Anduin took the heavy satchel from Rozier's trembling hands and carefully set it on the dusty cistern top. He unlatched the leather clasp and pulled out the contents, his eyes immediately lighting up with genuine, intellectual hunger. There were four volumes, each bound in aged, reinforced leather, clearly handled by generations of pureblood scholars.
Two of the books were dedicated to Dark Arts applications, detailing rituals and spell modifications rarely found outside the most restricted family libraries. A third was an arcane Potions Compendium, listing highly controlled and dangerous brews.
But the crown jewel, to Anduin's mind, was the fourth: a Rune Atlas and Combination Codex, which contained formulas for rare, complex, and highly effective runic arrays that seemed to cross-reference multiple magical disciplines—the very knowledge he needed for his work on the Rune Disk.
"Four books, Randall," Anduin stated, his voice now devoid of its prior mocking cheer, replaced by a cold, transactional tone. He flipped open the Rune Atlas to an etching of a layered Soul-Anchor Rune. "These are exceptionally high-value knowledge assets. They far exceed the usual gold standard for a single month's protection fee."
Rozier swallowed hard, relieved he hadn't been immediately struck down. "They're copies from the hidden family archive. The Dark Arts sections are almost unique—they should be worth something..."
"Indeed," Anduin interrupted, closing the book with a soft thud. "These four volumes will cover the next four months of your protection fee. I require access to them long enough to make permanent copies. I will then return the originals to you. This is a considerable bargain, Randall. I'm giving you a quarter-year of security in exchange for knowledge I would have had to steal myself. Would you call that merciful?"
Rozier, utterly relieved that the terror was postponed for four months, nodded frantically. "Yes, Anduin. Thank you. I agree completely."
"Good." Anduin put the books back into the satchel. "Now, to business outside of finance. Travers—has he been seeking trouble for me lately? I haven't exactly been visible at the castle, but I know how that fool operates. Has he recovered from his afternoon spent lying unconscious in the owl house?"
"He's been trying, but you're never where he expects you," Rozier replied, his honesty driven by pure self-interest.
"He can't track your movements between classes. Lately, he's been spending all his time with Wilkes and Yaxley. They're obsessed with escalating their feud with the Gryffindors—planning some large-scale prank to gain favor with older students and certain patrons. They've seemingly forgotten about you for the time being."
Anduin dismissed the thought of Gryffindor vs. Slytherin nonsense. He had initially feared their childhood squabble would turn into a serious, bloody brawl and had even considered a minor intervention to protect Charles. But observing them, he realized their 'feud' was little more than a competition of petty, juvenile sabotage, unworthy of his attention.
"Excellent, Rozier. You continue to be a valuable asset," Anduin stated, making a mental note that his absence had proven to be the most effective security measure. "Do your duty, maintain your discretion, and if you encounter any trouble—any hint of a complication—you inform me first. Your protection fee is not wasted; I protect my investments."
Rozier, desperate for the encounter to end, mumbled a string of assurances and quickly fled the bathroom, leaving Anduin alone with his spoils.
Anduin returned to his quiet annex next to Hagrid's hut, the silence far preferable to the clamor of the dungeons. He immediately focused on the two Dark Arts books. He was correct: the knowledge was foundational. It confirmed his suspicion that the power of these ancient families lay not just in wealth, but in their monopolization of advanced magical theory.
The Potions Compendium quickly drew his attention. It contained the complete, detailed recipe for the infamous Evil Dragon Berserk Essence, more commonly known as the Berserk Potion.
The description was chilling. Primarily brewed using the highly unstable blood of an antagonistic Dragon species, the potion was laced with multiple toxic substances which, when combined in the alchemical process, created a catastrophic magical feedback loop upon consumption. The effects were instantaneous and terrifying:
Magical Fortitude: A massive, temporary increase in resistance to all incoming spells and physical damage.
Magical Enhancement: A profound, but uncontrolled, spike in the drinker's raw magical output and manipulation ability.
Frenzy: The drinker is plunged into a state of uncontrollable, aggressive madness, losing all semblance of reason, strategy, or self-control.
The side effects were even more catastrophic: after the brief, violent high, the victim suffered severe magical and physical exhaustion, often resulting in massive hemorrhaging and, in a high percentage of cases, permanent neurological damage and madness.
"No wonder Evan Rozier used this reckless drug in the duel against Travers," Anduin mused, a cynical smile touching his lips. "To dare to drink such an unbalanced potion is not bravery, but profound arrogance mixed with suicidal recklessness. He prioritized a fleeting, uncontrolled spike of raw power over the preservation of his own mind. A dark reflection of the kind of wizard the Dark Lord creates."
He also found tantalizing, if fragmented, information on bloodline magic in the second Dark Arts volume—rituals and specialized Charms that could only be cast by those with specific ancestral magical traits, often involving the manipulation of bone, ash, or natal relics. This knowledge was purely theoretical for him now, but it gave him a critical roadmap for future research into magical inheritance and genetic theory.
Before beginning his deep analysis, Anduin needed to secure the knowledge. Direct copying with a standard Geminio (Copying Charm) was temporary; the duplicated text would fade once the caster stopped actively maintaining the spell.
For permanent replication, he needed the specialized process of the Text Copying Charm (Scribio Perpetua), which required both magical execution and a perfect physical base.
