It was the end of April, and once again, we all found ourselves in the Room of Requirement. The great training hall with its practice dummies, the open dueling floor, and the seating area by the black marble fireplace—it was pure comfort. This form of the room had already stabilized; everyone had grown accustomed to it, and even if someone else opened the door, this exact version always appeared. We trained diligently, and we were all improving.
It likely comes as no surprise that I wasn't the top student of the year. That role fell to Agnes, Theodore, and Tobias. Draco, however, was already catching up to them on the practical side. As their magical power grew, they learned increasingly difficult spells, and the common first-year charms became child's play for them. I was no longer the only one who mastered a spell on the first attempt.
So why wasn't I the best? Simple—essays. The professors assigned tasks, and while my pure-blood-raised friends completed them to the absolute maximum, I, to put it bluntly, didn't give a flying fuck about them. In my previous life, nobody asked what I got in math or biology. What mattered was whether I could do what they needed from me. If I had failed, even the best grades wouldn't have saved me. I simply had no reason to try... at least, not when it came to writing essays. I knew the theory, of course, but I scribbled the essays down in a hurry and half-assed them. My grades reflected that.
In this magical world, I certainly didn't plan on being someone's employee. I liked Master Cilian's work—rune-enchanting objects was interesting and evidently well-paid work. Yet, it was still relatively dull and lacked adrenaline; my blood would go stir-crazy from that. I could become a Curse-Breaker—discovering old tombs on my own and hauling out riches and precious scrolls. An adrenaline-fueled, albeit deadly trade... my magical sensitivity would surely help me there.
Or simply business, investing, and entrepreneurship. But I was lost in thoughts that shouldn't be crossing my mind right now—Agnes was diligently writing an essay beside me, Tobias was studying, and Draco was currently engaged in a friendly duel against Theodore. I watched them with interest for a moment.
Theo clearly had the upper hand. He dodged gracefully, jumping away from Draco's spells, and when he couldn't move in time, a simple Protego absorbed everything flying at him. Draco was noticeably faster in casting, though his repertoire was nothing exceptional, but his movement was lagging. Since January, Theo had significantly more training under his belt. Even though we had shown Draco the correct stance and footwork, he simply lacked the drill. His reflexes were better, but against Theo's power and composure, he didn't stand a chance. It was glaringly obvious.
Draco was sweaty, red-faced, breathless, and thoroughly pissed off. Theo, by contrast, breathed perfectly calmly. I wasn't surprised, therefore, when after a moment, he took the wand from a tired Draco's hand with a clever and precise Expelliarmus.
They stood opposite each other—Theo with a triumphant smile and Draco with an expression of helplessness and humiliation. Draco angrily snatched the offered wand and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his palm. He shot a brief glance at me but immediately looked down at the floor. He had lost several times in the last few days. I saw that he was trying exceptionally hard, and until now, I hadn't addressed it... but this time, he looked like he'd seriously had enough. I stood up and made my way toward him.
Theo saw me coming, gave a pleased nod in greeting, and went to sit with the others.
"Draco," I addressed him calmly, forcing him to look me in the eye.
It took a moment before he reluctantly raised his head. It seemed to me that suppressed tears were glistening in his eyes.
"It's normal to lose," I told him matter-of-factly.
"But you don't lose!" he shouted angrily. "You're powerful, but what about me?" he added in a whisper.
"I've lost a thousand times," I replied calmly.
His eyes widened almost to the size of ping-pong balls, and he stared at me expectantly without a word.
"In the Muggle world, when I trained in their martial arts... I lost against people smaller, larger, faster, and slower, younger and older," I paused for a moment. "It taught me one thing. Do you know what?" I asked.
He considered it for a moment, then just shook his head and waited.
"Humility, Draco. I hated losing with every fiber of my being, and I had two choices. Give up because I had already lost so many times, or train and fight with the knowledge that I might still lose." I remembered my younger self with a smile, but after a moment, I continued: "I couldn't live with myself if I gave up just because of losses. My conceit told me I was capable of more... and so I trained and fought. I improved technically and physically, gained experience from sparring, until I started winning. And let me tell you, it was worth it."
I paused again and added one last piece of advice: "In the Muggle world, they say, 'There's always a bigger fish.' So train and fight, cousin, so that you never sell your skin cheaply."
He thought in the silence of the room for a while until he asked: "But shouldn't I be powerful too? I am half-Black, after all, and I come from a pure-blood house."
The room grew so silent that I realized my friends at the table were tensely listening to every single word.
I shook my head in disagreement: "Our blood might offer us an affinity and better talent—small advantages—but hard work always beats talent. If you don't work on your magic, you'll just be an ordinary, weak wizard like any other... Our magic and our blood are gifts that must be constantly sharpened." I paused for a moment, but after a while, I added: "I'm certain even someone like Granger would be more powerful than you, Draco, if you didn't work hard on yourself... and you don't want that, do you?"
