Chapter 15: The Scholar of Shadows and the Castle's Secrets (1981-1983)
The night Lord Voldemort's Killing Curse rebounded in Godric's Hollow, the universe, for Corvus Blackwood, tilted on its axis. The overwhelming, lifelong torrent of Tom Riddle's active magical consciousness – his ambitions, his spellcraft, his strategic genius, his dark emotions – did not cease entirely, but was violently, catastrophically diminished. It was as if a raging sun had imploded, leaving behind only a faintly radiating, ghostly nebula. The sheer agony of Voldemort's spirit being torn from his body, amplified tenfold, was a psychic cataclysm that Corvus weathered with grim fortitude in his Blackwood observatory, his mind a bastion against the echo of a soul's near-destruction.
In the days that followed, as the wizarding world erupted in euphoric disbelief, Corvus meticulously analyzed the changed nature of his unique connection. The thrum was now a delicate, spectral filament, pulsing with the faint, furious, and terrified energy of Voldemort's disembodied spirit. Crucially, the multiplier still functioned. Every memory fragment that surfaced in Voldemort's wrecked consciousness, every echo of dark magic he clung to, every desperate, spectral attempt he made to understand his own downfall or to find purchase back in the world of the living – all of it was relayed to Corvus, amplified tenfold. He now had an unprecedented, intimate view into the existence of a disembodied spirit, the inner workings of Horcruxes from their creator's spectral perspective, and the raw, undiluted memories of Tom Riddle's entire life, now resurfacing in Voldemort's tormented, bodiless state.
It was a different kind of knowledge, less about active conquest and new spell creation, more about the deepest, most forbidden secrets of soul magic, undeath, and Voldemort's own past – knowledge Tom himself had possessed but perhaps not always focused on when he was an embodied Dark Lord. Corvus realized that this new, albeit altered, feed was an invaluable treasure trove in its own right.
As the wizarding world celebrated its liberation, Corvus saw a unique opportunity. Hogwarts, the repository of centuries of magical knowledge, the very place that had forged Tom Riddle and later denied him deeper access, was now potentially more open to exploration. With Dumbledore perhaps less hyper-vigilant about internal threats and more focused on healing the wizarding world, the castle's ancient secrets might be within reach. Tom Riddle had craved access to the Headmaster's library, to the most restricted sections, to the very heart of Hogwarts' magic; Corvus now had the power and perhaps the opportunity to succeed where Riddle had failed.
The invitation from Albus Dumbledore arrived in the spring of 1982, proposing a meeting. Corvus received him at Blackwood Manor. The Headmaster looked older, the weight of the recent war etched on his face, but his eyes held a renewed, if weary, sparkle.
"Corvus," Dumbledore began, after the customary pleasantries, "the wizarding world owes you a debt it does not even realize." He was referring, Corvus knew, to his repelling of Voldemort from Blackwood Manor years prior, an event Dumbledore had gleaned some truth of. "Your stand, your power, undoubtedly contributed to… recent events, in ways we may never fully fathom."
Corvus merely inclined his head. "House Blackwood defended its neutrality, Headmaster. Nothing more."
"Perhaps," Dumbledore conceded. "Regardless, Hogwarts is now entering an era of peace, but also one of rebuilding understanding. The Defence Against the Dark Arts post remains… problematic. However, I have a different proposal for you, Corvus. A professorship in Advanced Magical Constructs and Ancient Warding Philosophies. A bespoke position. Your insights, your mastery, would be unparalleled. It would be a chance to shape a new generation, to ensure the knowledge of true power, responsibly wielded, is not lost."
Corvus listened, his mind already racing. His eldest, Orion, was due to start Hogwarts that September. His presence at the castle would allow him to guide Orion's early experiences. But more importantly, Dumbledore was offering him a key – legitimate, sanctioned access to the heart of Hogwarts. A chance to delve into the knowledge Voldemort himself had lusted after but had been denied as a student and later as an applicant for a teaching post. The irony was not lost on him.
The multiplier was still active, feeding him echoes of Voldemort's spectral existence – flashes of memory, including Tom's burning desire to uncover Hogwarts' deepest secrets, his frustration at the locked doors, both literal and metaphorical. Corvus could use these amplified memories to guide his own explorations.
"Your offer is… intriguing, Headmaster," Corvus said slowly. "The opportunity to delve into Hogwarts' archives, to study its unique magical architecture from within… it holds a certain academic appeal. And yes, my son Orion will be attending. My presence might be… beneficial for his transition."
Dumbledore beamed. "Excellent! I had hoped you would see the scholarly merit. Your expertise in wards alone would make you an invaluable asset."
