Well this took forever. Sorry, but I kind of lost interest in the story for a while and didn't want to put out any half-assed content, so I waited until I was in the mood for it again.

Cyan-Snake: Both excellent questions. One will be answered this chapter, the other not until after Corvus graduates from Durmstrang.

harkthe: There's a difference between power and prowess. Corvus has surrounded himself with like-minded, intelligent, and skilled individuals who, while they can't match him spell-for-spell the way Hestia or Flora could, can certainly hold their own. But his biggest reason to keep them around is because of the influence each one holds, not their magical power.

Besides, they're still teenagers. He's not going to be on Voldemort/Dumbledore-level while he's still learning magic. That kind of thing takes years to develop.

Marksbay: The Parseltongue ability transferring through the betrothal contract is only Walburga's assumption because nothing else makes sense to her. I am neither confirming nor denying that something else could possibly be happening.

If you would like to join my Discord, use the link on my profile.

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

ENJOY!

Chapter 11

A Sirius Situation

The Lost Houses

By Rita Skeeter

The magical community of Great Britain was shaken when, just over three weeks ago, none other than the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, returned to our shores, only he now goes by Corvus Black instead of the name assigned at birth for what had been, until recently, his personal safety. Since that time, this reporter has had the pleasure of interviewing the young heir to the House of Black because of his forced and unprecedented participation in the Triwizard Tournament despite the fact that, this time, it was supposed to be safer with better protections than when it was last held over a century ago.

During aforementioned interview with Heir Black, it was revealed that his mother, the late Lily Potter, was not a muggleborn, as had been widely believed, but a half-blood.

This information was discovered through the use of an Ancestry Ritual at Gringotts Bank when Lord Arcturus Black III and his current Regent, Walburga, visited to officially register their heir.

For the sake of our saviour's safety, it was kept quiet until his recent interview, where Heir Black acknowledged and confirmed the rumours that he is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and was even able to successfully claim the heirship to the Founding House.

Since that interview was released to the public, Gringotts has seen an influx in muggleborn customers requesting to undergo an Ancestry Ritual of their own, each new visitor questioning their lineage and hoping for a greater connection to this wonderful world of magic that we call home.

After just one single week, over thirty long-thought to be extinct Houses have been claimed by their closest remaining members. Several of the new Lords and Ladies of these Houses have already taken up their mantles in the Wizengamot and joined our esteemed government body.

We are pleased to see the magical community of Great Britain begin to grow again after the terror wreaked upon our world this century, first by the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald roughly sixty years ago, and then again by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named twenty years ago. We have hope that our community can thrive once more and reclaim its place as the best in the magical world.

And it is all thanks to the Boy-Who-Lived and the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

The article continued on for much longer after that, heaping more praise on the House of Black and especially on Corvus, but Walburga had no interest in reading more of Rita Skeeter's drivel now that she had finished the pertinent information to the discussion at hand.

"We have already been approached by ten of these Houses," Walburga announced to the room. She was joined in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place by Lord Black, Cygnus, Druella, and Cassiopeia, who had returned to London only the night prior. "They are now in the hands of muggleborn Lords and Ladies who have practiced the Dark Arts in secret, seeking methods to defend themselves. They believe that, since we have raised the Boy-Who-Lived, the defeater of Voldemort, we have changed our own views to be more… accommodating of their kind."

Cygnus snorted. "Bloody fools, the lot of them."

"But what are they seeking?" Cassiopeia asked with narrowed blue eyes exactly like her late younger sister Dorea's. Being the closest related to Corvus by blood, she had always gotten along the best with him, amongst the members of the Black family—disregarding Walburga, of course. Her silver hair was cut short, part of it permanently charred on the side from where a cursed tomb had nearly ended her.

Of all the Blacks, Cassiopeia was the most like a Gryffindor, always following thrill and danger, thriving on pure adrenaline more than actual sustenance, but she was as cunning and resourceful as the best of Slytherins, which more than made up for her lack of any self-preservation.

Now that Walburga thought about it, it had probably been an unwise decision to let Flora and Corvus spend as much time as they did around Cassiopeia. She was a poor influence on them.

"An alliance," Walburga said in answer to her aunt's question. "Or a truce, at least. They will assist us in furthering our goals if we agree not to pursue any actions against them and theirs."

"A fair enough arrangement," Druella conceded reluctantly.

While it was clear that none of the other Blacks were happy with treating muggleborns respectfully, they weren't about to blow an opportunity to counterbalance the Wizengamot in their favour when it had essentially been Dumbledore's court since he was elected Chief Warlock following his defeat of Grindelwald.