He scowled immediately, but I saw the fire of determination flare up in his eyes.
I headed back to the others, and Draco followed. As soon as we reached the table, however, Draco challenged Theodore to a duel again, and he accepted the challenge. I sat down in my place with a smile. I noticed Agnes looking at me with an appreciative grin.
"Well said," she nodded and returned to her essay. Tobias just gave me a supportive nod.
I had time to think again, this time about my current financial situation. I could realistically ask Vespera for some money, but somehow that went against my pride. Also, sifting through all the junk in the Room of Requirement... I absolutely didn't feel like it, and it didn't help that a lot of things there were genuine garbage. I was simply lazy for that. The thousand from Potter had increased my capital, but it still wasn't much for starting anything up.
Should I swipe the Philosopher's Stone? But there was an enormous risk involved. If Voldemort or Dumbledore found out, I'd be in deep trouble... but if Flamel found out? HUGE, with a capital H.
Sometimes I didn't understand the wizarding world. Were they seriously that stupid? Flamel had to be an extremely powerful dark wizard. To live for several centuries while the magical core constantly expands through the continuous use of magic? Sure, maybe he didn't work non-stop like I did, but those centuries must have turned him into a monster.
At the same time, if everyone knew about the Elixir of Life and infinite gold, there must have been an assassination attempt on him practically every week. And since he was still alive, those attempts were obviously unsuccessful. There were definitely many powerful wizards interested in the stone. Since Flamel managed to keep it, he was undoubtedly the most dangerous of them all.
And finally, the stone itself. I remembered that in alchemy, equivalent exchange is essential. How is it possible then that the stone can create an elixir of immortality? Probably not forever, but how many people had to be sacrificed to create such a powerful dark artifact? An incredible amount, I imagine. A few centuries ago, entire cities could have vanished and nobody would have noticed a thing while Flamel was creating his "miracle." So in the end, we had an extremely dangerous mage and his bloody stone.
Summarizing it like this, something else occurred to me—Flamel definitely didn't give Dumbledore the real stone. I wasn't a hundred percent sure about this theory, but ninety-nine? Absolutely.
My thoughts were interrupted after a while by Agnes's quiet voice: "Are you alright, Patrik? You're scowling a bit."
"Sure, Agnes, just thinking."
"About what? Can I help you somehow?" she immediately offered as a friend.
"No, no. Just generally about life and money," I smirked. "But thank you," I added.
She just nodded and returned to another essay. I could continue thinking.
The immoral wizarding classics occurred to me: Legilimens, Confundo, and Imperio. I could very easily rob a bunch of corrupt people. Some drug dealers, murderers, or corrupt politicians. Ransack their minds with Legilimency, force them with the Imperius Curse to hand over all their cash or jewelry...
Except... the wizarding world was stupid, but not that much. How would it work if I brought heaps of pounds from dealers into the Muggle world? What would the exchange rate for Galleons be at Gringotts? If there were too many, would they warn the Ministry? And what about taxes? Theoretically, I could buy jewelry and precious metals for cash... or discuss it directly with Ranrok. What would be the best way to realize it? He might be happy to answer purely hypothetical questions... with an attached financial bonus, of course.
I didn't doubt for a second that Vespera would refuse to teach me these spells. I already felt magically strong enough to be able to use Imperio. And if not, she'd simply shut it down... but with a plan like this, I could quickly gain the means to launch all my business plans.
I could also contact Black, but somehow I was still blowing him off. I have no idea why, but I had no desire to connect with him. That crossed-out address "Death Eater brat" told me that communication with him would be quite difficult. The Ministry also still hadn't reached out about that reward... Hm.
I just noticed that Draco had lost again, but he was determined to continue. At that moment, however, Agnes started "generaling" us all.
"Boys, dinner! Give it a rest now," she commanded strictly.
They stopped immediately. Both knew that Agnes was to be listened to. Magically, she was more powerful than they were, and the respect they held for her stemmed precisely from her strength.
And so we all gathered our things and headed to the Great Hall for dinner. We were all tidied up, just like Draco and Theo after their duel. Cosmetic charms were very popular among us, so fortunately, we never smelled of sweat. We settled into our usual spots and began helping ourselves to food.
While Agnes once again chose pancakes and Theodore and Tobias went for chicken, Draco waited to see what I would choose. As soon as I reached for the beef steak, he took it too. When I took roasted potatoes, he took them as well. Rice? Also. Green beans in butter? The same, even if with distaste. A proper, nutritious dinner full of protein.
I noticed Agnes and the boys exchange amused smiles while Draco concentrated on copying my menu. Fortunately, nobody commented. I didn't want him to be embarrassed, and honestly—it was quite sweet.
