With the portkey provided by Durmstrang's contact office in the German Ministry of Magic, Vinda and Corvus landed on the familiar frozen grounds of the institute. The pull of the portkey faded, and Corvus straightened, inhaling deeply. The air here was sharp, bracing, the kind of crisp cold that cut like a blade yet awakened every sense. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, savoring it. Durmstrang always carried the scent of snow, iron, and the faint whisper of ancient wards humming under the ice. It was home in ways Hogwarts could never be.
"You missed the place, Corvus?" Vinda asked, her voice low, her lips curling into the faintest hint of amusement. Her fur lined cloak rippled in the wind, dark against the pale snow.
"Yes, Aunt Vinda," he replied simply, inclining his head with measured respect. His eyes lingered on the jagged cliffs behind the fortress.
"Then let us proceed. Professors Greengrass, Veyra, and I will expect your demonstrations of advancement in our respective subjects. For your sake, my dear, I sincerely hope you did not waste your time playing teacher in that… Hogwarts." Even the name itself sounded sour from her mouth, as though it carried a distaste she could not swallow. Her breath plumed in the air, sharp as her tone.
Corvus only smirked faintly. He was not worried. Replicating the Hogwarts professors had only refined his abilities. Through his own comprehension and replicated experiences of dozens of professors on many fields, he had gone further. He had progress to show and Durmstrang's cold demanded nothing less than proof carved in brilliance.
For Dark Arts, he had devised a new curse. A cruel evolution of Sectumsempra. By weaving its principle together with the Bloodletting and Blood Boiling Hex, he had created something sharper, deadlier, and harder to counter. Sanguisenctum. The wand movement was deceptively simple. A forward jab followed by a subtle twist to the left, the motion slicing through air like a blade. When unleashed, it could carve through flesh and spirit alike, and the wounds bled with heated blood rushing out as though the veins themselves had turned against the victim. Its counter curse, if applied in time can be effective to a degree. It's movement required raising the wand tip sharply while twisting right, halting the hemorrhage and blood boiling. Yet even then, the victim would still need doses of Essence of Dittany and Blood Replenishing Potions to survive. Corvus, as its creator, could cast it silently. To him, it flowed as natural as breathing. An extension of will sharpened into cruelty.
On Potions, he had labored over something entirely new. A remedy for patients in magical coma and catatonic states. A brew he named Aetherveil Serum. It demanded purity, hence a silver cauldron was required. He had perfected the sequence. Powdered splinters of Rowan wood to steady the mind, Valerian Root to calm the nerves, Gingko Leaves to sharpen recall, Mooncalf tears to bind memory to emotion, and mistletoe berries to coax the subconscious awake. He had also incorporated crushed chamomile blossoms for serenity, powdered unicorn horn shavings for clarity, and a drop of phoenix tear for harmony between body and spirit. Though in his casem his own tears was working better. The potion should be brewed under fullmoon, After adding the tear the brew to be stirred nine times clockwise, then seven counter. The potion shimmered faintly silver blue when brewed correctly, like moonlight trapped in liquid form, its aroma carrying hints of dew. He knew if it worked as intended, it might restore those broken by the darkest curses.
For Professor Veyra, he would present something more.. brutal. A charm he had shaped in long nights of study. Sanguis Frigeo. It froze the victim's body on the skin level, locking muscles and limbs in a vice of ice, while at the same time boiling their blood within hearth, turning the very blood of the victim into agony. The incantation required steady, focused intent. The wand movement, a horizontal slash across the air, followed by a spiraling twist downward. He had balanced the duality of fire and frost within one spell, shaping a weapon of paradox. It was no different from the killing curse. Green light of the killing curse was mercy, Sanguis Frigeo on the other hand was anguish. Pure agony.
As the black fortress of Durmstrang loomed ahead, its towers rising from ice and stone, Corvus stepped forward. The jagged battlements seemed to glow faintly in the daylight, an eternal sentinel of tradition and power. The cold here was not a hindrance but a forge, it would temper him further, hardening him as much as his magic.
--
Corvus stepped into his chambers, a faint smile tugging at his lips as the familiar scent of cold stone and old magic greeted him. It had been nearly five months since he had last stood here. His mind drifted briefly to his final night before leaving. An evening spent with Naledi and Yelena, where magic and pleasure had been woven together in a heady tapestry. Hogwarts, by comparison, had been barren. Not a single ritual of power and always the hawk like gazes of Dumbledore and McGonagall upon him. He doubted either would applaud if he began hunting the virgins of the upper years for ..personal gain.
He shook off the thought, settling into the room. Umbra's perch was placed near the window, while Viridith's enchanted terrarium was positioned opposite the main door, doubling as a silent guardian. For the next two weeks, Durmstrang would once again be his home. A chance to hone himself and reclaim the rhythm of advancement. Here, he would have room to breathe and to grow.
Gathering his robes neatly, he called for Tibby to take care of the rest and left to collect his schedule and greet his professors. In the halls, eyes followed him. Some belonged to mastery students, others to upper years, many of whom let their gazes linger longer than polite. The tournament in Spain still echoed in Durmstrang's walls. The young Black had returned not as a student of mastery classes alone, but as a champion. When he passed, hushed voices rose and died, like waves on cold shores.
