F&L: Chapter 69

The Ritual Period, as I had taken to mentally referring to the upcoming sixteen-day period, was fairly Jam-Packed. Not only did I have rituals to perform, classes to attend, tutoring sessions to go to, but I also had Cross-House Study Group Sessions to participate in, Clubs to attend, and personal training to undertake. It was more than a full schedule. It was close to insanity, some might even say too much so. Accordingly, I was going to have to cut my Club Participation and Personal Training Time down heavily in order to fit everything in and have enough time to decompress and avoid going mad from the workload.

Magnus Gamp's training, mind you, wasn't slowing down in the least. My tutor didn't believe in coddling people, which was what he thought giving me a break would be doing. If anything, he insisted on going harder. It was a variation of the sink or swim method, and if I were being honest, I couldn't say that it wasn't working. Every day of tutoring, he kicked my arse up and down the Hogwarts Training Field, and every day I got a little bit better at dueling and spell combat, taking longer and longer each time to lose. It even got to the point where, on the last training session before the Eclipse on the Ninth, I almost managed to pull off a victory.

It had been a sneaky tactic I had pulled on him at the last second, utilizing strategically placed fire spells and the first snowfall of the Year to subtly shape the battlefield. Every time I missed with a Globus Flammae, Incendio Dua, or Flammeum Spell, I scowled, projecting a slight air of disappointment before almost visibly clamping down on my emotions. The show convinced Magnus Gamp that those were real attempts at landing a hit when, in actuality, they were just more strategy. By the end, I had turned his half of the field into a sucking quagmire of mud from melted snow and ice. The only real challenge was lasting long enough to hit him with it.

Unfortunately, just as I had caught my tutor in the trap and flung an Incendio at him for the win, Magnus Gamp used battlefield transfiguration far in advance of what he had shown previously to transfigure the mud into doves. The sudden flock of birds was startled by my Tutor shouting at them, flapping their wings, and taking flight right into the Incendio Spell I had cast with enough power to overcome the standard Shield Charm. Instead of forcing a hit, which would have burned Magnus Gamp enough for him to call a halt for healing potions, I instead found a shower of baked clay and transfigured feathers were the fruits of my labor, followed almost immediately by a reversal, as Magnus Gamp turned the pressure up enough that I found myself bracketed by stunning spells, forced to dodge and utilize the Grit Shield and Scutum Charm, before being hit by an Expeliarmus that Magnus Gamp had snuck into the barrage of Stunners.

My wand went flying out of my grasp, and I dove to the ground instinctively, the incarcerous and follow-on full body bind sailing over my head. I began to push myself up to my feet to make a break for my fallen wand, only to find myself stuck fast to the ground, a stickfast hex sticking me in place long enough for a Stunner to wallop me in the side of the head. When I was awakened moments later, however, Magnus Gamp pressed his usual suite of fatigue-curing and healing potions into my grasp, along with my wand, not with the usual clench of the jaw and admonishments about doing better, but with praise. That was rare from my Tutor, but welcomed whenever it happened.

"Nice work with the strategy, Lad. I daresay that would have had even some of the Junior Aurors I've seen. That's the sort of thing that you ought to be doing more of in combat." Approved Magnus Gamp.

"Thank you, Sir. I thought I might have had you at the end, there." I offered.

"Don't get cocky, Lad. Junior Aurors are a foolish lot. They haven't had the experience yet to teach them to look more than one or two layers deep into a strategy. It's going to take more than that to fool a Veteran, never mind someone like the Elite Death Eaters of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle." Huffed Magnus Gamp.

"I'll keep that in mind." I responded with a nod.

"See that you do. You might have concocted a layered strategy on the fly, there, but you'll need more layers and more practice at it if you want to truly call yourself a Duelist." Intoned Magnus Gamp.

"Right. So what should I be doing then? And how?" I questioned.

"I can offer you a few tactical tips, but ultimately, everyone is going to have a different strategy that works best against them. You wouldn't use a strategy that relies primarily on Alchemy against a Master Alchemist, now would you?" Queried Magnus Gamp.

"No. I'd try something a lot more indirect." I answered.

"Such as?" Asked Magnus Gamp.

"Alchemy needs a lot of reagents to work properly. It's a lot like potions that way. I'd try and hit whatever logistics a Master Alchemist has before attacking the Alchemist themself." I offered.

"That's a good start, but it might not be enough. Suppose the Master Alchemist has allies? What then?" Questioned Magnus Gamp.

"I'd think of something." I frowned.

