A mysterious and inexplicable rebirth afterwards.

1st POV

I woke up with a bone-chilling cold running through my body... if I can call that tiny body a body. Not surprising since I'm a baby.

It was a surprise to wake up later in a newborn body and a bigger surprise to hear the irritating voice of an old lady ordering something to the servant who was now carrying me. I didn't expect to see much as newborns have poor eyesight and have only developed enough senses to cause unconscious reactions. Like when a baby is startled when he hears a sudden noise and opens his eyes wide because of it.

I couldn't see much. I saw a lady lying on the ground with what looked like a pool of blood. I saw another lady standing holding my tiny body and saw the supposed servant who was just over three feet tall.

It looked like I was going to be one of her servants, I decided since the three-foot child was the one the woman was ordering.

"His name is Pietro. Pietro Sollaris Black. Take him to Gellert. He will take care of the child for now."

And so I was carried by this child and taken wherever this Gellert is.

I had some doubts in my mind, but I couldn't resolve any of them right now. I wanted to go home... or to Carina's house. I was missing the soft heat of her pussy. I never thought sex would be this good, so it's surprising that I miss it. Still…I didn't feel much beyond lust for the girl.

I hope she's okay. It was my fault that I died after all and I don't want to be responsible for her death either. Mine was enough.

It didn't take us long to reach the castle where I would be staying. It was quite beautiful but depressing at the same time. I could feel a kind of hum when I got close enough...

Oh wait. How did we get here? The only thing I remembered before going to sleep was an ordinary English street. It was kind of old, but... English people liked old things. Nothing much.

Now, were we at the North Pole? Or so he thought considering the cold and snow that covered the entire environment. Snow and cold and buzzing.

Where was I anyway?

3rd POV

Gellert was looking forward to the arrival of his descendant. But there were several caveats about this urge. Would he be worthy of inheriting his mantle? Or was he strong enough to face his dear friend Dumbledore? He was quite interested in the child Mrs. Black promised. A pureblood child with heritages as unique as Black, Lestrange and Grindelwald. He was still thinking about why he had accepted it. Training and molding someone was never his strongest. He knew how to use words to manipulate someone, make them dance to his music and fulfill his wishes, but he never had to teach. That was his friend and rival's forte. He was never good at it.

But now he would have to perform such a feat.

It didn't take long for the wards and wards to identify the elf who bore their descendant. He was attached to the wards. Dumbledore's curse, cast using the ancient wand, basically bound the man to his castle prison. Gellert's own magic used to fuel his prison... comical if not tragic. The old man rose elegantly, erect and with perfect posture, even if whoever he was going to meet was an elf, his dignity would never be eclipsed.

"So this is the promised child?" he asked the elf indifferently and took the baby still wrapped in the blanket. As he touched the newborn child, Gellert felt an eerily loud flow of magic. He almost laughed at the feel of it. The core of the young cub was almost mature.

"Those are his things, my lord, Lady Walburga has ordered Kreatcher to be placed in her care. Books and artifacts from the great Black house. Just like the heir rings. The lord's ring will be given to the young master by the Goblins." The elf said helpfully and humbly as he bowed almost to the snowy ground. Gellert nodded and picked up the trunk he suspected had the same charms as a certain suitcase from a certain irritating magician.

"Go now elf. I won't entertain you anymore." Said the man still indifferent and entered carrying the baby while levitating the luggage.

3 years later

"You must finish the circuit, young Pietro, or I won't teach you the spell I promised." The old man said with amusement. Those years with the great grandson were incredibly rewarding. He realized that the young man had a frightening thirst for knowledge. He was a sponge. The whole magical theory was read and assimilated. Any and all questions the child had were expressed and answered. He started brewing potions at 2 and was already proficient at two potions available in the first year book used at Hogwarts and that was just because he wanted to completely master the potions before moving on to the next one.

Today was the day he would begin his physical training.

By age 3 most wizards had little difference with muggle children. This is clear to an average mage, with their cores stabilizing andmaturing for the first time at 11 years old. The child in question is already born with its core fully mature, or... almost. From the records and diaries of old Walburga Gellert he knew that the young man was born prematurely. That's why he didn't have a mature core since leaving the womb and only completed his acclimatization a few days after arriving at the castle.

"I know, old man, no need to remind me." The little boy said as he ran on the magically created track. The boy accepted his new life quickly and the surprise of being related to a fictional Dark wizard wasn't really very surprising to him. It was still exciting.

Magic.

A whole new world of knowledge and different possibilities. Everything available to him. Of course, he didn't despise his worldly knowledge after all. After all, he was a normal human before reincarnating in this childish body.

"You have no respect for the elderly. My non-affiliated grandson, should I increase the route?" the old man said with malice. This sent a shiver through the boy's body who quickly yelled:

"No, grandfather, I'm sorry. No need to lengthen the route."

The old man laughed and snapped his fingers, rendering the child's plea useless.

2 years later.

Gellert was pleased with his grandson. He was adequate... No, adequate is simply underestimating. He was perfect.

