Chapter 18: The Spectral Alchemist and the Silent Scholar (1992 - Mid-1990s)
The depleted Philosopher's Stone, ensorcelled by Corvus Blackwood to appear as a forgotten, faintly pulsing relic, drifted through the magical ether before settling, as intended, amidst the ancient, brooding forests of Albania. It lay there for weeks, a dull crimson gleam amongst the leaf litter, until the disembodied, spectral form of Lord Voldemort, in his desperate, ceaseless search for any anchor, any sliver of power, sensed its faint, familiar echo of profound magic.
Corvus, from the opulent, silence-warded depths of his ancestral library in Blackwood Manor, felt the moment of discovery with an amplified jolt that was almost startling in its intensity. Voldemort's spectral consciousness, usually a thin, erratic whisper of rage and despair, flared with an almost manic burst of disbelief, then a desperate, consuming hope. The Stone! Flamel's legendary Stone! Here, abandoned, waiting for him!
The initial wave of elation, however, quickly gave way to profound frustration. As a mere spirit, Voldemort could barely interact with the physical world, let alone the dense, magically imbued Stone. Corvus experienced, tenfold, the Dark Lord's agonizing efforts to focus his diminished will, to try and draw sustenance or understanding from the artifact. He felt Voldemort's ghostly tendrils pass through it, his spectral senses unable to fully grasp its cooled, almost dormant energies.
Driven by a desperation that bordered on madness, Voldemort began to exert his will on the native fauna. Corvus felt him possess a succession of small creatures – a forest viper first, then a desperate rat, even a lumbering badger – using their bodies as crude instruments to nudge the Stone, to try and shelter it, to simply feel it. Each possession was a torturous effort for the Dark Lord, the animal minds ill-suited to his vast, fractured intellect, their life forces quickly consumed by his parasitic presence. Through this, Corvus gained an unparalleled, amplified understanding of the mechanics of spiritual possession of lesser beings, the strain it placed on both host and spirit, and the minimal control it afforded.
Eventually, Voldemort managed to influence a reclusive, weak-willed local shepherd, a man whose mind was already teetering on the edge of sanity. Through this unfortunate vessel, Voldemort could finally handle the Stone, study it with human senses, and begin his obsessive research. The shepherd's hut became a squalid laboratory, filled with stolen, tattered texts on local Albanian folk magic and any alchemical lore Voldemort could compel his host to unearth or remember from distant village tales.
And so began Lord Voldemort's most arduous, most focused intellectual endeavor since his disembodiment. He poured every iota of his remaining consciousness, every fragmented memory of his vast magical knowledge, into understanding the Philosopher's Stone. He recalled his youthful research into Nicolas Flamel, his theoretical understanding of alchemy, his deep knowledge of soul magic and its perverse connection to life extension through Horcruxes. He sought to understand why this Stone felt… inert, yet undeniably authentic.
From the serene comfort of Blackwood Manor, Corvus Blackwood became the silent, primary beneficiary of this desperate, spectral scholarship. The multiplier, steadfast as ever, delivered a tenfold amplified torrent of Voldemort's intellectual struggles and breakthroughs directly into Corvus's mind. While Voldemort, through his barely functional human host, pored over mildewed scrolls by candlelight in a drafty Albanian hut, Corvus sat in his perfectly climate-controlled library, surrounded by priceless first editions, a cup of fragrant Darjeeling at his elbow, as the deepest secrets of alchemy and transmutation unfolded before his inner eye.
He experienced Voldemort's painstaking deconstruction of the Stone's magical matrix. The Dark Lord, with his profound understanding of enchanting and artifact creation (honed through the making of his Horcruxes), began to sense the Stone's depleted state. Corvus felt Voldemort's dawning horror and then his renewed, furious determination: if the Stone was spent, then he would learn how it was made, how to reignite it, or how to create another.
Voldemort's research, amplified for Corvus, became a blur of:
* Ancient Alchemical Theory: The principles of prima materia, the four stages of the Great Work (nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, rubedo), the symbolic language of alchemical texts that had baffled scholars for centuries – Voldemort's desperate intellect, sharpened by his need, cut through the obscurity, and Corvus received this understanding with perfect clarity.
* Transmutation Nuances: Beyond simple Gamp's Law, Voldemort explored the very essence of magical change, the sympathetic resonances between substances, the role of intent and sacrifice (a concept he twisted through the lens of his Horcrux creations) in true, permanent transmutation.
* The Elixir of Life: He theorized about the specific vital energies the Stone once channeled, the interaction with human physiology, the precise balance of magical ingredients required for its concoction. His spectral form yearned for it, and this yearning drove his research into frantic, obsessive depths.
