Chapter 16: Canon's Echo and a Calculated Encore (1990-1991)
The academic year of 1990 drew to a stately close at Hogwarts, and with it, nearly a decade of Corvus Blackwood's unprecedented tenure as Professor of Advanced Magical Constructs and Ancient Warding Philosophies. His daughter, Lyra, a Ravenclaw whose intellect shone almost as brightly as her father's, was preparing for her N.E.W.T.s, her future path already meticulously charted with Corvus's quiet guidance. Orion, his Slytherin son, had graduated two years prior and was already a discreet but rising influence in certain esoteric branches of the Ministry, his loyalty to House Blackwood absolute.
For Corvus, these ten years had been an unexpected but profoundly fruitful scholarly sabbatical. He had plumbed the depths of Hogwarts' ancient magic, deciphered texts that had baffled generations of wizards, and synthesized this knowledge with the unique, ongoing feed from Lord Voldemort's diminished, spectral existence. The multiplier, though no longer delivering the torrent of an active Dark Lord's conquests, still provided invaluable, tenfold amplified insights into Voldemort's memories, his understanding of soul magic from the perspective of a fragmented spirit, his impotent rage, and his desperate, cunning thoughts on how to return. It was a chilling, intimate education in the nature of undeath and the resilience of pure, malevolent will.
But now, a new, familiar timeline was clicking into place, one Corvus knew intimately from a life long past, from the pages of books that had once been his cherished companions. The summer of 1991 was approaching. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was due to receive his Hogwarts letter. And with him, Corvus knew, would come the first overt stirring of the disembodied Voldemort, seeking to regain power through the theft of Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone, which would inevitably be brought to Hogwarts for "safekeeping" by Dumbledore. Professor Quirinus Quirrell, Corvus recalled with a grimace, would be the unfortunate vessel.
The thought of being present for the unfolding of these canon events, of witnessing them not as a reader but as an informed observer with a direct (if one-sided) line into one of the antagonist's minds, was… intellectually compelling. However, Corvus Blackwood had no desire to be a player in Dumbledore's elaborate morality play, nor did he wish for House Blackwood to be sideswiped by the predictable chaos. His research at Hogwarts felt complete. It was time to withdraw to the unassailable sanctity of Blackwood Manor.
In late June, Corvus sought out Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster's office, with its familiar array of whirring silver instruments, was a place Corvus had come to know well, though always as a carefully neutral colleague.
"Albus," Corvus began, his voice conveying a sense of finality. "My daughter graduates. My son is launched. My scholarly pursuits within these walls have borne all the fruit I could have hoped for. I wish to tender my resignation, to return to my private research at Blackwood Manor at the end of this term."
Dumbledore regarded him over his half-moon spectacles, his expression thoughtful. "Corvus, your contributions have been singular. Your departure would be a profound loss to Hogwarts, especially to the students who have benefited from your… unique pedagogical methods." He paused, his gaze piercing. "Are you quite certain there is nothing more Hogwarts can offer you, or you it?"
"My work here is concluded," Corvus affirmed. He knew Dumbledore was likely probing, perhaps sensing Corvus's unusual prescience. "The coming years will undoubtedly bring new challenges to the wizarding world. House Blackwood, as ever, intends to weather them from the tranquility of its own estates."
"A tranquility many will envy, and few will achieve," Dumbledore said softly. "Next year, as you know, Harry Potter will begin his schooling here. His presence will undoubtedly attract… attention."
An understatement, Corvus thought, keenly aware of the faint, agitated pulse from Voldemort's distant spirit at any thought related to Potter or a potential return.
"Indeed," Corvus replied aloud. "A significant year for the boy, and for Hogwarts. He will need guidance."
"Precisely," Dumbledore seized upon the opening. "Which is why, Corvus, I must ask you, not as Headmaster to Professor, but as one wizard who respects the profound depths of another's understanding, to consider remaining for one more year. Your insight into… certain forms of magic, your unparalleled grasp of defensive theory, and your steadying, formidable presence would be an invaluable asset, particularly now."
