"A pleasant day, I hope, Madam Bones," Corvus said. His voice soft.
Rita Skeeter kept her quill high. Her photographer slid a step to the left for the shot. Corvus looked at them once, then back to Amelia.
"Senior Auror Dawlish was careless on the way," he said. "He met doors, chairs and tables that were not impressed by his cloak."
Amelia's eyes went from Corvus to the floating Auror and back. "Release him please," she said, in a tight voice.
Corvus ended the charm. Dawlish fell of air and hit tile face first. The crunch was clean. A clerk at the desk flinched. A witch at the lift pressed a hand over her mouth.
"Senior Aurors ought to be more careful," Corvus said in the tone he used in his lectures.
He looked at Amelia and spoke for the atrium to hear. "I suspect Senior Auror John Dawlish is under Imperius."
The room breathed in. Quills scratched. A wizard in pinstripes muttered Merlin.
Corvus took a folded parchment from his pocket. He slightly moved his wand and the paper drifted from his hand. It went toward Rita. He lifted his brows as if surprised at his own aim.
Rita caught it smoothly. She opened it just enough for her cameraman to see. One flash. Two.
"Miss Skeeter," Amelia said. "That is evidence. Hand it over."
Rita smiled and surrendered it. Amelia read. Her mouth set.
"Heir Black," she said, formal and even, "Senior Auror Dawlish is not under Imperius."
"Oh," Corvus said. "Then perhaps you will explain how a secretary commanded him."
Another small ripple moved through the crowd. Someone coughed and called it dust. The photographer did not bother to hide his grin.
Amelia crossed to the Minister. She held the memo up for him to see and touched her wand to the seal. The wax answered pale green and then went dull.
"It is not a forgery," she said.
"I did not give such orders, Lord Black," the Minister said. His hat sat very straight. His smile did not quite hold.
Corvus stepped close and took the memo back from Amelia with two fingers.
"Heir Black, that is evidence," she said again. There was a warning under the words.
"Clearly," was his reply. "I will keep it safe. You will have your copy. I hope you understand that I have doubts about Ministry judgment today."
He let his eyes touch Dawlish and then the Minister. He did not smile.
Amelia cast a Rennervate on him. Dawlish stood slowly. Looking around trying to understand.
"Senior Auror," Corvus said, "do you recall who sent you?"
Dawlish worked his jaw. as the stun had gone.
"The Senior Undersecretary," he said.
"Not the Head of the DMLE," Corvus said. "Not the Minister. A secretary." He let the word sit. He turned to the atrium. "If I am wrong, Madam Bones will say so."
Amelia did not rise to the bait. "The DMLE issues orders to Aurors," she said. "The Minister may issue them in person. Anyone else uses paper. Paper does not compel."
"Thank you," Corvus said. "You have saved me the lecture." He pointed at the red wax. "This paper compelled a Senior Auror to interrupt a medical consult at a school and attempt to remove a professor without agreement."
Rita's quill scratched. The click of her photographer's shutter popped like small charms.
"Corvus," Arcturus said from ten yards off. "Are you well?"
"Yes, Grandfather," Corvus said. "Though I think the ministry will not be after I push this issue."
Dawlish had a bruise rising on the temple and a fresh scrape along the brow. A shallow line of dried blood showed where a door had expressed an opinion.
"Senior Auror," Corvus said mildly, "you met a chair, a table, and three door frames between the Great Hall and the gate. You may wish to claim you slipped."
A low laugh ran and died.
"Enough," Amelia said. She raised a hand and the room steadied. "Heir Black. You will give me a copy of the memo. You will attend my office. If you wish to allege coercion by curse, you will do so under oath."
"Of course," Corvus said. "I have no wish to slander the DMLE. I simply do have a wish to keep secretaries from playing Auror."
He passed the memo to Arcturus, then looked back to Rita. "Miss Skeeter, a pleasure meeting you here. Hopefully you'll let Madam Bones to work in peace."
"Likewise, Heir Black and I always do." Rita said, with a smile that meant the opposite.
"Minister Fudge," Corvus said. "How unfortunate that we met like this. I think your chances to be re elected is going down, if even your secretary cares not about laws and order. You will hear from my Solicitor about this kidnapping attempt.. By the Minister himself as I doubt your secretary has the courage to act like that without your support."
Fudge opened his mouth, closed it. Tried again and fainted.
Corvus glanced once more at Dawlish and turned to Amelia Bones. "Madam Bones, shall we?"
"Follow me please," she said and started to walk towards the lift.
"Of course madame," Corvus said.
"I am a law abiding citizen afterall." This gained him a sharp gaze from the Director.
He turned from the circle. The crowd opened. Skeeter's quill followed him like a bird. The photographer lifted his camera again. The flash went once. Twice. And Wizarding Britain held its breath for the morning news.
--
Corvus left Madam Bones's office after half an hour. No oath. No statement beyond what the memo itself said. The paper might come in handy if will care enough to throw in it a special cup in the future.. If he have not killed the ugly bitch till then of course.
He walked to the apparition point, turned and went back to Hogwarts. The main gates opened. The Great Hall stilled for a breath and then resumed its noise. He did not slow.
A phoenix Patronus crossed the corridor and settled in front of him. Dumbledore's voice used its beak.
"Professor Black, if you would, my office."