"Would you? What if you were under a time crunch and couldn't think of something?" Queried Magnus Gamp.

"I'd bring allies of my own." I answered.

"And if they were dead or simply indisposed?" Asked Magnus Gamp.

"I could use Spiritualism to summon some, I suppose. You taught me the Summoning and Pacting Spells." I hedged.

"That might work. Not many Wizards in Europe these days practice Spiritualism, though if you were facing a Houngan or Shaman from someplace like the Americas or Africa, as well as the Alchemist, it wouldn't. Even if it did, what did I tell you when teaching you the Summoning and Pacting Spells? There is always a price for that sort of help." Intoned Magnus Gamp.

"All right, I suppose you're right. I guess I'll have to start thinking deeper about tactics." I admitted, blowing out a sigh.

"Don't get me wrong, Lad. You're eons ahead of everyone else your age, but sometimes that isn't going to be enough. There are always going to be opponents stronger than you, with more varied skillsets. You have to work smarter, not harder, if you want to win battles against those types of opponents. Well, smarter or more ruthless, at any rate." Lectured Magnus Gamp.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"The Dark Lord, for example. He couldn't match Dumbledore one-for-one in straight combat during the war. Albus just had that much more experience than any other Wizard fighting. Instead, he fought on by being more ruthless. More willing to strike targets that should be off-limits by the norms and conduct of war, and more willing to utilize disposable pawns." Informed Magnus Gamp.

"How so?" I questioned.

"In this hypothetical scenario, not only would he have struck at the Alchemist's logistics, but he would have targeted the loved ones of the Alchemist's known associates, their children, family members, and spouses, for example, ensuring they could not aid the Alchemist in battle. He would have brought minions of his own, likely of the Undead variety, using them as spell fodder to soak up the Alchemist's defenses, setting up anti-apparition wards as his Undead kept the Alchemist busy to ensure he couldn't escape. Once the Alchemist was trapped, alone, with his defenses softened up and unable to create more for lack of logistical support, then the Dark Lord would have engaged with overwhelming force, slaughtering the Alchemist." Explained Magnus Gamp.

"That's awful. Not just the striking at women and children part, but the mass-creation of undead that strategy implies." I blinked, aghast.

"And that is how Dark Lords fight. Grindelwald was no different. His Muggle Puppets fed him a continuous stream of blood sacrifices, augmenting his armies with undead shock troops and giving him ample power for rituals. The Necromancers' war was the same, or did you think it was called such on a lark? To face an opponent such as that and hope to live, let alone come out ahead, you need to be damn smart." Pointed out Magnus Gamp.

"I guess so." I nodded.

And with that, I took my potions and got ready for another round of sparring. This time, trying to be even more tactical in my mindset and actions. It didn't work, but Magnus Gamp said it was a step in the right direction, at least, which was something. Mind you, sparring was far from the only thing we did during those training sessions. As stated, he also taught me the basics of Spiritualism.

These were the Summoning and Pacting Spells, along with the Spirit Shield Spell, which would be used as a defensive barrier against angry spirits, and the Lesser Banishment Spell, which would banish most lesser spirits back to the spirit world. These were, somewhat surprisingly, or perhaps not so, given where we were, largely Druidic Spells.

The first had the Invocation of Tar Amach and the wand movement of three spirals in a triangular formation. You had to have a Spirit firmly in mind when casting, otherwise the spell would fail. The second had the invocation Séalaithe Déanta and had the wand motion of pointing first at yourself and then at the Summoned Spirit, and was used to seal a pact between Wizard and Servant. The third had the invocation of Bacainn Aonair and the wand motion of a clockwise circle in the air in front of you. It would conjure a dome shield that no spirit could pass through physically, though it was not proof against powerful spirits, which could shatter it, and some spirits, such as Dementors, Totemic Spirits, or Nucklevee, would be able to pass right through it without shattering it. The last one had the invocation Díothú Géar and the wand motion of a point and a swish at the spirit to be banished. Unfortunately, it would not affect any spirit stronger than a Hellhound, Local Nature Spirit, or Ogre-Type Fae.

These were the basic mechanics of the Shaman's Art, but they were far from the be-all and end-all. After all, the standard refrain of the Necromancer and Shaman applied here. Do not call up what you cannot put down. Likewise, you had to know exactly what and who you were calling up and pacting with to be a successful Shaman. For example, if you wanted to pact with a Klabautermann, a type of Fae that lived in a ship, you had to know to offer it a buttered slice of bread, a pinch of pipe tobacco, and a jigger of rum, but you had to pact with it wearing a blindfold, with your eyes closed, or other such precaution. Laying eyes on the Klabautermann before you were pacted with it would cause enough bad luck to come down on the ship it was housed in that it would sink on its next voyage.

