Blood Quill Harry Potter の小説・ストーリー

Exactly as seen earlier in the castle. The sword. “What does that one do?” I asked, pointing to it. “It drinks blood. For anyone it kills, their blood is stored in the blade. You would try to always have a clothing between you and the hilt” That did not sound more beneficial than fairy dust. “So how useful would it be to protect me?” With only a smile, “very” Time to close the deal. “I have one silver coin” playing with the coins against my fingers. “Make it three and we have a deal”

“Ugh, I need The Draught of Peace.” “I wish there was such a thing. I could use it on Blake Ryan.” I had not had a chance to search for him, but something out of The Half-Blood Prince’s poison book would come in handy. Jess suddenly stopped stabbing the poor lemon; a question appeared on her face mixed with confusion. “Blake Ryan? What is up with Blake Ryan?”

Then he forcefully sliced it open, letting my blood trickle into a tiny golden chalice that he had retrieved from his desk drawer. I winced sharply in agony as the drops of my blood fell. After that, he immersed the feather quill into my blood and passed it over to me. Who in the world were these individuals? Were they even in their right minds? Did this imply that he had signed the contract using his own blood as well? My hands shook uncontrollably as I extended them to accept the quill and the agreement. Every instinct inside me urged me to flee, but to where? The sensation of his grip around my neck was still fresh in my memory.

I didn't know which was easier, getting Killian's blood on this dagger, or making him believe I tried to kill myself. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. I pulled it open and began to mutter subtle chants. My brown eyes moved from Killian's blood on the dagger to the spatters on the floor. As I kept chanting, his blood that stained the floor rose up in the air, and the little blood on the dagger also levitated in the air. I kept chanting, using my magic to pull Killian's blood into the wooden bowl that was on the table. Now I have the last piece of ingredients I needed for the spell I had to make tonight.

Now, for the things and the important ones that will make everything fall all according to my desire and written script. Taking something out from a box that is made from ice and enveloped by a powerful spell. He places a cup of blood in front of it, blood that comes from him, drawn from his right wrist and sliding it in the particular corner of the pentagrams spell. He then smiles in a satisfying stance as he took another thing. A hair, an ample of it. Distinguishable by its light to purple color that resembles a starry night sky. He then gave it a sniff, lustfully thinking of his own paradise as he giggles in excitement and carefully placed it beside his blood. Arms open and somewhat is pa

"The ink... it only has power because it’s dry! It’s old! We need to make it fluid again!" Lucas understood. He didn't have his magic, but he had his Blood. He knelt beside her and used his sharp, silver-scarred fingernail to slice a shallow line across his palm. The blood that welled up wasn't red; it was a shimmering, molten silver. He pressed his bleeding hand against Audrey's shackled wrists. "My blood is the ink of the King," Lucas whispered, his forehead pressing against hers. "And I am giving the pen to you."

She flipped the cork and dumped a paltry amount of powder into the blood. The blood instantly turned black. Zayden had seen such bizarre things at unimaginable times in his entire lifetime, but the fact that every witch had her own way of performing a certain spell baffled him every single time. He watched carefully as Jules drew out another transparent vial from the drawer. This time a red powder, doing the same thing as she did earlier, mixing it with his blood. This time, the blood turned back to its normal color. He heard Dhara swallow down thickly.

Blood seeped through the fabric, warm against my shaking hands. I swallowed hard. “Okay. First step: stop bleeding. Second step: don’t panic. Third step: find magical vampire first-aid kit.” A drawer slid open with a loud shunk. I yelped. “BRENDA! That is NOT helping!” Inside the drawer sat a crystal bottle full of thick dark liquid. I stared. I blinked. I stared again. “…Is that blood?” The lights flickered once. Yes. “Is it vintage? Like… does blood expire?”

I hoped. I kept my faith. Then the barrier around them faded and I rushed to go to Jacob’s side. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. It was cold, not like the warmth I was used to feel. “Please drink my blood, too, Aunt Luce.” Quillon said, he was now on my side. I looked at Ashira, and she gave a quiet nod. I didn’t hesitate. I opened my mouth, and Quillon let his blood drip in—one drop, then another. I counted six.

Tony I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me, and I realized that her sickness and whatever treatments she’d been taking had to be what that scent in her blood was. It had been sheer luck that Quillan had been born, luck that he had an incident that would lead him here, luck that Ginevra was brought here. I didn’t know what to say. I looked at her, really looked at her, and suddenly, the odd coloring at her temples made sense. I reached for her hair and felt the odd texture of it: too smooth to be real. It was a wig.