A few days late, but here it is! I've got some news, though!

On the suggestion of Asmodeus Stahl, I have created a Discord server for anyone who wants to discuss my stories, pitch in ideas, or just interact with other people. The link is on my profile for those who are interested.

Kudara: Who said it hadn't? It just hasn't been featured (yet). He's a bit more cunning than to outright state the possibility.

sandipi: I answer the "How?" behind Harry Potter's name binding Corvus in this chapter. As for Karkaroff, well, he will learn quickly why it's a bad idea to make an enemy of a Black.

I do NOT own Harry Potter or its universe. Those rights belong to JK Rowling and her publisher.

ENJOY!

Chapter 9

Weighing Wands

"IGOR KARKAROFF!"

Walburga Black's roar echoed in the Great Hall of Hogwarts and every eye in the room turned towards the massive double doors as they slammed open, revealing the irate witch. She was dressed in her 'Regent Black' robes – form-fitting black and trimmed with gold, the family crest stitched over her heart. Her greying black hair fanned out around her, and many who saw her thought that an older Bellatrix Lestrange had appeared amongst them, especially with the sinister glint in the witch's dark eyes. Lord Arcturus Black trailed in behind her, looking far too amused about what was going to happen.

"Regent Black," Karkaroff said pleasantly, though his eyes shined with fear. "What a pleasure to see you once more."

"Don't!" Grandmother snarled. "Don't even think of playing your word games with me, Karkaroff!"

Corvus smirked, feeling quite pleased with the current scenario that Karkaroff faced. A glance to his either side showed that Flora and Hestia were in a similar situation.

"I give Karkaroff two minutes before he's screaming," Flora said as Grandmother began to drag their headmaster from the Great Hall, then she looked thoughtful for a moment, watching Karkaroff's wincing. "Never mind. I give him thirty seconds."

"Please come, Corvus, dear," Grandmother said sweetly. "We have something to discuss."

Corvus nodded and rose with Hestia and Flora, which made Grandmother nod approvingly – she had drilled it into him that his business was also his future wives' business, so they should be involved in any important discussions he attends – unless it was specified for absolute privacy, at which point he could, and would, fill them in afterwards.

"Time for a show, ladies," Corvus said with a grin.

Hestia placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and the trio set off.

They guided Lord Black, Grandmother, and Karkaroff to their room aboard the ship, where they didn't hesitate to throw up as many privacy and silencing charms as they knew. All three students had a feeling that Grandmother was about to show Karkaroff exactly why you shouldn't piss off a Black, which usually involved an Unforgivable or two.

Corvus was leaning towards a minimum of six, in this situation.

"Just tell me why," Grandmother started slowly, her voice quiet and dangerous, "you thought it was acceptable for you to enter my charge into a tournament infamous for its death toll?"

"And how," Corvus added, smiling happily.

Being in the Triwizard Tournament wasn't good news for him, but he was never going to turn down the opportunity to watch Grandmother go 'Full Black' on an idiot (that wasn't him, anyway). Besides, Karkaroff had had this coming for a long time because he had escaped Azkaban when Grandmother's favorite niece hadn't.

Karkaroff swallowed thickly, his eyes darting between the five others in the room, four of whom had a wand pointed at him just to prove the point that there was no getting out of this. Lord Black stood off to the side, where he could enjoy the show without getting any possible blood on himself.

"It was an opportunity to prove Durmstrang's superiority," Karkaroff said at last. "If a mere fourth year student – although an admittedly talented one – could hold his own against wizards three years his senior, it would prove that we teach our students better."

"So you wanted to stroke your own ego," Flora supplied, sneering.

Karkaroff gulped again.

"How did you get my name to come out?" Corvus asked. "And more importantly, how is it that I'm bound by 'Harry Potter' when my legal name is 'Corvus Black.'"

"An enchantment on the parchment," Karkaroff admitted. "It was taken from one of your homework assignments, but I had it enchanted so that the reader would only see 'Harry Potter.'"

They all gave him looks of disgust.

"Thank you," Grandmother drawled sinisterly, raising her wand, "for answering our questions honestly." She grinned like a shark who smelled blood in the water. "Now it's time for punishment."

Karkaroff's eyes widened. "What —"

"Crucio!"

His screams were loud enough that Corvus, Flora, and Hestia had to reapply the charms on the door and walls. Grandmother held the Cruciatus Curse for thirty-second bursts to prevent the man from winding up like the Longbottoms. The Durmstrang Headmaster lasted just over two minutes before passing out.

