A Rosier Legacy (HP AU M-SI)

[PatrikWriter]

KingInTheNorth27: Thank you for your comments, it really makes me happy . It motivates me really nicely! .

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I woke up as early as seven, and I wasn't the only one. All my roommates were getting ready to go home, as the train was departing at nine. Sallow managed to get into a fight with Nott over some trifle, while Zabini just smirked contentedly, watching their circus. While they packed manually and struggled with their clothes, I once again thanked my foresight. A few quick hygiene spells and one casual wave of my wand – thanks to memorized formulas, I was packed in seconds.

After a quick breakfast with Agnes, we moved to the platform. We claimed an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express, and I cast a particularly strong Colloportus on the door just in case. I didn't want anyone bothering us during the journey.

On such a long trip, we naturally discussed everything possible. Well, Agnes did ninety percent of the talking while I just nodded with a slight smile. In this regard, she reminded me incredibly of my girlfriend from the previous world – she could also talk non-stop. Later, Agnes beat me soundly in chess a few times. She looked like a cat that had just caught the ultimate treat; a sense of triumphant satisfaction literally radiated from her.

When the Hogwarts Express finally screeched to a halt at Platform 9 ¾ after hours of travel, London welcomed me with its bleak December atmosphere. Steam from the locomotive mingled with the fog, and a crowd of parents rushed eagerly toward the carriage doors.

Finally, we were in London. Agnes and I had agreed to exchange gifts back at Hogwarts. She gave me a brief hug and then disappeared into the crowd to find her father. I headed toward the platform exit. I knew Vespera wouldn't be pushing through the masses of people. Like me, she would prefer to wait somewhere off to the side.

I was right. She was leaning against one of the massive stone pillars near the entrance. She wore a long black robe stitched with gold thread and a high, elegant collar. She looked comfortable yet incredibly noble. I had to admit she was an attractive woman – if I had been older in my past life and we weren't family, I would definitely have asked for her number. I mean, if I were single!

As soon as she noticed me in the chaos, her cold and distant posture melted instantly. The stern aristocrat vanished, leaving only a gently smiling witch with kind eyes. Who wouldn't grow fond of such a woman? When I reached her, she hesitated for a fraction of a second but then hugged me tightly.

After a moment, she let me go. With one graceful flick of her wand, she shrunk my luggage and tucked it effortlessly into the folds of her robe.

"Ready to go? Have you ever Side-Along Apparated before?" she asked, pulling me away from the noisy platform without waiting for an answer.

"No, never," I admitted, trying to keep up with her energetic pace.

We climbed the stairs to the street outside the station. Muggles hurried everywhere, heads bowed against the December wind. Vespera gave another subtle wave of her wand – I felt an invisible layer of magic settle over us, something like a Disillusionment Charm that cut us off from the perception of our surroundings.

"Hold on tight to me, Patrik. Don't let go," she commanded in a serious tone.

I gripped her hand firmly. A sharp crack echoed in my ears, like a whip snapping through the air, and in the next second, I felt as if an immense force were squeezing me into a tiny ball. My stomach did a somersault, my lungs tightened, and the world turned into a blurred smear.

Suddenly, the pressure stopped. I gasped for air, trying to keep my balance on the snow-covered ground.

"Welcome to Rosier Estate," Vespera announced, her voice filled with undisguised pride.

I had expected some elegant townhouse or a modern villa in the suburbs, but certainly not this. Before us, a massive stone structure with towers and high windows reflecting the setting sun towered into the winter sky.

My jaw literally dropped. The castle was surrounded by high, massive walls with battlements, upon which I could see stone gargoyle statues. I could feel magic radiating from the castle.

"Welcome to Rosier Estate," Vespera repeated, watching my shock with blatant satisfaction. "Our family has always believed that security and privacy are the foundation of freedom. Originally, this castle served as a defense against raids by the Irish, Normans, and Vikings. Muggles tried to conquer it for centuries, but in vain."

We walked across the courtyard, where snow swirled in the cold wind, and her voice echoed between the stone walls.

"We didn't acquire it from Muggles, though. We took it from an unnamed magical house in a cruel, bloody war. The founder of our branch of the family dominated the last living heiress. Together, they sired a son who inherited the estate and the power of both houses, and our branch has only grown since then. No one remembers the name of that original house today – we erased it from history. However, it should be noted somewhere deep in our family grimoire, should you be interested."

We crossed the threshold, and the heavy oak doors closed behind us with a muffled thud, definitively cutting off the howling winter wind. The interior of Rosier Castle was neither cold nor inhospitable, as one might expect from a stone fortress. The air was thick with the scent of old wood polished with beeswax, and somewhere in the background, I detected the faint, refreshing aroma of lemons.

Vespera led me through the main hall, its walls telling a story of strength and violence. Dozens of weapons and shields hung there – some were lavishly decorated with precious metals and gems, clearly intended for ceremonies, but others looked chillingly pragmatic. They were pieces of steel forged purely for killing, bearing the marks of ancient battles.

We walked on carpets so thick and soft they muffled every step, turning our movement into a near-ghostly silence. Finally, we arrived at a smaller, private salon that felt much cozier.

"We will have peace here," she remarked, lighting the massive black marble fireplace with a single wave of her hand.

"And what about enemies? Do we have any historical ones?" I asked curiously as soon as we sat down. History and strategy had always interested me, and in this world, they were more important than ever.

"In the sense you mean, no," Vespera replied. "Throughout history, our house, along with our allies, destroyed many competitors. Namely, for example, the Thorns, the Veyrons, or the Aldwyches – those were the more significant houses. However, if you ever meet someone from the Sayre family, be very careful."

"Why the Sayres specifically?" I frowned.

"It is a branch descending directly from Salazar Slytherin," Vespera explained, respect and hatred mingling in her voice. "While we had relatively neutral relations with the Gaunts, we were at odds with the Sayres to the death. We nearly destroyed their house. Only one woman and a small child survived, managing to escape to America..."