Accordingly, my lessons also involved the lore and habits of various types of nature spirits, fae, and demons, only minor ones for now, nothing that would get me in over my head, but enough that if I had to call one up for any reason, I would be able to successfully pact with it, or failing that, defend myself from it long enough to banish it. Notably, Magnus Gamp made sure to tell me that a Greater Water Leaper, like the Beast I had slain in the Maltraeth Marsh, was not one of these Minor Fae that he was comfortable with me dealing with. I'm sure throwing that into the lessons was meant to be amusing. For him, anyway.

Regardless, my tutoring sessions were fairly productive, and by the time the Ninth rolled around, I felt like I had as good a handle on Spiritualism as I did on Necromancy. Magnus Gamp concurred and told me that we would be switching over to more Ancient Runes for the next batch of lessons before the Christmas Holidays.

Hopefully, I could get his help with Oscan Runes, as my progress on those had been slow enough to qualify as glacial. . .

XXXX

Of course, aside from tutoring with Magnus Gamp, I also had classes to deal with. Fortunately, the courseload over these sixteen days was lighter than it had been previously, especially in Herbology and Astronomy, where we were doing revision on Magical Mold and the geography of the Moon, respectively. No, it would be in Transfiguration where things had kept the previous pace, Professor McGonagall being cut from a similarly stern cloth as Magnus Gamp was. Over the sixteen-day period, we had three separate Transfiguration Classes, each with a new lesson.

In the first class, we learned the Acuere Acuo spell, which could give any inorganic object a sharp edge, even something like parchment or rope. Speaking of which, the way we were supposed to practice it was by using it to sharpen the end of a piece of folded parchment and then using that folded parchment to cut up a block of Gruyère cheese that had been donated by the House Elves of the Hogwarts Kitchens to each and every student. It was honestly a fairly simple Transfiguration for me to get down, owing to the fact that I had watched the Read or Die OVA back in my Old Life on Earth, having managed to get a fan-translation on the internet about six months before I'd woken up as Blaise. All I had to do was imagine some of the stuff I'd seen in that OVA as I cast, and the rest was easy.

Accordingly, I managed it first in the class, even ahead of Parvati, Tracey, and Daphne, something which was rare for me and which drew something that I could only describe as a Look from Daphne. Regardless, I moved to help Harry and Ron once again. Once more, they had some choice words for me about me outdoing Daphne at a subject she was supposed to be better than me at.

"Bloody Hell, Mate. Would it kill you to hold back a bit?" Questioned Ron.

"What do you mean? Daphne giving me that look?" I queried.

"For your own safety, you might want to stop outdoing her at Transfiguration." Offered Harry.

"Come on, Mate. This is only twice out of how many lessons? I'm sure next time we'll be back to our usual routine." I responded.

"You sure about that?" Asked Ron.

"No offense, Blaise, but everyone knows that you're obsessed with learning new magic." Added Harry.

"I don't follow." I blinked.

"Look, it's like this, yeah? Folks know that once you set your mind on learning something, you don't stop, right?" Questioned Ron.

"I'm with you so far." I nodded.

"Well, look at it from Daphne's perspective, Mate. To her, it probably looks like you've set your mind on learning transfiguration." Added Harry.

"Yeah, and you've started to get it down faster than her." Continued Ron.

"Wait, you think she thinks I set my mind to outdoing her?" I queried.

"It does sort of look that way, Mate." Affirmed Harry.

"From her point of view, anyway." Chimed in Ron.

"Great, lectured about tact by Ron Weasley. I'll never live this down." I muttered.

"Just think about it, all right?" Asked Harry.

"Fine. Now let's get this lesson over with." I agreed.

By the time class ended, I had earned five points for Slytherin and another five silver points for me in the house rankings. I also had something new to think about regarding Transfiguration Class and Daphne. Harry and Ron seemed to think it looked like I was trying to one-up the Girl who was probably my closest friend in this life at her own game. And if even Ron could see it, then I was forced to at least consider the possibility. I eventually had to concede the point, coming to a decision to hold back during dinner, the first course of which was French Onion Soup, likely topped with the Gruyere we had sliced up during Transfiguration Class in a nifty bout of free labor for the Kitchen Staff.