In peace and silence, we enjoyed each other's company and the great Hogwarts food. We had almost finished eating when suddenly a flock of owls flew into the hall. I noticed they were carrying newspapers. It was strange because the Daily Prophet had already come out this week. A copy landed in front of us as well, and I immediately saw the label: Special Edition.
***
RAT IN THE BED: THE WEASLEYS' BLOODY SECRET REVEALED!
By Rita Skeeter
Shock and disgust. Those are the only words that can describe the atmosphere in the corridors of the Ministry of Magic after an anonymous Hogwarts student—a hero who (for now) wishes to remain in the shadows—tore the mask off the greatest beast of our time. Peter Pettigrew, the man we mourned for years, was not dead. He was something much worse. He was a parasite who fed on the lives of one wizarding family for ten years.
Ten Years of Sexual Slavery Under the Influence of Imperio
What has surfaced during the first interrogations under the influence of Veritaserum is too perverted even for the darkest novels. Pettigrew turned the Weasley home into his private den of pleasure. According to my sources, Molly Weasley was subjected to a continuous Imperio curse. This rat in human skin not only abused her but covered his tracks with brutal doses of the Obliviate charm. Every morning, poor Molly woke up with a smile on her face, unaware that her night belonged to a murderer. How long can a woman's mind resist such systematic rape of memories?
The Decomposition of Arthur Weasley: A Mind in Ruins
While Molly was a victim in the bedroom, Arthur Weasley was a victim in his own head. Pettigrew needed to keep him in a state of constant confusion so he wouldn't notice that his "pet" was spending more time with his wife than he was. The combination of the Imperio curse and amateur memory charms turned Arthur into a wreck. There had been whispers at the Ministry about his "eccentricities" for some time, but today we know the truth: Arthur Weasley is not an oddball. He is a man with a corroded consciousness whose mind is literally falling to pieces under the pressure of Pettigrew's magic.
Whose Children Are They? The Genetic Scandal of the Century Awaits!
And now for the most important part, dear readers. The question that is keeping the Department of Magical Law Enforcement awake and which forced officials to immediately take blood samples at the Burrow: Are the younger members of the Weasley clan even Weasleys? Given that Pettigrew had unlimited access to Molly for an entire decade, a massive investigation into their parentage is underway at this very moment. The world waits with bated breath for the results of the heredity tests. Is it possible that a traitor's genetic code is hidden behind that red hair? Are those children the fruit of love, or the result of a ten-year ordeal under the influence of Dark Magic?
One thing is certain—nobody is laughing at the Burrow anymore. And we ask: Who else in our neighborhood is hiding something in a cage that has a murderer's hands instead of paws?
***
A deathly silence fell over the Great Hall. Nobody dared to laugh or make jokes about the Weasleys, who weren't even in the hall. Had someone warned them about the article in advance? The story sounded like pure horror. I knew Rita had forced the sensation out of the article, but the fact remained that almost all the siblings were older than the time that rat had spent with them. Perhaps with the exception of Ginny Weasley?
This world, however, was exceptionally cruel. I couldn't imagine her suffering—how her own mind betrayed her. But I suspected that Pettigrew didn't just play pet there... anyone would go insane from that. As a man, he had his needs, and as an immoral bastard who sold out his own friends? That was even worse. On the faces around me, I saw massive horror, but it only motivated me more. I never wanted to become a victim.
***
Author's note:
When I first started combat sports, despite being tall and heavy, I was constantly losing during my early sparring sessions—whether it was BJJ or Muay Thai. But I didn't quit. I worked on my conditioning, my technique, and my cardio, and it was all worth it. :) I've since had the chance to spar with pros from global leagues in K1, Boxing, and MMA.
Everything that's truly worth it is incredibly difficult, so don't give up! Whether it's drawing, writing, sports, fighting, or even something like throwing darts. Keep grinding!!! :D
Flamel as an extremely powerful mage? It makes sense to me, what about you guys?
But as you can see, our MC is just as much of a lazy bum in real life as I am... I've been hearing from my girlfriend for a week now that I need to clean out the pantry. :D Draco is our golden little Padawan/copycat.
And finally, a cruel story from Rita in an even crueler world.
***
Step into the Restricted Section
The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
Enter the Restricted Section here: you-know-what/PatrikWriter
Upcoming Chapters – Already Written:
45. Precision of Water, Chaos of Rage
46. The Unseen Blade
47. The Blood Connection
48. The Ghost of a Friend
49. Hypothetical Questions
50. Ancient Crimes and Modern Recipes
51. The Smell of Teen Spirit and Dark Arts
52. More Than Just a Name
53. The Rat's Final Kiss
54. Deus Vult
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