She paused for a moment, as if flipping through old chronicles in her mind to find the right words.

"Hm... as I tell it to you, it all sounds a bit too good, doesn't it? Victories and power," she said bitterly, her gaze drifting to the frost-burned battlements. "The truth is, we ourselves were twice on the brink of total extinction. And now we are close to it again. We are the last two members of our line. The French branch died out, and we merely inherited their empty estates. Actually, we are three... if I count your father, who is rotting away for life in Azkaban. Blood and tears, dear nephew. That is the true history of the Rosiers."

"Our house must have been truly powerful if it could destroy so many enemies," I remarked. It was a bitter subject, but I felt a dark pride stir deep in my chest.

"We weren't alone in it, Patrik," Vespera corrected me, staring into the dancing flames in the fireplace. "Magical houses have alliances bound by blood and ancient oaths. That is why so many houses fell by our hand, and together with our allies, we had a hand in a significantly larger number of extinctions."

It was fascinating to listen to her, though I could see that reminiscing about the past stirred a mixture of anger and melancholy within her. Our history clearly didn't sit well with her – perhaps because we were the last of the line.

"So who was our main ally? And where are they all now?" I asked curiously.

Vespera sighed bitterly and gazed into her glass as if searching for lost centuries within it.

"Our greatest ally was the House of Black," she began in a low, awe-inspiring voice. "You see, our house, the Rosiers, was always high nobility in France. But the Blacks? They were originally something entirely different. They were mercenaries. They led the bloodiest mercenary company on the entire continent. They loved battle, death, and blood... they literally lived for them. It is said that wherever their black banners appeared, the earth turned blood-red, and not even grass grew there for years."

She paused briefly to let the information sink in.

"We are talking about a period from a thousand years ago. Our French branch regularly used their services for dirty work. However, when our branch moved here to Wales, their company no longer existed. They were almost completely wiped out in endless wars until only two people remained. A man and a woman. As you correctly assume, they were the last survivors, but even then, they were respected as battle mages who bloodily massacred anyone who stood in their way."

Vespera smiled faintly at the irony of history.

"The founders of the House of Black realized they couldn't survive forever with just a wand in hand. Since the man was actually the third son of a noble house, they decided to establish a new, titled house. Our house helped them during those difficult beginnings – with money, influence, and our name. They repaid us with strength and loyalty. Thus was born our blood alliance, which functioned symbiotically for centuries. We were the brains and the elegance; they were our blade in the dark."

She paused for a moment, observing me to see if I was absorbing the information, then continued.

"To explain it to you in more detail... our house excels in Mind Arts. By pure-blood standards, we were of average magical power. Whereas the House of Black excelled in combat and Dark Arts – they were the most magically powerful. We obtained information directly from the enemies' minds and stood in the second line, while the House of Black was right in the first. That is why everyone respects our houses, even if we are weakened now. We have the money, the power, and the history."

Vespera fell silent for a moment, watching the flames.

"Currently, the House of Black is in a similar position to us. Their Head of House, Sirius Black, is in Azkaban for life and has no heir. Their house will likely die out... and then there's you."

"Me? Why me?" I asked curiously.

"We must go back to your grandfather, my father. His sister was named Druella, born Rosier, married Black. She had three daughters. One was disowned, Andromeda Black, now Tonks. Then there is Narcissa Black, now Malfoy. It is thanks to her and her son, your cousin Draco, that I know of your existence. And finally, there is Bellatrix Black, now Lestrange," she explained, eyeing me searchingly.

"Sure, I understand the family ties. But what does that have to do with me? Shouldn't Draco Malfoy be the heir?" I asked matter-of-factly.

In my head, however, other thoughts were racing. If I remembered correctly from the books, Sirius Black would later leave everything to Harry Potter. But gold in Gringotts is one thing, and a true family heritage is another. I strongly doubted Harry would have the right mental state for the Black family ring. Even if a blood adoption took place, that ancient, dark magic would probably kill him instantly given his personality.

"This is where it gets a bit complicated... You see, over the ages, the House of Black became significantly radicalized. Originally, family was everything to them, just as it is to us. But old Cygnus took it as a personal insult if someone married a Muggle-born, or if someone who wasn't a wizard appeared in the family," she paused, as if searching for the right words for the rest of the story.

After a moment, she continued, though in the back of my mind, I was already beginning to suspect where she was heading.

"Cygnus and Druella actually had four daughters, not three. Bellatrix had a twin. While Bella was an exceptionally powerful witch, her sister Carina showed no magic by the age of ten. She was a Squib, and she represented a huge shame to Cygnus. He threw her out of the house immediately and blasted her off the family tapestry. But Druella loved her daughter, so our house secretly took her in. Carina grew up here, with us at the castle."

"So Carina Black was my mother?" I asked. It would explain my craving for battle and blood. Was this the famous Black madness waking up inside me?

"Yes. I suspected it the moment I first saw you. You share features... but I wasn't sure. Your father despised your mother and mocked her at every opportunity. It was Evan who finally confirmed your true origin to me."

My throat tightened at those words. I fervently hoped that Evan hadn't raped my mother and that my existence wasn't just the result of his cruelty toward a magicless woman.

"So what did Evan tell you?"

Vespera immediately noticed that I hadn't called him 'father,' but only by his first name. However, her gaze remained understanding.

"You don't have to worry, Patrik... it's quite simple and perhaps even a cliché. Your mother may have been a Squib, but she was extremely kind, gentle, and couldn't hurt a fly. She accepted every insult or humiliation with quiet pride and a smile. No one managed to break her spirit. She was beautiful and radiated pure goodness," she explained with a slight smile.

She paused for a moment and then continued: "Evan, however, was a spoiled brat from childhood. He had everything he could think of, and a Squib in the house? He gave her a hard time until my father caught him once. After that thrashing, he couldn't sit on his backside for two weeks. But Carina never told on him, even though he hurt her. And as it goes, the older they got, the more he noticed her. Her beauty and unyieldingly kind nature eventually won him over completely. Evan Rosier, who until then respected almost no one, fell head over heels in love with her."

