I am terribly sorry that i have disappeared for such a long time.
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I woke up to the pleasant warmth radiating from Isolde, who was curled against me. I ran my hand gently over her beautiful form and allowed myself to sink back into a relaxed state. She remained asleep for a while longer, but eventually stirred at my movements.
"Good morning," I said, a soft smile touching my lips.
Isolde blushed. It seemed she remembered the events of the previous night—and how things had ended.
"I passed out so quickly last night," she admitted, clearly embarrassed. She didn't seem entirely comfortable discussing it, but she made the effort nonetheless.
"It's fine," I chuckled. "First time, strong emotions... You'll have plenty of chances to prove you're not all sugar and fluff."
"Tsk," she pouted. "You could've said that more gently."
When we returned to the house, Hermione and Fleur immediately whisked Isolde away for some secretive girl talk. I, on the other hand, called Maria over to give her a few instructions.
"My lord," she greeted. "What are your orders?"
"I need you to go to the island of Cyprus," I said calmly. "Scout the situation there. But… be extremely cautious. You might encounter some rather unusual and unexpected creatures."
"Understood," the demoness nodded. "Is there any specific information you're looking for? Or anything I should focus on?"
"There are wizards there who take the names of ancient gods," I replied evenly. I conveyed the rest of the relevant details to her through our mental link—knowledge I retained from my last visit to the island.
"I see," she said, nodding again as she absorbed the information. "I'll proceed with great care."
I handed her a few artifacts and potions that might aid her in various situations, along with some additional magical knowledge, just in case.
Meanwhile, I introduced the girls to Narcissa—at least those who hadn't met her yet. Hermione and Isolde were already familiar with the former Malfoy, but Fleur was not. The meeting wasn't entirely smooth, but my girls were not too harsh. Once Narcissa explained how she'd ended up in her current predicament, the tension quickly melted away.
"So you're going to help her?" Hermione asked.
"Hermione," I sighed, "I'm a powerful wizard, no doubt about that. But I'm not all-powerful. I can't solve problems like this with a snap of my fingers."
"But teacher, you always said nothing is impossible with magic," she replied, using her usual tone of gentle persuasion.
"And I still believe that," I said with a chuckle. "But right now, I don't have a spell that can heal him. I've already promised to do everything I can—and that means exactly what it sounds like. I'll give it my absolute best."
Those last words carried more weight than I had intended—more emotion than I usually allowed to show.
"Alright, alright," Hermione said. "I get it."
Since I had finished several of my own tasks, it was time to return to Beauxbatons and catch up on school matters. Two and a half months without my direct oversight could easily have led to disorder.
But as it turned out, that wasn't the case. When I returned and began reviewing the documents, I discovered that Denad, my deputy, had managed everything exceptionally well. The students had followed the instructions I'd left before my departure, and all the paperwork and reports were perfectly organized, neatly sorted by importance and impact on school life.
Fleur and Hermione returned to their studies, since it wouldn't be right to deprive them of the chance to learn under other teachers' guidance.
"What else of interest has been happening at the school, Denad?" I asked.
He paused to think.
"To be honest, almost nothing at all," he admitted with a faint exhale. "Ever since Otton the Sixth departed for his eternal rest, the students have been unusually careful with one another. Not a single case of bullying or mistreatment has occurred."
"That's wonderful," I said with satisfaction.
"Yes, it is," the wizard agreed. "But I'd like to discuss a few matters regarding the curriculum, Headmaster."
"Of course," I replied. "What's on your mind?"
"I'd like to propose adding several new subjects for the students," Denad said.
Now that was interesting.
"And which subjects?" I asked.
"Advanced Potions, Alchemy, and Artificery. In addition, I believe it would be wise to introduce Theory of Magic."
I paused, considering the suggestion. It was a solid idea—one that could deepen the students' understanding of magic and the magical arts.
"Give me your reasons," I told him.
"First, it would keep students productively occupied instead of wasting free time on pointless distractions. Second, Beauxbatons would graduate students far better prepared than before, which would raise the school's ranking even higher—perhaps even to the very top."
