Professor Binns nodded approvingly. "Very well, then. I’ll indulge you. This figure hails from a remarkably ancient era— so ancient, in fact, that no one can definitively prove he ever existed. He belongs to the ti of rlin himself."
Erwin made a ntal note of the slight discrepancy; according to wizarding lore, rlin had been a student of Slytherin, but the tilines of the Arthurian legends placed him centuries earlier. Perhaps it was an oversight in the old tales, or the founders had borrowed from myth to suit their own narrative.
Binns pressed on, his ghostly voice gaining a rare spark of enthusiasm. "During that turbulent age, rlin crossed paths with a man whose na history has all but erased. Yet his power was undeniable—imnse enough that even rlin ca perilously close to death at his hands. In the end, rlin prevailed, drawing on his rare talent for speaking to dragons and the aid of the last great wyrm to bring him down. This shadowy figure earned the grim title of the first Dark Lord. After his defeat, he vanished from the records. So claim he perished in the confrontation. Others whisper that he fled to distant lands, scheming to perfect new forms of magic and exact revenge. But legends aside, his existence remains unproven. Only rlin might have known the full truth—and rlin himself disappeared without a trace. No one knows where he went, and the fragnts of the story survive only in dusty ancient tos."
Erwin nodded thoughtfully. While his classmates might dismiss it as a myth, he knew better. The System’s voice in his mind had branded him the fourth Dark Lord in line—proof enough that the first had been all too real.
A sudden realization struck him. "Professor Binns," Erwin ventured, "you ntioned rlin disappeared. Does that an he didn’t die?"
The ghost tilted his translucent head. "No one can say for certain. What we do know is that rlin visited Hogwarts shortly after its founding, around the ti the four founders were still alive. They even t him personally. But he declined their invitation to teach and left soon after. He’s not been seen since."
Erwin’s mind reeled. rlin had walked these halls alongside the founders? That would make him centuries old even then—at least five hundred years. If he still lived...
Bliy. Two millennia of accumulated magical power? The thought sent a thrill through him. More crucially, had rlin unlocked the secrets of immortality?
Erwin’s eyes glead. Eternal life was a dream that tempted every witch or wizard worth their wand. Who wouldn’t crave it? But he quickly reined in his ambitions. He was just an eleven-year-old Slytherin, barely holding his own against far greater threats like Voldemort. Immortality could wait.
Professor Binns surveyed the class with what passed for ghostly amusent, as if the spark of curiosity had reignited his long-dormant passion for teaching. "You seem genuinely captivated by this tale. Shall I continue?"
The students nodded vigorously, their faces alight. They didn’t care about the subject, really—anything beat the usual drone of History of Magic.
"Very well," Binns said. "Then let’s delve deeper into that naless enigma. Much of this ventures beyond what first-years typically learn, but a bit of advanced lore never hurts. You’re familiar with the Unforgivable Curses, I presu? Mr. Cavendish, care to elaborate?"
Erwin rose smoothly. "The Cruciatus Curse, the Imperius Curse, and the Killing Curse. They’re the pinnacle of the Dark Arts—unforgivable offenses that land the caster in Azkaban without rcy."
"Precisely," Binns affird. "Thorough and spot-on. Slytherin earns five points."
A stunned silence fell over the room. Slytherins and the handful of Ravenclaws sharing the lesson gaped at the professor. It was common knowledge that Binns never awarded house points. He didn’t ask questions; he simply lectured in his monotonous haze. Even the brightest minds, like their own know-it-all, had walked away empty-handed from his classes.
Yet here was Erwin Cavendish, scooping up five precious points from the ghost himself. The Slytherins exchanged wide-eyed glances, already imagining boasting about their unofficial prefect’s feat to the other houses. "Look what our boy’s done—points from Binns!"
Erwin blinked in mild surprise. He’d long written off History of Magic as a lost cause for scoring.
Binns chuckled dryly—a sound like rustling parchnt. "What’s the matter? I do have the authority to award points, you know."
"Of course, Professor," Erwin replied with a grin. "And we appreciate your generosity."
"You’ve earned it," Binns said warmly, waving him back to his seat. "Now, regarding the Unforgivable Curses, theories abound. So link them to the three brothers who outwitted Death to claim the Deathly Hallows. Others pin them on various shadowy figures. All such notions have been debunked. The prevailing scholarly view among the founders and early scholars was that these curses originated with the first Dark Lord—the forgotten one. In his bitterness after rlin’s victory, he forged them as weapons tailored to counter the great wizard."
Erwin’s hand shot up again.
Binns inclined his head. "Mr. Cavendish, ask away. In fact, from here on, feel free to interject whenever curiosity strikes—no need for formalities."
"Professor," Erwin began, "I’ve read that ancient wizards cast spells far differently from us today. It wasn’t until the four founders that they refined Ancient Magic into the structured charms we use now, making it safer to teach."
"Quite correct," Binns replied. "When Hogwarts opened its doors, the founders, alongside the first staff and select allies, distilled the raw potency of Ancient Magic into our modern incantations. The old ways were formidable, yes—but they demanded a steep price, an exchange of equal value from the caster. Life for power, essence for effect."
Erwin leaned forward. "Then why bother inventing the Unforgivable Curses? Ancient Magic outstrips them in raw strength. The first Dark Lord wouldn’t have wasted ti on sothing lesser."
Binns paused, his ethereal form flickering slightly. "That’s the question, isn’t it? No one living can say for sure—the gap in eras is too vast. But these curses represent a pinnacle of malevolent ingenuity in the Dark Arts. Only a master of that forbidden path could have birthed them. In that distant ti, no other figure fits the shadow quite so well as the first Dark Lord."
...
Another 5 Chapters down! We are moving at lightning speed, but we aren’t at the top yet.
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—MrGrim
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