I was instantly relieved, but I had to ask: "Did my mother die during my birth, then?"

Vespera frowned at the question and slowly shook her head.

"Aurors led by Moody stormed the castle back then. They were looking for your father. My father – your grandfather – let them in, while Evan was hiding. To be clear, Aurors are forbidden from just using magic in old family estates, but Moody ignored that, and my father misjudged him. His wand pointed exactly to where Evan was hiding, and a fight broke out instantly. My father fell in that clash, and your mother was hit by one of the area-of-effect curses. It killed her on the spot. Eventually, Moody overpowered your father and got him into Azkaban."

But I felt the castle's protections – that ancient family magic that had welcomed me since I entered. It felt exceptionally powerful.

"How is it possible they got him? I can feel the castle's defenses; they're incredibly strong," I countered.

Vespera looked at me in surprise, but after a moment, she replied: "Since they were officially invited into the castle, a large part of the defensive magic remained inactive. Once the fight broke out, the castle could no longer fully stop them, only slow them down. Every spell they cast back then cost them double the magical power. Thanks to that, only Moody survived from that unit, and even he lost a leg and part of his nose. Fourteen Aurors died here that day. They didn't get your father for free."

Mentally, I added Moody to my list. One day, I would get him into his grave. I owed it to my family.

"And how is it possible I ended up in an orphanage? You were here," I asked. That last part had been bugging me the most.

I saw Vespera look down in shame. After a moment, however, she braced herself and began to explain: "I had no idea of your existence, Patrik. You see, I hadn't returned home for more than three years before that incident. I didn't even know about your parents' relationship. I ignored my father's messages because he wanted to force me into a marriage with the Lestrange family. If I had known you existed, you wouldn't have spent a single day in that orphanage."

A tomb-like silence followed for a moment, interrupted only by the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. After a while, however, my aunt continued: "During the fight, Evan ordered a house-elf to take you to safety. But the elf left you at the orphanage with only your name embroidered on a blanket. Before I could return home and find out what happened, the elf died. He was already old and... muddled."

It made sense, and I wasn't angry. Perhaps the original Patrik would have felt wronged, but this situation essentially suited me.

"I see," I replied briefly. "What now, then?"

"Now you should go to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow! I can feel that you have active shields in your mind, so we'll test them tomorrow and then figure out what to do next."

She didn't even wait for my reaction. "Jobo!" she called out into the empty room.

Silently, almost as if he materialized from the shadows by the fireplace, a house-elf appeared. He bowed deeply and remained motionless, waiting for an order.

"Are you hungry?" my aunt asked me.

I just nodded silently.

"Jobo, prepare dinner for Patrik and then lead him to Evan's old room," she commanded him. Then she turned her gaze back to me. "The room underwent a complete renovation back in October. It belongs to you from now on. I already ate before I came to get you, so we'll meet in the morning at breakfast."

I walked behind Jobo, and in my head, pieces of the mosaic Vespera had just revealed played like an old film. I thought about my parents and the bloody history of the house I was born into.

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Author's note:
We finally have the bloody history of House Rosier and the explanation of how Patrik ended up in Wool's Orphanage—it turns out Moody and a muddled old house-elf were to blame. I bet no one expected his mother to be a Black family Squib and Bellatrix's twin sister. Did I let you down?

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21. Storms Within
22. Precision, Power, and Purification
23. Of Euphoria and Gifts
24. Blood, Ash, and Roses
25. 25. Cousins and Choices

 

[PatrikWriter]

I woke up automatically at exactly seven o'clock. It seemed my internal clock was already firmly set to a routine. I quickly got myself together and summoned Jobo to find out when breakfast would be served.

When he briefly informed me that my aunt expected me in the dining room at eight, I gained an hour to my advantage. I didn't waste time. I loosened my stiff joints and went through an intensive thirty-minute workout – shadowboxing, followed by several sets of push-ups, squats, and crunches. I needed to feel my own body while simultaneously improving my fitness.

After the brief exercise, I cleaned myself up again. Magical hygiene spells were incredibly practical and saved me precious time. A simple flick of my wand and the sweat was instantly gone. When I was ready, I let Jobo lead me to the dining room. A quick Tempus spell confirmed that I had arrived exactly to the second.

Vespera was already waiting for me in the dining room. With a slight smile, she folded her newspaper and looked at me: "Good morning, Patrik. How did you sleep?"

"Excellently. Honestly, I feel as if I've lived here my whole life," I replied, and it wasn't just politeness. It was the truth. I felt the ancestral magic of the castle literally embracing me and accepting me as its own. I felt perfect here.

"I'm glad to hear that. We'll have breakfast and then test your Occlumency. By the way, are you familiar with Legilimency as well? I can feel your shields, but I'm not sure if you even know what Legilimency entails."

I served myself some omelette, sausages, and red beans in sauce with a fresh loaf of bread. A properly hearty breakfast. After taking a bite, I answered: "Yes, I know it. I'd say I have quite a talent for it. I came across a certain book in Knockturn Alley."

Vespera raised an eyebrow in surprise, but immediately asked: "What on earth were you doing in Knockturn Alley?"

"Since I was little, I've had the ability to read people; I could sense when they were lying to me and what they were feeling. I didn't know what it was, and in Diagon Alley, a shopkeeper curtly told me they didn't sell such books because they were banned by the Ministry. So, I went to Knockturn Alley, where I got lucky. Borgin was exceptionally pleasant," I noted with a slightly sarcastic undertone.

Vespera laughed softly. "Borgin and pleasant? A dragon is more likely to start singing opera. That old fox can scent an opportunity from miles away. Be careful around him, Patrik. He has lived a very long time and has a finger in every pie."

I nodded in understanding but continued to focus on breakfast. It was great. Have I mentioned that I love house-elves?