I had nearly forgotten there was a ranking competition between schools. Lately, my mind had been occupied with far more pressing matters. In principle, I wasn't opposed to the idea, but we needed to calculate how much extra time these new classes would add to the curriculum. Balance had to be maintained.
"How much time would the students need to at least reach a beginner's level in these disciplines?" I asked, moving to the next important question.
"Well…" he drew out thoughtfully. "I think each subject would require about a semester, maybe a little more."
"How much exactly?" I pressed. "By my quick mental math, that would extend their studies by at least two extra semesters. Do you think it's worth it?"
"I believe so," the man nodded. "But we don't necessarily need to add an entire year. We could shorten their long summer breaks instead."
"You think the students will accept that?"
"I doubt it," Denad sighed. "But since when has that been our main concern? These subjects don't need to start in the first year. I'd recommend introducing them in the fifth year, when the students are older and more mature."
"Fair enough," I nodded. "But I'll need a full curriculum along with a project-plan breakdown. I want to know the costs, the materials required to teach these subjects properly, and a shortlist of potential instructors."
"Of course," the wizard replied with a bright smile. "I'll prepare everything as quickly as possible."
"I'll be waiting."
With that, Denad left my office, and I returned to the paperwork. Thanks to his help, working through the documents was effortless. Within two weeks, I had completed everything. And with the winter holidays approaching, I had no reason to worry further.
While still at the school, I turned to other matters—chief among them, planning my fortress in Corsica. I sent requests to several architects, asking for draft designs. One of my priorities was to create a space perfectly suited for practicing diverse forms of magic, while ensuring the architecture itself was striking enough to captivate anyone who looked upon it. The budget was practically unlimited.
In the commission, I included one special condition: certain rooms were to remain unnamed. Those, I intended to reserve for particularly dark branches of magic.
Although I already possessed a solid foundation in architecture and its connection to magic, I wanted to see what ideas others might bring forward.
Alongside the fortress, I envisioned a facility for teaching talented wizards after graduation. That commission, however, I decided to postpone until later.
When the holidays began, the students departed home with their teachers. I too left for the holidays, accompanied by Hermione and Fleur. Isolde was already waiting for us there, as was Narcissa.
Meanwhile, Maria had just arrived on the island and begun to settle in. She had already uncovered intriguing details about the magical society there. The most striking was a curious and deliberate militarization of the community. It wasn't demonic influence—she would have sensed that instantly. The discovery piqued my curiosity as well, as I had never encountered anything like it. I instructed her to be even more cautious and sent her several concealment spells, which I suspected would prove useful.
Once I wrapped things up with Maria, I turned my attention to imperial affairs—issues previously raised at the Council of Houses. The Master of Ceremonies soon arrived with several important folders from the Office of the Emperor.
The Office of the Emperor served as the governing body of the Empire. It consisted of several key posts overseeing finances, law and enforcement, internal and external security, and a few additional areas. There was also the Ministry of the Empress's Affairs—though with no one occupying that throne, it was relegated to handling only secondary matters.
After ascending as Emperor, I had chosen not to overhaul the Office's structure too radically. I appointed members of the Sharmaken and Mendoza families to certain posts, while other important positions went to individuals close to Amel and Apolline Delacour.
The most pressing document on my desk concerned the establishment of the Imperial Senate, composed of ministers of magic elected by wizards in their respective countries. I had altered little from its earlier form, except for one critical addition: these ministers would be required to attend the Senate's sessions. I had no interest in drowning myself in daily governance. My true passion was the study of magic—and the throne afforded me unmatched opportunities for it. Yet the bitter truth remained: authority came with responsibility for those who had become my vassals.
To ease that burden, I resolved to delegate much of the administration, retaining for myself only the unique resources of power and authority. By now, everyone already understood that I could become quite the "f*cking nightmare" should anyone dare to ignore my instructions, laws, or decrees.
"My Emperor," said the Master of Ceremonies, my primary link to the Office, "are you certain this is worth doing?"
"Yes," I replied, closing the folder containing the new decree. It required all aristocratic houses to pay a tithe of their monthly profits into an education fund dedicated to building new magical schools across Europe. I intended to establish twenty-five such institutions—each designed to rival Beauxbatons, Hogwarts, and the other great academies.