This was too good of an opportunity to let their beliefs blind them.

"Four of the ten Houses that have sought us out are newly-discovered half-bloods," Walburga mentioned, hoping that would placate her family as much as it had herself. "So while they may not be pure, it is better than the muddy filth they were previously believed to be."

Further discussion was halted by a knock at the door.

Walburga could have instructed Kreacher to get it, but the house-elf was preparing supper, and having that done as soon as possible would ensure she did not need to waste time with whomever was rude enough to visit at this untimely hour—and uninvited, as well.

When she opened the door, however, Walburga wished more than anything else that she had ordered Kreacher to get it in her stead.

"You," she spat with as much loathing as she could muster.

Standing on the doorstep, just within range of the Unplottable Charm that shielded Grimmauld Place from anyone who did not possess magic, was none other than her disgraceful eldest son, Sirius.

"What have you done to Harry?" he demanded with an equal amount of hatred in his voice.

A decade in Azkaban had done wonders for taking away his resemblance to the rest of the Blacks. His face was more gaunt than any respectable pureblood would allow themselves to become, and his greasy, dark hair hung to his elbows. He held a wand tightly, aiming it at her chest.

His time away had clearly stripped the memory of what should happen to any attackers foolish enough to go after the Blacks on their property.

"I have made him a greater wizard than he could ever have been had I left him alone," Walburga answered smugly, taking great joy in the furious blush that coloured her son's pale, hollow cheeks.

"Stop lying!" he hissed. "There's no way Dumbledore wouldn't have helped Harry!"

"Then why did he leave the boy, your godson," Walburga tried not to show how much glee she felt at Sirius's flinch, but she almost certainly failed, "on the doorstep of a filthy muggle household belonging to Lily Evans's half-sister."

"Half-sister?" Sirius looked bewildered.

Walburga resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Naming him after the dog star could not have been more appropriate, given his lack of an attention span. Of course he would focus on the exact wrong detail in what she had told him—she expected nothing less from a blood-traitor like him.

"Lily and Petunia shared a father but had different mothers," Walburga said slowly, as if explaining the most fundamental concept that one and one equals two. "Or did you truly think it was possible for one child to be magical while the other is not when they share the same parents?"

That actually was possible—squibs were proof enough of the opposite situation—but Walburga wanted to embarrass and harass Sirius as much as she could now that the opportunity had been presented.

By the way his eyes were focused anywhere but on her, she was quite successful.

Walburga looked up and down the street before turning back to him. "Get inside," she snarled. "I will not have you dirtying my doorstep and bringing the Aurors because of your carelessness."

Law enforcement swarming Grimmauld Place was the absolute last thing she wanted to deal with on top of the mess that Karkaroff had created by entering Corvus in the Triwizard Tournament.

Walburga slammed the door shut behind him, grinning when Sirius flinched.

She guided him down the hallway to the kitchen, deciding that they might as well feed him since he was here before tearing into him about the atrocious way he had recklessly stormed here with wand at the ready, demanding information that could be achieved much easier if he just behaved pleasantly for once in his life.

Though Walburga took great joy from sending a Stinging Hex at his hind to stop his slouching.

"What is that doing in my house?" Arcturus growled the moment he spotted their… guest. Cygnus and Druella wore similar expressions of contempt as they took in Sirius and his filthy appearance.

"He wishes to hear about Corvus," Walburga said, smirking when Sirius glared at her. "I thought it would be best to receive more than one account of the success our family's heir has brought us."

Cygnus and Druella sat a little straighter and Arcturus's eyes narrowed.

"Fine," he gritted out. "But as soon as this conversation's over, I want him gone."

"Gladly," Sirius shot back.

"The only reason I'm not calling the Aurors right now is because, as much you bring shame upon the Black name, you are still of our blood."

"Unfortunately."

They all took seats around the room, all of the real Blacks staring at Sirius, who glared right back.

"Before we begin, I have a question of my own," Walburga said. She leaned closer and gave her son a penetrating stare, mutely daring him to even think of lying to her. "How did you escape Azkaban?"

Perhaps it would be possible to help Bellatrix by the same means. If this piss-poor excuse of a wizard could manage something no one else in history had done, then it would be unbelievably easy to help someone as qualified and talented as Bellatrix accomplish the feat as well.

