Mudbloods Harry Potter Novels & Stories

"We didn't want this happen" "You did! You whore!" Maddy hissed. Tears starting to pour out from her eyes. "My Rodrigo was dead because of the two of you-" "You lied to us all" the captain interrupted the old lady pulling her from behind. He looked at Maria with his unfathomable eyes. "Now this village is damned because of you and your daughter!" "My daughter is not a Badblood!" Maria protested but lost in the crowd of faces of the angry villagers. "Oh seeesh! She is!" shouted Maddy and everybody looked at her. "She bleeds gold! That's not a human blood. She's a mons-"

Leora nodded and started talking. Leora is indeed different than other student. Of course, because she has superior human descendants. Not only because she has a holy blood, but she also has abilities above the normaly human being generally. Only listen once and she will remember forever. Only reading once and she will also keep it in her mind. All the things that were seen, heard, felt and sniffed by her, though only once must have been well remembered.

I stepped outside the tent. The sky was pale. Morning. The camp looked different. The fire pit was cold. Some tents had fallen sideways like someone pushed them. Some chairs were broken. Others scattered. A cooking pot was turned over. It looked messy. Like when children fight over toys and leave everything scattered. But no one was there to pick it up. “Cobra?” I whispered. My voice sounded small. No answer. I took another step forward. That’s when I saw him. A troop. He was lying near the fire pit.

“Our leader, Julia. But even she is not a Pureblood.” Debbys words repeated in my ears like a whisper of a ghost. “You are a pureblood”. I blinked at him, confused by his words. “What’s the difference between a True-Blood and a Pureblood?” Martin smiled faintly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “A Pureblood Cupbearer is a myth, a legend. None have existed for centuries. Julia, as a True-Blood, is the closest we’ve come to that level of power. She is our guiding light, our protector.”

My hand stopped on a medical record tucked behind the cover of an old book. Sapphire Bloodworth was listed there, not as a victim of some tragedy or attack like the article said, but as a mother. She didn't just have one child. She had two. The first was a talented sorcerer who’d inherited the Bloodworth water element. But the second—whose father’s identity had been crudely scrubbed from the records—was listed as having a genetic anomaly. A hybrid. A werewolf-sorcerer. Just like Lulu.

I scream, clutching my belly and bringing my glow to the surface in warning. A few of them step back. Nobody wants to mess with the crazy hybrid. A glass vial smashes over my head, hitting the large metal wall behind me. Looking up, I watch the fluid from the vial slowly drip down the smooth surface, its purplish tinge oxidizing into a bloodish brown color as it hisses and steams its way down the wall. I don’t know what that spell does when it hits flesh, and based on the smell, I don’t want to know.

“They’re interested in the Resonance.” She pointed to a specific marker on the chart—a sequence of genes that was highlighted in red. “The Ares bloodline has a specific genetic anomaly. It’s a hyper-sensitivity to environment. In the wrong hands, it leads to the paranoia and cruelty of your father and Laredo. But in the right hands—the hands of an architect, for instance—it leads to a nearly supernatural ability to manipulate space and perception.” I felt a cold shiver. My “gift” for architecture, the way I could feel the light and the shadows… it wasn’t a talent. It was a mutation.

Stefan Malfoy. "You're just one pathetic soul, you know that right, Lucinda?? Huh??" I cursed as I held her throat firmly. "You think that impostor, that weakling would come to save you??" I scoffed as I laughed really hard, looking at her eyes filled with tears.

Hence, Taggart took Matthew's words as an insult. "If you call me mud blood again, I will chop off your fucking head!" Taggart roared his threat. "Fuck, you!" Matthew struggled, though he couldn't. Taggart is the only hybrid in the pack, so fighting him is nearly difficult. “Tagg, let him go! Tagg!”

On the eighth day, scouts reported that Liesel's army had entered the Black Forest. They were moving faster than expected, driven by hunger and rage and the dark magic that animated them. Their numbers had grown to nearly a thousand, a writhing mass of corrupted half-bloods who no longer remembered their names or their families or their lives. They were just creatures now, beasts with empty eyes and dripping fangs, following Liesel's commands because they could not do anything else. Elif gathered her army in the meadow. Five hundred half-bloods, scarred and weary and terrified. But they stood tall, their chins lifted, their eyes bright. They were ready.