He prepared high-quality blank parchment and a solution of magical ink he'd purchased in London. Then, he methodically began the process, placing the original book side-by-side with his blank page.
The Scribio Perpetua Charm was delicate: it required the caster to channel a low, sustained current of magic into the quill, imprinting the source text's structure and intent onto the ink as it wrote. This process required intense focus and the ability to maintain a perfectly steady magical flow for hours—an excellent exercise in magical endurance that complemented his Occlumency training.
He spent the rest of the evening copying, the monotonous work allowing his mind to simultaneously engage in deep internal review. He realized the necessity of accelerating his study of Curse Breaking and Runic Warding.
If books like The Sorcerer's Sonnets existed—books that could permanently alter a person's existence with a single reading—he needed the theoretical tools to neutralize such magical contamination. Knowledge was the only shield against the specialized terrors of the magical world.
With the books copied and Rozier's originals safely tucked away, Anduin returned to his current runic obsession: Spell Modification using the Rune Disk.
He was using the disk to project and layer the Force Dissipation Rune (the core of the Shield Charm) with the Compression Rune and the Kinetic Storage Rune.
His goal was the Barrier Orb: a Shield Charm compressed into a fist-sized, dense sphere. He had succeeded in compression and control—the orb, when deployed, created a much smaller but far more rigid and durable barrier than a standard, area-of-effect shield.
Now, he was investigating the offensive application.
"If the Kinetic Storage Rune can contain the impact energy absorbed by the Force Dissipation Rune," Anduin wrote in his journal, etching the diagram into the sensitive parchment, "and the Compression Rune holds the entire structure in a compressed state, then upon a rapid, controlled release—a magical rupture of the Compression matrix—the stored kinetic and latent magical energy should be expelled explosively."
He spent hours over the Rune Disk, manipulating the digital projections of the runes, mentally calculating the necessary Destabilization Sequence—the precise, catastrophic failure of the compression layer—needed to turn a pure defense into a high-impact offensive detonation. This was slow, tedious, yet exhilarating theoretical work, pushing the boundaries of what a first-year student should even attempt to conceptualize.
Two weeks of relentless, solitary study passed.
It was Monday afternoon, during Transfiguration class. Professor McGonagall, standing ramrod straight and delivering a lecture with crisp, unwavering authority, was detailing the advanced differences between the Transfiguration Charm (changing a whole object's nature) and the Transmutation Charm (a partial or structural change).
"To summarize," Anduin scribbled in his notebook, "Transfiguration is changing a teakettle to a cat. Transmutation is changing a teakettle's spout into a cat's paw."
"That concludes our theoretical discussion," Professor McGonagall announced, tapping her wand sharply on the desk. "For next lesson, you will all attempt to turn a simple mouse into a functional snuffbox. Be aware, this complex piece of transmutation involves structural analysis, material conversion, and the maintenance of a fixed form—it often figures into the final examination."
Anduin shook his head slightly, a faint smile touching his lips. McGonagall's blunt "leak" of the exam subject was her subtle way of ensuring diligent preparation—a uniquely pragmatic form of professorial encouragement.
As the other students gathered their things and filed out, the sharp, Scottish voice called out, "Mr. Snape. A moment, please."
Once the classroom was empty save for the two of them, McGonagall's severe expression softened slightly, becoming laced with a rare, worried concern.
"Anduin," she began, her tone serious. "Headmaster Dumbledore requires your presence. He wishes to speak with you immediately."
Anduin's heart gave a quick, anticipatory thump. The Ministry reward, perhaps? Or a debriefing about the Death Eaters? He smiled, instantly agreeable. "Yes, Professor McGonagall. I'll head up immediately."
McGonagall stepped closer, lowering her voice. "The password to the Headmaster's office is 'Squeaky Honeybee.'" She paused, her gaze steady and grave.
"Anduin, I must speak plainly. I have heard the rumors—confirmed ones—of your involvement over the Christmas break. Your bravery is commendable, especially considering your youth, but I must remind you as your Head of House and your professor: this is not a child's game. Intervening in the affairs of dark wizards is something a wizard of your age should never attempt. The risk is disproportionate."
Her concern was palpable, a maternal anxiety that contrasted sharply with her usual strict demeanor.
Anduin met her gaze, his expression calm and utterly rational, the result of two weeks of intense self-control. "Thank you for the warning, Professor. I understand your concern. However, I didn't interfere with the danger; the danger was brought to my door." He held her gaze steadily. "When a threat is imminent, Professor, passivity guarantees doom. Calmness, preparation, and determined engagement are the only ways to guarantee self-preservation."
McGonagall studied the cool, logical conviction in his eyes—a maturity that was unnerving in a first-year. She recognized the immovable will of a dedicated Slytherin, tempered by a cold rationale that went far beyond ambition.
She sighed, conceding the point with a slight, reluctant dip of her head. "Very well, Anduin. Go on. Dumbledore is waiting."
Anduin nodded his thanks, slinging his bag—containing his Rune Disk and his copies of Dark Magic theory—over his shoulder. He left the classroom, heading for the dizzying spiral staircase that led to the summit of the castle and the Headmaster's office. He was curious to know what kind of Squeaky Honeybee awaited him at the top.