And so, in September of 1982, Professor Corvus Malachi Blackwood joined the faculty of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His arrival created a quiet sensation. Staff members who remembered him as a student looked on with awe and a touch of trepidation. Severus Snape, the young, brooding Potions Master, observed Corvus with a complex, veiled intensity, knowing perhaps more than others of the Blackwood family's formidable reputation and Corvus's past interactions with the Dark Lord.
Orion Blackwood was Sorted into Slytherin, a placement Corvus had anticipated and approved of; the boy's keen intellect and quiet ambition would thrive there. Lyra, still too young for Hogwarts, remained at Blackwood Manor with Isolde for the time being, though Corvus made frequent weekend returns.
Corvus's teaching style was unlike anything Hogwarts had seen. His lectures on Advanced Magical Constructs were not for the faint of heart, delving into the fundamental mathematics of magic, the resonance of runic combinations, and the philosophical underpinnings of enchantment that made most N.E.W.T. students' heads spin. He was demanding, his standards absolute, his critiques incisive. Yet, for those who could keep up, his classes were a gateway to understanding magic on a level they had never imagined. He taught them not just spells, but the why of spells.
But his teaching was only part of his agenda. Evenings and weekends found him in the Hogwarts library, a silent, formidable figure poring over ancient texts in the deepest alcoves of the Restricted Section. With his immense power and the subtle guidance from Voldemort's amplified memories – flashes of Riddle's youthful attempts to bypass certain wards, his frustrated searches for specific lore – Corvus began to unlock secrets that had remained hidden for centuries. He found texts on foundational magic that Slytherin and Gryffindor themselves had reputedly penned, treatises on the castle's own sentient magical matrix, and detailed histories of its hidden passages and chambers.
He felt Riddle's spectral envy, his ghostly rage at Corvus accessing what he had been denied. This dark echo only fueled Corvus's methodical exploration. He learned of the Room of Requirement, not through hearsay, but by sensing Voldemort's youthful discovery and later use of it (particularly when hiding Ravenclaw's Diadem, a memory that was now intensely vivid through the multiplier). Corvus, with his superior understanding, accessed its deeper, more esoteric functions, using it as a personalized laboratory for his own research.
He explored the lore of the Chamber of Secrets. While he possessed no Parseltongue, the multiplier provided him with Voldemort's perfect, amplified memory of every command, every nuance of controlling the Basilisk (though the beast was now dead and the Chamber presumably sealed by Dumbledore after the events of 1943). He studied the Chamber's magical construction, its purpose, the ancient serpentine magic woven into its very stones.
The disembodied Voldemort, in his spectral rage and pain, often relived his past, and Corvus became the recipient of these amplified memories. He experienced Tom Riddle's Hogwarts years in fragmented, intense bursts – his discovery of his heritage, his early experiments with Dark Arts, his creation of the Knights of Walpurgis, his interactions with Slughorn, his murder of Myrtle, the creation of the diary Horcrux, the framing of Hagrid. It was like having a direct, unfiltered feed into the formative years of a Dark Lord, a psychological and magical education beyond price. He learned of Voldemort's methods for creating his other Horcruxes, the specific murders, the incantations, the emotional state required – knowledge that was both repulsive and invaluable.
Corvus was strengthening himself, layering this new, ancient knowledge from Hogwarts upon the vast edifice of power he had already built through the multiplier. He wasn't merely learning; he was synthesizing, creating new magical theories, new applications. He felt his own magical core, already immense, becoming denser, more refined, resonating with the ancient magic of the castle itself.
Dumbledore observed Corvus with a careful, often inscrutable, expression. He saw a professor of unparalleled brilliance, a wizard whose understanding of magic was perhaps second only to his own, if different in its focus. He was undoubtedly aware of Corvus's extensive research but did not interfere, perhaps recognizing Corvus's right as a Blackwood to pursue arcane knowledge, or perhaps seeing Corvus's presence as a powerful, if unpredictable, guardian within the castle walls.
Corvus Blackwood, scholar of shadows, had found a new arena. Hogwarts, the cradle of so much light and darkness, was yielding its secrets to him, one by one. And all the while, the faint, ghostly tether to Lord Voldemort continued to pulse, a reminder of the Dark Lord's inevitable, eventual return, and a source of unique, albeit terrifyingly intimate, understanding of his enemy's very soul. Corvus was not merely waiting for that return; he was actively using this interlude of false peace to ascend to even greater heights of power, ensuring that when the serpent stirred again, the Master of Blackwood would be more than ready.