"Well," Corvus said in disappointment, looking at Flora. "He lasted longer than thirty seconds before the screaming started."

"You didn't take the bet, though," she pointed out.

Corvus cursed while the twins smirked at each other.

"At least now we know why he fought so hard to get the approval to bring fourth years along for their own tournament," Hestia said.

"Bloody idiot," Grandmother sneered. "I should do worse than a small Cruciatus."

"Be our guest," Corvus invited, grinning. Normally, Corvus would never take joy from someone being tortured like this, having experienced Grandmother's Cruciatus firsthand as a way to improve his pain tolerance, but Karkaroff had been giving his family a lot of problems lately so he was due a reminder why the Blacks were feared around the world.

Flora and Hestia giggled – they looked quite excited at the thought.

Lord Black, however, wasn't of the same mindset. "Perhaps another time. That is enough for now without causing some… issues… for the family at a later date."

They understood. They weren't happy about it, but they understood. Grandmother, in particular, seemed disappointed she wouldn't get to have more fun with Karkaroff.

"So how's the Prophet handling this mess?" Corvus asked. He had neglected to read the paper that morning mostly because it definitely involved him, and he'd rather not read his own family history because people couldn't refuse mentioning the Boy Who Lived and the accompanying story.

"They're all speculating that your name was entered as a ploy to get you killed," Flora informed him. At his questioning look, she continued, "I read my neighbor's paper at breakfast."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course you did."

Flora grinned.

"I'm going to go meet Pansy," Corvus told them. "She promised me a tour of the castle, but I think it's just her excuse to show off her being friends with the Boy Who Lived."

Hestia snorted. "Of course it is, Corvus. It'll elevate her status in Slytherin House if she proves that she's one of your best friends in public without a group to steal attention, like yesterday. Plus it gives her a chance to introduce her friends."

"Which includes half the girls in Slytherin," Corvus pointed out.

Flora smirked. "Have fun."

"Not too much fun, though," Hestia added, frowning.

Corvus grinned and kissed her.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he said. "And I promise I won't have too much fun."

Unless it's embarrassing for someone else.

With a few reminders from Lord Black and Grandmother on how to conduct himself, Corvus left the ship and made his way to Hogwarts. He found Pansy waiting for him in the entrance hall.

"Hi, Corvus," she said the moment she saw him, beaming.

"Good morning, Pansy," he replied pleasantly. "How are you today?"

Her grin widened. "Excellent, thank you. Come on."

They set off towards the marble staircase on the other end of the hall to begin the tour. She told him a variety of rumours involving different people at Hogwarts that Corvus didn't care enough to remember as they walked. He wasn't surprised that she knew the locations of each House dormitory and how to get inside them – passwords for Gryffindor and Slytherin, answering riddles for Ravenclaw, and tapping a specific rhythm for Hufflepuff. More than one Hogwarts student tried to get Corvus' attention, but he just ignored them in favor of listening to Pansy's explanations about what scandal had been discovered involving whatever location they happened to be in at the time.

They were passing the library when they encountered a tall, redheaded boy with lots of freckles, large hands and feet, and a long nose. Corvus knew he must be a Weasley immediately, and that observation was affirmed at the sight of the boy's secondhand robes.

"Can I help you?" Corvus drawled, concealing his disgust expertly, though Pansy's nose wrinkled in disdain beside him. "Or are you just going to stand there and gawk at me?"

The top of the boy's ears turned pink. "You're Harry Potter," he stated. "Where's your scar?"

Corvus's figured this was likely Ronald Weasley, from what his Hogwarts friends had told him over the years – tactless, brash, easily embarrassed, the list went on.

"My name is Corvus Black," he corrected. "The next person to call me 'Harry Potter' is spending a night with the nearest Healer."

"Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing," Pansy input helpfully.

People passing in the halls stopped to watch. Pansy hadn't been joking when she said that the students of Hogwarts were always eager to observe a fight, no matter who was involved.

"And just why," Corvus continued slowly, as if speaking to a toddler, "do you believe I would want to have a constant reminder of my parents' murder?"

The observers shifted awkwardly, glancing anywhere but Corvus. Weasley's ears turned a darker pink and his cheeks flushed. He opened and closed his mouth several times, mouthing wordlessly, but no sound came out.

"How considerate of you, thinking only of the fame rather than the cause – truly, I am very impressed with the intelligence displayed to me right now."