"Very well," the wizard exhaled. "I'll deliver the decree to the Office, and they'll begin processing it immediately."
"Excellent," I said with satisfaction.
"And who will be responsible for this project?" he asked.
I paused, at the same time brushing lightly against his thoughts. As expected, he already had a candidate in mind—someone whose appointment would allow him to skim from the project. Petty corruption. Nothing new.
"I have someone," I said slowly, summoning Narcissa through our mental link. "She'll be here shortly."
The Master of Ceremonies assumed, since he normally handled appointments, that I would leave this decision to him as well. But he was mistaken. As the saying goes: the scythe meets the stone, the toad climbs the fir tree, and the owl gets stretched over the globe.
When Narcissa reached the door, I discreetly altered her attire into something more formal—visible only to her. She noticed the effortless display of magic and was momentarily startled, though she quickly composed herself. As I opened the door with a flick of power, her face had already settled into a calm, collected mask.
"And here she is," I said. "Allow me to introduce Narcissa, who will oversee this project."
"Pleased to meet you," the wizard said with a polite nod.
"Likewise. I hope we'll work well together," Narcissa replied just after I had passed the necessary information to her through our mental link. She wasn't Maria—she couldn't process knowledge with such speed. She was only human, so it would take her more time. Even so, I appreciated her reaction. Narcissa quickly understood that I was entrusting her with one of my projects.
The Master of Ceremonies soon left my office, leaving Narcissa and me alone.
"My lord," she addressed me. "What exactly will I need to do in this project?"
"I need you to oversee the implementation of the plans and, most importantly, monitor the finances," I said evenly. "We cannot allow the aristocrats to line their own pockets. If you notice anything of the sort, report directly to me—I'll deal with it."
"Understood," she nodded. "What else should I do?"
"For now, nothing more," I said, narrowing my eyes slightly. "Although, I wouldn't mind taking a short break right now."
The door to the adjoining bath chamber opened. Narcissa flushed faintly, realizing what I wanted from her—and what was about to happen there. She had anticipated this moment for some time and had prepared herself.
The chamber was spacious, complete with a small pool for relaxing in warm water. Stripping off my clothes, I leapt into the pool. Narcissa also began to undress. When she was down to her underwear, she hesitated, unsure of her next step. With a flick of wandless magic, I whisked away the rest of her garments.
She walked slowly toward the steps, descending into the water with deliberate grace. Her movements were undeniably seductive, and for a moment I found myself captivated. I had never seen a woman move with such natural sensuality.
We splashed about for a while before I pulled her close. She immediately kissed me, and my hands and body soon found their freedom. She dove beneath the surface and surprised me with how long she could hold her breath.
Later, we moved to one of the loungers, where Narcissa straddled me. From my experience, I can say she ranked second in endurance—right after Apolline. It was the kind of rest I welcomed.
Afterward, we took a light shower, though I couldn't resist bending Narcissa over again for another half hour. It added another layer of satisfaction and relaxation.
When we finally returned to the office, it was clear she hadn't fully recovered and wasn't used to resuming serious work after such indulgence—especially after hours of passion in which she'd climaxed countless times. Every one of mine had filled her completely, though I had safeguarded against pregnancy with spells I had learned from Nicolas's wife.
"So then?" I asked, leaning back comfortably in my chair.
"You can rely on me, my lord," she said. "Your project will succeed."
"Excellent," I nodded. "Meanwhile, I'll focus on some research that may help with Draco's treatment."
"Thank you."
In truth, Draco's healing wasn't as impossible as it first seemed. Yes, the scars on his soul wouldn't fade quickly—and I still wasn't entirely sure how to approach them—but I had a few ideas worth testing.
For these experiments, I needed test subjects. Rats, monkeys, and pigs were ideal, but I decided to begin with rats.
I ordered a thousand lab rats from both the magical and non-magical worlds, then began a series of experiments. The first step was to learn how to inflict controlled damage on their small souls and observe the processes of healing and recovery.
