Chapter 285 – Blessing
The power of the gods was nothing short of a curse to modern wizards.
As the incarnation of the gentle and nurturing Goddess Shakti, how could Parvati—revered as the Snow Mountain Goddess—cast such a malicious spell?
Yet the truth was far more complex. What the modern magical world called a blood curse was, in essence, a blessing—a divine gift, distorted through time and mortal understanding.
Unlike the British embodiment of Death, who required artifacts to contain his power, the Indian deities bestowed their strength directly upon mortals.
Their blessings were inscribed upon the flesh and spirit themselves.
Through these blessings, divine energy intertwined with human magic, merging with the souls of those who were once wizards—but no longer merely human.
Nagini's so-called curse was, in fact, a divine metamorphosis.
It allowed her to become a serpentine magical creature capable of independent evolution—an achievement far beyond even the most accomplished Animagi.
Likewise, the Greengrass family's "curse," inherited only through their female line, ensured that every daughter born was a witch. No Greengrass woman had ever been a Squib.
The essence of wizardkind, Alexander mused, was not so different from the essence of the gods themselves. That was why the divine blessing—when forced upon mortals—became fatal.
Just like Astoria Greengrass.
In the original timeline, she died suddenly in August 2019, only two years after sending her son, Scorpius, off to Hogwarts.
She had been perfectly healthy—and yet she passed away at thirty-seven.
The blood curse was indeed terrifying.
Alexander had long suspected that Voldemort's attempt to reach Level Six, to ascend as a demigod-wizard, was not merely born of ambition. It might have been… inspired by Nagini's blood curse.
After all, Voldemort's transformation had become eerily serpentine.
And when Peter Pettigrew restored his master's body, Voldemort had used Nagini's venom and blood in his reconstruction. It fit too perfectly.
To craft a complete potion required countless trials—but Voldemort, in his wraith-like state, lacked both time and resources.
That left only one explanation: he had drawn upon Nagini's divine essence—the lingering fragment of the Dark Earth Mother's power within her blood.
That possibility alone explained why he cherished her so deeply—why she became his final living Horcrux.
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"Fragile?" Penelope Clearwater interrupted, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook. "Aren't gods simply the most powerful wizards of the first generation? Nagini and the Greengrass witches are wizards too. Why couldn't they withstand that power?"
"Because they are wizards," Alexander replied calmly.
He set down his quill and leaned back. "Nagini could maintain her humanity for years, but every time she transformed, she eroded it. The Greengrass women were the same. Each spell they cast drew on the divine blood running through their veins. Eventually, the blessing consumed what their mortal nature could bear."
"So," Penelope reasoned, "if they refrained from using magic altogether—Nagini from transforming, and the Greengrasses from casting—"
"They would likely have lived as humans until death," Alexander finished.
"But being a witch means living with magic. Every use of power feeds the blessing until it overwhelms them."
Penelope tapped her quill thoughtfully, her brow furrowed. "Wait—according to you, Nagini encountered two Dark Lords and Dumbledore himself. Is that why they all reached the level of demigods you mentioned?"
Her logic was sharp as ever. Few carriers of such a curse existed, and the divine origin made it priceless. By reasoning alone, both Grindelwald and Dumbledore should have taken an interest in it.
Alexander chuckled softly. "No, Penelope. You're not wrong—but not entirely right either."
Penelope puffed out her cheeks in protest.
"Grindelwald and Dumbledore never realized what the blood curse truly was," he explained.
"They each reached Level Six for different reasons. Talent, faith, and—most importantly—the Blood Alliance they forged together."
He paused, lowering his voice slightly. "Two powerful wizards—bound by love, yet repelled by it. Wanting to be close, yet terrified of the pain it would bring. Their hearts rejected intimacy even as their souls intertwined. That contradiction, fused with the magic of their vow not to harm each other, created something unique—something miraculous. They could share vision and power, yet remain locked within themselves."
Alexander's tone softened. "That paradox became their source of strength. It was a miracle of love that can never be recreated."
He gave a small smile. "Dumbledore triumphed because his love was pure—Grindelwald's was not."
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Kate, who had been half-listening while finishing her sundae, finally leaned forward, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "Then why were they interested in Nagini at all? You said they did come into contact with her, right? What did Voldemort rely on, if not her curse?"
Alexander's smile deepened. "Because of another person entirely—Credence Barebone. Or, as he was later known… Aurelius Dumbledore."
Kate nearly dropped her spoon. "Wait—another Dumbledore?!"
Penelope looked equally intrigued, her quill frozen mid-air.
Alexander continued, voice calm but carrying weight. "Credence was one of the most powerful Obscurials in history—and the longest-lived. Grindelwald saw him as a weapon to overthrow Muggle society, perhaps even as a replacement for Albus himself. Dumbledore, in contrast, only wanted to save him—to guide a lost kinsman home."
"Because the power of an Obscurus is inherently unstable," Penelope murmured. "That's why most of them die young."
Alexander nodded. "Exactly. And because of their fixation on Credence, both Dumbledore and Grindelwald overlooked Nagini—the woman beside him. In their eyes, she was merely his companion, nothing more."
He sighed softly, his gaze distant. "But fate is cruelly ironic. The
woman they ignored carried within her the blood of gods."
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(End of Chapter 285)
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