The transition from the cozy, modern Granger household to the ancient, aristocratic Greengrass Manor was like stepping between centuries. Hermione, having insisted on accompanying Ariana, looked around the vast, marble-floored entrance hall with a mixture of awe and intimidation. The air itself felt different—cooler, heavier, scented with old money, beeswax, and the faint, lingering traces of powerful ancestral magic.
Daphne Greengrass greeted them at the door, her usual cool composure replaced by a genuine, warm smile. "Ariana! Hermione! I'm so glad you both could come."
Her use of Hermione's first name was a small but significant gesture, an olive branch offered in the neutral territory of her own home. The burgeoning rivalry between the two girls, while still present, had softened into something more respectful since Hermione had made her peace with her own limitations.
Lord and Lady Greengrass were as impeccably polite as before, their gratitude towards Ariana a tangible presence in the room. They treated Hermione with a cool but correct courtesy, her status as Ariana's closest friend affording her a level of respect they would not normally grant a Muggleborn.
The true purpose of Ariana's visit, beyond maintaining her alliance with Daphne, became clear when they were joined by Astoria. The younger Greengrass sister was as delicate as Ariana remembered, her large, expressive eyes holding a deep-seated weariness that belied her age. She greeted them with a shy, sweet smile, her admiration for Ariana clear.
That evening, after a formal dinner, Ariana requested a private audience with Lord and Lady Greengrass in their study. Daphne and Hermione were present at her insistence.
"Lord and Lady Greengrass," Ariana began, her tone calm and professional, as if she were a specialist presenting a consultation. "I would like to discuss Astoria's condition."
A shadow passed over their faces. "The Maledictus curse is a family tragedy, Miss Dumbledore," Lord Greengrass said, his voice heavy. "The greatest Healers at St. Mungo's have confirmed there is no magical cure. It is a matter of managing her decline."
"That is because they are approaching the problem from a purely magical perspective," Ariana countered gently. She turned to Hermione's parents for her explanation. "The wizarding world's diagnostic texts refer to blood-curses as a form of 'magical mutation' or 'spiritual corruption.' They are considered incurable because no counter-curse or healing charm can reverse the degradation of the magical core. They are, in essence, trying to use magic to fix a problem that is embedded within the magic itself."
She then turned back to the Greengrasses, her gaze sharp and analytical. "However, I have been studying the problem from a different angle, one that combines magical theory with knowledge from the non-magical world." She paused, ensuring she had their complete attention. "Muggle medicine speaks of genetic disorders, of flaws in the very code that builds a person. They cannot be 'cured' in the traditional sense, but they can be understood, managed, and sometimes, through advanced science, their effects can be mitigated. I believe the Maledictus curse functions in a similar way. It is not just a curse; it is a magical, genetic flaw."
She saw a flicker of understanding in Lord Greengrass's intelligent eyes.
"Wizarding kind has a natural, magical immunity to most mundane Muggle diseases," Ariana continued. "Our magic purges them. But what if the reverse were also true to an extent? What if this magical 'gene' was vulnerable to a non-magical approach? No one has ever tried to study a blood-curse on a cellular, biological level. The wizarding world, in its pride, dismisses such methods as primitive and in some cases, even unworthy."
She came to the heart of her proposal. "I would like to request your permission to take a small sample of Astoria's blood. Not with a spell, but with a sterile, Muggle instrument—a syringe. I wish to analyze it, to study its biological composition, to see if the curse manifests on a physical, cellular level that can be seen and understood outside the context of traditional magic."
The request was so outlandish, so utterly revolutionary, that the Greengrasses were struck silent. Hermione stared at her friend, her mind reeling at the sheer, breathtaking brilliance of the idea— to apply Muggle scientific principles to a purely magical malady. It was a merging of two worlds she had never even considered possible.
"You want to use… Muggle science… to study an ancient pure-blood curse?" Lady Greengrass finally asked, her voice a mixture of horror and fascination.
"I want to use logic," Ariana corrected. "Magic is a force of nature, like gravity or electromagnetism. It has rules. A curse that passes through a bloodline must have a physical carrier, a mechanism. If we can understand the mechanism, we can begin to formulate a countermeasure. Not a counter-curse, but perhaps a potion, an alchemical solution, something that can stabilize the flawed code on a molecular level."
Her explanation was so confident, so deeply rooted in a logic that transcended the normal boundaries of their world, that it was impossible to dismiss. To the Greengrasses, who had been told for generations that their daughter's fate was sealed, Ariana was offering something no wizard had ever offered before: a different kind of hope.
"You will not harm her," Lord Greengrass stated, his voice a low command.
"The procedure is minimally invasive and completely sterile," Ariana assured him. "The potential benefit far outweighs the negligible risk."
After a long, silent exchange with his wife, Lord Greengrass gave a single, decisive nod. "Very well, Miss Dumbledore. You may have your sample. We have trusted in magic for centuries, and it has failed us. Perhaps it is time to trust in logic."
The next few days were a blur of intense, groundbreaking research. In a magically shielded room in the manor's library, Ariana, with Hermione as her eager and brilliant assistant, went to work. With a practiced hand from her past life's knowledge, she carefully drew a small vial of blood from a brave but nervous Astoria.
Then, she performed a feat of magic that left even Hermione speechless. She did not use a microscope. She expanded upon the principles of the Scrying Charm, weaving a complex array of diagnostic and magnification spells to use her own magic as a microscope. She projected a massively enlarged, shimmering image of the blood cells into the air between them.
And there, they saw it. In a normal blood sample, the magical energy is a gentle, ambient glow. In Astoria's, certain cells were… different. They carried a tiny, dark, writhing thread of chaotic energy, a visible corruption that seemed to be slowly, patiently replicating itself.
For hours, they worked, Hermione frantically taking notes from Muggle biology textbooks she had brought, while Ariana analyzed the magical properties of the corrupted cells. They spent their evenings in lighter pursuits, playing games with Daphne and telling stories to Astoria, bringing a rare, genuine joy into the quiet girl's life. But every day, they returned to their secret research, two brilliant minds working on a problem that had stumped the magical world for centuries.
They did not find a cure in those two days. But they found a path. They proved a hypothesis. The curse was not just a spiritual stain; it was a physical, biological reality. And if it was physical, it could be fought.
When it was time for Ariana and Hermione to return to the Grangers' home for Christmas Eve, they left with more than just memories of a pleasant visit. They left with data, with a purpose, and with the fervent, desperate hope of a noble family resting on their young shoulders. The game had a new, deeply personal dimension. Defeating Voldemort was a matter of saving the world. Curing the Maledictus curse… that was a matter of saving a soul. And Ariana Dumbledore was determined to do both.