Harry Potter Blood Line Novels & Stories

Victor says, studying the man with the liquid black eyes. "That Omega told me," Harry replies. "That pretty silver one." "Edward?" Victor asks. "Whatever," the man shrugs. "He's a little too sharp for my liking; I'd watch out for that one." "Ariadne's even sharper," Victor voices. Harry smiles at those words like he's eaten something delicious. "God, isn't she magnificent?" "What are you doing here?" Victor spits, suddenly feeling like he's navigating a minefield. "Now that Arthur's dead, you're the very last of your line with the First Blood," Harry begins, telling Victor something he already knows.

I say, taking a step backwards. "Rory," She calls, and I flinch. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry." I nod, walking out, steadying my breathes as I walk to the Living Room, see everyone sitted. "To break the curse fully, we need Alexandru, Lily and Rafe ofcourse, in a circle, holding eachother. We'll need the blood of the people you love the most, not to be Harry Potter-ish, but Love is the way to break this, the Ancestors casted the spell out of pure hatred, and with Love, we'll reverse it, actually, erase it."

"Essentially," the vampire began to explain, running his claws through his silky black hair and shifting in his seat a bit to get more comfortable. No doubt, we'd be here for a long time. "My bloodline is mixed with mages of old. Something passed down from generation to generation is extremely potent magic, much more powerful than vampires typically have access to."

, At this point, my head was swirling in winds of confusion. “I’m not following…”, “I’m going to link my soul to yours…. Our bloodline is tied to our souls… if mine becomes linked with yours…, then our bloodline may become one…, meaning I take on the phoenix bloodline…”, “What? Isn’t that forbidden sorcery”,

The last time there had been a vampire war, my father; the heir of the purest strain and most powerful coven that walked the earth, had been the secret weapon and the most dangerous warlock. Now that he was dead, I was the last of my line. I was the heir to the oldest, purest and most powerful coven of all time and though the purity of the line had been broken with me, my vampire traits had reinforced some of my lost witch trait. I was the most powerful witch in the world and i couldn't even be free to be it. Generations of spells, intricate wizardy both dark and good flowed through my veins, passed on to me by my lineage.

The witches were separated into categories of smaller covens, battle mages who were practically warriors and way more powerful than ordinary witches, and the thirteen chosens who would sooner or later seat on the council of thirteen. Nine of the chosens usually came from the nine long-standing houses with pure blood, while the other four were picked from amongst the battle mages through a rigorous testing and competition process and final blessing of the pool of rebirth. Last were the guardian families tasked with protecting the lineage of Tara’s family as they were believed to be the bloodline of the great goddess Osoro--a job they had failed terribly over the one thousand plus years their

“The bloodline curse isn’t just a warning. It’s a cycle, marked in ink and ritual, generation after generation.” He traced the words with a finger, stopping at a diagram of three figures entwined by a serpent: a grandmother, mother, and child. Their eyes glowed faintly in the illustration, as if alive. Below it, a single line sent chills crawling across his skin: “She who wears the crown shall end the old world and decide if the new shall rise or fall.” Matteo’s breath hitched. He realized the prophecy was not only about survival it was about choice, judgment, and the weight of all that had come before.

He dismissed them back to their cell with the two guards and stood in the empty training room afterward, his palm still against the wall panel, feeling the echo of that silver-grey magic in the room's stone. Primary shadow magic in a five year old wolf hybrid. He ran the implications forward in his mind, generation by generation, the bloodline extending outward from these two children into a future he had been building toward for a decade. His plan had been to breed the bloodline carefully, to control the development of the next generation over time. That plan had assumed he understood what he was working with. He was no longer certain he did. He pulled his hand from the wall and walked to t

He pulled her into his arms, his palm sliding down the curve of her waist before grabbing her ass without restraint. Mia's cheeks flushed, but her body only pressed closer in submission, and yet Marco's eyes never once left me. "You're unhappy? You think I didn't care about you these three years? A man out there risks getting shot. Some things aren't within my control. "This time when I came back, the Godfather personally promised to put the docks under my management. I want you to obey my orders and continue being my mistress." I shook my head and said, word by word, "I'm already pregnant. I carry the Godfather's bloodline."

“The dust reacted to you because it recognizes your blood, not your loyalty, not your courage. Your lineage.” “My… lineage?” "Yes" “You are not what they named you, Ivy. Not a forgotten omega, not an accident of the pack.” His voice dropped. “You carry a highly royal blood — Moon-Weaver blood. The last living line.” The room seemed to tilt after all. “That’s impossible,” I whispered. “My mother was—” “Your mother was murdered,” he said, softer. “By a raid meant to erase her. To erase you and anything that has connection to your family's bloodline .”