We continued eating without unnecessary words. Vespera watched me with a gentle smile; apparently, my appetite was proof enough for her that I felt comfortable here. As soon as I put down my cutlery, she spoke up: "Are you finished? Was it enough?"

"Yes, thank you. I've never had a better breakfast," I threw an honest compliment into the room.

Suddenly, there was a soft pop, and for a fraction of a second, the air blurred to my right. It was likely Jobo clearing the empty plates.

Vespera stood up and signaled for me to follow her. We returned to the same cozy room with the massive black marble fireplace where we had sat the night before. The flames within it quietly licked the logs, casting long shadows on the walls. We sat in armchairs directly opposite each other.

For a moment, she measured me silently with her gaze, as if trying to gauge my strength before even drawing her wand. Then she spoke seriously: "The moment I break through to your memories, I will stop immediately. You don't have to worry; I will respect your privacy."

I only nodded silently. There was no time for idle talk. I relaxed my body, took a deep breath, and focused on my inner self. It was high time to test the strength of my defenses.

Vespera pointed her wand at me. "Legilimens!" she cried, and a grey beam hit me directly in the chest.

I immediately felt her presence within me. I forced myself to remain calm and watch what she was doing. In my mind, I was the master – while I saw her clearly, as if it were a bright summer day, she was fumbling in perfect nothingness. She found herself in darkness where she couldn't see even a meter ahead. She was surrounded by thick fog, an all-consuming cold, and the roar of a stormy sea. I felt her begin to drown for a moment in my cold waves; it pulled her under the surface, deep into my defenses. After a moment, however, she recovered and surged upward. She levitated over the sea, and her soaked clothes dried in a second.

Suddenly, a small sun appeared in my mind, growing larger every second and scorching the darkness. I immediately crushed it to dust with a thought. At that moment, pure shock was mirrored on Vespera's face. She levitated for a while longer, but then aggressively waved her hand. Flames erupted from her palms. They transformed into bloodthirsty fire monsters that began to devour everything around them. My fog was torn apart, and the sea began to evaporate under that fire. However, it wasn't ordinary steam; her fire was hungry and consumed my defense without residue.

For a moment, the attack caught me off guard, but then I took the initiative. By the force of my will, I began to shrink the fire and forcibly restore both the fog and the sea. If it were Fiendfyre in reality, I might have been helpless... but in my own mind? Here, I set the rules.

Not a trace of the fire remained. And my levitating aunt?

My affinity belonged not only to water but also to lightning. I forced my mind to summon a lightning dragon – Kirin. The inspiration from Sasuke proved to be genius at this moment. In my world, it was "easy peasy." The blue-white dragon descended from the heavens with a deafening roar and shot Vespera straight down into the black water. At that same moment, I felt her consciousness vanish from my mind for good.

"Successfully repelled," I thought contentedly. "Mental combat is truly fun."

I slowly opened my eyes and returned to the reality of the drawing room. Vespera sat opposite me, her face ashen and her eyes still filled with genuine shock. It took several long seconds before her breathing steadied enough for her to speak.

"What was... by Salazar," she exhaled and paused for a moment, as if needing to organize in her head what had just happened. "I wanted to test you, Patrik, not experience a life-or-death struggle! Where did you come by such hellish defenses? I felt like I was in Azkaban – fog, hopelessness, a cold sea I was drowning in... And just when I felt I was making progress and getting to your thoughts, my fire vanished and suddenly a lightning dragon shot me down!" At that memory, she visibly shuddered and gripped the armrests of her chair more tightly.

"What do you mean, life-or-death?" I asked with genuine surprise. "That's my standard defense. You're actually the first person who has tried to cast Legilimency on me."

"Most people build castles, labyrinths, halls of mirrors, and the like," Vespera continued with undisguised pride. "Truth be told, you're the first I've heard of who has an entire elemental ecosystem in his head that actively drowns and eliminates intruders. If I hadn't just experienced it firsthand, I wouldn't have believed it was even possible."

"Why? It's quite logical, isn't it?" I asked with sincere curiosity. "Everyone must have castles."

"People usually choose places where they feel best – something familiar where they are at the helm. But for what you demonstrated, a huge affinity for both Occlumency and elemental magic is required. Not just anyone can do this. Perhaps Dumbledore, Grindelwald, or the Dark Lord. I can't do it... and neither Evan nor my father could," she explained, still appearing slightly shaken.

She slowly exhaled, and her gaze cleared. "Your mind is completely safe. We can move straight to Legilimency. As for your Occlumency, continue exactly with what you're doing. Feel free to ignore any books you find in our library; they might actually degrade your progress."

Vespera leaned back comfortably in her chair, closed her eyes, and relaxed her shoulders. "Now let's switch roles. I want you to attack me. My defense isn't as... exotic as yours, but I've been building it for decades. You'll certainly recognize what I based it on."

"Legilimens!" I shouted and focused my entire mind on a single goal: to break through into her memories.

In an instant, I found myself in front of a castle. If you guessed it was our ancestral seat, you'd be right. However, the gates were sealed tight, and stone gargoyles were waking up on the ramparts with a terrifying screech. Their claws scraped the wall, making a sound that filled me with a foul sense of uncertainty. I simply ignored it.

I immediately sent out a mental battering ram. The impact on the gate shook my entire presence in her head. The gate shrieked but held, and I felt it immediately regenerating with magic.

"Fine then, let's try it differently," I thought and "stepped on the gas."

It was high time because gargoyles began jumping at me from the ramparts. With a sharp wave of my hand, I sent a massive tsunami against the castle. The water hit the ramparts with such force that it swept away the stone monsters like insignificant plush toys. While they were still in the air, I forced the water around them to freeze, lifting them high into the sky in icy prisons. Then I abruptly withdrew my support – the gargoyles shattered against the hard ground into thousands of pieces with a dramatic crash.

