76. The Twelve-Year-Old Dark Lord
With an effort, I dragged myself to my room, my first steps heading straight for the bathroom. My clothes were incredibly soaked in alcohol, cigarette smoke, and sweat. I fervently hoped I was the only one perceiving it so intensely, as my sense of smell was still heightened after the ritual. I quickly shed the smelly rags and climbed into a hot bath.
I knew well enough that boiling water wasn't the best idea after booze, since alcohol massively dehydrates the body, but I was sure I could handle it—after all, I hadn't chugged a liter of pure water just for the hell of it.
"What am I going to tell my aunt?" I muttered under my breath after a few minutes, eyes closed, soaking in the warmth that heated me to the bone.
Under the water, I began pressing hard on my wrists, elbows, shoulders, and chest muscles. The dull ache I caused with the pressure felt incredibly good and released the tension. Is there even such a thing as a magical massage? the thought suddenly struck me.
But immediately after, I gave myself a mental slap and forced myself to focus on what mattered.
"I'll just tell her the truth," I kept muttering to myself. "I mean, whatever... Every wizard has a dilemma now and then about whether to become the next Dark Lord or just screw it and go chill on a beach somewhere. I needed to unplug. And besides, I was securing an alliance with Black. Aunt will definitely be fine with it."
But it's interesting that the clothes stank even through Verto, flashed through my mind. But I immediately scolded myself for obsessing over absolute bullshit again, and with a heavy sigh, I climbed out of the tub.
After the whole series of hygienic and cosmetic charms, I looked relatively alert in the mirror. Too bad that in my head, I still felt like a completely wrung-out noodle.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, Styrax was lounging on my bed as if he owned the place.
"Meow," he blinked at me with glowing green eyes, casually flicking his tail to the side, watching me closely.
"Good morning," I replied with a tired sigh. The bed, combined with a good fantasy book and a pile of food, looked like pure paradise right now.
"Jobo!" I called out after a split second of sweet daydreaming. The house-elf appeared instantly with a deep bow. "Young master?"
"I'd like some breakfast, please. An omelet with dark bread, and pancakes with maple syrup for dessert..."
"Meow!" Styrax interrupted rudely.
"Right, right," I sighed. "And a small piece of chicken for Styrax."
The black cat hissed aggressively. Jobo stood frozen, looking back and forth between us.
"My room is not going to smell like fish, forget it," I growled back at him and turned to the elf. "Do we have any Hangover Cure potion here?"
"Yes, we do, young master," Jobo said with a small bow of his head. "Would you like anything else?"
"No, thank you. You may go."
With a quiet crack, he vanished, and with a heavy sigh, I threw myself onto the bed right next to Styrax.
I should have asked for the Hangover Cure first thing when I crossed the threshold of the manor, I muttered to myself.
Styrax watched me through slit eyes. He was lying on his back, lazily swishing his tail from side to side. I reached out and began to gently scratch his belly. He immediately started purring loudly. He enjoyed it so intensely that my whole hand vibrated under my fingers as I stroked his soft, shiny black fur. He smelled really nice—not like some artificial perfume, but so natural, pure nature.
"Ssssssssss!" he hissed suddenly, baring his fangs.
In the blink of an eye, sharp claws flashed, and he swiped them right across the hand I was petting him with.
With a hiss, I immediately yanked my hand back. "What are you doing, you little shit?!" I growled at him.
Styrax looked as if nothing had happened. He just meowed softly, rolled onto his stomach, curled into a ball, and began to ignore me.
A narrow, roughly four-centimeter red scratch glowed on the back of my hand. Fortunately, it wasn't deep; only a few tiny drops of blood beaded on the surface of the wound. I wiped the blood away with my thumb, and immediately after, I watched in amazement as the sliced skin closed itself up. Within a split second, my hand was completely clean, without any trace or burning sensation. Only blood remained on my fingers, but underneath, there was no longer any wound.
The regeneration was incredibly fast. But where is my limit? occurred to me instantly. How much can I regenerate, and in what amount of time? Would I survive a knife plunged straight into my chest? And how on earth did a cat's claw manage to hurt me when my body felt more resilient after that ritual?
"You, Styrax, are definitely no ordinary cat," I spoke to the black ball in front of me. If I hadn't seen exactly how he curled into it, I would have had a hard time finding his head in that perfect darkness. "You should show me what you can really do."