Corvus feigned contemplation. This was the moment. His foreknowledge of the Philosopher's Stone, of Quirrellmort, of the protections Dumbledore would establish, presented a unique opportunity. He could observe the practical application of high-level enchantments, witness Voldemort's methods as a possessing spirit firsthand (amplified tenfold, no less), and study the legendary Stone itself, all while maintaining his detached neutrality. It was too rich a prospect for a scholar of his caliber to dismiss out of hand, especially as he knew the ultimate danger within Hogwarts that year was contained and, from his perspective, somewhat predictable.
"You speak of a need for stability, Albus," Corvus said, choosing his words with care. "The Defence Against the Dark Arts post will, I presume, continue its unfortunate tradition of rapid turnover." He allowed a small, dry smile. "Perhaps a seasoned, if detached, observer like myself could offer a certain… continuity of high-level magical consultation for the faculty, should the need arise." He then added, as if a secondary thought, "And I confess, Albus, the alchemical principles behind Monsieur Flamel's more celebrated works have always been a subject of distant academic fascination for me. Should artifacts of such profound significance ever find themselves within these walls, the chance to simply be in proximity to such legendary magic, purely from a scholarly standpoint, would be… compelling."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled unmistakably. He had, Corvus knew, taken the bait. Corvus's feigned "distant academic fascination" with Flamel's work provided the perfect, unimpeachable reason for him to be interested in remaining, should such an artifact indeed be present. Dumbledore would likely believe Corvus had deduced the Stone's imminent arrival through his own scholarship and Dumbledore's known association with Flamel.
"Your intellectual curiosity does you credit, Corvus," Dumbledore said smoothly. "And indeed, the coming year may well offer unique opportunities for scholarly observation of… rare and powerful magics." He leaned forward. "One more year, then? As a personal favor to an old colleague, and perhaps, for the chance to witness something truly historic?"
Corvus allowed a thoughtful pause, then nodded slowly. "For the sake of academic pursuit, Albus, and as a final gesture to this institution, I will concede to one additional year. My curriculum will remain my own, of course. And my neutrality in external affairs unwavering."
"Of course, Corvus, of course!" Dumbledore beamed, relief evident in his voice. "Your wisdom, in any capacity, is a treasure."
The decision made, Corvus spent the summer making his own quiet preparations. Lyra, armed with exceptional N.E.W.T.s and her father's subtle guidance, was set to begin an apprenticeship with a renowned Charms mistress in Geneva, well away from Britain. Orion continued his discreet work, his connection to his father a silent, unbreakable bond.
Corvus himself felt a unique sense of anticipation. He was about to willingly step into the pages of a story he had read many times, but this time as an active, if detached, observer, armed with foreknowledge and his unique multiplier. He would watch Quirrell's possession, feel Voldemort's spectral thoughts and desires as he manipulated his host, observe the Golden Trio's fumbling attempts to unravel the mystery, and witness Dumbledore's intricate game with the Stone. It would be a year of unparalleled insight into the mechanics of Voldemort's spectral existence, his methods of possession, and the practical application of legendary protective enchantments.
He reinforced his personal wards within his Hogwarts chambers, creating a sanctuary even more inviolable than before. He reviewed his memories of "The Philosopher's Stone," noting key events, locations, and character interactions. The faint, ghostly thrum from Voldemort's distant spirit was already subtly shifting, a nascent flicker of focused intent that Corvus recognized as the Dark Lord beginning to exert his will upon the weak-minded Quirrell, drawing him towards Albania.
This coming year would not be about intervention. It would be about observation, about learning, about understanding the intricate dance of magic and destiny from a perspective no one else could possibly possess. The Philosopher's Stone was the lure, not for its promise of gold or eternal life – Corvus had little interest in either – but for the unique confluence of powerful magics and pivotal events it would draw to Hogwarts. And Corvus Blackwood, the scholar of shadows, would be there to witness it all, his neutrality a shield, his knowledge a silent, growing power, ready for the day when the Dark Lord finally, truly, returned.