The frigate reached the Venezuelan-Brazilian border shortly before sunset.
Far below the vessel stretched one of the least disturbed regions of the continent. Pico da Neblina rose through layers of mist like a dark tooth piercing the clouds. The mountain formed the highest point of Brazil and marked the edge of a vast wilderness where the Amazon forest swallowed rivers, valleys, and entire mountain slopes beneath a continuous canopy of green.
From the air, the forest looked almost calm, but Corvus knew better. The region held one of the densest concentrations of life on the planet. Jaguars hunted through shadowed ravines. Poison dart frogs hid among wet leaves. Rivers carried fish older than most civilisations. The air itself carried a permanent humidity that turned every surface slick with moss and slow decay.
Rio Cauaburi curved through the wilderness like a dark vein, cutting between mountain ridges and vanishing beneath the trees. Somewhere between that river and the summit of Pico da Neblina lay the disturbance on the ward map. Mana, the lifeblood of magic, avodided an area below there somewhere, and he was going to find it.
Corvus stepped from the frigate and let gravity work.
The vessel remained hidden high above the clouds under its permanent enchantments while he descended towards the forest. He allowed the tendrils to manifest from his shoulder blades and lift him at the level where his boots hovered just above the canopy.
The humidity struck him immediately. Even with magic controlling his temperature, he could feel the density of the jungle air.
He covered his body in dry, fresh air and extended his senses.
The forest answered with noise. Birds calling through the canopy. Insects buzzing in waves that moved like invisible tides. Far below, the quiet movement of larger animals disturbing branches and roots.
Beneath all of it lay the anomaly.
The magic pulsed faintly around the void. The palce were will of the planet avoided. The place he was searching was between the mountain and the river.
Corvus drifted forward above the canopy and began to search.
The trees here grew enormous. Their trunks rose straight for ninety or one hundred feet before branches spread outward to compete for light. Vines hung between them in thick ropes while the forest floor remained buried beneath shadow and tangled growth.
For several hours, he circled slowly above the region.
Nothing obvious revealed itself. Then he lowered his altitude.
The moment he dropped beneath the canopy, the sensation intensified.
The void pulled at his senses the way a missing tooth pulled at the tongue. His awareness kept returning to the same point, whether he intended it or not.
Corvus descended further.
The ground appeared through the layers of foliage. Fallen trunks lay half consumed by moss and fungus. Roots twisted across the soil like petrified serpents. Small streams of brown water moved quietly through shallow channels toward the distant river.
The void sharpened.
Corvus moved between the trees until he reached the base of a massive dead trunk that rose like a broken pillar from the earth.
The opening beneath it was almost invisible.
At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a hollow where the roots had rotted away. Only when he focused his senses directly on the space did the distortion reveal itself.
Corvus phased through the bark.
Behind the dead trunk waited a carved entrance descending into darkness.
The tunnel beyond it stretched wide and unnaturally straight. The ceiling stood more than eight feet above the ground, and the walls were carved with such precision that the edges looked almost sharpened. Even modern industrial tools would struggle to achieve such clean lines inside solid stone.
Corvus stepped inside.
The air changed immediately. The damp smell of jungle soil vanished, replaced by the cool stillness of ancient stone sealed away from the world above.
The corridor sloped downward.
Each step carried him deeper beneath the forest.
After nearly half an hour, the tunnel opened into a vast chamber.
The room had clearly been shaped by intelligent hands. The floor formed a perfect oval that stretched wider than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. At the far end stood a throne of gold so large that it looked slightly excessive even for someone of Corvus's height.
Three pedestals surrounded it.
One stood to the left, one to the right, and the third waited before the throne.
The walls between them were covered with painted figures drawn in the unmistakable styles of Mesoamerican civilisation. The colours had somehow survived centuries underground.
Turquoise dominated many of the patterns. In Mayan and Aztec traditions, the colour symbolised sky, water, and divine authority. Priests and rulers had often worn turquoise stones to mark their connection with the gods.
Black appeared in strong lines surrounding several figures. Among these cultures, black represented night, the underworld, and the unknown paths that souls travelled after death.
Yellow spread through several circular symbols representing maize. For both the Maya and the Aztec peoples, maize was life itself. Humanity had been shaped from it in their creation myths.
Green decorated the feathers of stylised serpents and birds. The colour signified renewal, fertility, and the eternal cycle of growth.
The chamber felt less like a tomb and more like a place of power.
Corvus approached the pedestals.
The rightmost pedestal held a rectangular obsidian chest.