In recent years, the old man trained him in every known magical area. The boy had frightening magical abilities even comparing him to the current Gellert and although he didn't know how to use his magic proficiently it was only a matter of time.

He trained his grandson in Occlumency and Legilimency since he was 4 years old. And the boy mastered everything as if there was nothing difficult about it. When the old man showed surprise, the boy said: just have good control over your own mind, nothing difficult about this old man. Now teach me your best spells.

The child also learned everything related to runes until the 4th grade and his skills in arithmancy were superior to even the best magical scholars. Some mathematical concepts were unknown to even the most outstanding men in history. Nothing any muggle didn't know, as he had studied physics, mathematics and all the variants early on in his first life.

Gellert had of course also instilled in the boy the quest for power. Pietro looked bored when he heard the man's speech, which made him angry at the child for the first time. It didn't take long for his anger to dissipate when he heard his grandson.

"Old man, I've been asking for your spells since I learned to speak. This talk of power this is power that, I don't need your third-rate motivational speech. Give me the spells I want and I'll kick your ass in no time."

Of course, that led to the boy being magically beaten for hours until he promised to act as a suitable heir.

And that was his life these days. Pietro began training in wizarding etiquette, good manners, patterns of speech and behavior, politics, the art of speech. In addition to mastering languages ​​and their nuances, he was practically at the top of the standards set by his grandfather.

"Well, Pietro, as you have completed most of our course I believe I should present you with a suitable gift."

"I see, Grandfather, I'm happy to meet your expectations."

"You got over them, child. I don't usually praise, but give Cezar what belongs to Caesar... You're the perfect heir. A talented wizard and a beautiful play in all terms. Appearance, education, charm... I almost see myself in you."

The boy had a small vein in his forehead at the old man's shamelessness. Pietro doubted the Gellert child was a tenth of what he was, but here he was comparing him to himself. Ridiculous. But... The boy soon forgot about it. The gift was more important.

"Grandfather, what are you going to give me as a gift?"

"A spell."

"A spell?" Pietro was curious. He had already studied almost every spell in the library. From the most useless to Fiendfire. It was hard to master them all. He practiced every day over and over until he was able to cast and control each one. Until now he still wouldn't even be able to launch Fiendfire much less control it. But here was his grandfather wanting to give him a spell.

It will be...

Thinking about it, Pietro almost jumped in excitement. If he was right, the man would teach him his signature spell. One that was even scarier than Fiendfire. He thought it was a bloodline skill, but if he was right... So it was just a fitting variation that the old man created for himself...

"Yea. The spell's name is diabolical protego." He said to his grandson's satisfaction. "It was one of the spells I used during my younger days. Oh, such a wonderful time...

"Grandfather, this is no time to digress about the past. Quickly teach me the spell."

"Hahaha, you're still a kid after all, aren't you?"

And the boy had to grudgingly swallow his haste. Damn old man I willspank your ass one day. Just wait until I become the most powerful wizard. I'll spank you so bad you'll beg to be my servant butler just to bask in my glory and beauty.

Narcissism aside. Pietro was really beautiful. White hair and smooth, fair skin. Smooth, flawless and spotless. Oil blue eyes with deep dark blue pupils giving a mesmerizing visual impact. His face was childish, but there were already promises of masculine beauty in the lines of his jaw and high cheekbones. All in all, he was perfect.

But none of that mattered to him now. The spell was his wish.

"Well, let's explain the spell first. Protego Diabolica is the enchantment of a powerful protection spell. Allows the user to cast a black fire protection ring around them. It is very useful and has an even more specific function which is to expose malicious intent. This means that when using a spell, any ally is not affected, but everyone who is against or considered an enemy of the caster will be burned to ash." The old man finished his explanation. "I created a variant of this same spell by making the original black fire blue, but it was an effect of making the flame part of itself."

"Like this?"

"The spell can normally be cast by any wizard who understands it, but by making the diabolic flame your own, some effects are added." He replied. "In my case it served as a lie detector and loyalty test, but it may vary for you."

"I see... how can I make the flame mine then?"

"Are you sure about that? Flames are black magic. It's a very difficult magic to control."

The warning caught the boy with his pants down for a while but it didn't take him long to decide. It wasn't just trust, but there was also desire. He wouldn't be stopped.

Freedom.

He wanted to be free. No conventions or stupid folk wisdom.

"Magic is magic. Whether she's Dark or Light. It doesn't matter. Magic must be used by the mage and not the other way around. What kind of coward would I be if I gave up just because someone called a spell Dark magic? Besides, why wouldn't I learn such useful magic? It would be stupid.

That little speech brought a smile to Gellert's face. Since he started training this young man, he realized the appeal of being a teacher. His student's growth... That was the feeling Albus had when he saw his students succeed. He had to admit it was intoxicating.

"Well, you need a strong body to learn the spell variant. So let's start with phase 2 of your physical training."

"What?!"

The old man's smirk caused the young man's composure to fall to the ground and the cold, gloomy castle was suddenly filled with childish screams and curses as an old man's laughter accompanied it.