The cat continued to ignore me completely.
"Want some fish?" I baited him, Slytherin style. A tail immediately popped out of the ball and began to lazily thwap from side to side. "A big fish!"
Thanks to that rhythmic movement of his tail, I knew exactly that he was listening, but outwardly, he showed nothing. I poked him with a finger, but he ignored that too.
Just then, Jobo appeared with a quiet crack, a massive tray levitating directly in front of him. In a split second, Styrax shot to attention—there was suddenly no trace of the curled ball or his phlegmatic attitude.
Eagerly, I grabbed the tray with both hands and immediately dug into the food. Styrax tried to swiftly sneak toward his bowl of raw meat, which sat on my tray, but I quickly grabbed him by the side of his body and rolled him onto his back a short distance away. And so, the game began. Of course, it was only fun for me.
While I enjoyed large mouthfuls of omelet and bread, Styrax furiously tried to get to his food. He hissed like an enraged snake, his mouth wide open. He was incredibly fast, but I cut off his path with my body every single time. It looked like he was trying to score a goal on a net I was completely blocking. He didn't stand a chance.
"Meoooow!" he wailed mournfully. Immediately after, though, he hissed again, and claws shot out of his paws like Wolverine's.
Jobo watched us the whole time with a wide grin and eyes as big as tennis balls. I fervently hoped he was rooting for me in this duel.
The cat tried a lightning-fast leap at the tray from a side angle. I tried to telekinetically move him mid-air, but it didn't work at all. With a clatter, I dropped my spoon, quickly shoved both hands under him, and literally flipped him aside. He landed in front of the bed, hissing as if he had been on a week-long hunger strike.
By that stage, he had lost all restraint. He lunged off the floor and launched into the air—from his flight path, it was clear he was aiming straight for my omelet. He might have been a lightning bolt of pure malice incarnate, but without the element of surprise, he had no chance. Telekinesis hadn't worked, but my reflexes did. With a simple flick of my hand, I batted him onto the duvet mid-air.
"Meooooooow!" he cried heartbrokenly and slumped miserably onto the bed. At that moment, he perfectly resembled Puss in Boots—the beast was clearly playing with my emotions. And I had to admit, he was doing a brilliant job of of it. It worked.
I took his bowl of chopped raw chicken from the tray and pushed it toward him. Without any hint of gratitude, Styrax immediately lunged at it, smacking his lips and purring happily and deeply with every gulp.
"Ingrate," I smirked at him, but quickly returned to my own plate and began enjoying the pancakes. At least the carbs in them would bind water well in my body, which would significantly help with hydration. I wolfed them down without any table manners—just like Agnes, though unlike her, I didn't get syrup all over my sleeves.
Since the beginning of summer, we had been exchanging messages with our whole gang, though on my end, it was mostly brief, short replies. Agnes was clearly enjoying the Alps, Draco unexpectedly missed his "Rivana," and Tobias and Theo were just chilling.
If I have time later, I'll go visit them, I promised myself in thought right before chugging that incredibly nasty potion from Jobo in one gulp.
My face contorted in disgust, but almost immediately, I felt the horrible pressure in my temples ease and my eyes finally stopped burning. It worked fast. With a sigh of relief, I sprawled out on the bed again.
"My regeneration probably doesn't work against poisons at all," I suddenly realized out loud, staring up at the ceiling. "Alcohol is basically poison, and my body reacted to it with completely normal symptoms of an organism defending itself and fighting off a toxin."
"Meow?" Styrax asked suddenly, lazily cracking open one green eye.
"Yeah, exactly... That must be why I got the gift of heightened smell after the ritual. So I could sense poison before swallowing it," I nodded to myself. "But the fucking problem is, I've barely ever used my sense of smell. I can't even properly identify those scents. How the fuck am I supposed to know if something has poison in it when I have no clue what poison smells like?"
"Meow, meow," the cat replied, this time opening his eyes wide. "Meow, meow, meow!"
"You're absolutely right," I nodded solemnly, though I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.
Styrax contentedly closed both eyes, gave a massive yawn, and pulled his tail close to his body. Right after, I let out an equally contagious yawn myself. Fatigue and a good meal had done their job, and my eyelids began to shut entirely against my will.
A little sleep won't kill me... was my last thought before sleep claimed me.