He opened it.
The interior glowed faintly red.
Inside lay several dozen philosopher's stones.
Corvus studied them carefully before closing the chest again. The discovery alone would have shaken the magical world if revealed publicly.
He moved to the pedestal on the opposite side.
Another obsidian container waited there.
When he opened it, he found rows of crystal vials filled with thick red liquid, looking like blood.
Or something extremely close to it.
The magic within the fluid was strong enough to register immediately, though he could not yet determine its purpose.
Finally, he stepped to the central pedestal.
A massive tome rested there.
The cover appeared to be made of dark stone rather than leather. Strange characters had been carved across its surface in deep grooves that glowed faintly when he touched them.
Corvus opened the book.
The alphabet inside shifted between familiar and completely alien forms. Some symbols clearly resembled Mayan or Aztec runic structures. Others belonged to something older or entirely unrelated.
He lifted the tome and carried it to the throne.
With a casual gesture, he released a wave of magic that swept through the chamber, clearing centuries of dust from the stone floor and the golden seat. The room brightened slightly as particles vanished into nothingness. He conjured some light orbs and let them hover above.
Corvus sat afterwards. Even for someone of his stature, the throne felt oversized.
He rested the tome across his lap and considered the proportions of the seat.
Perhaps it had been made for an elder.
Elizaveta would not worry about his absence. When he vanished like this, she understood that research might take hours or days.
Corvus began studying the symbols. Time passed quietly.
After several hours, he summoned Tibby.
The elf appeared beside the throne with a soft pop.
"Master called Tibby? Master has throne? Master is supreme. Tibby will bring supreme feathers."
Corvus closed the tome briefly and stopped the chicken enthusiast elf from planning further.
"Tea," he said. "And something to eat, if you would."
Tibby bowed and vanished again.
--
Back at Hogwarts, the atmosphere had changed in subtler ways.
Days passed more peacefully now that a well-known troublemaker no longer wandered the corridors of the castle.
Arthur Weasley climbed the familiar staircases with slow determination.
He had attended Hogwarts decades earlier as a student, yet he had never been summoned to the Headmaster's office to be disciplined. Not once.
That achievement had lasted his entire life.
Until now.
At least he could remove it from the list of things he had never experienced, even if the reason involved his youngest son.
Arthur sighed as he reached the seventh floor.
Life had not grown easier for families like his. Progressive sympathies had placed him under quiet suspicion within the Ministry ever since the political climate shifted. He remained employed in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, though the department had become more of a joke than it already was. He was quite sure Minister Black did not shut it out of pity; he was the only person in the department after all.
Molly had wanted to accompany him to the school.
Arthur wisely refused; he knew his wife and her nature best.
The twins had already explained the situation in their letters. Molly's temper would not improve matters inside the Headmistress's office.
Arthur rubbed his forehead as he walked through the corridor.
"What in Merlin's name is wrong with that boy?" He muttered.
Fred and George had matured enough to recognise consequences. Their jokes had stopped once they realised how quickly the world had changed.
Ronald seemed determined to move in the opposite direction.
Flirting with a betrothed woman was dangerous under normal circumstances.
Flirting with the betrothed of a noble heir was an invitation to disaster.
Flirting with the betrothed of Corvus Black...
Arthur was not certain the English language contained an appropriate description.
He had briefly considered speaking with Minister Black before travelling to the castle.
The idea died quickly, he still remembered the last time he tried his chances. He did not even entertain the idea of talking with Heir Black.
Arthur had dealt with the man once before and had no desire to repeat the experience, even Dumbledore was powerless at that meeting. Corvus Black had turned the life and death of his twins into a negotiation chip with Dumbledore. He hoped Azkaban was not harsh to him.
Instead, he tried Amelia Bones.
The Director of Magical Law Enforcement listened to his explanation in complete silence and then refused to interfere. Matters of honour between houses did not fall under Ministry jurisdiction unless a crime had already occurred.
Arthur suspected personal bias played a role in that answer, though he could not prove it.
Ronald was still young, and young people should be allowed to make mistakes.
Surely that counted for something.
Arthur turned the final corner and saw the Bastion Guard standing beside the staircase that led to the Headmistress's office.
The man looked like a statue carved from iron.
Arthur nodded politely as he approached.
The guard did not return the gesture.
Arthur could not blame him; it was an open secret that the Bastion Guards were loyal to Corvus Black more than they were to the ministry. Weasleys were not on top of their favourite persons as of this moment.
He inhaled, wished luck for himself and started to climb the stairs.