I fed the surrounding water with my magic, and its volume grew menacingly. Vespera suddenly materialized on the ramparts and once again conjured Fiendfyre. However, with a part of my mind, I immediately smothered it before it could grow. She tried again and again, but I didn't give her the slightest chance. There was already a massive amount of water, and I was starting to feel the increasing pressure on my own consciousness. The moment of release came. The enormous tsunami rolled over the castle walls and gate with a crushing roar. It literally swept away the entire estate like a blade of grass. The defense was crushed.

I stepped forward with a slow, triumphant pace. But I wasn't naive enough to think this was the end. Water stood everywhere around me, but I didn't control it – I felt it rapidly draining into the underground. Chambers were hidden deep beneath the ruins of the castle, and I assumed that was where Vespera had hidden her library of memories. I sent a part of the current to explore the darkness beneath the ground. It was a labyrinth. I focused on mapping it, searching for a path deeper into her consciousness... but Vespera had no intention of giving up without a fight.

While I focused on exploring her corridors, she managed to conjure Fiendfyre in a corner of my attention. And there was plenty of it. I had made a huge mistake – I had left her unsupervised, and she used that time to gather strength for one massive counterattack. I immediately sent the rest of the water against the flames while I myself ran into the already mapped labyrinth. However, I felt that my water was losing. It was evaporating rapidly, and instead of extinguishing the fire, it was only feeding it with energy. My divided focus was only enough to prevent the fire from growing, but I no longer had the strength to shrink it.

I literally flew through the corridors of her mind. At the end, heavy oak doors carved with the Rosier crest awaited me. I burst through them and stormed inside. My water was definitively gone. I didn't have time to search. I quickly grabbed the first "book" that came to hand. It was only a short, fleeting memory. I saw Vespera in the dark, passionately kissing a person with long hair... That was all I managed to catch.

In the next second, her fire consumed me. I felt the flames burning me to ash, and in that unbearable heat, I suddenly found myself back in the drawing room.

I gasped for breath and shook. Being burned to death, even if only on a mental level, hurt almost unimaginably. Every nerve in my body screamed as if those flames were real.

Vespera was no better off. Although she hadn't experienced the agony of burning, her face was ashen and her hands trembled slightly from the exhaustion of maintaining such a massive counterattack. For a few minutes, we just sat in silence, trying to return to the reality of the room until our breathing calmed.

"You have incredible talent, Patrik," she finally began, her voice sounding muffled. "I really didn't expect you to get as far as my memories... but you made several schoolboy errors. You shouldn't have ignored me. In Legilimency, slower is often better. You crushed my defense with brute force, but that gave me enough time for a counterattack that proved fatal for you." She paused for a moment and then gave a pale grin. "As you can feel for yourself now, a mental duel hurts. I can still feel that drowning and that lightning strike even now."

In her eyes, however, I saw undisguised pride. That look warmed my heart more than any healing spell.

"I'll be afraid of being burned alive until I actually die," I grinned back at her, even though a shiver still ran down my spine.

"We can train your Legilimency every day so you can avoid similar mistakes," Vespera suggested. "Now we'll have lunch, rest for a bit, and then we can move on to spells."

"I appreciate you wanting to help me like this," I said, looking at her with interest. "Do all families do it this way? Do they teach their children like this?" I was curious. I felt great that I was growing thanks to her, but the idea of someone like Crabbe, Goyle, or Draco experiencing equally intense Christmases seemed unlikely to me.

Vespera laughed with amusement. It was a laugh from the heart, as if she really needed it lately. I let her calm down, but after a moment it overcame her again and she burst into another round of laughter. By then, I was looking at her a bit uncertainly, wondering if she was alright.

When she finally controlled herself, she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and spoke: "Yes, Patrik, all the old families teach their children. They pass down spells and family secrets. But I'm laughing because while other children your age are perhaps struggling right now to learn a simple Everte Statum, you are literally leapfrogging me in mind magic. The image of Draco Malfoy trying something similar is... simply comical."

She paused for a moment, and her face grew serious. Her smile was replaced by a stern, almost protective expression. "Patrik, honestly – you are exceptionally talented. I had great concerns for your safety, and those persist. The problem is that you are still young. Even with your talent, an experienced group of wizards could put you in the ground before you even have time to draw your wand. We are the last members of the family, and believe me, there are those who would like to see us dead. For example, the Mulciber family... they would profit most from our fall." She came over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. Her grip was firm. "Child lords are the end of their line. I will not allow us to die out. I will teach you everything I know. Every spell, every technique, white and dark magic."

Could I have wished for more? An amazing aunt, a talented witch who sincerely supported me and cared about my success. I felt we were on the same wavelength.

I nodded enthusiastically in agreement, but immediately after, I had to set the record straight: "The Mulcibers are not our enemies, Aunt. I spoke with Alexander Mulciber directly at Hogwarts," I explained calmly.

Vespera almost lost her breath. "What do you mean, Patrik? I told you to avoid them! They are dangerous," she blurted out, shocked.

"Well... I was curious. And of course, I won't leave you in this alone; you are my favorite aunt, after all," I said with my most charming smile. Then I turned serious: "Alexander was very willing to explain the whole situation to me. And Legilimency was more than helpful during that conversation, so I'm sure of my conclusions. The Mulcibers are not a threat."

Vespera fixed a stern gaze on me. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut. "Tell me everything," she commanded in a tone that allowed for no delays. "To the last word."

"Well... as soon as you told me there was a problem with them, I tried to connect with Mulciber. But every time he saw me, he vanished along with Rookwood," I began, watching Vespera press her palms to her temples as if she were getting a headache. She didn't interrupt me, so I continued. "During the Halloween feast, I followed them to an abandoned classroom. Actually, they were waiting for me there, the clever rascals. Originally they didn't know what I was after... I gave Alexander a chance to tell me everything the easy way, but he was a bit reluctant."