However, Walburga's hopes were dashed as soon as her son explained that he had illegally become an animagus during his school years, and escaped when he saw the photo of a somehow still-living Peter Pettigrew in the Daily Prophet—the issue where the Weasleys won the Ministry's raffle seventeen months ago. He had been thin enough that, as in the form of a dog, he was able to slip through the bars and flee the prison.

Dementors weren't able to sense animals the way they could humans, so at least that part made sense.

"Becoming an animagus illegally might just be the most Black-worthy thing you've ever done," Cygnus commented with a sneer. "Pity you had to kill any respect that had earned you by sharing that you only did it to help a werewolf."

"Filthy creatures," Druella muttered.

Walburga couldn't care less about what Sirius had done or why—she was just upset that she couldn't help save her favourite living family member from that demon-ridden hellhole.

"My turn," Sirius said, cutting off any further complaints. "What did you do to Harry?"

"You have already asked this," Walburga drawled, though she had no real problems with that. If Sirius wanted to waste what precious time he had repeating himself, then she would let him. It wouldn't be her fault if he asked the wrong questions and made no progress tonight.

"But you didn't give me a full answer," Sirius retorted. "What did you mean when you said that you've made him greater than he would have been?"

"Exactly that. Dumbledore left the boy with muggles," she sneered, "and I took him in to spare him that horrid lifestyle that no proper heir to a Noble House should have been given."

"But who did Dumbledore leave him—" Sirius stopped speaking abruptly, his eyes widening in horror. "Not… Not Petunia?"

Walburga sneered. "Who else? I already told you that it was Lily Evans's half-sister whom Corvus was left with."

"Petunia hates magic, though!"

"Yes, I am aware of that," Walburga said impatiently. Apparently she had been wrong when she thought she had no problems with Sirius wasting time. "Hurry up, already."

"Why did you take Harry away from Petunia?"

He was finally asking the right questions if he wanted real answers.

"Revenge," Walburga answered, seeing no harm in revealing that much. "He defeated Voldemort as a child when much older and stronger than he had failed—"

"You don't really believe that nonsense, do you?" Sirius interrupted incredulously.

"Of course not," she sneered. "Do I believe that something happened that night that allowed Corvus to survive whilst simultaneously destroying the most powerful Dark wizard of the time? Yes, I do, but I am not nearly so foolish as to believe a child could have done it.

"The point is that Corvus survived the Killing Curse when millions before him have perished. There is potential in him that no one else has, and I wanted to bring it out—I still do. It is for that reason that I sent him to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts, in spite of a thousand years of tradition. Corvus would need to learn more than what could be provided here, and Durmstrang was and is the best option."

"You want him to take up Voldemort's mantle," Sirius realized, his eyes widening.

"No," Walburga denied. "I want Corvus to be better—to succeed where Voldemort failed and prove that there is a reason Death did not embrace him on that night thirteen years ago."

Sirius stared at her in horror.

"He is Slytherin's heir," Walburga continued, indifferent to her son's reaction. "It is only fitting that he finish what his ancestor started all those centuries ago—what Voldemort tried to do only two decades ago and failed because of a child. Corvus will be stronger, more powerful than them both. He has been given the best training money can by for nearly ten years, well before any other magical child starts receiving their own. By the time he graduates from Durmstrang, he will be well on his way to being the next Dark Lord of Europe—a Dark Lord the likes of which have never been seen before."

Sirius shook his head, his mouth moving mutely, unable to make sound.

"Dumbledore will stop him," he said at last, his voice quiet and weak. "He will stop you."

"Dumbledore is decades past his prime," Cygnus growled. "He could barely hold his own against Voldemort, and that was nearly twenty years ago."

"You also assume that Dumbledore will be aware of any of this," Cassiopeia interjected smoothly.

Sirius rose to his feet with clenched fists. "What's stopping me from running to Dumbledore right now and telling him?"

Walburga laughed coldly.

"What's stopping you?" she repeated incredulously. "Have you forgotten where we are, boy?"

Sirius froze, his face losing what little colour it had left.

"The Black wards will stop you from sharing anything that betrays the family," Walburga reminded him, as if speaking to a child. "It was why you could never tell your blood-traitor friends your true reasons for running away when you were sixteen—why you could never tell them anything about what you actually knew of our involvement in the last war."

Sirius sank back into his seat limply, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. He deflated with a heavy sigh, his eyes filling with a hopelessness that warmed Walburga's heart.