Regardless, the next transfiguration class came, and I resolved to hold back in order to keep my friendship with Daphne in the black, to use a distasteful financial metaphor. It turned out, however, that I didn't need to do so. This particular week had us learning the Milk to Cheese Transfiguration, which was something I struggled with. On my first attempt, I didn't get cheese so much as I did something that wasn't quite cheese and wasn't quite milk, but was a bit of both while also being neither. It also stunk something horrible. The limits of my approach to transfiguration became horrifically clear.

After all, I knew that to get cheese from milk, you had to separate the curds and whey. I also knew it had something to do with heating and pressing, but not the exact process. Therefore, when I tried to Transfigure the milk into cheese, I got a bunch of half-melted, squashed curds in a soupy puddle of whey that smelled sour. Professor McGonagall had to vanish the whole thing and forced me to start again. By the time I managed it, largely by brute-forcing things, not only had Daphne, Tracey, and Parvati managed it, but so had Harry, Millie, Neville, Ron, and even Draco Malfoy. Ninth place wasn't bad, mind you, but it stung my pride that Draco had managed it before I had. He didn't say anything about it, of course. He wouldn't dare chance it after our duel and wager went in my favor earlier, but the smug bastard wouldn't stop smirking for the rest of the day.

Fortunately, the next class had equilibrium restored. Here, we were taught the Scribblifors Spell, which turned objects into quills. We were each handed a spoon and told to transfigure it into a quill. This was much easier for me, being both intimately familiar with spoons and quills by now. I managed it fairly swiftly, getting it at around the same time that Tracey did, which was after both Daphne and Parvati, effectively tying for third place this week. Notably, Draco didn't manage it until after Neville and Millie had both also gotten it down, making him sixth in the class to get it.

Regardless, Daphne gave me a small smile as we left class that week, clearly satisfied that our friendship wasn't in danger thanks to my actions. That was all to the good, especially given how things with her had been lately. Half the time, I couldn't tell if she wanted to kiss me or hex me, and that was a scary thought, both ways. After all, I was pretty sure the power dynamics inherent in me being mentally still a couple of years older than she was would doom anything that came of the former to failure, while the latter was scary for a different, more potentially painful and humiliating reason. Thankfully, it seemed any feelings one way or the other would keep for the time being.

Thank all the Gods. . .

XXXX

Aside from classes, there were also clubs to be had over these sixteen days. Unfortunately, ritual preparation and participation, along with my tutoring sessions and classes, meant that I was forced to limit club participation severely. In fact, aside from the cross-house study group, I would only be able to make it to a single meeting of the Potions Club. That instance was, unfortunately, immediately hijacked by Professor Trelawney, who assigned me detention for tracking whitewash through the halls. It seemed that while I had managed to avoid Peeves' latest divebombing stunt, I had neglected to avoid stepping into its aftermath, and a trail of white footprints had followed me until I ran into the Divination Professor.

Instead of attending potions club, I wound up spending the evening helping Hagrid muck out the Thestral Stables just ahead of the first snow of Winter. Something which not only tired me out significantly, which not only was a dirty and frankly stinky job, but which also saw me be nipped twice by disgruntled thestrals when I got too close to their stalls. The first time was a lighter nip, just a bite on my palm as I leaned against a wooden railing. That was swiftly fixed with an Episkey Spell. However, the second time actually took a small chunk out of my ear.

At that point, Hagrid decided I'd been punished enough and took me to the Hospital Wing to have Madame Pomfrey regenerate the chunk of ear that the Thestral had bitten out of me. As we walked, with me pressing a bloody cloth against my head to stem the blood flow, Hagrid just shook his head at the whole predicament, blowing a heavy sigh out as he did so.

"It's th' durndest thing. Th' Thestrals usually ain't th' sort ter jus' nip a bloke in th' ear fer no reason. I ain't seen nothin' like it in all me years o' keepin' th' grounds." Wondered Hagrid.

"For some reason, Magical Creatures just seem to get ornery around me." I admitted.

"Aye? Tha's some kind o' curse that is. Ya might want ter get that sorted, I reckon, 'cause I ain't seen nothin' like it afore." Mused Hagrid.

"It's odd. Non-Magical Animals don't react the same way, just magical ones. We had a perfectly mundane Neopolitan Mastiff when I was little, Amichetto. I always remember him as being a big, dumb, friendly dog." I sighed.

"Yeah? Ya said ya had 'im? What happened ter him?" Questioned Hagrid.

"Non-Magical Breeds don't live as long as the Magical ones, you know that. Amichetto was already two years old when I was born. Neopolitan Mastiffs only live around ten years at most. He died when I was eight." I sighed.

