autumn | severus snape

thirty seven

The library was quiet, the kind of silence that felt thick and heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of parchment or the soft creak of wooden chairs. Candles floated in the air, their flames casting warm, flickering light over the rows of books.

Ophelia sat hunched over the heavy, leather-bound book at a corner table, her eyes scanning the faded text with growing unease. The Thief's Bond wasn't mentioned by name anywhere, she assumed it was described on one of the missing pages.

Her fingers traced the delicate etchings on one of the pages, her lips moving silently as she read one of the passages:

The Sanguine Siphon.

Her pulse quickened as the description unfolded before her.

"The Sanguine Siphon creates a powerful parasitic link between two individuals through the use of blood magic..."

She flipped the page, her fingers trembling as she absorbed the details.

Key Elements of the Curse.

The first section described the Bonding Ritual. The caster needed the victim's blood, combined with a magical object, a bloodstone, a relic, something deeply personal to the victim.

The second section chilled her further. The Mutual Weakening and Amplification. As the victim weakened, the caster grew stronger, feeding off their magic like a parasite.

"A counter-ritual known as the Severance of Vitae can be performed to sever the bond, but only under specific conditions: a time of heightened magical energy or during a lapse in the strength of the bond... It has never been performed successfully."

Ophelia leaned back in her chair, staring up at the dim ceiling as dread settled in her chest. There were some evil curses in the book, magical bonds that could ruin lives. Whatever the Thief's Bond was, it was certainly not going to be any better.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. She quickly pushed the book aside and grabbed a random piece of parchment, pretending to be lost in notes as Madam Pince walked by, her sharp eyes scanning the rows of tables.

Once the librarian had moved on, Ophelia slid the book into her bag. She stood, her jaw tight. She needed answers, and soon.

Ophelia made her way back from the library, her bag heavy and her thoughts heavier still. Her mind was racing with the contents of the book she'd just read, her heart pounding as she pieced together the terrifying implications of the Sanguine Siphon. She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

A sharp yank on her bag nearly knocked her off balance.

"What the—" she gasped, turning around, but before she could see her attackers, a rough hand clamped over her mouth and another tied a blindfold around her eyes.

Panic flared in her chest as her bag and wand was ripped away. "Let go of me!" She shouted, her voice muffled as she struggled against her captors.

"Shut it, Delisle," a cold voice hissed.

Ophelia reached for Teddy's stone in her pocket but her arms were pinned as she was dragged forward, her feet stumbling over the uneven ground. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with spells and curses, but the blindfold made it impossible to focus.

She dug her heels into the dirt, thrashing as hard as she could. "What do you want?!"

"Your father is a murderer, and someone needs to pay," one of them sneered.

Her hands were bound, but she focused all her energy into her magic, willing it to rise. A surge of anger coursed through her, and with it, a pulse of raw magic.