Harry Potter : Bloodraven

Tarhan stared at the ring hovering before him. His intuition, honed by over a century of life had already told him everything he needed to know.

This was no ordinary ring. The intricate carvings and the rich, almost unnatural shine made it clear that it held old magic—powerful enough to deny anyone except the one it was meant for.

He turned his gaze to the man who had given the order. "May I ask… if this artifect is enchanted?"

He already knew the answer, but the words left his lips anyway.

"Yes."

The confirmation came, and his expression darkened.

A chill of unease crept into his chest as he considered the consequences of going through with it. There was no doubt that it would be protected by powerful, old magic. Otherwise, why would an Archmage make him the guinea pig to test its defenses?

Yes, he had no doubt now—this was exactly his situation. A dignified Great-Magus, reduced to a test subject.

"Wear it."

He heard the order again, this time, without patience, and no room for resistance.

There was no other choice.

Breathing out deeply, he finally reached for the ring. The metal was icy cold against his fingertips, as if it had been left in the snow for hours. Even so, he tightened his grip, steadied himself, and braced for whatever might come.

Slowly, he slid the ring onto his finger, and for the briefest of moments, nothing happened.

Maverick watched in silence, his sharp eyes taking in every detail.

Then, he saw it. Black smoke surged out from the ring like a living shadow, wrapping around its target with terrifying speed. It was not the first time he had seen this happen. The same thing had occurred when others wore it, so it came as no surprise to him.

The dark tendrils coiled tightly, constricting around Tarhan's body as if a predator had struck, trying to swallow him whole. And the rate at which the demonic curse attacked Tarhan's body was no slower than those he had tested before.

Fortunately, unlike Magus-rank wizards, those at the Great-Magus rank had sharper instincts and the ability to manipulate pure magic. The moment the curse enveloped him, Tarhan had reacted within seconds, pushing back against it with his magical energy.

And yet, that wasn't enough. The curse was only pushed back a short distance, and now, unable to entangle its target, the sinister smoke began to gather, grow thicker and stronger. It wouldn't be long before his magic could no longer hold it back.

Unless.

Tarhan then began to conjure shield charms, pouring all his magic into them and tried to push back the curse or whatever dark force lay within the ring.

And it worked. His spells, powered by his Marquis-level magic, prevented the curse from enveloping him instantly.

Maverick watched quietly as everything happened, more or less as he had expected.

Tarhan's magic was strong—strong enough to resist the worst effects of the curse.

But the situation would not remain like that for long. Tarhan's stamina was finite, and the curse showed no signs of weakening. If anything, it was growing stronger.

More importantly, the curse was still bound to the ring. Resisting it was not enough—it had to be dealt with.

Maverick lifted a hand and focused. A wave of counter-curse magic burst from his palm, striking the black smoke like a blade of light.

Screech!

A howling, eerie wail filled the air, like a creature in agony. The smoke trembled, recoiling under his attack, pulling back as if it had been wounded.

Maverick's eyes lit up. It was working.

But then, without warning, the curse changed it's target. Instead of attacking Tarhan, it lunged towards him.

Maverick's eyes narrowed. The curse… it was as if it were sentient, as if it was aware.

But he wasn't going to stand by and let it attack him unscrupulously. Rising from the high-backed chair he had conjured, he swiftly waved his hand, and a powerful shield spell flared to life just in time.

Bam!

The black smoke crashed against his magic shield, sending ripples through its surface. Despite the strength of his magic—magic at the level of an Archmagus—the force of the curse's assault was powerful enough to shake the barrier's structure.

Maverick's brows furrowed deeper. If this continued, he might have to retreat. He was confident he could escape, or even defend, but engaging this curse of demonic origin was a risk he had to consider carefully.

But then—just as the thought of retreat crossed his mind—a sudden warmth washed over him.

It was unlike anything he had felt before, yet in some ways, it reminded him of the overwhelming, fulfilling sensation of a Patronus.