"Shame. Why din't yer ma go fer a magical breed, then?" Queried Hagrid.

"She had a saying, 'Una cosa non è bella perché dura'. It means 'A Thing is not beautiful because it lasts. I suppose she was applying that to Amichetto, too." I shrugged.

"Yer ma sounds like an interestin' lady." Offered Hagrid.

"It's funny, I'm still learning things about her that I didn't know until after she died. Apparently, she used to hang out with Tom from the Leaky Cauldron, too." I chuckled.

"Life's got a funny way 'bout it sometimes." Responded Hagrid.

"Apparently." I affirmed.

Soon after that, however, we made it to the Hospital Wing, where Madame Pomfrey ushered me in with a sigh to begin regenerating the chunk the Thestral had taken out of my ear. Hagrid left to return to the stables, and that was that. I spent the remaining two hours of my detention having my ear healed. Apparently, regenerating cartilage like this didn't require specialized potions, but could be done with a few spells. Most of the remaining two hours were spent with me having to listen to Madame Pomfrey demand that I be more careful while she cast an increasingly odd-sounding number of diagnostic charms to ensure that I was healthy. I think one of them was even in some form of Nigerian Yoruba, which was interesting by itself.

At any rate, aside from that, there were also Cross-House Study Group Sessions. Most of which were spent with me ensuring everyone who was undergoing the Ritual of Nanna-Suen's Wisdom during the eclipse was sufficiently practiced with the Sumerian Language to not bottle the ritual. The last thing I wanted was for any of my friends to inadvertently insult the Sumerian Moon God and get smote. That was just not something I was willing to countenance. Mostly, this meant helping Ron out. He was having the most trouble with the language, simply because it was so unlike modern English.

"The word is Nir, not Ash. Beseech, not Want." I frowned, correcting Ron's phrasing again.

"Beseech, want, what's the difference?" Asked Ron.

"To a Witch or Wizard? Not much. To a God? One's the difference between getting what you want and being struck by a bolt of lightning from the literal heavens." I retorted.

"Point taken." Grumbled Ron.

"Try it again." I encouraged.

"Ga Nir Zu Abgal, En Aba-Ni Eḫursag, En-Abba Nanna-Suen, Rig-Ni Inim-Ki Ush-Gu. A-Ru-En Dingir-Ra-Ke Nanna-Suen Mud-Bur-Ra, Ta-A-Da." Tried Ron.

"Close. Try it this way." I nodded before reciting the ritual request and dedication.

Eventually, however, Ron managed to get it down, matching the tone, grammar, and intonation. It took time, however, and two full Cross-House Study Group Sessions, but by the end of it, I was confident that he would do just fine with the ritual. Unfortunately, Ron wasn't the only one having trouble, and I would often have to help Harry, Neville, Millie, Hannah, or Susan, which was the reason why my main goal of helping Ron took so long. In the end, however, between myself, Daphne, Hermione, Tracey, Terry, and Padma, we had everyone up to snuff in time for the Ritual of Nanna-Suen's Wisdom to take place during the Eclipse.

By the time we were ready to go, I was sure that everyone would make it through with flying colors. . .

XXXX

Ritual casting and the preparation for said rituals took up much of the time over these sixteen days. Thankfully, between myself, Millie, and Daphne, we had enough Silver Points to go around to fully book out the Slytherin Ritual Chamber for the duration while still not sacrificing our lead over Draco and his group in the House Standings. This did, however, mean that we had to divide up our friends into smaller ritual cadres to make the best use of our silver points, preparation, and time in the ritual chambers.

I found myself with a group consisting of Padma, Neville, and Susan. Daphne had taken Terry, Harry, and Hannah, while Millie had taken Ron, Hermione, and Tracey. Three groups of four, each doing our own suite of rituals over the course of the sixteen-day period. We began with the two easiest ones, the Ritual of Airmed's Sickle and the Ritual of Sucullus' Craft. Technically, these could both be performed at any time, as the astrological conditions needed for them were available year-round, that being performed with the North Star visible overhead and being performed under the Noonday Sun, respectively. We wanted to make use of them while we had the ritual chamber, however.

These didn't require any real dedications, chants, or any such thing. They simply required the proper offering, astrological signs, and ritual motions. First, Airmed's Sickle required the sacrifice of a bundle of three nettle blossoms, six yarrow stalks, and nine rosemary branches, along with eighteen drops of blood and three pinches of gravedirt, and a vial of shed tears into a brazier with the north star in the sky. I had gone to great lengths to procure everything needed for all the rituals, and so when we entered the Slytherin Ritual Chamber that first night, everything was in order. Not only was the skylight open, showing the shining glint of Polaris, but the bronze brazier was already lit atop the altar, and the ritual implements were already laid out, both the plant ones, the bodily fluids, and the gravedirt.

