Chapter 13: Echoes of Power and the Unyielding Neutral
News of Lord Voldemort's catastrophic misjudgment at Blackwood Manor did not, as one might expect, explode across the wizarding world. Voldemort, consumed by a humiliation so profound it bordered on a psychic wound, would never permit such a tale of his own utter defeat to circulate. His surviving Death Eater escorts, Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, were bound by terror and oaths of loyalty far too deep to whisper a word of their master's degradation. Yet, whispers have a way of seeping through even the most formidable cracks, especially when the event involves beings of such immense power.
It was Severus Snape, Voldemort's most recent, highly valued recruit and Dumbledore's most precarious spy, who brought the first fragmented, almost unbelievable, report to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Snape, having witnessed Voldemort in a state of uncharacteristic, violent fury after returning from an undisclosed location – a fury that involved the painful demise of several underlings for unrelated perceived failures – had pieced together, through Voldemort's own disjointed, venomous mutterings and the terrified silence of Lestrange, that the Dark Lord had encountered a power that had not only defied him but had punished him. The name "Blackwood" had been hissed amidst curses and threats of future, unimaginable vengeance.
Albus Dumbledore listened in his Hogwarts office, the usual twinkle in his blue eyes momentarily extinguished by a profound, almost startled, contemplation. He knew Corvus Blackwood was exceptionally gifted, a wizard whose abilities had defied conventional explanation since his first year at Hogwarts. He had always suspected a depth of power there that Corvus kept carefully veiled. But to best Lord Voldemort, at the very height of his terrible reign? That was a feat beyond even Dumbledore's most optimistic imaginings for the aloof Blackwood heir.
He convened an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix at Grimmauld Place – itself a Blackwood property, ironically, though long estranged from Corvus's branch of the family. The news was met with stunned disbelief, then a cautious, burgeoning hope.
"Blackwood?" Arthur Weasley breathed, his spectacles askew. "Are you certain, Albus? The Blackwoods have always kept to themselves. Powerful, yes, but… reclusive."
"Corvus Blackwood," Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody growled, his magical eye spinning wildly. "Always said there was more to that one than met the eye. Quiet. Too quiet. If he thrashed You-Know-Who, then he's got power we need. We bring him in. Now."
Minerva McGonagall looked thoughtful. "Corvus was my student. Brilliant, almost unnervingly so. But he never showed any inclination towards… taking sides. His loyalty was always, unequivocally, to his own House."
"This changes everything," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, his deep voice resonating with newfound optimism. "If Voldemort can be beaten, truly beaten by someone other than yourself, Albus, then there is tangible hope."
Dumbledore raised a hand for silence. "The report is unconfirmed in its entirety, and Voldemort's pride will ensure it remains so. However, the possibility, even the faintest glimmer, that Corvus Blackwood possesses the means to repel, and indeed, defeat Voldemort, is one we cannot ignore. I will approach him. Minerva, Alastor, I would have you accompany me. We must tread carefully. House Blackwood values its autonomy above all else."
And so, a few days later, the formidable wards of Blackwood Manor once again announced visitors requesting parley. This time, it was Albus Dumbledore, his expression grave but hopeful, flanked by a stern Minerva McGonagall and a visibly impatient Alastor Moody.
Corvus received them in the same Grand Hall where Voldemort had met his humiliation. His father, Lord Cassian, stood with him, a silent pillar of support. Isolde and the children were not present this time; this was a matter of high politics, not a demonstration of power. The air in the hall was cool, serene, the ambient magic of the Aegis a palpable, comforting presence.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Corvus greeted, his voice calm and courteous, betraying nothing of his awareness of their likely purpose. "Professor McGonagall. Auror Moody. An unexpected visit. To what do we owe the honor?"
"Corvus," Dumbledore began, his blue eyes searching Corvus's face intently. "Forgive the intrusion. These are dark times, as you well know. And in dark times, even the faintest light warrants pursuit." He paused. "Rumors have reached me, Corvus. Whispers of an encounter… an event of great significance that recently occurred within these walls. An event involving Lord Voldemort."
Corvus met Dumbledore's gaze evenly. "Blackwood Manor has indeed received unwelcome attention from the one who calls himself Voldemort. He came with an offer. I declined. He took poorly to the refusal. A disagreement ensued. He has since departed and is unlikely to trouble this House again." The understatement was monumental, yet delivered with utter sincerity.
Moody grunted. "Disagreement? We hear he left here looking like he'd wrestled a nest of Blast-Ended Skrewts and lost! That he was thrashed soundly!"
Corvus's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "Voldemort found the ancient defenses and traditions of House Blackwood… more robust than he anticipated. He left understanding that our neutrality is not to be infringed upon." He would not elaborate on his personal involvement or the specifics of the 'disagreement'. Let them speculate. The multiplier, his true advantage, was a secret he would guard with his life.
"Corvus," Minerva McGonagall interjected, her voice earnest. "If you possess the power to defeat Voldemort, to truly hurt him as these rumors suggest, then you have a moral obligation to help us, to help the wizarding world. People are dying. Families are being torn apart."
"My moral obligation, Professor," Corvus replied, his tone hardening slightly, "is to my blood, my House, and my family. They are my world. And they are safe. That is my priority, my sacred duty." He felt the familiar surge of information from Voldemort – the Dark Lord was currently in a secluded ritual chamber, trying to soothe his battered magical core and understand the nature of the power that had overwhelmed him. This insight only reinforced Corvus's resolve to protect his unique advantage.