Weasley looked around, searching for a new topic. His eyes fell on Pansy.

"Why are you hanging around with a snake like Pug-Face Parkinson?" he said, sounding baffled.

A collective gasp went up around them.

Corvus wasn't sure what was worse – the 'nickname' for one of his best friends, the completely nonchalant manner that Weasley had said it, or the fact that it seemed like something that was widely known about Pansy and spoken of behind her back.

"What did you call her?"

It would have been less threatening had Corvus shouted, but his voice was nearly a whisper, almost echoing in the silence that had consumed the corridor at Weasley's words. Anyone who looked at Corvus would have assumed he was indifferent to what had just happened – his face expressionless and his eyes void of any emotion – but they would never know that he was using as much control of his Occlumency as possible to avoid sending Weasley to his parents in pieces for his slight against Pansy.

Corvus knew that Pansy wasn't the nicest person – very few of his friends were, and Pansy could be surprisingly cruel, when she wished – but he also knew that she had been keeping to herself and her friends the last couple of years, laying low, drawing as little attention to herself as possible.

All because of that stupid, filthy name.

Weasley proved he wasn't entirely stupid and realized that he had just crossed a thin line that there was no returning from. He took a step backwards, watching Corvus warily – or more specifically, the wand in his hand that Corvus couldn't recall withdrawing.

"Apologize." It wasn't a request.

"S-s-sorry," Weasley stuttered.

"Go."

The Gryffindor turned tail and sprinted away.

The relief coming from the crowd was almost tangible. Corvus could feel the tension leaving the area as everyone dispersed.

Pansy was gaping at Corvus.

"What?" he asked. "Do I have something on my face?"

"How powerful are you?" she whispered, ignoring the poor attempt at a joke.

Corvus frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Pansy looked around, biting her lip, then she grabbed Corvus' arm and dragged him down the hallway. They winded through twisting corridors before she pulled him into an empty classroom.

"Corvus," she started carefully, "I could feel the power coming off of you just now. I've never seen anything like that before."

"What?"

"It was like I could touch pure magic," Pansy continued, her eyes distant. "Magic before it's condensed into a spell and cast, unfiltered and wild. It's… indescribable…"

A bit paradoxical, given how she had already described it fairly well, but Pansy was nothing if not incredibly dramatic.

"Do you think anyone else noticed?" Corvus didn't need any more attention coming his way after everything that had happened over the last few days.

"Do I think anyone else noticed?" Pansy repeated incredulously. "Corvus – everyone noticed. That's why no one interfered even though there were four prefects present. Why do you think Weasley was so scared? He probably didn't know what was happening."

"Shit." Corvus ran a hand through his hair, unintentionally messing it up when Hestia had painstakingly spent an hour smoothing it with Sleekeazy's.

Pansy snorted. "That's an understatement if I've ever heard one."

The next two weeks were strange around Hogwarts. Word had spread about Weasley's confrontation with Corvus, and soon everyone knew not to call him by his birth name. The rumours of a fourteen-year-old powerful enough to possess an aura when his emotions were at their extreme had enough truth to them to keep everyone in line, in addition to Corvus' threat. Several students still wanted to get to know the Boy Who Lived, the Heir Black, or whatever other title caught their interest the most, but they all respected his wishes to be called Corvus Black.

On the Friday exactly two weeks after the arrival of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to Hogwarts, the four champions met up in a small classroom that had most of its desks pushed against the back wall, leaving a large open space in the middle. Three desks had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with velvet. Behind the desks were five chairs for the five judges.

Cedric Diggory and Fleur Delacour were having a conversation when Corvus and Viktor entered with Karkaroff. It looked like the French champion was flirting with Diggory, from what Corvus could tell – she kept tossing her silvery hair so that it caught the light with a flirty smile on her face. A paunch man holding a large black camera was watching her out of the corner of his eye, which made Corvus smirk as he pointed it out to Viktor.

A blonde witch in magenta robes with jeweled glasses caught Corvus's eye and grinned.

"Ah, the Heir Black," she said with a hungry gleam in her eyes. "Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet. I wonder, might I have a word with you, the youngest champion, before we start?"

"Perhaps after," Corvus replied smoothly with a charming smile. "We wouldn't want to hold everyone up if it takes longer than expected." And it would give him more time to think of ways to do it properly. "You never know what questions might come up, after all."

Her grin grew. "Of course. How considerate of you."