* Flamel's Potential Methods: Voldemort mentally reconstructed Flamel's likely research path, drawing on historical accounts, alchemical traditions, and his own intuitive grasp of powerful magic. Corvus received this as a detailed, annotated roadmap of one of history's greatest magical achievements.
Crucially, Corvus also received, amplified tenfold, Voldemort's errors, his blind alleys, his moments of incorrect theorizing born from his fragmented soul and his inherent inclination towards destructive rather than creative magic. This was almost as valuable as the successes, allowing Corvus to sidestep pitfalls and refine the incoming knowledge into a purer, more accurate understanding.
While Voldemort toiled in miserable obscurity, Corvus established a new wing in his private laboratories, dedicated solely to "Project Rubedo," as he internally termed his endeavor to create his own Philosopher's Stone. He began to acquire, through discreet and untraceable means, the rarest of alchemical ingredients from across the globe – powdered unicorn horn ethically sourced from those who died of natural causes on Blackwood preserves, dew collected from moon-kissed craters, meticulously purified elemental substances, and herbs grown only under specific astrological conjunctions.
His children, Orion and Lyra, were now young adults, pursuing their own paths, yet always under the umbrella of House Blackwood's immense influence and their father's quiet, guiding hand. Orion, with his keen intellect and Slytherin pragmatism, managed many of the Blackwood family's mundane and magical enterprises, his loyalty to his father absolute. Lyra, her Ravenclaw curiosity leading her into advanced Charms research and healing magic, often consulted with her father, marveling at the depth of his understanding, never suspecting its ultimate, dark source. Corvus ensured they were both far removed from his more esoteric and potentially dangerous research, their lives ones of privilege, security, and purpose. Isolde, his wife, continued to be a steadfast partner, managing the social intricacies of their ancient House, respecting his scholarly seclusion, and content in the unshakeable safety he provided.
Years passed in this strange, one-sided collaboration. By the mid-1990s, around 1994, Corvus had amassed an almost complete theoretical understanding of the creation of the Philosopher's Stone. Voldemort, still a spectral parasite clinging to existence in the Albanian forests, had, through sheer force of will and intellect, pieced together most of the puzzle, though his inability to perform complex practical magic, the depletion of the original Stone he possessed, and the inherent biases of his dark magic meant he could not yet truly benefit from it himself. His hope was curdling into a deeper, more poisonous despair, his spirit worn thin by the constant effort and repeated failures to draw substantial power from the relic.
Corvus, however, felt no such despair. He had the complete picture. He understood the precise balance of rare magics, the alchemical transformations, the specific meditative states and focused intent required over a prolonged period, and the critical role of a unique catalyst – something akin to a spark of primordial creation, a concept Voldemort, with his focus on death and undeath, had struggled to fully grasp.
"The poor devil," Corvus mused one afternoon, reviewing a particularly insightful (amplified) erroneous theory from Voldemort on the nature of the 'First Matter.' He was seated in his sun-drenched solarium, a rare treatise on Egyptian alchemy open before him, a self-refilling goblet of exquisite vintage elf-made wine at his side. "He toils in darkness, fueled by hatred and desperation, and inadvertently paves my path with gold. Figuratively, for now."
He knew Voldemort's spirit was growing restless, his research on the Stone hitting a wall due to his incorporeal state. The faint whispers through their connection hinted at a new resolve forming in the Dark Lord's mind: a desperate plan to find a more permanent, magically competent human host, to return to Britain, to seek out his remaining faithful Death Eaters, and to find a way – any way – to regain a true body. The incident with Quirrell and the Potter boy had been a setback, but it had also taught Voldemort about the lingering power of Lily Potter's sacrifice and the boy's strange connection to him.
Corvus watched these developments with keen interest. Voldemort's return to a more active state would mean a resurgence of the more potent, varied magical knowledge Corvus had previously benefited from. The Philosopher's Stone project was well underway in its theoretical phase; soon, he would begin the practical, decades-long work. The interlude of focusing on pure alchemy had been fruitful, but the prospect of Voldemort re-engaging with broader, more destructive magic was, from a purely acquisitive standpoint, quite tantalizing.
He made a mental note to discreetly monitor any news from the Ministry regarding disappearances or unusual magical activity around Albania or among known former Death Eater circles. The game was shifting again. Voldemort's spectral sabbatical was drawing to a close. And Corvus Blackwood, armed with the secrets of Flamel and the amplified knowledge of a Dark Lord's desperate ingenuity, was more powerful, more knowledgeable, and more unassailably secure than ever before. His neutrality was not just a political stance; it was the calculated strategy of a wizard who played a game so far above the heads of others, they couldn't even see the board.