Chapter 24: The Unyielding Fortress and a Fading Hope (Mid-1997)
Lord Voldemort's second, even more catastrophic, defeat at the hands of Corvus Blackwood did not remain a secret within the Dark Lord's inner circle for long, despite his furious attempts to suppress it. The sheer psychic and magical backlash of Corvus's parting "gift" – the subtle, corrosive sigil of limitation imprinted upon Voldemort's aura – left the Dark Lord in a state of intermittent, agonized distraction for weeks. He became prone to violent outbursts over minor setbacks, his control over his own dark magic fluctuating unpredictably, particularly when his thoughts strayed towards Blackwood Manor or powers that defied his understanding.
Severus Snape, with his unparalleled access and Occlumency skills, observed these changes with keen, analytical interest. He noted Voldemort's almost phobic avoidance of any mention of House Blackwood, the way his crimson eyes would flare with a unique mixture of terror and impotent rage if the subject inadvertently arose. He also subtly gleaned from the fragmented, fearful whispers of the Death Eaters who had accompanied Voldemort on that ill-fated mission – particularly a rattled Yaxley trying to curry favor – that their master had not just been repelled, but utterly, contemptuously, dismantled for a second time.
Snape's report to Albus Dumbledore, delivered in the dead of night through secure Floo channels, was met with a profound, thoughtful silence from the Headmaster. Voldemort, the most feared Dark Wizard in a century, twice beaten, twice sent fleeing by the reclusive Lord Blackwood? It was a revelation that shifted the very calculus of the war.
An emergency session of the Order of the Phoenix was convened, the atmosphere thick with a desperate, almost feverish, hope.
"He thrashed him again, Albus?" Kingsley Shacklebolt exclaimed, his deep voice filled with incredulity. "Actually defeated him? This changes everything!"
"If Blackwood can do that to You-Know-Who," Emmeline Vance whispered, her eyes wide, "then he could end this war. Why isn't he fighting with us?"
Alastor Moody slammed his fist on the table. "I told you! That Blackwood is a power unto himself! We wasted time asking politely before. This time, we demand! He has a responsibility!"
Dumbledore listened, his gaze distant. "Corvus Blackwood's responsibilities, Alastor, have always been, first and foremost, to his own House. He made that abundantly clear. However," a new resolve hardened his features, "the stakes are higher now than ever before. Voldemort is regaining strength, his attacks are more brazen, the Ministry is fractured. If there is even a sliver of a chance that Corvus might be persuaded to lend his… considerable abilities, even indirectly, then we must explore it."
He knew it was a long shot. Corvus's prior refusal had been unequivocal. But the confirmation of a second victory, presumably even more decisive than the first, was too significant to ignore. Perhaps the escalating nature of the war, the sheer desperation of their situation, might sway him where previous appeals had failed.
Thus, a small, determined delegation once again found themselves requesting parley at the imposing gates of Blackwood Manor. Dumbledore led, his expression weary but resolute. With him were Minerva McGonagall, her lips set in a thin, determined line, and, somewhat surprisingly, Arthur Weasley, whose own son had nearly died at Voldemort's hand in the Department of Mysteries, representing the ordinary families torn apart by the conflict. Moody had been explicitly asked by Dumbledore to remain behind, lest his aggressive approach scupper their delicate mission before it began.
Corvus received them in the Solarium, a vast, glass-domed chamber filled with rare, magically sustained flora, the air warm and fragrant – a stark contrast to the grim, war-torn world outside. He was attended by two of his Blackwood Sentinels, seven-foot obsidian automata whose featureless faces and silent, powerful presence were unnerving. Lord Cassian, now quite ancient but his mind still sharp, sat beside his son, a living symbol of Blackwood tradition.
"Headmaster," Corvus greeted, his voice as calm and devoid of inflection as ever. "Professor McGonagall. Mr. Weasley. You honor my House with this unexpected second visit. I trust this is not merely a social call, given the… current climate."
"Indeed not, Corvus," Dumbledore said, his gaze sweeping over the magnificent Sentinels with a flicker of professional curiosity before returning to Corvus. "We come to you again because the circumstances have grown more dire, and because we have… reason to believe… that your unique position and power have once again been demonstrated in a most significant manner regarding Lord Voldemort."
Corvus raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "My House's defenses were tested. They held. The trespasser was once again persuaded to depart. Such matters are internal to House Blackwood."
"Internal?" McGonagall interjected, her voice tight with emotion. "Corvus, with all due respect, when you possess the ability to single-handedly defeat Lord Voldemort – not once, but twice – it ceases to be a purely internal matter! It becomes a matter of global wizarding security! Lives are at stake!"
"And the lives within these walls, Professor," Corvus countered, his voice like chilled steel, "are my primary, indeed my sole, responsibility. I have ensured their safety. That is my sacred duty, and it has been fulfilled."