Corvus made his way to the corner with Viktor before the conversation could continue, wishing that any reporter other than Rita Skeeter had been chosen for this. Karkaroff took a seat at the velvet-covered table with Maxime, Crouch, and Bagman. Skeeter settled herself in a different corner from Corvus' and took a parchment out of her crocodile-skin handbag along with an acid-green Quick-Quotes Quill.

Dumbledore entered the room with another old wizard not too long after that.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore said, taking his place at the judge's table. "He will be checking your wands to ensure they are in good condition before the tournament."

Ollivander stood quietly by the window, his large, pale eyes observing everyone.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" he said, moving into the middle of the room to be better seen.

The French champion swept over to Ollivander and handed him her wand, who announced to everyone its specifications – nine and a half inches of inflexible rosewood with a Veela hair core.

"I have never used Veela hair myself, of course," Ollivander commented. "I find it makes for rather temperamental wands…" That sounded like a subtle jab at Delacour's personality to Corvus, knowing what little he did about wandlore. "However, to each his own, and if this suits you…"

Yup, it was definitely a jab.

Ollivander summoned flowers using the Orchideous spell, which he handed to Delacour before declaring her wand was suitable for the tournament.

"Mr. Diggory, you next."

Delacour smiled at Diggory as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Ollivander said enthusiastically as Diggory handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well." He informed the room that it was twelve and a quarter inches of pleasantly springy ash wood with a unicorn tail hair core. "You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," Cedric said, grinning.

Corvus coughed. Viktor smirked at him.

Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room using Diggory's wand before deciding he was satisfied. "Mr. Krum, if you please."

Viktor handed over his wand rather grumpily, scowling. Corvus figured he, too, had noticed the way that Ollivander had behaved around a wand made by a foreign crafter, because it wasn't even a possibility that a friend of Dumbledore's was bashing Delacour's creature status. And of course —

"This is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I… however…"

At least he had the tact not to outright insult Viktor's wand as he had Delacour's.

Ollivander noted that the wand was ten and a quarter inches of rigid hornbeam wood with a dragon heartstring core. He conjured a flock of birds with it and said, "Good… Which leaves… Mr. Black."

Corvus handed over his wand and Ollivander's eyes widened.

"Dear me…" the old wandmaker said softly. "Is this wand made of two woods?"

The entire room was paying full attention now.

"Thirteen inches of holly and aspen," Ollivander murmured, focusing deeply on the wand, "unbending, with a phoenix tail feather core…"

Corvus smiled. While the wand created from the feather the phoenix had randomly gifted him with over a year ago wasn't nearly as powerful as his thestral hair wand, it had a far greater range of what magic it was capable of, which certainly made up the difference, even if it had a specific leaning towards Charms because of the aspen wood.

Ollivander spent a long time observing the wand, but eventually he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it – an embarrassingly simple thing to do with such a powerful wand – and handed it back to Corvus, announcing that it was in perfect condition.

"Thank you all," Dumbledore said, standing up. "You may go back to your lessons now – or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end —"

The man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" Bagman cried excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Yes, let's do those first," Skeeter agreed, eyeing Corvus again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

Corvus smiled to avoid gritting his teeth.

The photos took far too long — Maxime was tall enough to shadow everyone else, the photographer wanted Delacour in front, Skeeter wanted Corvus up prominent, and it was really just a massive struggle all around for the four champions. Their respective headmasters seemed to be the only ones that actually wanted to be in the photos, as strange as it sounded.

But the more Corvus thought about it, the more he understood why. The other champions had signed up for the tournament (or had been forced to, in Viktor's case) for the glory of the tournament itself, not the posing for photos and interviews that came before the event.

Corvus had more reason than any of them for wishing to be anywhere else, though. He wasn't even supposed to be here – and wouldn't be, if not for Karkaroff's greed.

It only got worse when Skeeter insisted on individual shots of the four champions.

"The interview, Mr. Black?" Skeeter said the moment the champions were dismissed for dinner. Despite the grumbling in his stomach, Corvus knew it would be better to get this over with now and agreed.

They found an empty classroom and set up. Corvus had to remind Skeeter not to use her acid quill instead of a real one, but she complied without fuss.

The interview began, and Corvus wasn't surprised that the first question was why he preferred to be called 'Corvus Black' instead of his birth name.