Corvus smiled. He hoped Fawkes would be there. The fire rebirth was the last card he wanted from the fire chicken as Tibby wisely calls it.
Fawkes was there.
Corvus stood within reach of the perch and listened to Dumbledore ask questions that did not concern him. He gave the same answer each time. "Mind your own business, Headmaster."
On the last one Dumbledore sighed. "Of course. You are quite right, Professor Black. Old age must be catching up with me." The twinkle went on and off like a charm worked by habit.
"I agree," Corvus said. "Old age is catching up with you. There is no other way to explain the robes."
Dumbledore's mouth pinched. The darkening in his expression did not suit the fabric.
"Perhaps you are holding one hat too many, Headmaster," Corvus said. "Especially at your age." He watched the eyes. The glint there said the point had gone in.
He has already replicated the Fire Rebirth, the last talent will join the others when he will absorb it.
"I believe that is all," he said as he stood. "Have a pleasant afternoon."
He left the office and did not look back.
In his chambers he set five cauldrons and prepared for Aetherveil. Rowans. Valerian. Ginkgo. Mooncalf tears. Mistletoe. Chamomile. His own Phoenix tears. He worked with perfect harmony. The room smelled clean and bitter. Steam rose and sat near the ceiling.
He brewed again. Four more runs. Vials filled and cooled on the glass. He set each one in his mokeskin pouch. The leather took the weight and gave back silence.
There would be demand after St Mungo's. It would be a long day there and a longer week after. He did not mind the work. Work settled the noise other people made.
He thought of the Prophet and what it would print in the morning. He did not think of Dolores Umbridge for long. She was a shit stain that would wash or not, but she had sent an Auror to fetch a professor from a school and had done it with a pink smile. He did not feed acromantulas.
He turned the wand in his fingers and watched the light collect on the wood. "We will see," he said to the room. "We will see what happens when secretaries forget their station."
--
Corvus used fire travel to step into the ritual room at Grimmauld Place. Stone walls and a clean floor. No audience.
He would absorb the fire rebirth he had replicated from Fawkes. Fire travel had already proved its worth. He had not found any wards that stopped it in his tests till now. Gringotts might. He had not tried, nor was he planning.
He removed his robes and everything else. He sat in the center, folded his legs, and stilled his breath.
He let the talent to flow into his mind, his soul and instincts. Memories started to come. Animalistic in nature same as their owner. To strangest thing he learned was the natural length of the life span a creature like Phoenix has. It was only months. Nothing more. Every time the phoenix dies as his life comes to an end, it was reaching for a source, a flow. His first touch to this energy was heat without pain. Then the pull. Phoenix fire did not make life. It opened a path to it. Life itself was the source. In roots. In water. In air. Fawkes did not create his return. He drank from that river and rose as a chick because that was the bird's cycle. The trick was the path, not the bird.
Corvus followed the path carefully. He kept his mind blank and his will steady. The energy filled him in small measures. It felt like clean breath. Not like the filthy rush when he had siphoned the life from men who deserved the rope. This was not stolen. It was offered by the world and shaped by the phoenix' gift.
His skin lit in a faint green. Not bright enough to shine, enough to warm to fill. He stopped and let his core settle. Then he tapped the current again, slower, much more aware of the process. It was filling him with vigor, with 'life'.
Hours went that way.
He felt a pressure as if his soul could not take even a small sip anymore. He reached his limit for now.. He felt a pressure in his soul and stopped using the skill. He let the new energy settle, to calm. When the pressure eased he called his status. His Physical stat stood at B. It had been C before he absorbed the skill and use it. No C+, no B-. A full three steps. He looked at the corner of the room and cast Tempus wandlessly. It was ten in the morning already. He had arrived near midnight.
He stood. A wandless Accio brought his wand to hand. He conjured a mirror the size of a door and looked.
He was taller. A little more than five inches. Six feet three now, at sixteen years of age. Thoough there was only days to his birthday. His shoulders had set wider. His chest and abdomen showed corded muscle. The lines were clean. Strength with a little bulk.
He pulled on his robes and frowned when ankles and feet showed. The cloth did not reach. He focused and let his metamorphmagus gift do the work Nymphadora's memories had thought him well on top of them he tested the skill enough to change his shape effortlessly. Bones eased. Muscles shifted. He shortened by three inches and narrowed his frame just enough to pass. The face kept its angles. The hair stayed the same.
He would not keep the change. He would go back to his true height in small steps. A little each week over two months. No one would have a day to point at and say it happened there.
He dressed and tied his hair. Fire Travel took him back to Hogwarts.
At his desk he set a clean parchment and wrote three lines. Serum is ready. I will be at St Mungos at noon. Bring a Healer you trust. He signed and sealed it.
"Umbra," he said.
The raven landed on the back of the chair. It bowed once. Corvus tied the note to his leg and opened the window.
"To Augusta Longbottom," he said.
Umbra cawed and went out into the light.
Corvus turned to the door and heard the familiar hiss from the terrarium.
"Betrayer of kin. Feather lover," Viridith said in Parseltongue. The green bush viper's head swayed over the branch. He was still cross with him about his first animagi form.
Corvus laughed once and bent to the glass. "I have a surprise for you, Viridith," he said in the same tongue. "You will like it."
He straightened, checked the vials in his mokeskin pouch, and left for the day's work.