Ritual

The winds howled across the summit of Ben Nevis, Britain's highest peak. The air was charged with an almost supernatural energy, as though the mountain itself recognized the significance of the ritual to come. Jason Bourne stood at the summit, his breaths measured, visible in the cold air. Dressed in a thick, dark cloak lined with protective runes, he was a solitary figure against the stark backdrop of jagged rocks and endless sky.

The climb had been arduous. Jason had remained in strict silence throughout, maintaining a meditative state, his mind razor-focused on the task at hand. Every step felt heavier as he ascended, not from physical exhaustion, but from the mounting weight of the magic in the air. He was here to reshape his magical potential, a feat that would be remembered—or perhaps whispered about in fear.

Reaching the summit, Jason began preparing the sacred space. He drew a protective circle on the ground using powdered silver and phoenix ash, materials chosen for their resilience against dark forces. At the center of the circle, he set up a simple but potent altar, placing incense burners at five points to form a pentagram. The incense, a blend of mugwort and myrrh, burned with an ethereal blue flame, its scent heavy and ancient, filling the cold mountain air.

Jason carefully placed his grimoire—an imposing tome bound in dark leather with faintly glowing runes—at the center of the altar. His wand, Blackthorn wood with a Thunderbird tail feather core,12 ¾ inches, unyielding rested atop a five-pointed Quincy cross placed on the grimoire. Each item radiated an almost tangible aura of magic.

Jason stood facing the moon, which cast an eerie glow over the peak. Raising his hands, he began the invocation:

"By the veins of this sacred mountain,

By the magic that courses through its heart,

I summon the forces that bind and empower.

Let this peak witness my will,

And let my magic take root in this sacred tome."

The air around him seemed to shudder as if the mountain itself acknowledged his words. A low hum reverberated through the stones underfoot, and Jason could feel the mountain's latent magic stirring.

Taking a deep breath, Jason drew a small ceremonial dagger, its blade engraved with runes of binding. He made a swift cut across his palm, allowing a few drops of blood to fall onto the grimoire. The runes on its cover flared to life, glowing brighter with each drop.

From the shadows, a small house-elf stepped forward. Its eyes were wide but calm, betraying neither fear nor hesitation. The elf extended its hand, mirroring Jason's action, and allowed its own blood to drip onto the grimoire.

Jason tossed a piece of cloth to the elf, who caught it with trembling hands before bowing low. Without a word, the elf vanished with a faint pop.

Jason placed his hands over the altar, his voice steady as he recited the incantation:

"By the blood, and the essence of this sacred peak,

I bind my will to this Grimoire,

A conduit for my magic,

A testament to my power."

The grimoire began to levitate, its pages flipping wildly as if caught in an invisible wind. The wand and Quincy cross dissolved into glowing strands of magic, which wove themselves into the tome. A faint pulse emanated from it, like a heartbeat, growing stronger with each passing moment.

Jason's body tensed as he placed both hands on the grimoire. A sharp, searing pain shot through him as a small portion of his life force was drawn into the book. It felt as though a piece of his very soul was being wrenched away. His knees buckled, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

The grimoire responded with a surge of energy, its glow intensifying until it lit up the entire summit. Jason gasped, steadying himself as the tome floated back onto the altar, pulsating with raw, untamed magic.

Jason extended his hand toward the grimoire, willing it to channel his magic.

"Fulgur !"

A bolt of pure electricity shot from the tome into the sky, illuminating the night with a deafening crack. The energy split the heavens, briefly parting the clouds to reveal a field of stars. The mountain seemed to tremble in awe, and for a moment, the world was silent, as if holding its breath.

Jason straightened, his expression a mix of triumph and exhaustion. He whispered to himself, "Not bad, Bourne. Not bad."

The mountain, now quiet once more, seemed to approve.

----- 

tell me how does the rewrite fair compare to original . you guys flayed me .