I woke up comfortably warm, with a small furry ball pressed right against my side. With my eyes still closed, I began to stretch blissfully, tensing my muscles. I felt absolutely great, literally reborn. Jobo's potion had done a stellar job.
"I hope I didn't sleep the whole day away. My aunt would really skin me alive," I muttered sleepily under my breath, lazily scratching the black ball next to me.
"You slept for exactly two hours, young man," Vespera's calm but amused voice suddenly spoke from just a short distance away.
Ah, fuck... I thought, snapping my eyes wide open in a split second.
Vespera, her lips twitching slightly at the corners, was watching me from a massive armchair—it looked exactly like the one we had downstairs in the drawing-room.
"U-uh, I know you're mad," I launched into my defensive strategy immediately, as soon as I managed to swallow a wave of nervousness. "But I'm truly sorry. I really didn't want you to worry about me. It completely slipped my mind to let you know where I was and what I was doing... It just popped into my head out of nowhere to go see Sirius." I took a quick breath and immediately added a final, humble apology: "I'm sorry, Aunt. It won't happen again."
At that moment, Vespera completely lost the battle with her composure. Her lips curled up, and her laughter rang through the room.
"You're not mad anymore?" I asked just to be sure, once she calmed down a bit and looked at me with twinkling eyes and a lingering smile.
"No... Not anymore," she shook her head. "But make sure it really doesn't happen again, Patrik," she added immediately after, in a noticeably firmer tone.
Feeling immense relief, I immediately began to nod obediently.
"Now, to the point. Why did you go see Black, and why, for Merlin's sake, did you drag him out drinking?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk.
"What makes you think I was the one who dragged him out drinking?" I nervously ran a hand through my still somewhat messy hair. I was really risking setting her off again.
"Sirius may be immature and in many ways a foolish boy, but he was never a liar," she replied with a calm smile. "So?"
"Meow!" Styrax interrupted us.
From a furry ball, he suddenly stretched out long, like a taut piece of black spaghetti with his paws reaching into the air. I automatically began scratching him under the chin. The cat immediately started purring loudly, which bought me at least a few valuable seconds to formulate a sufficiently serious response in my head.
"I was thinking about the future," I began slowly, fixing a serious gaze on my aunt. "I have power. The power to change this world for the better. But... as we both know well from history with Grindelwald, it's an incredibly thankless job. On one hand, I'd love to be selfish, screw everything, and go chill on a beach somewhere with a cold beer in hand, just enjoying the sea and the sun. But on the other hand... I know guilt would eat me alive. Guilt over people out there suffering senselessly."
I sat up a little straighter in bed.
"Corruption, crime, embezzlement, a broken welfare system, bribes around every corner—just like in that filthy alley... Aunt, sometimes I feel like just burning the whole thing to ashes. And rebuilding it, from the ground up, according to my own vision."
"You're twelve, there's no point worrying about it now," Vespera stated pragmatically. "Theoretically, you can start working on becoming a Dark Lord today, without actually ending up as one in adulthood. After all, you have plenty of time to decide when you're older."
"You're right," I nodded in agreement.
The only problem was that my mature mind relentlessly pushed me toward these reflections. I couldn't just enjoy the carefree life of a twelve-year-old kid because mentally, I simply wasn't twelve.
"So? What are the first steps for a future Dark Lord that you can take right now?" she prompted with a provocative smirk. "First of all, it would be quite nice if you finally stopped holding back and defeated your beloved aunt in a duel."
I immediately fell into thought, completely ignoring her jab about our training sessions. I started thinking out loud.
"I need personal power, that's the absolute foundation... But I also need an enormous amount of money, a loyal army, and a bulletproof strategy."
"You already have some loyal followers, don't you?" Vespera noted.
"No, those are my friends," I shook my head firmly. "Although... I get the feeling that if it came to actually conquering the world, they would stand firmly behind me," I admitted honestly after a moment.
"So, a vast amount of money and an army," Vespera nodded, watching me with a sharp look. "Any specific ideas?"
"What do you know about Fenrir Greyback?"
"The leader of one of the largest werewolf packs in Europe. He is responsible for a vast number of violent bites on children—mostly from families that openly discriminate against werewolves. In the last war, he followed the Dark Lord," she shrugged, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "I saw him with my own eyes once. Unkempt, wild, and smelled like a wet dog."