With the knowledge I had gathered, I set about developing new spells. To damage a soul, I needed an incantation derived from the Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra curses. Both acted directly upon the soul, so modifying them wasn't too difficult—though it did take effort to make the results consistent. Eventually, I succeeded. By combining Avada's precision with Crucio's searing force, I created a spell that could make a surgical cut on the soul. I named it Secans Anima.
Testing the spell on animals proved successful, which pleased me greatly. I immediately began refining it, reducing its magical energy cost. The improvement wasn't groundbreaking, but even a small gain was worthwhile.
My assistant in these experiments was Isolde, the most advanced in magical practice and theory, capable of handling auxiliary tasks. Fleur and Hermione also had access to my research, but they lacked the knowledge to fully understand the formulas.
To accelerate their learning, I spent an entire week giving them intensive rune lectures, focused particularly on the topics tied to my work.
After sending Fleur and Hermione back to school, I continued alone. At the cost of a hundred animal lives, I developed a technique by which my spiritual scalpel could remove unwanted fragments of a soul. Controlling it was far from easy, but practice promised mastery, even over such delicate work.
The next great challenge was healing—or accelerating the recovery of—such wounds. The Muggle surgical approach of stitching the edges back together was possible, but I wanted another method.
Here, Flamel's knowledge proved invaluable. It allowed me to skip decades of foundational research. Without it, I might have wasted twenty years just laying the groundwork. Goblin lore was also useful, though peculiar, yet it enriched my studies further.
The Panacea could heal soul injuries, but only once, and then it became useless. The cost was far too high.
All my other attempts failed. Cutting out a fragment of one soul and transplanting it into another ended in quick, painful death. Even if the physical body was killed, the soul writhed in agony until it too perished—a terrible death. I even tried fusing fragments together, but nothing worked—except natural regeneration. The soul did regenerate quickly, but every wound left behind terrible scars.
In the end, I had to return to the Muggle method. To stitch a wound closed, one needs threads—and here the threads had to be something that could bind the soul. The simplest solution was to craft them from a piece of the soul itself: sew the wound shut, and then stitch the place from which the threads were taken. For now, it was the only viable method.
To test this approach on humans, I needed human samples. That was both difficult and not so difficult. Amel was willing to provide condemned prisoners awaiting execution. That solved the problem of access. The difficulty lay in scarcity—such resources were not easily replenished, and I had to use them sparingly.
I conducted my experiments on human souls in complete secrecy. Only Amel and I knew the truth of what I was doing. My research into stitching soul wounds proved correct and produced results—though not as much as I had hoped. The scars after surgery became smaller, almost invisible, but the mind itself was not restored.
Other approaches to restore reason failed as well. Even when I created an artificial mind to control the body and perform basic tasks, it functioned better in a body whose soul had undergone surgery than in one left untreated—but still, it was not the real thing.
That was the state of affairs. No matter what I tried, I could not heal soul wounds without using the scalpel. Attempts to smooth out scars without surgery proved equally futile. Nothing worked.
It infuriated me—immensely. But no method I tested brought true success. Meanwhile, I could feel Narcissa's growing hope each day, her unwavering belief that I would heal her son. So I resolved to employ a certain… deception. Draco would walk, speak, and perhaps even perform magic. But it would not truly be her son. His body would be controlled by one of the golem constructs already bound to my service.
"Narcissa," I told her after she had finished massaging me with her naked, sensual body, "tomorrow I will attempt to return your son Draco to you."
The joy that lit her face was overwhelming.
"But I cannot promise it will succeed."
"I understand," she breathed. "But even if it fails, I will know that you tried."
"Yes," I nodded.
The next day, Narcissa was a bundle of nerves. It was clear how desperately she longed for a positive result, how much she yearned to see her son again. From the early morning, she accompanied me to the chamber where Draco's body rested in a sarcophagus, preserved by numerous enchantments.
With a flick of my wand, I opened it, releasing a wave of cold air and mist across the floor. I transfigured a worktable, removed the sustaining bandages, and laid Draco upon it.
"I'm beginning, Narcissa," I told her. "I need you to make sure no one disturbs me for several hours."
