Chapter 635: The Battle of the Cursed Ones

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There was no time to wonder why those eyes looked so much like Voldemort’s.

Tom understood that the only thing that mattered now was eliminating the last hidden danger surrounding Astoria.

That colossal face forming within the storm clouds was unmistakably a manifestation of the curse itself—an overwhelming presence powerful enough to warp the sky above and reduce the entire mansion to ruin.

It sounded absurd, but in the wizarding world, it was perfectly normal.

Magic developing a will of its own, or at least following its own set of instincts, wasn’t unusual at all.

Harry’s protective charm was one example. The shades produced during Priori Incantatem (reverse spell effect) were another.

So those figures emerging from "Voldemort" right now weren’t merely illusions. They were the final traces of magic and soul left behind by the people he had killed.

"Whoever cast this curse really hated the Greengrasses," Tom muttered. "Just what kind of grudge was this?"

He had long suspected the caster even sacrificed a fragment of their own soul to create the curse. That was the only explanation for why the blood curse was so overwhelmingly vicious and difficult to remove.

And after seeing that giant face today, he was even more certain.

"More and more ugly figures are crawling out of Mama Voldy," Tom said flatly. "Look, I’m not judging—being ugly isn’t a crime—but could you all just stay outside and behave yourselves anyway?"

Tom descended to the ground and drove his wand upside down into the earth.

A wave of magical force rippled outward in every direction, carrying the boy’s mocking voice straight into the sky.

"And while you’re at it, take a good look at the fury the Greengrass family has been stockpiling for centuries. It’s been aging nicely~"

Bzzzt!

Brilliant golden light erupted from the earth.

An impossibly intricate magic circle spread across the land, enveloping the entire Greengrass estate. The darkened sky, buried beneath storm clouds and that monstrous face, was illuminated for a fleeting moment.

As the castle trembled, the vanished barrier reappeared.

But this time, it was no mere shield.

Dozens of shadowy figures flickered within the curtain of light. Judging by their forms, most of them were women.

Tom remembered what Lady Greengrass had told him once.

During their long fruitless research into the blood curse, they hadn’t come away empty-handed. They’d studied its nature, its patterns... its stubborn refusal to let go.

And from that, they had woven something new into the family’s wards.

Not a cure. A repurposing.

The barriers of the Greengrass estate didn’t just block intruders—they carried echoes of the dead, fragments of will and lingering intent, binding the resolve of those who had fallen into the protection of those who remained. A house defended not only by magic, but by inherited determination.

And that was why he’d spent the entire day yesterday reworking the wards—because these lingering wills of past Greengrasses were the final piece needed to fully cure the blood curse.

...

Bzzzt!

One by one, the Greengrasses phantoms stepped out from the haze and raised their heads toward the sky.

Their faces were indistinct. Their bodies blurred and transparent.

Yet the grief, rage, and unwillingness etched into them felt terrifyingly clear, filling the whole area alike.

"ROAR!"

The gigantic "Voldemort" face in the clouds answered with shrieking storms and crashing thunder, displaying its fury and authority.

But the Greengrasses remained unmoved.

At last, one figure stepped forward.

She soared into the sky and slammed violently into the clouds.

Compared to the massive storm, the phantom was insignificant. The instant she made contact, her body shattered apart into countless golden sparks.

Yet those sparks did not fade. They hovered above the clouds like burning embers, melting even the hardest ice and snow.

Visible to the naked eye, the thickness of the storm clouds diminished slightly.

Then came the second figure.

The third.

The fourth.

One after another, the Greengrasses followed the first woman’s example, charging fearlessly into the sky.

Using the final trace of their existence left in this world, they carved open a radiant path for their descendants, a future forever free from the torment of the blood curse.

Tom watched in silence, his expression grave.

He had no intention of interfering.

Nor could he.

He had already done everything he was capable of. What remained was a war between the Greengrass family and the blood curse itself.

The curse had been entangled with the family for dozens of generations. By now, it had become part of the Greengrass bloodline itself. In a sense, the curse’s power was also a part of Astoria.

And so the Greengrasses could lend her their strength, using the name of Greengrass itself to fight back.

At its core, this was a civil war.

"ROOOOAR!!"

The enormous "Voldemort" face roared furiously, savagery flashing in its eyes, yet it could do nothing.

It could only watch itself grow weaker and weaker.

But instead of fleeing or retreating higher into the sky, it continued descending, drawing closer and closer to the ground.

It wanted to break through the Greengrass Manor’s defenses, reunite with the blood curse inside Astoria, and completely devour this generation’s host.

...

Inside the manor, Lady Greengrass stared at the golden phantoms streaking toward the clouds, vanishing forever.

By now, tears were already streaming down her face.

Together, those women were the entire bloodstained history of the Greengrass family.

"Selene... Iris... Helian... Andromeda... Opal..."

Lady Greengrass recited the names of every blood curse victim in the family line as though recounting treasured memories.

And with every whispered name, the golden starlight left behind by the shattered phantoms grew stronger and stronger.

The storm clouds began dispersing even faster.

Watching this, Tom realized things had started slipping beyond his control.

Fortunately, it was moving in a good direction.

The earlier developments had all been within his understanding. The manor’s magic circle was something he had painstakingly adjusted yesterday, inch by inch, while inspecting the estate grounds. He was also the one who amplified the lingering magic of the past Greengrass generations.

But now...

Tom’s gaze landed on the still-praying Lady Greengrass.

He pushed his magical sight to its absolute limit and fully stimulated his fairy bloodline, trying to see through the underlying principles at work.

Yet despite sharpening his senses to the extreme, he failed.

He could clearly see the connection between the cursed face and Astoria.

But he could not see the link between Lady Greengrass and the ancestral phantoms.

Why could she influence them?

What exactly was the mechanism behind it?

"Emotion is the bridge. Willpower is what spans a thousand years. Tom, this is the greatness of wizards. We ourselves are miracles. And when you can master every miracle—beyond even the miracle of magic itself—that will be the day you finally become the god of magic you dream of."

As Tom spiraled deeper into confusion, Morgan’s voice slowly echoed in his mind. Gentle. Calming.

It snapped him back to himself almost instantly.

Tom let out a long breath. "I was overthinking it."

He just hated the feeling of losing control.

He was happy about the positive change—really, he was—but there was still a thread of unease twisting in his chest. If anything went wrong... if something happened to Astoria... he might not be able to intervene in time to prevent it.

After steadying his emotions, Tom looked back toward the sky.

Most of the storm clouds had already dispersed. The gigantic face that had seemed so overwhelming moments ago was now riddled with holes, barely holding together enough to preserve its outline.

The instant Tom looked up, those green eyes turned toward him as well, filled with venomous hatred.

The curse possessed a degree of awareness.

Of course it knew who had orchestrated today’s little spectacle.

It no longer had enough power to break through the Greengrass family’s final defense, but neither was it willing to simply disappear.

So it shifted its target to Tom instead.

Invisible cursed power descended from the sky, carrying endless hatred and malice.

Tom raised an eyebrow and sneered. "You really think I’m an easy target?"

SKREEEE—!

A clear, resonant phoenix cry rang through the world.

The last traces of dark cloud were instantly torn apart, and sunlight once more poured over the earth.

Tom, still in his phoenix form, spread his wings and soared into the sky.

.

.

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