"The Dark Lord will not rest, Blackwood!" Moody snarled. "He'll come back for you! He'll come back for everyone! You can't hide in your castle forever!"
"Perhaps not," Corvus conceded coolly. "But this 'castle,' as you put it, Auror Moody, is rather more formidable than you imagine. And Voldemort has already learned that attacking it directly is… ill-advised. He has other, softer targets to occupy his attention."
"Corvus," Dumbledore said, his voice gentle but firm. "I understand your position, your dedication to your family. But Voldemort's ambition knows no bounds. If he conquers the Ministry, if he destroys all organized opposition, do you truly believe he will honor your neutrality indefinitely? He will see you as a loose end, a power not under his control. Eventually, his gaze will turn back to you."
"And if that day comes, Headmaster, we shall deal with it then, as we have already dealt with his initial overture," Corvus stated. "But I will not invite that day sooner by declaring war on him now. House Blackwood has remained a sovereign power for centuries by not embroiling itself in the squabbles of others, be they Ministry incompetence or Dark Lords' crusades."
"This is not a mere squabble, Corvus!" McGonagall exclaimed, her composure fraying. "This is a battle for the soul of our world!"
"And my soul, Professor, is dedicated to the preservation of my lineage and the sanctity of this House," Corvus replied. "You ask me to risk everything – my family, my home, generations of Blackwood legacy – by openly challenging a Dark Lord who, until his recent… misadventure here, was considered all but invincible. For what? To fight a war that the Ministry itself has proven incapable of managing? To align myself with an Order that, for all its bravery, is outmanned and outgunned?"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over them. "My power, whatever its extent, is shield for my own. Voldemort now understands this. He has felt the price of trespassing. He will be reluctant to pay it again. That is the extent of my contribution to your 'war effort' – a demonstration that even a Dark Lord has boundaries he should not cross."
Dumbledore sighed, a deep weariness in his eyes. "You speak of your power, Corvus. The rumors… they suggest a level of mastery that is almost unprecedented. If you would only share some of your defensive knowledge, perhaps insights into Voldemort's weaknesses…"
Corvus's expression remained impassive. "The defenses of Blackwood Manor are unique to our bloodline and this specific location, Headmaster. They are not transferable. As for Voldemort's weaknesses… he has many. Pride. Arrogance. A dependence on fear. A soul mutilated by his own dark practices. These are not secrets I alone possess. You, more than anyone, are aware of them." He would not, could not, explain the true source of his intimate knowledge of Voldemort's magic – the Horcruxes, the specific spells, the tactical thinking. That knowledge was his, gained through the multiplier, and to reveal its depth would be to invite questions he could not answer without exposing his greatest secret.
"So, you will do nothing?" Moody pressed, his magical eye fixed on Corvus. "You'll sit here, safe and sound, while the rest of us fight and die?"
"I will protect my family and my House, Auror Moody," Corvus corrected, his voice like ice. "That is not 'nothing.' It is everything to me. If Voldemort's war threatens to engulf all, to the point where even our neutrality cannot guarantee our safety, then my calculations may change. But that point has not yet been reached. Until then, House Blackwood remains apart."
Lord Cassian, who had been silent throughout, finally spoke, his voice raspy with age but firm. "My son speaks for our House, Headmaster. For generations, the Blackwoods have navigated the tides of conflict by maintaining our strength and our independence. We do not seek dominion, nor do we bend the knee. Corvus has ensured our ancient traditions are upheld with a power even I did not fully comprehend until recently. We are grateful for your concern, but our path is set."
Dumbledore looked from Cassian to Corvus, a profound sadness in his eyes, yet also a flicker of something else – perhaps understanding, or even a grudging respect for Corvus's unyielding resolve and undeniable power. He knew Corvus was not evil, not aligned with Voldemort. He was simply… other. A force operating by its own ancient, implacable logic.
"I see," Dumbledore said softly. "I had hoped… but I understand your position, Corvus, even if I cannot fully condone it from the perspective of the wider world's suffering. The choice, of course, is yours." He paused. "Should you ever… reassess, know that the fight for a just world continues. And any true strength brought against Voldemort is a glimmer of hope."
Corvus inclined his head. "I wish you success in your endeavors, Headmaster. May your sacrifices prove worthwhile." It was a dismissal, polite yet absolute.
The Order delegation departed Blackwood Manor, the hopes that had briefly flared within them now dampened, replaced by a grim acceptance. They had sought a champion, a powerful new weapon. They had found instead a fortress, unassailable but aloof, its master a wizard of terrifying capability who refused to be drawn into their war.
Corvus watched them leave, then turned his gaze inwards, to the ever-present thrum of his connection to Voldemort. The Dark Lord was still reeling, his thoughts a maelstrom of fury, humiliation, and a new, unsettling curiosity about the true nature of Corvus Blackwood's power. The warning had been delivered, the boundaries drawn. House Blackwood would remain neutral, its master a silent, watchful sentinel, his power a secret shield, his fate forever entwined with the dark destiny of Tom Riddle. The war would rage on, but within the ancient, hallowed walls of his ancestral home, Corvus and his family would endure, their sanctuary sacrosanct.