"My lord, you may rest assured," she replied firmly. "No one will trouble you."
"Thank you."
With a wave of my wand, I conjured several illusions—images that would show Narcissa the picture of me working tirelessly on her son's body. Indeed, it would appear as though the operation stretched on for hours. In truth, the surgery on the soul itself would take no more than an hour; the rest of the time would be devoted to constructing the mind.
I gently opened the scar and removed it. A trickle of magic leaked from Draco's body, but it was not a serious issue. Left open, the wound would have drained his magic completely, leaving him a Squib—just as had once nearly happened to Hermione. Without the Panacea, that is exactly what she would have become.
Making another incision, I extracted threads and began stitching the wound closed, carefully sewing to minimize the chance of an ugly scar. I had already practiced this technique on several condemned wizards awaiting execution. Perhaps my actions even eased their passing, though whether they knew it or not, they had contributed to the advancement of magical science.
Once the soul was mended, I turned my focus to the mind. This task was both more difficult and simpler. I had no need to preserve what had once been in Draco's head. Fragments of knowledge still floated in his memory, but they were nothing compared to the completeness of a proper mind. My construct was not fully compatible with the human brain, and I was forced to adjust it on the fly.
The next problem arose from a completely unexpected direction: a burst artery in the boy's brain. I understood immediately why. The construct had created pressure in a region of the brain that was rarely used, raising blood pressure until a hemorrhage occurred. Treating it was simple enough, but still—it caught me off guard.
When the procedure was finally complete, I performed a series of final checks. I needed to evaluate how well the soul was healing and what consequences might follow. For now, the deep scars were gone, reduced to faint lines that would likely fade with time. The construct had also settled into the brain fairly well and had begun analyzing the body to determine the best way to control it. Full adaptation and activation, however, would take more time.
I rebandaged Draco's body, restored the enchantments, and returned him to the sarcophagus. With a few spells, I sealed it once more, reestablishing the controlled environment inside. Perfect. The construct would continue studying and accustoming itself to the body. Later, I would "awaken" him and allow the recovery to begin.
"My lord?" Narcissa spoke softly. Her tone carried the question plainly—any wizard could have heard it, even the dullest.
"What can I say," I drawled. "Overall, we can call the operation a success. The scars have been removed as much as possible. The mind has been awakened, but it still needs to adapt to the slightly altered soul. After that, he can be revived."
I began washing my hands and continued:
"But you must understand—when he wakes, he will not be the same as before. Soul damage of this kind never passes without leaving its mark on the mind. After such a long sleep, you may not even recognize him."
This preparation was necessary, a shield against awkward questions—questions I had no intention of answering. Faith in the best possible outcome is easier to bear than truth.
"I understand," Narcissa exhaled, relaxing slightly. "I don't even know how to thank you, my lord."
"Oh, I can think of a way," I smirked. "Be a good woman to me, serve faithfully… you know, all that sort of thing."
Her face brightened, a faint smile breaking through her tension. She stepped closer and sank gracefully to her knees.
"My lord," she whispered. "I will be whatever you wish me to be."
"Excellent."
After that, we secluded ourselves in one of the chambers, where once again I enjoyed Narcissa's body. This time, she was more active, more alive. It is difficult to describe, but today's intimacy brought me greater satisfaction than before.
Three days later, I awakened "Draco." Narcissa was there, trembling with anticipation, waiting for her son to rise from the sarcophagus—returning from the "dead."
"Mother," the boy whispered.
"Draco," Narcissa answered, her voice breaking. "Draco, I'm so glad you've come back to me."
"Mother," the construct repeated in Draco's voice.
"Draco," the woman whispered again, embracing him.
My construct glanced at me, uncertain. I gave him a small nod, and he returned her hug.
"Alright," I said. "I'll leave you two alone for a while to talk. Later, Narcissa, show him his room and let him rest."
"Of course, my lord," she nodded.
"Mother?" my construct asked in confusion.
"I'll explain it to you," she murmured.
