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***
"Trouble," Moody growled, his magical eye coming to a rest on me for a second, as if searching for traces of murder. "A dead Mulciber in your immediate vicinity. That's quite a entry for a twelve-year-old brat's diary. What happened there? And tell the truth. I always spot a lie... before you can even blink."
I leaned back against the headrest of the cold chair. Cold sweat trickled down my temple, and my shoulders felt like lead. I wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the table, but it was a sensation I experienced regularly, so I looked him straight in the eye—coldly, with hatred in my heart.
"I didn't know his name was Mulciber. As we were leaving my aunt's room, he was walking toward us and suddenly collapsed. I had no idea what was happening. He started wheezing on the floor and died shortly after." I paused for a moment. I felt a faint echo of his emotions, which I couldn't quite specify, so I simply added: "If you thought I had a hand in his death, I wouldn't have had a wand on me for a long time now. Or do you want to throw me into Azkaban, Moody?"
"No, Patrik, we don't want to lock you up anywhere," Tonks spoke soothingly. "We're just finding out what happened. Standard procedure."
"Why are you so tired, Rosier?" Moody barked.
"Poor sleep, training, my aunt in the hospital," I replied dryly.
"Didn't you see anyone or hear anything?" Tonks cut in as Moody prepared to speak again. "Maybe there was someone under an Invisibility Cloak."
"No, no one. Only the nurse was there with us. You should talk to her."
"Another Death Eater spawn, ha," Moody snorted mockingly, pulling out a silver hip flask and taking a slurping gulp while his magical eye watched me intently.
"We've already spoken to her. She was the first," Tonks answered.
"Fine, I've told you everything. Now you tell me," I said, looking directly at Tonks. "Who attacked my aunt and why?"
Tonks and Moody exchanged glances. Moody slowly put away his flask, and silence settled in the room for a moment, broken only by the ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance.
"Officially, it's under investigation," Tonks began quietly, her hair turning dark blue for a second, a sign of stress. "Unofficially..."
"That's enough, Nymphadora!" Moody interrupted hoarsely. "A twelve-year-old brat doesn't need to know more."
She threw an apologetic look my way and shrugged. Moody was drawing breath to say something else when the door burst open and Madam Bones stormed in. Snape was walking right behind her.
"Alastor! What are you doing here? You know perfectly well you cannot question a minor without the supervision of a Head of House or a family member!" she snapped at him sternly.
"But Amelia..."
"No buts, Alastor, out! And you, Nymphadora, should have known the regulations instead of blindly following him!" she criticized her as well.
I watched with amusement as Moody heavily exited the room. However, I felt his eye still fixed on me. He didn't forget to drop one last remark: "I'll be watching you, Rosier. One single mistake is all it takes!"
As soon as they left, she asked me with an apologetic look, "Did you tell them everything, Mr. Rosier?"
"Yes, he just collapsed in front of me out of nowhere," I replied matter-of-factly. "I have no idea what happened."
Bones nodded and began to explain: "It looks like a ritualistic, time-delayed curse. He had a small, faint incision on the back of his neck, so it seems someone took his blood as well as a few strands of hair."
"Is that even possible?" I asked, my eyes widening.
She nodded in agreement. "It is. Be careful that your blood, hair, or any other biological material doesn't go unattended." She paused for a moment and added immediately, "I shouldn't be telling you this at all, but after Alastor's approach, consider it my apology."
Fuck. If something like this was possible, this world was even more dangerous than I thought. It was definitely the kind of magic I needed to look into more closely.
A brief silence followed until it occurred to me to ask about the attack on my aunt: "And what about my aunt? Can you tell me anything more?"
She shook her head in disapproval, but seeing my scowl, she decided to speak. "It's not that I don't want to, but we know absolutely nothing. In Knockturn Alley, Aurors find it hard to come by information, and it's honestly a miracle she even made it to St. Mungo's."
„I'll have to investigate it myself," I promised myself silently.
Suddenly, a cold, velvety voice rang out: "If that is all, we should be going."
Bones nodded, and so I set off with Snape for a quick departure back to Hogwarts.
***
We found ourselves back in his chambers. Snape sat down behind his desk and observed me curiously. I decided to interrogate him—after all, he was supposed to be an expert on the Dark Arts.