It was times like this that she missed her late husband more than anything else. It was Orion's paranoia that had allowed for this situation to occur—his placing such protective wards on the home of their fathers that had protected their plans for Corvus. Walburga wished more than she had wished for anything that he could be here right now, plotting alongside her and berating their eldest, like they had teamed up to do on many occasions while he was growing up.

But alas, that time was gone, and Walburga could only do it in his memory.

"Why are you telling me this?" Sirius asked faintly, his expression pained.

Walburga grinned sinisterly.

"Because now, you'll suffer, knowing that there is nothing you can do to stop what's coming. You will have no choice but to watch as Great Britain falls under a new rule—the rule of Salazar Slytherin's one true heir. You will have to bear the burden of knowing that darkness is on the horizon, and there is nothing you can do to prevent it. There will be no more light once Death's Chosen makes his move, and the magical world will never be a place where blood-traitors run free and mudbloods still live. Because now, you have a choice to make."

"What choice?" Sirius's voice was barely more than a whisper, coming out as a croak. His eyes looked lifeless and cold, as if he were already dead.

"You can take your place in it, as a true Black, or you can perish like the rest."

Cygnus, Druella, and Cassiopeia stared at her, looking both confused and furious by her ultimatum.

Arcturus, however, seemed to catch on immediately and smirked.

"Why would I ever join you?" Sirius snarled.

"Because this is your one chance to keep the promise you made James and Lily Potter when you swore to protect their only son—a promise you have failed to keep for the last thirteen years."

Sirius clenched his jaw, glaring at her.

Walburga took great amounts of pleasure from this situation. Sirius could either accept her proposition and get closer to the boy who had once been Harry Potter, fulfilling his oath to be the boy's godfather in the process, or he could deny it and live the rest of his days in bitter regret, knowing he had broken his best friend's trust by failing in his duties. No matter what decision he made, Sirius lost, but only one of these options provided him with the opportunity to attempt to change things.

Sirius seemed to make his choice.

He took a deep breath.

"I—"

While he may not care much for Hogwarts, only a fool would fail to see the allure of Hogsmeade, with its quaint cottages and shops. Covered in snow, it looked beautiful in the late autumn weather, and Corvus made a mental note to bring the girls on a date here in the future.

For their first visit, however, Flora and Hestia had been dragged off by Pansy and her gang of friends for a girls-only shopping trip that would likely last until dinner.

And while they did that, Corvus had accepted an invitation to join Teddy and Blaise for a bit of exploring of their own. So far they had shown him a few of the more common shops, such as Honeydukes and Schrivenshaft's, but now they were dragging him to the Shrieking Shack, which was supposedly the most haunted dwelling in Britain.

"Hogwarts is full of ghosts," Corvus had pointed out upon hearing this. "What makes the shack so different?"

Nobody had been able to give him an actual answer, each one saying something along the lines of "Because it's haunted!" or "Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it."

The Shrieking Shack was outside the rest of the village, somewhat closer to Hogwarts, and it had a slightly foreboding appearance, even in broad daylight, with its boarded windows and dank, overgrown garden. It didn't seem to have any entrances, which made Corvus wonder how anyone got inside.

"This is supposed to be scary?" Corvus asked skeptically. "One of the Black homes is worse than this."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "And now we get why you didn't believe us."

"How did we forget how awful the Blacks are?" Teddy murmured.

"Because you idiots only see me on holiday," Corvus snorted. "If you spent more time around me, I'm sure you would have a harder time forgetting what the Blacks are capable of."

Both of the other boys shuddered.

"I'm fine," Teddy claimed. "My father's bad enough, with his research and everything."

Corvus had forgotten that Teddy's father regularly studied the Dark Arts to try and build the Nott family's own library as much as the Blacks had theirs. Given that the Notts were several centuries younger than the Black family, however, Corvus had a feeling that not even Lord Nott's great-great-grandchildren would be able to come close to matching them.

"Yeah, I'm good, too," Blaise added.

The House of Zabini, by comparison, had less to do with the actual Dark Arts, but were far more involved with potion-making than essentially any other family in Britain. They were a matrilineal House, having passed the headship from mother to daughter for nearly five hundred years, but Blaise was the first male set to become head of the family since he had no sisters—or any siblings at all.

That part was strange until one considered the fact that he had had seven step-fathers, each one having died under mysterious circumstances with no murderer to be found, which left the Zabini family with an ever-increasing inherited wealth.

"Come on," Corvus decided. "I want a butterbeer."