Vespera just shook her head silently, but she still gave me space, so I continued cheerfully: "They attacked me, even though I only innocently wanted to talk. I had to defend myself, defeat them, and only then was Alexander willing to talk. It turned out that old Lord Mulciber was a loyal friend of my father's and still remembers him fondly. The problem is his brother Gregor – he is greedy, ambitious, and dangerous. Alexander himself is in danger from him. It turned out that while Gregor is focused on you, old Alexander at least doesn't have to worry about his heir. If Gregor were to have some kind of... accident, the Mulcibers wouldn't take it badly. Quite the opposite."

"A second Evan," she muttered under her breath, but in the sudden silence, it rang out clearly as if she had shouted it. "That is good to know. I've avoided their family for the last few years. The Mulcibers aren't exceptionally powerful magic-wise, but they have many members and influence in the lower levels of the Ministry," she informed me, pacing the room. A silence fell, which she broke after a while with a firm voice: "Leave Gregor to me, though. I'll take care of him."

I just shrugged indifferently. I didn't care. Either she would put him in the ground or I would later. The result was what mattered, not who carried out the sentence.

We went to the dining room, where the table was groaning under mountains of food – from sweet to savory. Steaks, roasted chickens, meatballs, roasted potatoes, rice, and bowls full of fresh vegetables. Again, I felt gratitude for this magical world and the wealth associated with it. Although it wasn't any special holiday, the table was bursting at the seams. We ate in silence, and after a short rest, it was time for spells.

Vespera led me to the lower parts of the castle. We stopped in a dead end with bare walls and no doors. However, I felt magic radiating from the stone. Vespera simply placed her hand against the wall, and the wall disappeared into the ground with a quiet thud.

"Simple private protection. The wall reacts exclusively to our family's magic," she explained briefly.

We entered a spacious, pragmatically furnished room. Ancient runes were carved into the walls. Tables and chairs for sitting stood along the sides, but the center of the room remained completely empty.

"Our training hall. Duels and magic practice have always taken place here," Vespera informed me. "No unauthorized person can get in. The room is protected by absorption and dampening spells. No one from the outside will sense the type of magic we'll be using here. We can even practice Unforgivable Curses here – to the outside, they will feel like ordinary Alohomora. Only extremely powerful elemental spells could possibly damage the room."

"Is there anything specific you'd like to learn?" Vespera asked as she prepared her wand.

"Well, definitely Dark Arts," I said without hesitation. "I had a bit of a problem with Alexander. I basically had to drown him using Aguamenti to get him to start talking. So... some of those torturing curses?"

Vespera stopped mid-motion. She slapped her hand loudly against her forehead and almost angrily cried out: "You didn't say you had to torture him, Patrik!"

"Oh, don't worry, he took it sportingly! He's not angry at all," I put on my most soothing smile, as if we were talking about me eating his lunch at school and not about me almost drowning him in a classroom.

Vespera frowned at me for a moment, a mix of horror and resignation in her eyes. But my innocent expression clearly worked, because she just let out a loud huff and shook her head in resignation. "What do you actually know about Dark Arts?" she asked me next.

"Well, honestly, not much," I admitted. "Only that I have to use negative emotions for the spells to work reliably."

"And do you know anything about its negative effects on a wizard?"

"Basically nothing. It's hard to get hold of such books at Hogwarts. But I assume that if someone constantly uses Dark Arts, feels non-stop hatred, and wants to cause harm, sooner or later it will take a toll on their psyche," I finished my reasoning.

Vespera nodded approvingly. "Yes, exactly. However, the Occlumency you already master sufficiently can help you with this. The shields in your head don't just protect your memories from others, but also your sanity from yourself. But you must be careful. Your Aunt Bellatrix fell deep into madness because of Dark Arts. The Blacks often had trouble with Occlumency; you have a huge advantage over them in that."

She paused for a moment as if searching for the right words. "You must balance magic – dark, white, and neutral. That is the only way to remain truly powerful while maintaining your sanity," Vespera continued, walking slowly through the middle of the room. "Dark magic is immensely tempting because it requires less of your own magical energy than white or neutral magic. Negative emotions act as a catalyst; they give the spell raw, destructive power, making the result much more brutal." She stopped and fixed a warning gaze on me. "If, however, you are unable or unwilling to balance the spells, you must take regular breaks from Dark Arts. You must allow your soul and mind to cleanse themselves. Otherwise, it will consume you before you even realize you've lost yourself. We Rosiers have always been pragmatists, Patrik. We use dark magic as a tool, not as a master."

It made sense, so I nodded. I certainly didn't plan on becoming a slave to my own negative thoughts. The idea of sitting somewhere on a sunny beach, sipping a chilled Gin and Tonic while hatred burned in my mind, seemed highly unattractive to me. I wanted power, but I also wanted to enjoy it in peace and luxury.

---

Author's note:
So, what do you think about Legilimency and Occlumency in practice? Did you find the depiction interesting? In many of the stories I've read, I always felt that true mental combat was missing, so I wanted to bring that to life here.

Vespera is incredibly kind and helpful—I think she's won over not just our MC, but hopefully you guys as well! To be honest, I originally planned for this chapter to be shorter so I could move the plot along faster, but once I started writing, it took on a life of its own. I just couldn't bring myself to cut any of it.

---

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Upcoming Chapters:
22. Precision, Power, and Purification
23. Of Euphoria and Gifts
24. Blood, Ash, and Roses
25. Cousins and Choices
26. The General in Training

 

[PatrikWriter]

After a moment, Vespera spoke again: "We shall begin with a Hogwarts classic—at least according to your father's stories. It is a simple Dark Arts spell. It isn't directly life-threatening, but it is certainly unpleasant and humiliating for the victim. The spell is called Furnunculus. It causes painful acne and boils at the point of impact; their size and extent depend on your will and magical power. The beam is a deep gold color."

With a wave of her wand, she summoned a rune-covered mannequin from the corner of the room, which looked chillingly realistic. Vespera stepped toward it and, with a swift, routine motion of her wand, made a small nick on her finger. When the first drop of blood appeared, she smeared it onto the wooden surface of the dummy.

