The next day began with an unusual start for the Slytherin house. Dante Malfoy, true to his reputation, had decided to skip the first class of the day. Alastor Moody, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, wasted no time in deducting five points from Slytherin for Dante's absence and disregard. Dante, of course, was unaware of this and wouldn't have cared even if he had known. Instead, he made his way to the restricted section of the library, his mind focused on the task at hand.
The restricted section was quiet as usual. Dante moved through the aisles with purpose, collecting every book he could find related to bloodborne curses. He settled at a secluded table, surrounded by towering stacks of ancient tomes, and began his research.
Bloodborne curses, as Dante knew, were among the rarest and most sinister forms of dark magic. They were not merely spells cast upon a target but curses woven into the very essence of a person's blood, passed down through generations or inflicted directly through ritualistic magic. The origins of these curses were shrouded in mystery, but a few common threads emerged from the texts:
- Intent and Emotion: Bloodborne curses were often born from intense hatred or negative emotions directed toward the target. The caster's malice was a crucial component, fueling the curse's power and ensuring its longevity. In some cases, the curse was tied to the caster's death, becoming a final act of vengeance.
- Sacrificial Element: Many bloodborne curses required a sacrifice, either from the caster or an unwilling participant. This sacrifice served as a conduit for the curse, binding it to the target's bloodline. The more significant the sacrifice, the more potent and enduring the curse.
- Effects: The effects of bloodborne curses varied widely, but they often manifested as physical or magical deterioration. Weakness, seizures, chronic pain, and even the gradual loss of magical ability were common symptoms. In some cases, the curse could lie dormant for years before suddenly activating.
- Irreversibility: Most texts agreed that bloodborne curses were impossible to break. They were designed to be permanent, their magic intertwined with the victim's very being. Attempts to remove the curse often resulted in catastrophic consequences for both the victim and the would-be healer.
Dante leaned back in his chair, his silver eyes narrowing as he processed the information. The common factor in all bloodborne curses was the intense negative emotion behind them, often culminating in the caster's death. This made them the exact opposite of Frigg's sacrificial magic, which was rooted in selflessness and love.
Despite his thorough research, Dante couldn't determine the specific magic used to curse Astoria. The information was too scarce, and the curses themselves were too varied. He would need to examine her directly to make any progress.
By the time Dante finished his research, it was already time for lunch. He made his way to the Great Hall, his mind still focused on bloodborne curses. As he entered the hall, his eyes scanned the room until they landed on Astoria Greengrass. The young girl was sitting with her fellow third-years, chatting quietly. Dante approached her without hesitation.
"Astoria," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I want to check your condition now."
Astoria looked up, startled but eager. She stood up immediately. "Where should we go?"
"The Slytherin common room," Dante replied.
Astoria nodded and followed him without question. Daphne, Draco, and a few other fourth-year and third-year Slytherins, curious about Astoria's condition, decided to tag along. The group made their way out of the Great Hall, only to be stopped by a group of Durmstrang students led by Viktor Krum.
Viktor stepped forward, his expression serious. "Are you Dante Malfoy?" he asked, his accent thick but his tone direct.
Dante nodded. "I am."
Viktor crossed his arms. "Are you participating in the Triwizard Tournament?"
Dante raised an eyebrow. "Proper people say one should introduce themselves first."
His words caught Viktor and his group off guard. One of the Durmstrang students behind Viktor, clearly offended, stepped forward. "You don't know Viktor Krum? The Bulgarian seeker?"
Dante's expression remained impassive. "I have no interest in that game. I have other things to do besides watching two groups throw and chase flying balls."
The casual bluntness of his response didn't sit well with the Durmstrang students, all of whom were die-hard Quidditch fans. Viktor frowned, and the group began to close in around Dante, their postures intimidating.
Dante sighed, clearly unimpressed. Without warning, he raised his hand slightly and then lowered it. In an instant, every Durmstrang student, including Viktor, dropped to their knees, unable to move a muscle. The surrounding students gasped, their eyes wide with shock.
Dante turned to Astoria, who was staring at him in surprise. "Let's go," he said simply, walking away as if nothing had happened. The Slytherin third-years and fourth-years followed, glancing back at the kneeling Durmstrang students with a mix of awe and pity.
It wasn't until a few seconds after Dante had left that the Durmstrang students could move again. They stood up, their faces a mixture of embarrassment and fear. Dark magic was no stranger to Durmstrang, but they had never seen or heard of anyone who could immobilize so many people with a mere wave of their hand—and without an incantation, no less.
Dante led the group to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. The room was dimly lit, the greenish glow of the lake filtering through the windows. Dante gestured to the couch. "Sit," he told Astoria.
She obeyed without hesitation, her hands clasped nervously in her lap. The other students—Daphne, Draco, and the rest of the curious ones—watched in silence, their eyes fixed on Dante.
Dante tapped Astoria's head lightly with his wand, and her body immediately began to glow with a soft blue light. He observed her carefully, his silver eyes narrowing as he studied the intricate patterns of magic swirling within her. After a moment, he waved his wand again, and the blue light vanished, replaced by a shimmering golden bubble that enveloped her. Dante frowned slightly. There was foreign magic in her blood—magic that carried traces of a soul, negative emotions, and a faint breath of death.
The soul and negative emotions, Dante deduced, likely came from the caster and the sacrifice used to fuel the curse. The breath of death, however, was more intriguing. Wizards could draw upon the essence of death itself, though it was a rare and dangerous practice. The Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries and the veil from which dementors were born were both examples of such magic. This curse, it seemed, had tapped into that same dark well of power.
Dante's mind raced as he considered his options. He needed to weaken the curse's hold on Astoria, but how? He decided to start with the negative emotions, the most volatile component of the curse. Silently, he cast Expecto Patronum. A faint silvery light emerged from the tip of his wand and flowed into Astoria's body. Dante tapped her again, observing the changes. The negative emotions within her had weakened, but the soul and the breath of death remained untouched, their presence shielding the curse from the Patronus's purifying light.
Dante's frown deepened. He needed a different approach. "Extend your hand," he instructed Astoria, his tone calm but firm. She obeyed nervously, holding out her hand. Dante raised his wand and cast Expecto Electrunom. A faint red light emerged from his wand and entered Astoria's hand. Unlike Expecto Patronum, which targeted negative emotions, Expecto Electrunom was created to attack the soul directly.
Dante watched closely as the spell took effect. The lingering soul within Astoria was pushed back from her hand, but it didn't dissipate. Instead, it retreated deeper into her body, only to begin reclaiming its hold as soon as the spell ended. Dante's lips pressed into a thin line. Even targeting the soul directly wasn't enough. The curse was too deeply rooted, its magic too resilient.
Undeterred, Dante decided to try something more drastic. He raised his wand again, this time casting a weak and silent version of the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra. A small, bright green light emerged from his wand and entered Astoria's body. The students watched every action closely and carefully, though none of them recognized the spell for what it truly was. Dante observed the results carefully. The soul within Astoria was pushed back even further, but the effect was still temporary. The curse's magic began to replenish itself almost immediately.
Dante stopped, his expression thoughtful. The Killing Curse was more effective, but he couldn't use it at full power without risking Astoria's life. He needed a way to eliminate both the emotions and the soul simultaneously, quickly and decisively, without giving the curse a chance to recover. It was a delicate balance, and one he had to figure out how to achieve.