At the door of Professor Greengrass' class, he encountered Yelena Markova. She leaned against the frame, her Belarusian lilt thick as she purred, "Corvus." Her lips brushed his cheek in greeting, light as a feather. He returned the gesture with a hand on her shoulder and a quiet, "Yelena."
"Welcome back," she said warmly. "Your name has been whispered often in your absence." She leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear. "There are friends who wish to meet the young champion. I assured them, they would not be disappointed."
Corvus gave a soft chuckle. "It would be terribly rude of me to keep such friends waiting."
Her smile widened, mischievous. "Later, then." Another kiss to his cheek, and she glided down the corridor, her presence leaving a faint perfume of temptation in her wake.
Corvus composed himself, knocked, and entered at the invitation of Professor Horatio Greengrass. The older man glanced up from a row of neatly arranged vials. "Welcome back, Black. I was expecting you tomorrow," he said with a note of curiosity. "I look forward to seeing what you have brought to convince me you're on the right track mastering the craft."
Corvus inclined his head respectfully. Unlike a certain dungeon bat in Britain, Horatio Greengrass was a true teacher. A master who found joy in shaping eager minds. "I have come prepared, Professor," he replied, producing a roll of parchment and a vial filled with a shimmering, silver blue liquid. "Aetherveil Serum. I thought you might prefer to examine it before tomorrow."
Greengrass' eyes sharpened as he took the parchments and vial. He read silently, lips pursing, then held the vial up to the light. The liquid glimmered faintly, catching the glow of the lanterns. He swirled it gently before asking, "Have you tested it?"
"Not yet," Corvus answered evenly.
"I see. Do you have more at the ready?" Greengrass asked and placed the vial down carefully. Upon Corvus' nod, "Tomorrow we travel to Germany. To Eirheim, Heilhaus der Runenwacht. It is the largest hospital in Central Europe. There, we will seek consent from families of patients. If your serum performs as its process suggests, your name will be written in golden letters in the history of Healing magic. I will declare you a Master." He stood and clasped Corvus' shoulder firmly. "Good work, Black."
Corvus inclined his head again. "Thank you, Professor." He turned to leave, only to pause when Greengrass added, "I heard you and that relic of your House performed Ritus Vernalis with Greengrass of Britain. Be wary of Cyrus Greengrass, Corvus. Our British kin abandoned tradition for trade long ago. They are not Potioneers and Herbalists like the rest of the branches. Keep it in mind."
Corvus gave a wry smile. "I will remember, Professor."
"The only concern left is the phoenix tear," Greengrass muttered. "I have none at hand."
Corvus' smile deepened. "I do, Professor. I'll send it with Umbra."
The older man's brows rose. "Good, good. Do so and do not be late tomorrow. We leave after breakfast" He waved Corvus off, already reaching for his instruments.
Back in his chambers, Corvus plucked seven crystal vials from his desk and, with careful precision, filled each with a single drop of the tears he had replicated from Fawkes. Their potency thrummed, brighter and more alive than natural. Most likely a gift of his own magical strength. Umbra cawed as Corvus tied the bundle to his leg. "To Professor Greengrass," he instructed softly.
The raven beat his wings once and soared into the evening sky, carrying with him a fragment of Corvus' hidden arsenal.
--
Corvus renewed the runes beneath his bed, just so he was prepared. Afterwards he sat down and started to study Sanguis Frigeo. Magic, to him, was an endless possibility and he relished every moment of it. Whether it was studying, teaching, or devising new methods to devastate his future enemies.. A soft knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts. An amused smirk curled at his lips. He rose and opened the door, only to find Yelena waiting, her storm grey eyes glinting with mischief. He stepped aside, inviting her in, though inwardly he wondered why she had come alone.
She glided past him with a deliberate sway of her hips, her beauty undeniable, long legs carrying her with feline grace, her golden hair cascading down her back in loose waves, pale skin flushed with warmth from the corridor's chill. Corvus followed her into his chambers, his curiosity deepening. Without pause, she continued into his bedchamber as though she owned it. There, with her back still to him, she let her robes slide from her shoulders. They pooled at her feet, revealing that she wore nothing beneath. The smooth curve of her spine and the fullness of her form were laid bare for his eyes alone.
Corvus approached slowly, brushing her silken hair aside to bare her neck. He pressed his lips to her skin, his kisses soft at first, then firmer, as his hands roamed her body with knowing intent. Yelena tilted her head to give him better access, a breathless moan slipping from her lips. He remembered how she had melted under his touch the last time and her sharp little gasps confirmed she hadn't forgotten either. Between sighs she whispered, "My friends will arrive after two hours, Corvus… but I missed you too much to share you yet. For these hours, you are mine alone."
True to her word, Yelena kept him entirely to herself, greedy and insatiable, not allowing him a moment of rest. Only when her strength was spent and her body shivered with exhaustion did she release him. Corvus left her sprawled across his bed, flushed and glowing, a satisfied smile lingering on her cherry red lips. She looked like a goddess at repose, her chest rising and falling gently as she drifted into a languid half sleep.
He conjured a scalpel thin stream of water with a silent Aguamenti, then layered it with a light Incendio to bring it to the perfect warmth. He showered quickly, the warm stream cascading over him, cleansing away the heat of their union. Steam curled into the air as he dried himself. Just as he reached for his robes, another knock echoed softly from the door. Corvus smirked faintly to himself. It seemed the night was only just beginning and promised to be a long and pleasurable one. Welcome back he murmured to himself while stepping towards his door.