why you need high-level magic like Horribilis or Aegis Aurum. You also have to consider Anti-Transfiguration, Area-of-Effect spells, or Bombarda. Everything has a magical 'cost.'

Combat here is like boxing—you want to conserve energy, land a hit, and avoid getting hit. I'm not going to fire an exhausting Avada at the start of a duel when the enemy is fresh and can easily dodge it.

More Dark Arts spells are coming, plenty of them... but at the end of the day, dead is dead. Whether it's a Reducto that vaporizes you, a Confringo that sends limbs flying, or a curse that rips you open from the chest down, the result is the same.

Powerful curse = Powerful shield. Weak curse = Weak shield. And for the titans? That's where the elements come in.

 

[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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[sergey54321060]

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.

Click to shrink...

Destroying them means they can't drain concentration from the caster anymore, so wouldn't it be better to wash them away without breaking? That way they won't be in a position to hurt you while still using up a limited resource. I suppose freezing them would be even better for this purpose, but his opponent will probably stop animating them sooner in that case

 

[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.

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

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

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

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

 

[sergey54321060]

Nice chapter, but if you wanted us to feel sympathy towards that "underdog", then making him pick on firsties is certainly... a choice.

"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."

Click to shrink...

Probably not the wisest thing to say lol.