The wood soaked up the blood instantly. The runes on its chest flared with a bright light, and the mannequin jerked as if life had entered it. After a brief tremor, it finally settled into a fighting stance.

"This is our family training tool. Any damage you deal to it will regenerate almost instantly. On this dummy, you will see the exact same effects you would see on a living person," she explained, stepping aside with a solemn expression. "Go ahead, Patrik."

I aimed my yew wand at the mannequin. In my mind, I vividly conjured the most repulsive, boil-ridden face I could imagine, and shouted with concentration:

"Furnunculus!"

A deep gold beam shot from the tip of my wand and hit the mannequin with a smack. It stumbled slightly under the impact. At that same moment, disgusting, festering boils and swollen acne began to erupt across its face. However, I had accidentally overpowered the spell—within seconds, clusters of enormous blisters formed on the mannequin, growing over one another until its features were completely deformed. It looked more like some mutated plague than mere teenage breakouts.

Vespera watched the carnage in silence for a moment, then looked at me out of the corner of her eye.

"Unless your goal is to kill someone outright through shock or suffocation, use a bit less magic next time, Patrik," she remarked dryly, though there was a hint of approval in her voice.

It took only a few seconds for the mannequin to fully regenerate, its surface becoming smooth once more.

"Furnunculus!" I cast again, but this time I made sure to put significantly less will and power into the wand.

The dummy stumbled again, and pussy blisters began to form on its face. The result was much more realistic—it looked like an unfortunate fifteen-year-old lad with exceptionally aggressive acne. It was no longer the deadly mutation from the previous attempt.

"You have a natural talent for the Dark Arts," Vespera stated flatly, though a spark of recognition flickered in her eyes. As soon as the mannequin pulled itself together, she moved to the next step: "Next is the stinging jinx, Aculeus. It causes sharp pain and swelling, like a bee sting. Naturally, the extent of the damage changes according to your focus. It's another Hogwarts classic, mostly used by students to practice reflexes during duels."

"Aculeus!" This time, a bright purple beam erupted from my yew wand. It hit the mannequin square in the chest, and a red, angry swelling immediately began to form at the point of impact.

Vespera remained silent for a moment, watching the dummy regenerate. "Hm... every spell on the first try?" she asked, seemingly more to herself than to me, her voice tinged with respect.

"We shall move on to something more difficult now. We have Os Frangere. A white-grey beam that breaks the bone exactly at the point of impact," Vespera announced, stepping back.

I didn't wait around. My confidence was at an all-time high after my previous successes. I aimed and gave my wand a sharp flick.

"Os Frangere!"

The promised white-grey beam shot from the wand's tip and struck the mannequin with a dull thud. It knocked it back a meter, but in the silence of the training hall, I didn't hear that expected dry snap of breaking bone. As soon as the dummy mechanically stood back up, it was clear to me that the spell had failed. The wood remained intact.

"Os Frangere!" I tried again. Again, just a dull impact, nothing more.

"Os Frangere!" A third failure.

"Os Frangere!" "Os Frangere!" "Os Frangere!"

For more than an hour, I unsuccessfully attempted the Os Frangere spell. Meanwhile, Vespera sat peacefully in the corner of the room with a slight smile on her face, as if she had all the time in the world, while I fought a desperate battle with my own magic. First, I focused purely on the image of a broken bone; later, I tried hatred and the desire to cause pain. Nothing worked.

After two hours, I felt like slapping my forehead out of frustration. Sweat trickled down my temples, but I refused to give up. Suddenly, it clicked—with more demanding spells, it isn't enough to fix the mind on just one thing.

I took a deep breath and fused both emotions together: the image of the physical break and the burning desire to hurt. "OS FRANGERE!" I yelled, now genuinely angry.

A white-grey beam shot from the wand and slammed into the mannequin with a dull smack. In the silence of the hall, the dry, loud crack of wood echoed instantly.

Finally! Although some spells took me considerably longer at Hogwarts (mainly due to limited magical capacity), here I had my aunt, who forced me to go to the very limit. With a triumphant smile, I turned to her: "Right, what's next on the list?" I asked confidently.

Vespera, however, just laughed with amusement and shook her head.

"No more spells, Patrik. You haven't mastered it yet. Your blast had raw power, but the break wasn't clean... the bone was crushed, not broken. You must improve your will and precision. Again!"

I spent the rest of the day trying to master this spell. The reality was that I was putting too much magical power into it, but my will wasn't precise enough, which is why such a detailed effect was giving me such a hard time. I realized that the more power I wasted unnecessarily, the faster I would exhaust myself. I had to learn precision. It was fine for now, but in the future, I would pay the price if I had to use excessive amounts of magic for every demanding spell.

By dinner time, I felt my magical capacity was nearly at its end. I marveled at Vespera, how she just sat there and patiently watched my efforts. I would certainly have been bored—watching someone drill a single spell for hours. However, it warmed my heart.

Vespera finally interrupted me with a cough: "That's enough, Patrik, that will do for today. Let's have dinner." With a wave of her wand, she deactivated the mannequin and sent it back to its place.

---

Over dinner, Vespera explained how wizards perceive Yule and Christmas. It turned out that Muggle Christmas traditions had partially seeped into our community, and the more pragmatic pure-blood families didn't have a problem with it. Since I grew up in a Muggle orphanage, she didn't want to overwhelm me right away with unfamiliar terms tied to the solstice celebrations.

Most pure-blood families celebrate Yule between December 21st and 31st. Each family usually has a private celebration to honor their ancestors. Originally, gifts weren't given, but when Christmas customs spread, the pure-bloods adopted some of them—like gift-giving. The heads of the families liked the idea of being able to give presents to their loved ones, and so the custom became established in history.