But this was not his doing, and it certainly was not the work of the struggling man in front of him.

Keeping the sheild charm firm with his magic, he quickly spread his senses to search for the cause of this sudden abnormally. It wasn't doing anything bad, infact, he felt his magic becoming more stable. But an unknown was still an unknown.

He searched with both his magic and his sight but found nothing. It took him only a second to scan the area, and just as he thought his search was in vain, a blinding white light suddenly surged from his body.

"What the..."

He murmured in astonishment, eyes locked on his chest, where his heart would be. That was the source. Like a beacon, white glowing smoke seeped out enveloping his body, with more gathering above his head.

He raised his head and watched as the smoke of white light swirled and shifted until it finally took shape—a phantom of a unicorn's head hovering above him.

Its form radiated pure, brilliant light, and the moment it emerged, the darkness recoiled, pulling away from his shield as if burned by its presence.

Then, the phantom attacked.

The construct let out a cry, a sound so pure and soothing that it made the very air tremble. It charged forward, slamming into the curse with unrelenting force.

Kneiihhh!

Screech!

The moment light clashed with darkness, it was like water meeting fire. The curse hissed and twisted, its form writhing in agony before it began to wither, dissolve, and finally evaporate into nothingness.

Maverick watched in shock. It was almost instantaneous.

What his Archmage-level magic could not accomplish, this unknown force—this magic that had somehow emerged from within him—had done so effortlessly.

The curse that had prevented him from accessing Morvain's ring's contents was wiped away, erased without a trace.

For a moment, he could not comprehend what had just happened. But then, a memory surfaced—an event from months ago, something he had nearly dismissed as mere superstition.

"Is this… what it means to be blessed by a unicorn?" he murmured to himself.

The curse had been destroyed, and Tarhan… well, he was alive. But in just that short span of time, he had been drained heavily, his stamina nearly depleted from fighting against the curse magic.

Even Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful Arch-Magus, had been powerless against such a curse and was now counting his days, so it was no surprise that Tarhan, a Great-Magus, had fared any better.

It goes to show how truly ruthless and effective curse magic could be compared to straightforward spellcasting. Unless one was prepared and possessed the proper knowledge to counter it, curse magic did not seem to care about the rank of a wizard. It was simply... super effective.

Maverick exhaled deeply but kept his vigilance high as he turned his gaze back to the ring still on Tarhan's finger. The ominous aura that had once surrounded it... he no longer felt it.

To confirm, he flicked his finger and used magic to pull the ring off Tarhan's finger. After a moment, he placed it back on. Nothing happened—no curse, no black smoke, no resistance.

The ring was now clean of any nasty curses.

Without hesitation, he used magic to grab Tarhan's hand and yank the ring from his finger. The moment it was off, he unleashed a concentrated blast of magic in the same instant.

Tarhan's eyes snapped open at the last second as his instincts flared, warning him of the imminent danger. He tried to resist, but exhaustion had left him powerless against Maverick's ruthless attack.

All he managed was a hoarse, furious scream before his body was reduced to dust—just like his student before him.

Maverick did not stop there. He flared his Magical-Sense to the extreme, scanning the surroundings for any signs of life once more. Finding none, he vanished from the spot and reappeared high above the old wizard's mansion, nearly half a kilometer in the air.

Raising his hand, he began to conjure a sphere of concentrated Fiendfire. A flicker of black flame emerged in his palm, writhing and twisting unnaturally, as if alive. It pulsed with raw destruction, growing larger with each passing moment. The sphere expanded, the heat distorting the air around it, until it reached a massive size—dozens of meters in diameter, a miniature black sun of all-consuming fire.

Without hesitation, he released it, lowering his hand slowly as if commanding the inferno to take action. The inferno plummeted toward the mansion, its descent accompanied by a deep, ominous roar. As it fell, the sphere stretched and expanded, engulfing everything in its path. The moment it made contact, the entire estate was swallowed whole. Walls, stone, wood, and magic alike were devoured in an instant, reduced to nothing but ash.