The only implements missing were the droplets of blood, which had to be shed on the night the ritual was performed. However, there was a bronze ritual knife set aside on the altar for just that purpose. On seeing that, however, I noticed Neville grow a touch pale. Was he squeamish about this? That might be an issue. After all, if he cocked this up by giving the wrong blood offering, or worse, refusing to go through with it, he'd lose a lot more than just a few drops of blood. Best to reassure him.

"Hey, chin-up, Nev. It'll be over before you know it." I assuaged.

"I d-don't like thinking about c-cutting myself." Stammered Neville.

"Nev, we'll be here the whole time with you." I insisted.

"Promise?" Questioned Neville.

"Of course! We wouldn't leave a Mate." Huffed Susan.

"Definitely. We'll be right here beside you. Don't worry about that." Affirmed Padma.

"Right." Nodded Neville, swallowing his fear.

"Come on, let's begin." I insisted.

"You first. I think I need a moment." Remarked Neville.

"Go on ahead, we'll stick with Neville." Agreed Susan.

"Are you sure?" I queried.

"Yeah. Maybe seeing someone else go through it first will help Neville get over the fear of cutting his thumb open." Confirmed Padma.

"Right. Here I go." I nodded.

I stepped up to the altar and began the ritual, taking the bronze ritual knife and first cutting up the nettle blossoms, then the yarrow stalks, and then the rosemary branches, feeding each batch into the brazier in turn. With each batch, the flames in the brazier grew more intense. Then came the difficult part. Taking the blade, I pressed the point to the thumb of my left hand, cutting it open and squeezing out eighteen drops of blood. I counted them exactly, and on the eighteenth droplet fed into the flames, the fire in the brazier turned a light bluish-green in color, as if the magic had attuned itself. Next, I fed in the three pinches of gravedirt, turning the flames from light bluish green to white, before adding the vial of shed tears. As the tears hit the flames, a puff of smoke hissed out of the fire as it died back down to its original level. The smoke crossed through the beam of light from the north star, and I breathed it in.

Suddenly, my mind was filled with all sorts of Herbology Knowledge that I hadn't had before, bits of lessons from the past several years that I had forgotten or simply skimmed past solidifying themselves in my mind, giving me a fuller appreciation for the lessons at Hogwarts and the ones I'd had in my Mother's Garden. I knew now that I would retain most, if not all, of the Herbology Knowledge I learned for the next year and a day, even if the topic were more advanced than I had any right to understand. As I stepped back, grinning to myself at the successful ritual, Susan stepped forth to repeat it.

Susan's ritual was likewise successful, and as she stepped back, Padma stepped forth to undertake the ritual, doing so successfully. All the while, through the multi-colored flames, bloodletting, and sacrifice, I kept an eye on Neville. I didn't need Empathic powers to tell me that he was screwing his courage to the sticking place. That much was clear just from watching him. It was writ all over his face. Finally, when Padma stepped back, Neville scrunched up his face, took a deep breath, and stepped forth. His ritual was successful in the end, just like the rest of ours had been, and when he stepped back, he breathed a sigh of relief that it was over, sucking on his thumb to soothe the cut.

That pretty much set the tone for how the rest of the rituals went for our group. Neville was still a bit squeamish about all the blood involved, but it helped that many of the other rituals required animal blood of a specific type instead of human blood from the supplicant. The only other real issue we had with Neville and squeamishness came during the ritual of Prometheus' Gaze. That required the sacrifice of the heart of an Eagle, which seemed to squick Neville out something fierce. He physically cringed at the sight of the Avian Organs on the Altar when we showed up for that particular ritual.

"What's wrong, Nev? I thought we got you past this?" I asked.

"A few drops of blood, sure. Animal blood, fair enough. But an actual heart? It's all a bit too much for me, I'm afraid." Sighed Neville.

"Do you want to sit this one out?" Questioned Padma.

"No, just give me a moment." Insisted Neville.

"Are you sure?" Queried Susan.

"Yeah, I just need a bit." Nodded Neville.

"You know there's no shame in backing out, right, Nev? I'd rather you back out than get cold feet mid-ritual and insult a Titan. You know that's worse, yeah?" I asked.

"I said I'll be fine. You don't have to keep asking. Still, though, I appreciate it." Confirmed Neville.

