Chapter 483: Blood Ritual
Harry led the way through the narrow brick passage, boots scuffing lightly against the worn steps as they descended. The air grew cooler the further they went, with a faint hum somewhere in the background, magic and machinery working together.
At the bottom, the corridor opened out into a wide chamber that didn’t look like anything you would find above ground. Dozens of masked men and women moved busily, some bent over workbenches cluttered with half-finished metal shapes, others hauling crates that clinked with whatever was inside. Sparks jumped from a corner where two wizards were welding a silver frame, the light flashing across their masks.
They weaved past a pair of masked workers who were levitating a heavy gear assembly into place. Hermione’s eyes were darting everywhere, taking in the fine rune-etching on the metal pieces. Luna was strolling along as if they were on a garden tour, humming under her breath.
At the far end of the hall, a tall man in a mask gave Harry a nod before opening a side door. The hum of work quieted behind them as they stepped into a much smaller, warmer room.
The walls were lined with shelves of parchment rolls, jars of powder, and crystal bowls filled with water that shimmered faintly. In the middle, a wide circular pattern had been drawn across the floor in deep red ink, its edges marked with sigils that twisted faintly when you tried to look straight at them.
Petunia walked out and sat on one side of the circle, her posture straight, hands resting lightly on her knees. Across from her sat Astoria, her expression calm, a faint silver glow running along the hem of her robes from the pattern’s edge.
Daphne and the others were spread across the big couch near the wall, legs tucked up or stretched out, chatting quietly while they watched. Winky and Misty popped in with a tray, steam rising from a neat line of teapots. Cups clinked as they set everything down on the side table and vanished again.
Harry stepped between Astoria and Petunia, drawing the Elder Wand from his sleeve. "You sure about this?" Pansy asked, leaning over the arm of the couch.
"Completely," Harry said, glancing her way. "I’ve been working on Astoria’s blood curse for years. Dug into hereditary properties of curses, how they’re passed along. I think I’ve got it."
He rolled up his sleeve, pulled a small silver knife from his pocket, and cut across the heel of his palm. The blood dripped into a shallow glass bowl in front of the circle.
"What is magic?" he said as he worked. "That is what I kept asking myself back then. How is it passed down? Why don’t Squibs have it? If magic is hereditary, and Astoria’s curse is hereditary, doesn’t that mean you can create an artificial hereditary ailment?"
Tracey leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "That sounds like the kind of thing that gets you banned from libraries."
"Half of what I do would get me banned from libraries," Harry said, swapping the knife for a small brush. He stirred the blood, then dipped the brush and began tracing a thin line along one of the sigils at Petunia’s side of the circle.
Petunia sat perfectly still, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "And this will work?"
Harry didn’t look up. "It is not guesswork. I’ve tried the same method on other hereditary afflictions, ones that had nothing to do with curses, and managed to override the pass-down mechanism. This should be no different."
Astoria’s voice was quiet but steady. "If you are wrong, I am still in the same position I was yesterday."
"That is why we are doing it now," Harry said, moving across the circle toward her. He painted another sigil, this one a bit more complex, the lines curling inward like a knot. "You’ve been stable since we halted the progression. We’ve got the time to push it further."
Susan shifted her legs to make room for Hermione, who had wandered over from the shelves with a small book in hand. "So this is blood magic and... what, runic grafting?"
Harry glanced up briefly. "Sort of. The blood is just the binding agent. The runes do the heavy lifting, but they need a link to both parties. My blood ties the pattern together, keeps the magic from bouncing back."
Pansy reached for a cup of tea, blowing on the surface. "That still doesn’t answer the Squib question."
Harry smirked. "It is not as exciting as you would hope. Squibs have the magic signature in their blood, but no functioning channels to direct it. Like owning a wand with no core. The framework is there, but nothing to run through it."
Ginny wrinkled her nose. "That is grim."
"Not really," Harry said, stepping back to look over the circle. "It just means the potential is there. Squibs aren’t magically empty, they just can’t tap in. Which means-" He flicked his wand at one of the outer lines, watching it flare a steady green. "-hereditary conditions tied to magic can be broken if you get to the right part of the chain."
Luna tilted her head. "Like pulling a loose thread on a jumper."
"Exactly," Harry said, giving her a quick grin. "Just without wrecking the whole jumper in the process."
He moved to the last sigil, kneeling to finish it. The blood in the bowl had stopped steaming but still held a faint shimmer. With a flick, he levitated it to the centre of the circle, letting a single drop fall on the knotwork pattern between Petunia and Astoria.
The ink flared, then bled into the floor. Sigils ignited one by one, chasing each other in a spiralling pulse until the circle thrummed with power.
Astoria’s fingers tightened slightly on her knees. Petunia’s eyes followed the glow but she didn’t move.
Harry straightened. "When I start, you are both going to feel heat. Petunia, yours should fade in a minute or two. Astoria, yours might spike higher. Don’t fight it, just let it run."
"Sounds delightful," Astoria said dryly.
Harry lifted the Elder Wand. "On three."
Daphne sat forward, elbows on her knees. Tracey passed her a cup. "And here we go."
"One," Harry said, tapping the tip to the outer ring.
"Two," the hum grew louder.
"Three."
The wand struck the central knot. Light shot along the lines, white-gold and sharp. Petunia drew in a short breath but kept still. Across from her, Astoria’s eyes squeezed shut, jaw tightening.
The glow built until it seemed to press against the walls, then pulled inward, threads of light dragging back toward the centre.
Suddenly, a faint outline stepped out of Harry’s body, his exact shape, but thinner, almost transparent. The spectre split cleanly into two streams, drifting across the circle. One slipped into Petunia, the other into Astoria.
Hannah leaned toward Susan. "That is Astral Soul," she murmured.
Luna gave a nod. "He said that is why he can’t do it for everyone. It is fragile. Even a Muggle could destroy it, never mind a wizard or witch."
Susan’s eyes followed the last trace of the light. "So if that part of him gets hurt in there..."
Harry, still inside the circle, let the Elder Wand hover above the centre knot. The glow faded from the outer rings first, drawing inward until the light was nothing but a small point in front of him.
Petunia’s shoulders eased, and she opened her eyes. "Felt warmer than you said," she remarked.
"Temperature settings must’ve been off," Harry said with a half-smirk. He shifted his gaze to Astoria. "How does it feel?"
Astoria’s breathing steadied. "Like someone wrung me out. But lighter."
"That is the idea," Harry said, lowering the wand. He stepped out of the circle, rolling his sleeve back down. "The hard part is over. We’ll check for residue tomorrow."
"Not bad," Daphne said from the couch, her tone casual but her eyes sharp on Astoria.
Tracey tipped her cup toward Harry. "You realise you just did something that would get most people slapped on the front page of the Prophet?"
"I would prefer not to make the news for once," Harry said, flicking his wand to vanish the blood bowl. "Besides, we’ve got better biscuits than them."
Pansy set her tea aside. "And that is the priority, clearly."