Maverick did not linger. The destruction he had wrought was anything but subtle, and soon enough, people would come. But by then, they would find nothing. No bodies. No evidence. No trace of him.

And before they could even begin searching, Maverick had already vanished—not just from the scene, but from the country itself.

...

Moments later, he stepped through the shimmering distortion of a teleportation spell and emerged in a dimly lit underground chamber. The air was dry and thick with the scent of ancient stone, a stark contrast to the destruction he had left behind.

This was one of his hidden bases—deep beneath the sands of Egypt, far from prying eyes. The chamber's walls were lined with intricate runes, their faint glow pulsing as they recognized his presence. Powerful wards ensured that no one, not even the most skilled trackers, could find him here.

He took a slow breath, letting the silence settle around him. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he conjured a seat and sank into it. The ring he had taken from Tarhan still rested in his palm, its surface now devoid of the ominous aura that had once surrounded it.

For a long moment, he simply stared at it before finally making up his mind. He slipped the ring onto his own finger and focused.

There were still the standard layers of protection—enchantments meant to prevent any ordinary person from accessing its contents. But there were no lingering signs of a curse, no ominous presence waiting to strike.

A smile tugged at his lips.

Without hesitation, he forced his way through the ring's protections, his magic pressing against the layers of defensive charms wrapped around it. The enchantments resisted, pulsing with defiance, but they were nothing against the overwhelming magic he wielded.

One by one, they unraveled—barriers woven by powerful hands long ago, stripped away as if they were fragile threads in a storm. The final layer clung desperately, flickering like a dying flame, before vanishing into nothing.

Seconds ticked by until, at last, it was fully unsealed, revealing what lay within and granting him complete access to its contents.

A rush of information surged into his mind. The secrets stored within were now clear, open for him to take.

Sure enough, Victor Morvain, a Great-Magus who had lived for nearly half a millennium, had a collection that would rival those of even the ancient magical families.

Gold. Piles and piles of it. Mountains of treasure, shimmering under an unseen light. Galleons stacked in countless numbers, enough to rival the vaults of the wealthiest wizarding families. Jewelry of all kinds, glittering with gemstones that radiated magic.

And then—books.

Ancient tomes, their covers worn with age. Scrolls filled with knowledge lost to time. A treasure trove of wisdom hidden away for who knew how long.

But then, amidst the wealth and history, something unexpected appeared.

Weapons.

Not magical ones. Muggle weapons.

Maverick's brows furrowed as he examined them. Some he recognized—guns, explosives, instruments of war. But others… others were unlike anything he had ever seen.

"What is this?" he muttered, focusing on the strange weapons piled up in one section.

These were unlike any conventional firearms he knew of. There was not just one or two, but an entire collection—rifles, cannons, and handheld blasters—all sharing a distinct similarity.

Each had a radiant blue energy source, a core of some kind, pulsing with an otherworldly glow. The power within them felt alien, unlike any magic or technology he had encountered before.

The designs were sleek, their dark metallic casings crafted with precision. Intricate energy channels ran along their bodies, directing the flow of power from the bluish cores, which pulsed with an eerie brilliance. The energy within them felt unstable yet contained, as if barely restrained by the craftsmanship that shaped these weapons.

With a thought, he willed one of the weapons—a handgun—out from the ring's space and into his grasp.

But the moment it touched his hand, his eyes widened in shock.

Because-

[ Detected a gadget of extraordinary characteristic ]

[ Item: Pistol Powered by the Residual Energy of the Gem of Space ]

[ Extraordinary Characteristic: Energy projection ]

[ Grade: Basic ]

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Author's Note:

Just a quick update — up to Chapter 149 is already available on P AT r30n!

PAT r30n [.] com / RyanFic