He was silent during the trek back into the village proper, listening as Blaise and Teddy bantered back and forth about who would be more scared to enter the Shrieking Shack alone at night. Corvus knew for a fact that Teddy was more easily frightened, but he held his tongue—he was too amused by their stubborn bickering to end the discussion right now, before they could resolve it themselves.

The conversation ended abruptly, though, when they arrived at the Three Broomsticks as someone else was coming out. Corvus barely had time to register a head of bushy brown hair before the girl ploughed right into him and the books in her arms tumbled to the ground. The girl bounced off him and fell back into the wall of the pub with a surprised grunt.

"Watch where you're going," Corvus snapped, recognizing the girl as Hermione Granger. Had they not been in public, he almost certainly would have used vastly different words, but over ten years of being punished for acting improperly in specific settings helped him control himself just in time.

Granger scowled at the ground as she gathered her books.

"I could say the same to you," she huffed. "Honestly. It isn't that hard to just—"

Then she looked up and realized just whom she had bumped into.

Her face blanched.

"Do you really want to finish that statement?" Corvus asked dangerously.

She shook her head rapidly, her eyes wide and terrified. Her fear wafted off her like the most alluring of perfumes, and Corvus now understood why Voldemort had become as terrible as he was, if this was what happened whenever his presence graced the company of others. It was an intoxicating sensation unlike anything Corvus had ever felt before, and he never wanted it to end.

However, he hated the mudblood's presence more than he loved the taste of her fear.

"Get lost," he growled, and Granger took off as fast as she could.

Teddy and Blaise burst into laughter.

"Did you see her face?" Teddy asked, then failed to mimic the buck-toothed bitch's expression.

"How she got into Gryffindor, I'll never know," Blaise shook his head. "It's a good thing they all hate her there—who knows how bad she'd be if she actually had confidence or friends to support her?"

Corvus rolled his eyes. "Come on. Let's get those drinks before something else happens."

A few minutes later, they were seated at a table in the corner. Corvus was using the other two as shields of sorts to make it obvious he didn't appreciate all the stares being directed his way from the other patrons of the pub. Some of the more idiotic among them didn't take the hint and stood up to get a better view of him, but their companions, showing they possessed a modicum of intelligence, pulled them back into their seats and hissed scoldings at them.

Corvus, however, ignored all of this in favour of thinking about the letter Grandmother had sent him that morning pertaining to one Sirius Black, his godfather who had abandoned him to muggles so he could run off instead of fulfilling his duties and somehow wound up in Azkaban in the process.

Truthfully, Corvus wasn't surprised that Sirius had summoned his Gryffindor courage to approach the Black family, seeking information about his godson. What did surprise him was what Grandmother had managed to do with the opportunity.

She hadn't told him anything too important—family secrecy and all that—but she promised to share what she had learned from her son when she next saw Corvus on the day of the first task.

Whatever had her so excited made him apprehensive, though.

"Ah, Corvus!" said a voice that was entirely too cheerful for Corvus's liking.

He looked up from his butterbeer to see Ludo Bagman making his way over to the table, an idiotic grin on his face and his eyes alight with excitement. Corvus could sense the greed the man radiated with all the sense of a person who lacked any sense of self-control or ability to smother their thoughts.

It was more painful than helpful, sometimes, being a powerful Legilimens.

"Mr. Bagman," Corvus replied with a fake smile, emphasizing the man's title. It was a foolish hope that the man would realize he was addressing a superior improperly, but Corvus did it all the same.

Sure enough, Bagman didn't seem to notice that he'd done anything wrong.

"How are you? Prepared for the first task in a few days?" Then he leaned in closer, ignoring the way Teddy and Blaise were forced to lean themselves to avoid being hit, and whispered, "Need any pointers? You're the underdog here, Corvus, I could help you out a bit—no one needs to know," he finished with a wink.

Corvus gave the man a penetrating stare. "I do hope you're not suggesting I cheat, Mr. Bagman, seeing as you're a judge in this tournament."

Bagman shifted uncomfortably when a couple people glanced their way, having heard Corvus's words.

"Not at all!" he said with a forced smile. He gestured aimlessly over his shoulder. "I'll just…"

He walked away without another word.

Teddy and Blaise immediately broke down, overcome with snickers.

"That was brilliant, mate," Blaise praised.

"Unfortunately, I doubt he'll have learned his lesson from one occurrence," Corvus muttered with a bitter taste in his mouth. "It will likely take several more situations like that before he realizes."

"We'll be sure to carry around treats, then," Teddy snorted, with Blaise voicing his agreement.

Corvus set his empty bottle on the table and stood up.