Leaving them, I went to Isolde, who was poring over calculations for a spell idea that had come to her during our earlier experiments. Looking through her notes, I immediately spotted the weak areas in her reasoning.
For those subjects, I transfigured the appropriate books to help her fill the gaps in her knowledge. And whenever she struggled to understand, I explained and clarified the concepts myself.
When I later returned to Beauxbatons, Denad was the first to appear in my office. He placed several folders on my desk, each labeled with the name of a subject he believed the school should add.
"Headmaster," he said. "Here's all the information—plans and recommendations regarding the subjects."
"That was quick," I nodded.
"Yes. I worked through the entire holiday," the man exhaled.
"No desire to rest?"
"I want this program active by next year," he replied. "So I didn't rest—though my wife wasn't at all pleased."
"Well, in her place, I'd be a little annoyed too. But never mind, I'll review the documents." I pushed the folders aside. "You'll know my answer when you see the results. I don't think the Ministry will object to increasing the school's funding."
"I hope so," the man sighed.
After reviewing the documents, I made several adjustments—particularly regarding finances. I raised the tuition cost of all courses by fifteen percent, with the surplus earmarked for school upgrades. Yes, I was Emperor with immense resources, but I had no intention of wasting them on Beauxbatons. Using other institutions' funds to strengthen myself, however—that I was more than willing to do.
Amel, to whom I presented these documents, didn't even consider refusing. As if he could. He still liked to imagine we were "equal" partners, but I knew better. I could push through any decision I wanted—because we simply weren't in the same weight class.
Now… all I had to do was walk in, tell him what I needed, and he would eagerly comply. My imperial rank played a major role, of course, but so did his personal experience—he had seen me walk into the well-guarded homes of his enemies as though they belonged to me, and he knew the details of what I had done with the goblins. In his position, I wouldn't be inclined to refuse a wizard who could level a city with a flick of his fingers either.
"I'll send these documents and estimates to the finance department," Amel exhaled. "I think they can allocate the first funds for hiring staff and developing teaching materials and lesson plans."
"Excellent," I nodded. "Thank you."
"No need," the man chuckled.
I still had one more matter to attend to—but then I felt tension in my link with Maria. That could only mean one thing: something serious had happened. Someone else had entered the connection. Sitting down in my chair, I focused through the link and shifted into the demoness's mind.
"Well, well!" came a voice I recognized immediately.
"So," I said to the strange cloud of thought that was nothing like a human mind. In an instant, I skimmed Maria's memory, recording everything. She had slipped up and been captured. Surprising—they had actually managed to restrain her. Unpleasant. The last figure she had seen was the old man who had given me the fruit after my mission in Cyprus.
"Long time no see, Mister Zeus," I said.
"Timothy Jody," he chuckled. "I never thought I'd meet you again—and in this kind of situation."
"Likewise," I smirked.
"Well yes, sending your spy onto my island," Zeus drawled. "A little improper, don't you think?"
"Why not?" I countered. "The fruit you gave me was a trap meant to kill me. Once I discovered that, there's no such thing as 'improper'—especially with people who try to murder me."
"So you figured it out," Zeus exhaled, sounding almost wistful.
"Of course I did," I said. "And I didn't like it one bit. So you'd better release my subordinate, or I'll pay you a visit—and then you'll truly have something to worry about. Believe me, I can handle it."
"No doubt," Zeus chuckled. "Between us, the rumors about your little purge of the goblins have already spread across every society, large and small."
"They shouldn't have plotted against me," I replied evenly. "Nor should you. It isn't worth it."
"You think you can just waltz onto Cyprus, wipe out our society, and leave?" Zeus asked, incredulous.
"I think I can," I answered calmly, with full confidence.
For a moment Zeus dropped from the link, then reconnected. The sensation was strange, like a sudden shift in the air.
"Let's not rush into a bullfight," he said evenly. "Why wage war when we can talk? What do you say? And as a gesture of goodwill, we'll return your subordinate to you after a brief negotiation."
"Alright," I agreed. "I trust nothing will happen to my subordinate."
"Don't worry," Zeus replied. "Not a single hair on her head will be harmed."
"I'll hold you to that. Then you should expect me."