"And your opinion of his character?" I fixed my eyes on her.
"He is loyal to anyone who keeps him on a tight enough leash," she admitted with undisguised distaste. "Do you really think he would choose your side over Lord Voldemort's?"
"Voldemort would never offer him a real future. I would. So, probably yes," I shrugged. "But to execute that plan, I need that money first and foremost."
"You can't just be followed by filthy werewolves," Vespera observed calmly. "If you want to mean something, you need to have wizards behind you. And a damn lot of them."
"As you correctly pointed out, I have plenty of time for that," I agreed. "Within three years, I'd like to approach Fenrir and the other werewolf packs, and I have another six years to make the right connections at Hogwarts."
A deep silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the casual thwack of Styrax's tail against the mattress. The cat watched me with his glowing green eyes, as if he truly understood every single word of our conversation.
"Just be careful with your ambitions around Dumbledore... And you must be prepared for Voldemort when he rises again. He doesn't tolerate any competition," Vespera smiled at me encouragingly. "Though my wand is, of course, yours, nephew."
"Thank you, Aunt. I really appreciate it," I nodded gratefully.
"By the way... this might help you out a bit," she suddenly smirked, pulling a small vial of Hangover Cure from a deep fold of her robes. "I was planning to give it to you only this evening... but since you apologized so nicely," she shrugged, handing it to me.
"Thank you," I smirked nervously and took the glass vial into my hand.
"Come on, drink up. It'll help you," Vespera nodded, expecting an immediate reaction.
Fuck. Drink it, or admit that Jobo already gave me one earlier? flashed through my head. Is it even possible to overdose on a Hangover Cure?
"Uhm... Aunt, I already had one today. From Jobo," I admitted after a brief hesitation with a slightly guilty smile.
"Ah, I see..." Vespera slightly knitted her brows, but then simply shrugged with indifference. "Keep it, then. They are sealed, so they will easily last for years... These, by the way, are left over from your grandfather."
"Thank you," I smiled at her. "By the way... will you give me that book on Legilimency later? I'd like to learn that trick you pulled with the Muggle taxi driver."
Vespera nodded in agreement and gracefully rose from the armchair. "Are you going to just relax like this all day today?"
"Probably, yes. The thought of spending the day in bed with a book sounds amazing right now," I replied with a sincere smile.
"Very well, I will send it with Jobo," she agreed. With a wave of her wand and a quiet "Finite," she canceled the transfiguration of the armchair—within a second, it began to shrink until only a simple cloth napkin was left on the floor. Vespera turned to leave. "That cat really suits you, Patrik. You're stretched out exactly the same way," she laughed over her shoulder, amused, right before the door shut behind her.
I looked beside me and couldn't help but smirk. Styrax really was stretched out exactly like me. He lay on his back, sprawled across the mattress, looking as long as a week before payday. His black tail thwacked slowly and lazily from side to side, and with those glowing green eyes of his, he stared deep into mine.
Author’s note:
Styrax’s behavior is actually based on a real black cat I know... She liked me, but the moment she had enough, or if I teased her even just a little, she had absolutely no problem turning into Wolverine on steroids.
The ritual worked, the regeneration is lightning-fast, and Styrax is definitely no ordinary cat—once again.
What do you think he was actually trying to tell our MC with all that meowing?
Vespera is, of course, amazing as always. She might not be taking his "Dark Lord" talk entirely seriously... but just in case, she’s got his back!
Did you notice how Vespera didn’t even blink when he mentioned a cold beer? That’s because wizards don’t really see alcohol the way we do—after all, she even poured our MC a drink for Christmas herself. In our Muggle world, that would definitely be a major red flag!
What do you think our MC’s Animagus form will be? (I won't confirm anything, I’m just curious to hear your theories based on his personality and behavior!)
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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.
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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(16):
77. Poking the Snake
78. Of False Heroes and Tethered Minds
79. The Casual Intruder
80. The Silent Partner
81. The Black Inheritance
82. The Frequency of Intent
83. Of Blood and Thorns
84. Thorns, Wards, and Sly Foxes
85. As Peaceful and Civilized as Always
86. The Twin in the Shadows
87. Their Addiction, Our Profit
88. Fake Smiles and Sharp Instincts
89. The Path to Invincibility
90. AD: Piña Coladas and Rainbow Thongs
91. Blood Traitors
92. Before the Storm
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