"Let's get back to the castle. I think I've had enough of Hogsmeade for today."

"Can't say I blame you," Blaise commented, "between Granger and Bagman."

"Or he just wants to snog Hestia some more," Teddy pitched in with a smirk.

"An excellent point, mate."

"Shut it, both of you." Corvus glared at them. "I'd rather not have my personal life talked about in public, thanks."

They both winced, seeming to remember where they were.

"Right."

"Sorry."

Corvus rolled his eyes.

The carriage ride back to the castle was filled with plenty of teasing, now that they couldn't be overheard by some loud-mouthed gossiper. By the time they arrived at the entrance hall, Corvus was prepared to permanently hex their mouths shut.

If he had thought the boys at Durmstrang were obnoxious, they had nothing on these two.

The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging around the castle, passing time until dinner, at which point they met up with the others in the Great Hall.

"So the first task is soon," Pansy mentioned in a poor attempt at nonchalance.

Corvus gave her an amused look. "So it is. How did I ever miss that?"

The other sniggered while Pansy flushed. She wasn't the most cunning of Slytherins, but she was without a doubt one of the most resourceful and ambitious.

"Do you have any plans?" Daphne Greengrass asked, brushing a strand of dark hair out of her face.

"We won't be told what the task is until then," Corvus informed, picking his words carefully.

He hadn't spoken much with Greengrass since arriving at Hogwarts, but from what he could tell, she had the potential to be a very good politician, after getting herself some experience. The few rumours he had heard about her all said that she was as cunning as the best of Slytherins, but she tended to stay quiet unless she was with the other Slytherin girls, particularly her sister, who was a second year.

"That's unfortunate," Lillian Moon commented. "How are you supposed to last if you don't know?"

Corvus smiled mischievously. "A bit of cunning and resourcefulness, of course."

Yeah, he had basically admitted that he knew what the task was, for anyone clever enough to read between the lines, but there were very few in his company at the moment who would. Corvus could see that Greengrass and Moon were putting it together, but Pansy and the other two girls looked as if they couldn't care less and had started a conversation of their own.

Besides, he highly doubted Delacour didn't know as well, considering Karkaroff had been the one to tell him and Viktor before the Wand-Weighing Ceremony.

It was unlikely that Diggory knew, since Dumbledore was far too honourable to cheat and a Hufflepuff was even less likely to do so.

For one brief fraction of a second, Corvus debated telling Diggory, but he ultimately decided that it wasn't worth the trouble that assistance would cause. Someone like Diggory would want to know how Corvus had found it out himself, which would implicate Karkaroff and cast a poor light on Durmstrang as a whole, throwing the school into disrepute.

No, he was better off staying silent, even if it risked a pureblood's life.

The first task was going to be a challenge, but at least it was better protected than the tournament had ever previously been, and once it was over, the duels would continue.

Corvus looked beside him at Flora, then to Hestia on his other side.

There was a chance he wouldn't survive the first task, regardless of the new safety precautions that had been put in place, but he would do everything he could to survive for them. He may only be in an actual romantic relationship of sorts with Hestia, but he loved them both with everything he had.

A resolve shielded Corvus's heart. He would survive this tournament, and he would prove that, even if he hadn't wanted to be involved originally, he was powerful enough—talented enough—to not only live through it, but thrive. He would put forth his best effort and show the world the strength of the future Lord Black, the last Sayre, the heir of Salazar Slytherin.

Corvus was going to win this tournament.

AN: So, yeah, there's that. Again, sorry about the wait. I won't make any promises about when the next one will be done because this story isn't really a priority compared to a couple of my other ones, but I hope it won't be another two months. I really enjoy this one, and it was painful to lose the motivation to work on it for so long.

Walburga's quite the sadistic bitch, isn't she? Pulling that kind of shit on her own son? Even if it is only Sirius.

Before anyone calls me out for Hermione being too meek or whatever, remember that this is a Hermione who never befriended Harry Potter. She's been alone for over three years, forced to endure taunts for her enthusiasm regarding school and all that. She hasn't had anyone to support her and give her the confidence to turn into the person who fought against Death Eaters.

Also think about Corvus — he made Malfoy look like a fool and he's friends with Pansy, both of whom make Hermione's life difficult. Not to mention that he's the true Heir of Slytherin, who supposedly wanted all muggleborns killed, just like the Blacks are infamous for.

Put all that together... It paints a rather intimidating picture of Corvus Black.

Next chapter will be the first task, though, so that should be fun.

THANKS FOR READING!