Harry Potter Fanfiction Harry Uses Parselmagic To Heal นิยาย & เรื่องราว

canisters in Owerri hissed and died, the gas neutralized by the harmonic resonance of my voice. "It’s... it's falling apart," Arthur whimpered, dropping his rifle. He clutched his head as the "Violet" enhancement in his eyes flickered and died, replaced by the dull, flat grey of a man who had lost his soul. I felt the final pulse leave my body. It was a quiet, heavy sensation—like a long-held breath finally being released. The gold light beneath my skin began to fade, retreating from my fingertips, back through my arms, and finally settling into a tiny, dormant spark in my heart.

"Can't you understand? You're a stranger! Stop turning up in my life!" He pulled out a familiar potion bottle. "I'm the youngest Neuro Healer in our pack. We've tested the potion over 1,000 times, and it didn't fail. You're not admitting it on purpose. You know I hate it when people play jokes at the expense of others' feelings." I almost laughed out of sheer anger. He had gone behind my back to be with another she-wolf, and now he was saying that I was putting on an act? I pushed him away. "Get lost!"

It seems likes she comes in slow motion, demon face, dagger in hand. — ... come to me and do my will. - I recite aloud the last verses of the spell I had begun in my mind, pointing my index finger at her and she is immediately struck by lightning. She falls to the ground, grunting and squirming in pain. I take about twenty steps back. She reeks of burned flesh. The sight of Jeanne's charred body terrifies me. Within seconds she begins healing, her skin quickly turning white and flawless, jumps to her feet, her clothes are scorched but otherwise she looks like absolutely nothing has happened to her. She shows me her fangs and lunges at me, again.

He placed his hand on his head and stroked it down, and then it dawned on him again that his wounds had healed and he was free from the clothes which bound his head tight. In the space of two days he had healed all round from the wounds and the pains which he felt around his body. Sometimes, Harriet made some potions which she claimed was able to clear off the pain, and though they tasted miserably, he was sure of it's effect being potent in his body system as he could feel the pain disappearing. She was such a wonderful lady. Sometimes he pondered if it was just too early to claim he had soft spot for her. He didn't know everything perfectly about her, yet she was just the one whom he admir

My second vision had warned me about this. I held my breath, knowing that if I turned around, I would find Chase at knife point. I clenched my trembling hands into white knuckled fists. Darryl's bleeding was not ordinary. In fact, the bitch who was holding Chase at knife point, had spelled the knife she'd thrown at Darryl. I closed my eyes as I placed my hands over his wound. I casted the spell out loud, knowing that she was listening. My palms tingled and I opened my eyes to see that they were emitting a white glow. Darryl's wound stopped bleeding and his supernatural self-healing kicked in. I rose to my feet, still not turning around.

But Jason's childhood friend, Lilian Foster, traded her own tongue to a black-market witch for the antidote. The moment the truth was exposed, the love in Jason's eyes turned into a hatred that pierced through the bone. He sold me to the black market as a live test subject for experiments and forced me to drink a Corrosive Spellvial. My insides rotted away, and I died from sheer pain. Now, I had regressed in time, once again holding that same bottle of Love Potion. This time, I didn't hesitate. I drank it all in one swift movement.

Sigrid paused by the foot of the bed, looking down at the still-sleeping Jules, but Meguitte crossed to Harry. “Let me see,” she reached up toward their face, and they leaned down so that she could examine their eye, her fingers gentle and soothingly cool against their skin. “Oh, Harry,” she said softly, and they felt a sharp spike of fear, but she smiled. “It’s looking so good. The swelling is going down considerably. Get Sigrid to bathe it in some of her blood. The hybrid blood seems to be accentuated. It might speed the healing.”

I nodded my head at the direction of the table. Morgana glanced at me and at the bowl. She picked up the bowl and smiled at me. "It's a porridge potion." She answered and I arched my brows in confusion. "What's that for?" "I made it specially for you." She stirred the content in the bowl. I peered into the bowl. The so called portion was a sticky white substance. I bet it'd be better as hell. "I think you being a weak power carrier made you vulnerable to Sage's attacks. Hence, I made it for you. It'll heal you from the internal injuries his powers might have caused and this will also strengthen you." She told me and stopped stirring.

It was raw, the skin angry and inflamed, but there was a faint, lingering warmth—a residual glow that wasn't his, but something ancient, something he had managed to pull from the very fabric of the spell. "Did it work?" he croaked, his voice barely audible. He looked around the room. The stone floor where he had touched it was now covered in a thin layer of crystalline frost, as if the spell had drained every ounce of heat from the immediate vicinity. He hadn't mastered it. He had barely survived it. Bima closed his eyes, his head swimming. He could hear voices in the distance—the frantic footsteps of the library wardens checking for the source of the surge.

It was half empty and half complicated. “Even though they knew and understood… would you let them go through the loss they would experience?” Zaha softly asked. Harriet stood up, then sat on the edge of his bed. She was still looking into his eyes like she was staring into his soul. The woman touched the wound on his chest softly, whispering, “If it was you and Arai, I know you would do the same.” Zaha felt a cold stream spread from the woman’s touch. It was Healing Magic.