Arthur Weasley stepped forward, his kind face etched with sorrow and a desperate plea. "Lord Blackwood, my family… we've suffered. My son Ron, Ginny… they fought alongside Harry Potter. We know what Voldemort is capable of. If you have the power to stop him, to spare other families what we and so many others have endured… surely there is a moral imperative…"
Corvus looked at Arthur, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something unreadable passed through his grey eyes. It was not pity, perhaps, but a detached acknowledgment of suffering. "Mr. Weasley," he said, his voice softening almost imperceptibly, "your family's courage is commendable. Many in this world suffer due to the ambitions of tyrants and the failings of institutions. House Blackwood has survived for centuries by adhering to one paramount principle: we do not embroil ourselves in external conflicts unless our sovereignty is directly and irrevocably threatened. My actions regarding Voldemort have been solely in defense of that sovereignty. He trespassed. He was rebuked. Twice. The lesson, I believe, is now clear to him regarding this specific domain."
He felt the truth of it from the distant, muted thrum of Voldemort's consciousness – the Dark Lord's thoughts now actively, almost superstitiously, skirted any direct contemplation of Blackwood Manor or its master. The sigil Corvus had placed upon his aura was a constant, irritating reminder.
"But the lesson needs to be applied to the entire world, Corvus, not just your domain!" Dumbledore urged, his voice infused with a passionate weariness. "You could end this. You could save countless lives. With your power, allied with the Order, we could crush Voldemort and his Death Eaters."
"And what then, Albus?" Corvus retorted, his gaze sharp. "Become the world's policeman? Replace one Dark Lord with another, however benevolent my intentions might be perceived? Power of the magnitude you ascribe to me, if wielded so openly, invites its own set of corruptions, its own enemies. My House thrives on discretion, on inscrutability, on being an independent power that meddles with none and is meddled with by none. To abandon that for a crusade, however righteous it may seem to you, would be to abandon the very principles that have ensured Blackwood's survival and prosperity for a thousand years."
He gestured to the Sentinels. "These are my Order, Headmaster. Their loyalty is absolute, their purpose singular: the defense of Blackwood. I have shared with you my stance on neutrality. It is not born of cowardice, nor of indifference to suffering, but of a pragmatic understanding of history and power. Each wizard, each House, must choose its own path to survival and security. This is ours."
"So you will stand by and watch as the world burns?" McGonagall's voice was trembling with barely suppressed anger. "With the power to act?"
"I will stand by, Professor, and ensure that the fires do not reach these walls," Corvus corrected coolly. "And I will continue my research, my work, which includes understanding the very nature of the magic Voldemort wields – knowledge that, in its own way, contributes to a form of balance." He wouldn't elaborate on the multiplier, of course. He let them assume his knowledge came from pure scholarship. "You have your methods, Dumbledore. I have mine. They are not compatible."
Dumbledore looked at Corvus, a profound sadness etched onto his features. He saw not a potential ally, but an entirely different category of power – ancient, self-contained, and utterly unwilling to be drawn into the struggles of others. It was like asking a force of nature to take sides in a human war.
"I see," Dumbledore said finally, his voice heavy. "Your resolve is… as formidable as your reputation, Corvus. I will not press you further on this matter. The Order of the Phoenix will continue its fight with the resources it possesses." He paused. "But know this: should Voldemort ever be truly defeated, the world that emerges will remember those who stood against him, and those who stood aside."
"History is written by the victors, Albus," Corvus replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "And sometimes, the truest victory lies in outlasting the storm in one's own unbreachable fortress. House Blackwood will endure, irrespective of who claims transient dominion over the Ministry or the wider world."
The Headmaster nodded slowly, a flicker of understanding, perhaps even a grudging acknowledgment of Corvus's stark, amoral pragmatism, in his eyes. He had played his last card and lost. Corvus Blackwood would not be their savior.
The Order delegation departed Blackwood Manor in silence, the weight of their disappointment palpable. They had sought a weapon, a champion, a miracle. They had found only an unyielding fortress and its inscrutable, impossibly powerful master.
Corvus watched them go, then turned his attention back to the intricate runic calculations for the latest enhancement to the Aegis wards. His conversation with Dumbledore had been a predictable, if necessary, expenditure of time. It had solidified his position to the 'light' side, just as his encounters with Voldemort had solidified it to the 'dark.' Both now knew where House Blackwood stood: alone, neutral, and untouchable.
He felt the distant, agitated thrum of Voldemort. The Dark Lord was currently focused on infiltrating the Ministry at its highest levels and plotting a way to silence Harry Potter and Dumbledore more permanently. The knowledge flowed into Corvus, amplified, categorized, another set of data points in his ever-expanding understanding of the current conflict.
The path of neutrality was indeed a solitary one, Corvus mused. But for a being of his unique power and insight, it was the only logical choice. He was not a pawn in anyone's game. He was an observer, a scholar, a silent guardian of his own domain, and, in a way that no one else could ever comprehend, he was Voldemort's most intimate, unseen confidant and beneficiary. The war would rage on, but Corvus Blackwood, secure in his power, his knowledge, and his unshakeable neutrality, would continue his own Great Work.