At the same time, we received an invitation to a formal ball held on December 31st at the Malfoys'—meaning at the home of my Aunt Narcissa and cousin Draco. It was funny to realize that Draco was my actual cousin, not just some distant relative twice removed. However, I didn't feel like going to a ball and showing off while I was still aware of my weaknesses. I was still young, inexperienced, and undertrained in the wizarding world. Furthermore, there was still a Trace on my magic. Although it wouldn't be active within the Malfoy manor, if something went south and I had to disappear suddenly, I didn't want to take unnecessary risks.

Vespera was visibly pleased by my decision. She took it as me wanting to spend time only with her, and she was glad that after all these years, she wouldn't be honoring our ancestors alone. We planned to go Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley tomorrow. As if it were nothing, she handed me a thousand Galleons to buy gifts. I couldn't help it and had to ask about the family finances. She explained that as an underage member of the house and heir, I had an annual limit of a thousand Galleons—money intended for fun and trifles. All major expenses, such as robes, books, or other equipment, are covered by the adult members of the house directly from the family vault.

---

After dinner, I decided on some self-study; the Codex Ritualis had been drawing me in for a long time. However, the translation from Old English was problematic and, in the case of rituals, downright extremely dangerous. Why? To put it simply: rituals are, so to speak, an exchange. A ritual will grant you permanent effects, but in an uneven exchange, it can kill you, disfigure you, or otherwise harm you for life. A tiny mistake is all it takes, and the consequences are staggering. At least, that's how the world-renowned author of the book, Morgana Le Fay, explained it.

I translated the theoretical part four times just to be safe. I had to be absolutely sure; I certainly didn't plan on letting myself get killed through my own carelessness. In the book, Morgana discussed the theory and listed several rituals she had invented herself. They weren't any extremely dark practices, no sacrificing kittens or children... An adult Muggle? Yes, but I didn't view that as particularly tragic. After all, there were some very bad Muggles who deserved to die in pain.

I also came across an interesting thought: Morgana Le Fay was convinced that Parseltongue was acquired through a ritual. According to her, it wasn't a case of some ancestor of a house founder deciding to hook up with a magical snake. She theoretically noted that all it takes to gain this ability is a magical snake, the right ingredients, and precise Arithmancy calculations.

She acknowledged, however, that the founders of Parselmouth families certainly didn't sacrifice just one reptile. They managed to bind this ability directly to the family blood. They must have sacrificed countless snakes—both magical and ordinary—and undoubtedly humans as well. It must have been a bloody and monumental ritual to have maintained itself in the bloodline for entire millennia.

According to the history I studied, Morgana had the ability to speak with various animals in their own tongue, so I had no reason to disbelieve her. Muggles might have thought Merlin or Morgana were just myths, but in our world, they were written into history in blood.

The very first ritual in the book seemed perfect for my needs: Clǣnsung sāwle and līchaman. In Latin, I identified it as Ritus purgationis animae et carnis—The Ritual of Purification of Soul and Body.

In case you're wondering what exactly this ritual does, it's exactly what I was looking for: a complete cleansing of the body, mind, and magical core from foreign traces of magic. It was the key to shaking off that foreign spell that hit me during the traditional boat ride to Hogwarts. I assumed it was a form of tracking—the so-called "Trace"—so the Ministry would know about every use of magic by young wizards in the Muggle world.

If you're interested in the difficulty and ingredients? Ha! It's completely simple and commonly available in every household. According to Morgana, everyone should master this ritual and perform it every year as a preventive measure.

Nothing more is needed than a wooden bowl of clean water, a pinch of salt, a white candle, and a wand.

Since it was a basic ritual, no special day or specific hour was required. Why was it so simple? Because the effect was a one-time thing and really everyone had the ingredients at hand at home. I decided to perform it immediately. Why wait? I was sure I had translated the text correctly, and since the ingredients were nothing exceptional, I saw no risk in it.

"Jobo!" I called the house-elf.

He appeared in my room an instant later with a soft pop, bowed low, and waited for instructions.

"Jobo, please bring me a wooden bowl with clean water, a pinch of salt on a tray, and one white candle," I commanded. As soon as the elf heard the word "please," his eyes glistened with emotion, and he bowed even lower until his ears touched the floor.

"Right away, young master," he blurted out and vanished.

It didn't even take a minute before Jobo was back. I motioned for him to place the items directly on the desk.

"Thank you, you may go," I said with a smile. Have I mentioned that I love elves? They were the most useful beings in the world.

Jobo bowed deeply once more and vanished with a soft pop. I had everything I needed, and you know what the best part was? My room was huge and luxuriously furnished. I had my personal library, a large high-quality desk for studying, and a brutally comfortable chair to go with it. And the bed? A double king-size, which will definitely come in handy in the future. I also had free space in the room for whatever I set my mind to. That space was probably originally intended for children's toys, since my room was for heirs, but now it served me. Overall, it was about the size of my apartment in my previous life. Seriously luxurious. The only thing I was missing was a computer and World of Warcraft, which won't be in circulation for another thirteen years. At least, I think that's when Vanilla came out... but I digress!

Let's get to the ritual. We have the space, we have the ingredients, and we have the know-how.

---

Author's note:

In this chapter, Patrik finally begins his practical training under Aunt Vespera's watchful eye. I've tried to capture the fine line between his natural talent and his lack of experience, which becomes evident during his struggle with the Os Frangere curse.

We are also diving into the theory of rituals, which in this story aren't just about "wand-waving," but involve real costs and risks as defined by Morgana Le Fay.

---

Join our Discord community: tgdTNZYVKt - Vote on the plot, chat, and get the best FF recs!

The shadows are shifting... If you can't wait to see where the darkness leads, you can find the advanced chapters on YOU-KNOW-WHAT.

Support the craft and keep the ink flowing. Your contribution in the Restricted Section directly allows me to dedicate more time to this dark world and bring you deeper, faster updates.

Enter the Restricted Section here: you-know-what/PatrikWriter

Upcoming Chapters:
23. Of Euphoria and Gifts
24. Blood, Ash, and Roses
25. Cousins and Choices
26. The General in Training
27. SaD:Shadows of the Past