"The name 'Harry Potter' is already famous for something I can't even remember," he answered honestly. "There are expectations associated with it – expectations that I don't want to stress about if it isn't necessary to do so. Being 'Corvus Black' instead grants me freedom to be myself and walk around without everyone gawking at me for being the Boy Who Lived – that may change, now that everyone knows the truth, but I truly hope it doesn't. I want to make a name for myself through my own actions, not what everyone thinks they know about me."

Then she brought up his relationship with Hestia. Corvus admitted that he was betrothed to both Hestia and Flora to carry on the Black and Potter family names, even if he himself didn't use the latter anymore. Skeeter tried to pry into private details, but Corvus shut that down quickly by firmly stating his private life was no one's business but his own and those who were personally involved.

That was when Skeeter asked the question he knew she had been waiting all day for.

"There are rumours that you are the heir of Salazar Slytherin and even wear his ring," her eyes flicked to his left hand, where the serpentine ring was proudly displayed, "would you mind telling the Daily Prophet how this is possible?"

"My mother is Salazar's descendant. She was a half-blood – not a muggleborn, as everyone was led to believe. A blood ritual, thanks to the goblins at Gringotts, confirmed that her line is directly descended from the founder through her mother, a near-squib, but my grandmother's magic was weak enough that she wasn't considered for Hogwarts."

"Did your mother know about this?"

"I can't answer that, seeing as how I have never spoken to her," Corvus replied bitingly. Skeeter flinched as if he had struck her. "I would assume that she didn't, though, or she would have claimed the line for her own protection, to prove that she wasn't a muggleborn when discrimination was high."

Discrimination that Corvus had been raised with, and everyone likely knew it, but he wasn't about to say so when every word out of his mouth was likely to end up in the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning.

"And through what family was she connected to Salazar Slytherin?"

Corvus smiled vaguely. "I think I'll keep that information to myself for the moment, Miss Skeeter. It wouldn't be very Slytherin of me to go around giving out all my secrets, would it?"

She looked frustrated at that, but forced herself to calm down and continue her questioning.

It felt like hours had passed before she finally let Corvus go. He rushed down to the Great Hall and slipped between Flora and Hestia, barely managing to scoop some delicious-smelling food onto his plate before the dishes were replaced by desserts.

"Viktor said that Rita Skeeter got her claws on you," Flora mentioned idly.

Corvus grunted, his mouth full of food he would rather not spray over his betrothed.

He swallowed thickly before speaking. "She just wanted the same answers everyone else has been asking for over the last couple weeks – what I think about living with the Blacks, what my thoughts about Durmstrang compared to Hogwarts are so far" — Flora and Hestia both snorted — "how I plan on training for a tournament designed to test students three years my senior, my relationship with you two, what I think about Hogwarts, and so on."

"That seems odd for her," Hestia commented. "She's usually more…"

"Invasive?"

"Yeah."

"She was." Corvus rolled his eyes. "The Black family influence was enough to keep her at bay for now, though. I wouldn't put it past Skeeter to try something later on, once things have calmed down and she thinks she can get away with it."

"At least you've bought us some time to prepare for the fallout," Flora said. "Now we know not to be surprised if she finds some semblance of courage to target Great Britain's favorite celebrity."

Corvus scowled.

"The duelling tournament starts tomorrow," Hestia said airily, serving herself a slice of pumpkin pie. "So at least there's that to look forward to."

Flora's eyes lit up with excitement.

Corvus felt bad for whoever her first opponent was.

AN: Nothing important to say in this note, so I'll just give a brief description of Corvus' new wand and why I chose the combination that I did, for anyone who's curious.

It was mostly a subtle, Slytherin-like warning against Dumbledore, who would definitely know enough about wandlore to understand.

Aspen is a wand-wood for strong-minded, determined wizards/witches who are "more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders" (taken from the HP fandom wiki).

Holly wands have a volatility that "conflicts strangely with the phoenix's detachment" when one's feather is used. "In the unusual event of such a pairing finding its ideal match, however, nothing and nobody should stand in their way." (Again, taken from HP fandom wiki).

Combined, it's a message to Dumbledore that Corvus isn't going to let anything get between him and whatever his ambition is (which will be revealed in later chapters), so it isn't even worth trying anything. He knows that Dumbledore is going to attempt to keep him at Hogwarts and he's willing to fight with his every fiber to avoid that, if necessary.

I like doing this kind of stuff. All these subtleties and symbolisms really make me happy, for some reason.

THANKS FOR READING!