"Of course, Nev. We're mates, we always have your back." Nodded Susan.

"Exactly. If you can't count on your mates, who can you count on?" Grinned Padma.

"Thanks, guys. I think I might need you to go first again." Admitted Neville.

"No problem." I affirmed.

And with that, I stepped up to begin the ritual, taking one of the Eagle Hearts and placing it on the pyre of fennel stalks, before taking the flint and tinder and striking them against each other. You had to do this the old-fashioned way, after all. If you used magic to light the pyre, it could interfere with the ritual, or worse, cause your magic to be sacrificed along with the Eagle Heart. Eventually, however, the pyre caught alight, burning the Eagle Heart up as the smoke rose into the night air, wafting southeast toward the Caucasus Mountains where Prometheus was chained.

Instantly, I was struck with a blast of foresight. Not a vision, but close enough. I knew suddenly that there would be one more Petrification before the Christmas Holidays, and I knew who it would be, too. Parvati Patil would be caught coming back from one of her club activities late the night before the end of term and petrified near the fourth-floor entrance to the hidden staircase between the fourth-floor corridor and the Fat Lady's Corridor. I knew the time and the place, and I could prevent it from happening. I was definitely going to try, at least. As I stepped back away from the altar, and Padma stepped forward to begin her own ritual, I was going to make damned sure I did so. Just in case, however, it wouldn't hurt to have a little insurance.

As Padma's ritual ended and she stepped back, I resolved to let Harry and Ron know as soon as possible. Padma looked like she'd seen something as well. I cocked an eyebrow at her, and she just mouthed the words 'Luna' and 'Basilisk' at me again. I just nodded in response. Padma and Luna were Housemates. She could help Luna avoid another bout with the Basilisk. And if Padma was busy keeping Luna safe from repeat petrification, I didn't need to bother her with worries about her sister. Not when I was already on the case, and would bring in Harry and Ron, to boot. We had to be smart about this, after all.

Regardless, Susan finished her ritual, and Neville stepped forth, rearranging the fennel stalks to form a pyre and then picking up the last Eagle Heart between thumb and forefinger, making a face like he'd just bitten into a lemon the entire time, clearly grossed out. However, he still went through with the ritual. By the time we were all done, I was already halfway through a plan on how to help keep Parvati from being petrified. I honestly wasn't certain if I would have uncovered Parvati being a near-future Basilisk Victim without this ritual. In my book, that made all the effort I'd gone through to arrange this worthwhile.

At any rate, the rest of the rituals went more or less swimmingly. All of them, Sucullus' Craft, Apollo's Benevolence, Pelagic Adaption, Lealaps' Nose, even Mimir's Backward Glance, with its requirement of three drops of blood from the supplicant. In the end, all that remained was the most important of the rituals we were undertaking before the Christmas Holidays, the Ritual of Nanna-Suen's Wisdom. When the time came, I was determined to finish it all out strong.

As we entered the Slytherin Ritual Chamber for the last time this year, the skylight was open and showing the Lunar Eclipse that was currently clouding over the sun. Strung up by their back hooves was a quartet of unconscious, white bulls. The Ritual Cedar Tub, carved with images of recumbent crescent moons, the altar, the ritual knife, and the Boat-Shaped Copper Bowl. It was all laid out, neat as you please. Neville, by this point, had managed to get himself to a headspace where he wouldn't like bleeding the bull, but he'd do it with a bit of encouragement. I could tell that just by looking at his face and reading his emotions with Empathy confirmed it.

"I'll go first again. Just watch, do what I do, say what I say, and remember our lessons." I intoned.

"Right." Nodded Neville, swallowing his fear in a literal sense.

"Don't worry, Nev." Placated Susan.

"Yeah, we've been with you so far, haven't we? We wouldn't abandon you now." Soothed Padma.

"This is the last one, Nev. Plus, this one gives the best boost. It doubles your control over your magic. That's one hell of a Christmas Present." I grinned.

"Yeah. Just give me a minute." Grunted Neville, clearly wrestling with his stomach.

"Haven't we always?" Grinned Padma.

"Yeah, take your time, Mate. We'll be right here." Agreed Susan.

"In the meantime, I'll just get mine done first. That way you can see there's nothing to be scared of." I affirmed.

And with that, I stepped up to grab the ritual dagger, making my way over to the first Bull, and positioning the Cedar Tub directly underneath. As soon as it was in place, I took the knife and cut the Bull's throat. Thick crimson blood gushed forth, filling the ritual cedar tub below. Five minutes passed by as the tub filled with blood, and I watched as Neville's face paled, only for him to take a shaky breath and steel himself, helped along by consoling pats on the back from Susan and by Padma helping to take his mind off the sight with jokes every now and again. When the tub was full, I bent down to haul it up. It was surprisingly light for something that held a Bull's worth of blood, though I figured that was the magic of the ritual.

