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[HP] Hogwarts Bloodline Enchanter

As if the gods themselves were playing a prank, poor Evan was catapulted straight into the Sorting Ceremony at Hogwarts, his mind a blank slate, his limbs flailing for purchase. What's this now? I've dabbled in the Dark Arts before? My abode is nestled in a Dark Magic shop down Knockturn Alley? And my mother, a vile dark sorceress? Just as Evan fretted over his future homecomings potentially ending in skinning and boning, he stumbled upon an ability to assimilate the bloodlines of magical creatures. Why has the Dumbledore clan been perennially aided by phoenixes? Why does the portly dwarf star, Peter, shed tears as he flees into the night? And what is the actual truth behind Voldemort's snakelike countenance? Shadows of unicorns that flicker between reality and illusion, the petrifying stare of the basilisk's eye, the fiery might wielded by a phoenix... As Evan gathers these bloodlines, a different magical world begins to unfold before him.

Xia_0745 · Book&Literature
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74 Chs

Dragon to the Rescue

"Yes, I saw it," Professor McGonagall said, her face serious as she grasped the gravity of the situation.

"I'll go ahead; you best find Professor Dumbledore and bring him here. The password for his office is... 'Fizzing Whizzbees.'" With those words, McGonagall blasted the hallway window open with a spell and, defying her age with a burst of agility, leaped out from the third-floor window.

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione rushed to the window in worry, only to see McGonagall descending rapidly from the sky and then landing smoothly after a flick of her wand.

"That was cool, it was the Hover Charm. Should we give it a try?" Ron said, his face full of envy.

"We're on the third floor; we'd fall to our deaths before we could cast it!" Harry had to remind him.

"We better hurry and find Professor Dumbledore," Hermione insisted. Even with McGonagall on her way to help, only Dumbledore could provide the reassurance they needed.

"No need, I heard everything."

As Hermione prepared to lead the way, Dumbledore's figure emerged from the shadows, his gaze set towards the distant Forbidden Forest. Even his usually unflappable demeanor showed signs of disturbance, indicating that the events unfolding in the forest had taken an unexpected turn.

...

In the usually silent depths of the Forbidden Forest, a cacophony of sounds erupted.

After a moment, a giant figure over two meters tall struggled out from the underbrush. His already ragged, patched clothes were now stained with splotches of blood, and the rich scent of it filled the air.

Normally, predators hidden within the forest would be circling by now, but aside from the noise Hagrid had made, only the sounds of insects could be heard.

Huffing, Hagrid clutched a makeshift wooden weapon he'd found along the way, leaning against a large tree, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

From the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in black, slowly approaching the immobile Hagrid who, with all his half-giant's strength, hurled the stick with tremendous force.

The wooden stick whistled through the air, but against a wary and powerful wizard, such a tactic was futile.

"Reducto!" With a casual flick of his wand, the cloaked wizard shattered the wooden stick mid-air, sending splinters raining down.

"Who are you? Why are you attacking unicorns in the Forbidden Forest?" Hagrid bellowed, eyes blazing with anger.

The cloaked wizard didn't reply, nor was he foolish enough to explain his reasons for hunting unicorns to Hagrid. He simply raised his wand towards Hagrid, whispering, "Avada Kedavra."

A sinister green light shot towards Hagrid with extraordinary speed. Reading the spell from the wizard's lips, Hagrid was plunged into profound despair.

Harry... Dumbledore... Aragog... Evan... Hermione... Ron... Norbert...

Memories flashed through Hagrid's mind like a spinning lantern, and just as he braced for the end, a radiant white figure dashed out, intercepting the curse.

"No!" Hagrid roared in horror and rage.

But no matter how Hagrid bellowed, he couldn't change the outcome. The green light struck true, and the white figure came to a sudden halt, collapsing onto the ground.

It was a unicorn...

Even as a powerful magical creature, the unicorn's life force rapidly drained away after taking a direct hit from the Killing Curse. Its white mane stained with blue blood, it still struggled to stand, despite the inevitable approach of death.

Tears filled Hagrid's eyes as he tried to crawl towards the unicorn, but his body had lost all strength.

Quirrell, cloaked in black, trembled slightly, for Voldemort's voice echoed in his mind.

"Imbecile, you can't even kill a beast." Voldemort found this to be one of his most incompetent followers; a direct hit with the Avada Kedavra had, for the first time, failed to kill instantly.

Quirrell felt wronged; his magical power had been significantly weakened due to Voldemort draining his life force over the past days...

Still, facing the Dark Lord who controlled his very existence, Quirrell dared not utter a word of complaint, instead directing his fury towards Hagrid.

Had it not been for Hagrid's reckless interruption during the unicorn hunt, he would have succeeded long ago, without wasting so much time.

Ignoring the dying unicorn, Quirrell stepped slowly towards Hagrid, savoring the despair and helplessness in his eyes.

Preparing to cast Avada Kedavra again, Quirrell lifted his wand, only to see a spark of something different in Hagrid's eyes... despair turned into bewilderment, then shock. Quirrell could almost make out the word Hagrid was trying to say.

Dragon...

"Don't think such feeble tricks will fool me," Quirrell sneered, having seen too many attempts to divert his attention.

Besides, where would a dragon come from in Hogwarts?

"You fool, look up!" Voldemort's voice intruded into Quirrell's mind once more.

Even through the concealing cloak, which greatly reduced Voldemort's perception, he could sense an imminent lethal attack.

As Voldemort spoke, a clear dragon's roar reached Quirrell's ears. By the time Quirrell turned, it was too late; all he saw was a ball of searing flames drawing near.

Voldemort violently seized control of Quirrell's body, his grotesque, snake-like face somehow at the forefront, pressed tightly against Quirrell's own, the overlapping visages creating a grotesque tableau.

Despite this, Voldemort only had time to wave his wand before being engulfed by the flames...

Within the dragon's fiery breath, a purple magical shield flared up, barely keeping the flames at bay. But the intense heat and rolling waves of air forced Voldemort to maintain focus, especially as the hastily conjured shield began to crack and show signs of collapse.

Fortunately, the dragon's flame breath lasted only three seconds before ceasing. Just as Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief, a colossal dragon's head appeared before him, shattering the barrier with the force of its dive and flinging the bizarre body through the air...

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