"Professor, that time-delayed curse... is it truly possible?" I asked.
He frowned slightly at my question but immediately donned a cold, detached mask. However, the curiosity in his gaze was still visible, even though he tried to hide it. After a moment, he decided to answer.
"Of course, anything is possible with magic," he nodded matter-of-factly. "It has its limits, though. Biological material degrades very quickly outside the body. Hair lasts the longest, but it's the weakest for establishing a connection. Blood and hair are a perfect combination, though blood degrades in a flash. It also depends on the power contained within it. The more powerful the wizard, the longer the blood retains its properties."
"What if I could somehow keep that blood in stasis?"
He shook his head in disapproval. "The blood might retain its quality, but its magical component required for binding would dissipate. A transfusion would be no problem, then, but rituals or curses would not work."
It sounded incredibly interesting. It was clear to me that the primary defense was to never allow anyone to possess my biological material.
"Would you have a book, Professor, that you could lend me?"
He hissed through his teeth: "Mr. Rosier, I wouldn't entrust a twelve-year-old brat with a wand, let alone a book of powerful Dark Magic."
"So, when I'm older?" I asked with an amused smile.
He stared at me gloomily without answering. I enjoyed it.
"My father would certainly lend it to me," I added with a hint of laughter in my voice.
Snape pressed his lips tightly together. His deep, dark eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of sadness in them. They were unreadable again an instant later. "When you are older," he nodded, and then curtly dismissed me: "You may go now. We can visit your aunt again tomorrow."
I nodded with a smile and headed for the door.
***
I walked through the dark corridors of the dungeons, wondering what to do next. I dismissed the idea of training immediately; I was magically drained beyond belief. I would have loved to throw myself into bed and sleep, but that might ruin my sleep schedule, which I didn't want. I could take a potion, but I didn't want to pour anything artificial into myself unless it was absolutely necessary. I trusted ordinary Muggle melatonin more than potions with all sorts of things added to them.
I didn't even feel like visiting the common room. That would only mean more annoying questions from the others, and while I couldn't avoid it forever, I definitely wasn't in the mood for it now. Also, if someone challenged me to a duel now—Blanár, for example—I probably wouldn't be able to handle a magical fight. And I hate losing.
And so, I slowly walked toward the Hogwarts kitchens. Fruit pie and cold milk—that's pure love.
It wasn't long before I found myself in front of the painting of the fruit. In classic fashion, I tickled the large pear, which immediately turned into a doorknob after a giggle. I was greeted by the familiar noise of industrious house-elves, the clattering of pans, and the clinking of dishes. The pleasant scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread hung in the air.
I had only taken a few steps when my "personal-impersonal" elf, Dudi, noticed me. He ran up to me respectfully and bowed low.
"Young Master Rosier! What does the young master wish for so late? We have apple pie, it's still warm!"
"Hello, Dudi," I nodded. "I'd like two pieces and some cold milk with it, if you'd be so kind."
He bowed enthusiastically, so low his ears slapped the floor, and hurried toward the oven. I settled into my usual spot in the corner of the room. I had time to think about the current situation. Vespera is safe. She'll survive, though god knows what she'll look like after that Confringo spell—thankfully she managed to cast a shield in time. In the canon, it seemed that Dark Magic left permanent marks and injuries from it couldn't be healed. In this world, however, it worked a bit differently.
Dark Magic had a wide spectrum of spells. Confringo was explosive and lethal, but it didn't seep into the wound like some curses, so my aunt might be completely healed.
I was so deep in thought that I didn't even notice when Dudi placed the pie and milk in front of me. Only its scent snapped me out of it. I dug in with gusto and continued thinking.
Gregor Mulciber is dead—one less thing to worry about. But why would he attempt an assassination right now? He wanted to take over the Rosier family through her. Had he given up and wanted to get rid of her out of wounded pride? It was extremely strange, though I was glad he was gone. Did his death trouble me? Absolutely not. He threatened what I loved, and the choice was simple: us or them. I didn't intend to risk anything in between. But if it wasn't him who tried to kill Vespera? Too many questions and too few answers.