As I brought the tub to the altar, I began leaning on the skill with Sumerian I had picked up through Xenoglossy to get the invocation completely right. Hoisting the tub up to the eclipse glaring down through the skylight, I began the ritual invocation, speaking in near-flawless Sumerian as I did so.

"I beseech thee, Wise One, Lord Whose Abode is in the Mountains, Honored Father Nanna-Suen! Bestow upon me command over my magic, in exchange, I offer thee this bowl of life's blood, in thanks for thy efforts, oh Lord of the Moon!" I intoned in Ancient Sumerian.

Then, I began to pour the blood out of the tub and into the Boat-Shaped Copper Bowl. Despite the tub full of blood being easily four times the size of the bowl, however, the bowl did not overflow. This, too, was all part of the magic of the ritual. As I emptied the last of the blood from the tub into the bowl, there was a flash of white light, as if the moon and sun had pulsed together in alignment, shooting a beam of combined light straight into me. I staggered for a moment at the power I felt surge through me, before steadying myself as the surge of power left me. After it had passed, I felt somehow more solid, more in control, and I knew the ritual had worked.

As I stepped back, Susan stepped forth, following in my example, and then, when she was finished, Padma did the same. Finally, it was Neville's turn, and he frowned as he looked over at me. I nodded at him, his frown deepening, but he took a deep breath and stepped forth to perform the ritual just the same. When he was finished, however, Neville looked pale, almost like he was going to throw up. Thankfully, this was the last ritual, and the Eclipse was fading regardless. As we left, Neville turned to throw up, just as Daphne's group was exiting the copy of the Ritual Room that she had booked out.

"What's wrong with Neville?" Questioned Harry.

"He's probably a bit squeamish." Opined Terry.

"Give him a moment." I insisted.

"Hey, Nev. You did good, Mate. It's all right." Soothed Susan, rubbing Neville's back as Neville dry heaved over the floor.

"Is he going to be all right?" Queried Hannah.

"He'll be fine. He went through with every ritual, just like the rest of us." Nodded Padma.

"Really?" Asked Daphne.

"Really." I confirmed.

Then Millie's group exited their own copy of the Slytherin Ritual Room they had booked out, and spotted Neville. Tracey let out a groan and rolled her eyes at the sight of Neville's dry heaving, even as Millie sighed at it.

"What happened?" Questioned Ron.

"Yes, why is Neville throwing up?" Queried Hermione.

"I'm sure he just hasn't been around this much blood before." Insisted Tracey.

"Though I do wonder if he actually went through with it?" Asked Millie.

"He did." I nodded.

Shortly afterward, Neville straightened, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robe. He'd clearly finished throwing up, even if he still looked a tad pale to me. He turned toward me, nodding at me. I returned the nod.

"Sorry about your floor. If it's all the same to you, though, I think I've had enough blood for one month." Apologized Neville.

"No worries, Mate. We're good." I assuaged.

And with that, the rituals were complete. It was just a shame I didn't have time to actually do any personal training between having to arrange everything. In the end, all I could do was take my Bluemoon Elixir and get some perfunctory training with Occlumency in during the few periods I had between rituals, tutoring sessions, classes, and cross-house study group sessions. It was all worth it, though. After all, my friends and I now had an advantage that many others lacked, thanks to having extra control over our magic from the Ritual of Nanna-Suen's Wisdom.

Even if Neville had puked so much that Snape had banned us from booking any more Sessions in the Slytherin Ritual Rooms until further notice. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here we have the next chapter. It's a bit of a long one, as there's a lot that went down in terms of rituals in addition to the usual schedule. Suffice it to say, Blaise and his friends now have a hell of an advantage, and it's one that's going to grow as the years pass and they layer other rituals on top, such as the Ritual of Artemis' Skill and the Ritual of Ba'al Hamon's Might. The plan, such as it is, is that by the time Voldemort returns, if that even still happens, Blaise and all his friends will have three and a half times the usual control they would have over their magic, while having one and a half times the usual power they would have had.

At any rate, the next chapter will be the final batch of classes and tutoring sessions for nineteen-ninety-two, then we'll have one more chapter as Blaise tries to prevent Parvati from being petrified by the Basilisk before the Christmas Holidays happen.

Stay tuned. . .