Harry Potter : Bloodraven-Chapter 255: Rites of Liberation (II) (CH - 275)

Dip.

Dip.

Dip.

Hogwarts. Deep underground, within the outer hall of the Slytherin Chamber of Secrets.

The soft sound of water droplets falling into a small puddle echoed through the still air, each drop rebounding off the stone walls like a slow, unending rhythm.

The chamber was silent otherwise, almost eerie. The air was heavy with the scent of wet stone, and a chill dampness seemed to seep into the skin, while dim light from a line of torches flickered faintly across the damp stone statues, where patches of moss and mold clung stubbornly to their surfaces.

To any outside observer, it would seem like an ancient ruin, lifeless and undisturbed; yet in truth, behind the veil of reality, existing both there and not truly there at the same time, a great struggle of will and rare magic was taking place.

Within the mirrored dimension, magic unlike any found in spellbooks stirred the air. Light and shadow intertwined, clashing in a silent battle over a single soul. Bolts of mysterious purple energy leaked from the runic symbols forming the ritual circle, and at its center, Dumbledore's bare upper body glistened faintly. The symbols pulsed with a steady rhythm, each thrum echoing the quiet beat of his heart.

The water around his outstretched hand rippled with energy, revealing faint black veins pulsing beneath his skin as if alive. Gradually, the parasitic curse attached to his soul began to yield to the ritual's force, pushed outward as tendrils of shadow-like smoke leaked into the air. It was a slow process, but it was working.

Rhythmic surges of magic coursed through the mirrored dimension, each pulse echoing like a heartbeat in the void, while bolts of blackish lightning continued to arc from the runes, drawing power from the rare and magical materials placed within the inscriptions.

The ritual was clearly working its miracle. Yet Dumbledore, at least from his outward expression, showed no sign of discomfort. All the while, purple light flickered across the old wizard's face, catching on his composed features and the sharp focus in his eyes as time moved on.

Maverick, watching from above, sensed everything as he observed this mysterious branch of magic at work. It was fascinating to him, after all, this was the first time witnessing a magical ritual unfold. But at some point, his brows furrowed, and curiosity turned into caution. There was something there he could not quite identify at first, though not entirely unfamiliar.

A few years ago, he remembered feeling the same cold and repulsive energy during his battle against Morvain, after the lunatic had made some sort of contract with a mysterious entity. At the time, being new to the world of magic, he had no idea what it was. Later, however, he learned it was demonology, and the energy he was sensing now carried the same dark, familiar presence.

On second thought, it wasn't surprising at all that Riddle dabbled in such vile magic. Like Morvain, he was also hopelessly lost to his own insanity, probably the maddest of them all.

Demonology, after all, is not something one simply studies, waves a wand, and masters overnight. It demands a price of its own—a contract, or in other words, an equivalent exchange. A soul, a life, even one's sanity could be placed on the table for the bargain, quite literally a deal with the devil, all for power beyond mortal measure.

Riddle must have given up something of great importance to bind that curse to the ring. Knowing him, it could have been a fragment of his own soul or worse, the lives of countless innocents. Whatever it was, it could not have been insignificant, or Dumbledore would have found a cure long before now, with all his wisdom and connections.

It was only after discovering the Chamber of Secrets and its collection of precious books that the old man finally found a way out.

The old wizard had kept it to himself about that, but Maverick had known for some time now. Such a thing as the lingering aura of decay and death could not escape his keen magical senses, given how often he met the old man at Hogwarts. However, he chose not to mention it, preferring to wait until Dumbledore brought it up himself.

Perhaps he was waiting for the right time, but anyway, he knew about it, and Maverick was certain that Dumbledore also knew he knew. Besides, during the alien invasion, Grandmaster Flamal had even remarked about it in front of everyone.

And just weeks earlier, Dumbledore had asked for Maverick's help in locating a crucial ingredient for a "special ritual," or so he had said. It was also then that the old wizard finally shared everything with him. Beyond that, Dumbledore also recounted some of his past attempts to find a cure, even revealing that he had sought the Sorcerer Supreme's assistance. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

At first, Maverick was a little taken aback upon hearing that the Sorcerer Supreme herself was unable to offer any assistance, and he even inwardly raised the threat level of old Voldy by a couple of notches. After all, if Riddle was able to cast curses that even the Sorcerer Supreme had no solution for, then that meant the man was truly a monster.

Locating the ingredient Dumbledore had asked for proved tricky at first, since it had apparently been considered long extinct for many centuries.

He tried using the connections he had, but had no luck. Finally, he thought to turn to the Sorcerer's side. After all, the Sorcerer Supreme herself had said he could come to her anytime, and if anyone could track down something thought extinct, it would be her. At the same time, he also wanted to verify whether Dumbledore's claims were true, or if there was another piece of the story he hadn't been told. It turned out there was.

First, he got the item Dumbledore wanted in almost no time. The Sorcerer Supreme had simply opened a portal, disappeared to who knows where, and returned moments later, as if she had just stepped out for a quick errand, casually handing him the ingredient.

A bit anticlimactic, really. She didn't even ask for any favor in return. And it wasn't a small piece she gave him, but anyway, he had more than enough, with even more left over for who knows when it might be needed in the future.

And with that taken care of, he finally asked her about the curse leeching on Dumbledore. Once again, he was left uncertain, for the Sorcerer Supreme only gave a knowing smile.

"Ridding Dumbledore of the curse would have been simple," she said casually. "I could have fixed him in no time."

The next question, of course, was why she didn't. To answer that, the woman gave him a strange look and an even stranger curl of her smile before saying, "Aren't you helping Dumbledore save his life now?" In other words, she could have saved him, but apparently she wanted him to be involved, which, as it happened, he now was.

Did she see the future back then and decide not to help Dumbledore herself? Or was it a future even further ahead, beyond now, that showed her something which influenced her decision? Or perhaps she saw that helping him would alter both his and Dumbledore's future too much. In any case, he didn't know, and frankly, there was no point in wracking his brain over it.

He didn't ask any more questions. He simply thanked her for her help with the item and left on the spot.

Thank you so much for your support. It means the world! 💙😊