If she's conscious tomorrow, I must talk to her. The Weasleys were still missing from Hogwarts. After the Prophet was published, I'm not surprised—in the Muggle world, it would be illegal. The case caused a wave of disgust. Rumors were at their peak, but people clearly couldn't count. It was obvious that all the children were Arthur Weasley's; every single one was born before Pettigrew even got to them. The adults are presumably being treated, and the children are under supervision.
The Minister promised me two thousand Galleons, and I was firmly determined to give half to the twins. They deserve it.
I still haven't written back to Black, and for now, I'll leave it that way. Maybe I'll surprise him in the summer. Let him pull himself together at least a little after that hell in Azkaban.
The pie was already eaten, and I felt my physical energy slowly returning, though magically I was still nearly at rock bottom. I was just about to leave when another piece of hot pie levitated toward me from a smiling Dudi. I hesitated for a moment, but then greed got the better of me and I continued eating.
When I finally finished, I set off with a bloated stomach. Time flew insanely fast in the kitchen. It was long past curfew, so I had to sneak back to the common room. The castle was completely silent and the portraits were asleep; only their soft snoring echoed through the corridors.
It wasn't long before I was entering our room. I quietly closed the door behind me and immediately lay down on the bed. I tried to focus on Occlumency to tidy up today's brutal memories, but after a while, I succumbed and darkness swallowed me without warning.
***
In the morning, I woke up unusually late—an hour after my usual time. It didn't surprise me that I was left alone in the room. Luckily it was Saturday, so I didn't miss anything. Magically, I had regenerated somewhat, but it still wasn't quite right. I felt the fatigue in my bones, that nasty feeling of overtraining.
I was still lying in bed, considering today's plan. Training and then Snape? I definitely didn't feel up for a proper drill, and if I was to go outside Hogwarts, I didn't want to be exhausted in case something happened. The others were at breakfast, but I wasn't in the mood for talk. I decided on a short, light strength training session right in the room to wake up, then a relaxing shower and some time with books. A rest day. Although, I was missing some proper fantasy for relaxation and maybe even inspiration.
„I should fix that," I thought.
After a series of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and shadow Thai boxing, I took a hot shower. A cold one would have been healthier, but at the moment I preferred comfort. I stayed in there for a good half hour.
It wasn't until around half past eleven that I left the room. I assumed the others would be training as usual and heading to lunch at twelve. I preferred to go to the kitchen for some privacy. I chose a beef steak with roasted potatoes and beans. I wondered if the elves would be interested in learning how to make a proper hamburger with fries.
Full, I headed to see Snape at half past twelve. I knocked twice and entered at his cold "Come in." A scowling Snape was sitting at his desk with a quill in hand. "I expected you this morning, Mr. Rosier," he spoke immediately.
"I figured the afternoon would be better for a visit if my aunt has rounds in the morning," I replied matter-of-factly.
He nodded in agreement. "I do not have time to go with you today." He gestured toward the fireplace with Floo powder and added: "Be back by evening. Do not fail my trust."
I immediately headed for the fireplace. „Is Snape reading my mind?" I wondered uneasily. It was unlikely, though. I felt no pressure, and my Occlumency was, according to Vespera, exceptionally strong. I didn't believe anyone was capable of just breaking into me like that. My mind was my most powerful weapon.
"Thank you, Professor," I nodded and clearly stated the destination: "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries!"
A moment later, I disappeared into the green flames.
***
Author's note:
We bid farewell to Gregor Mulciber, but as the saying goes: "Dead men tell no tales, but they leave plenty of questions."
Snape sees through our MC's manipulations and he respects it—just basic Slytherin behaviour, really. :D
I'm curious to hear your thoughts: do you think Vespera will be permanently scarred, or will the healers at St. Mungo's manage to patch her up completely?
***
Step into the Restricted Section
The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
Enter the Restricted Section here: you-know-what/PatrikWriter
Upcoming Chapters – Already Written:
48. The Ghost of a Friend
49. Hypothetical Questions
50. Ancient Crimes and Modern Recipes
51. The Smell of Teen Spirit and Dark Arts
52. More Than Just a Name
53. The Rat's Final Kiss
54. Deus Vult
55. The Underworld Gambit
56. The Boy Who Sponsored
57. The End of the Year
58. VR: The Warrior of Durmstrang
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