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35.96% Harry Potter: The Vampire Prince / Chapter 41: Chapter 41: Things Have Gotten Serious

Chapter 41: Chapter 41: Things Have Gotten Serious

"Perhaps someone can explain to me why my brother, Nolan Von Draugr, was attacked at Hogwarts, and furthermore, why the Cruciatus Curse was used against him? This is truly puzzling. If I recall correctly, the Cruciatus Curse is banned by your Ministry of Magic, is it not?"

Inside the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, a stunningly beautiful young woman, appearing no older than sixteen, sat elegantly in the headmaster's chair. Her crimson eyes were half-closed, and her long black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, framing her exquisite face and draping around her swan-like neck.

At this moment, however, no one but Headmaster Albus Dumbledore dared to meet her gaze. Not Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, not Severus Snape, head of Slytherin House, and certainly not Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, who had arrived drenched in cold sweat after hearing the news.

Dumbledore twinkled his eyes mischievously. "Duchess Felicia, we're all aware that vampires possess far greater magical resistance than wizards. In fact, Nolan hasn't sustained any serious injuries, so there's really no need for such tension. Would you care for a Cockroach Cluster? Sweets have a wonderful way of dispelling stress—they're my favorite, and I find them very effective."

Felicia glanced curiously at the offered candy, then smiled coolly and shook her head. Her voice was soft but commanding as she replied, "No, Dumbledore, you know I don't eat such things."

She turned her sharp gaze toward the anxious Cornelius Fudge. "Fudge, am I to understand this correctly? The Ministry of Magic, that assembly of imbeciles, has finally resolved to declare war on the Von Draugr family? Was that Cruciatus Curse your declaration of war?"

"Oh no, no, no! Heavens, no, Duchess Felicia! We have absolutely no such intention!" Fudge stammered, trembling visibly.

He couldn't begin to imagine the hell that would break loose if the Von Draugr family truly went to war with the Ministry. Regardless of who emerged victorious, his tenure as Minister for Magic would be over.

He would go down in history as the shortest-serving Minister ever! His recklessness and incompetence would be immortalized in magical history textbooks, recounted by ghostly professors to generations of young witches and wizards. The name Cornelius Fudge would become synonymous with shame in the wizarding world.

"Oh?" Felicia tilted her chin upward haughtily, gazing down at him as though through her aristocratic nose. "So what exactly do you intend, Cornelius Fudge? Are you going to tell me, 'Oops, sorry, this was all a misunderstanding?' Is that it? My brother was hit with the Cruciatus Curse, and you call that a misunderstanding? Is that what you're saying?"

"Well, uh… this… this…" Fudge stuttered, sweating profusely as he cast a desperate glance at Dumbledore for assistance.

The old wizard merely shrugged playfully, his expression making it clear he had no intention of stepping in.

Damn it, Fudge cursed internally. If you weren't confident you could handle these lunatic vampires, you should never have provoked them!

And bringing them to Hogwarts of all places—our stronghold and the sole magical educational institution in Britain—how absurd!

Outwardly, Fudge forced a strained laugh and offered, "How about this? The witch who… acted improperly toward Mr. Von Draugr will be sent straight to Azkaban to face the punishment she deserves. Furthermore, her family will pay a substantial amount of compensation…"

"Absolutely not!" Felicia's voice was icy as she glared at him. "Are you suggesting that anyone can harm my brother and simply buy their way out of it with some compensation? It's not that simple. Azkaban? Such a light punishment is hardly sufficient. Cornelius Fudge, you wouldn't happen to be shielding that heinous criminal, would you? She's a vile witch who used an Unforgivable Curse on an innocent, defenseless child—a sweet, powerless young wizard. Her actions are more atrocious than Voldemort's and more despicable than any Death Eater's. As the head of the Von Draugr family, I demand that she face the punishment she deserves!"

Snape and McGonagall exchanged a silent glance, their thoughts aligned.

Defenseless young wizard?

Are we certain we're talking about your brother?

The pureblood vampire who had just punched a witch into a marble wall?

Fudge let out a nervous laugh. "Duchess Felicia, being sent to Azkaban is the heaviest punishment available in the wizarding world…"

"I said, it's not enough," Felicia replied icily. Then, as if a new thought amused her, she smirked. "Very well, Cornelius Fudge. You lack the authority and the backbone—you're nothing more than a cowardly puppet on the Ministry's stage. The Von Draugr family doesn't need your approval to collect the compensation we're owed. We'll handle it ourselves."

Dumbledore frowned slightly, a rare sign of disapproval, and offered a gentle reminder. "Duchess Felicia—"

"Yes, yes, Dumbledore, I know my limits," Felicia interrupted impatiently, waving him off. "This time, I'll give you all a pass, but there won't be a next time. And you, Severus Snape, your negligence is inexcusable."

Snape's lips tightened, his face cold as he said, "I have nothing to say."

"You certainly don't," Felicia said, her tone biting. "As punishment, take this."

Before anyone could react, she stepped forward, planted her left foot firmly, and threw a devastating punch.

"My goodness!" Fudge squawked, jumping back like a frightened chicken.

Dumbledore sighed, polishing his half-moon glasses with a resigned air. "Minerva, please escort Severus to Madam Pomfrey. I believe he'll need a quiet space to recover. Resetting broken bones can be a rather painful affair."

Felicia stared dispassionately at the Potions Master, who lay at her feet, blood pooling beneath him. To his credit, Snape hadn't made a sound, even as pain radiated from his fractured ribs.

"Consider this the end of the matter… for now," Felicia said calmly. She turned her crimson gaze to Fudge. "Cornelius Fudge, remember, this is the first and the last time."

With that, she swept out of the office, her presence as commanding in departure as it was in arrival.

Left in the chaos of the headmaster's office, now looking as though it had weathered a storm, Dumbledore and Fudge sat in silence. These two of the most influential wizards in Britain exchanged a long, weighty gaze, neither saying a word.

The next day, the wizarding world of Britain was in uproar.

One of the few remaining pureblood families, the Volka family, had been completely decimated overnight. The only two female heirs were captured by the attackers, and the family matriarch, Elena Volka, was found the next morning drained of blood, her body withered into a ghastly husk.

Throughout the day, whispers filled the air as wizards speculated about who the attackers might have been and what could have provoked such a response. Those who knew the truth, however, remained silent, their lips sealed. Among them was Lucius Malfoy, who was profoundly shaken by the events of the previous night.


Chapter 42: Chapter 42: The Ailment Lies in the Heart

"I'm very glad you're here to keep me company. Although, in my opinion, you're not exactly in a great condition, Professor Snape."

In the Hogwarts hospital wing, Nolan Von Draugr, clad in patient robes, looked teasingly at Severus Snape. The professor looked far worse off than Nolan did. His whole head was wrapped in bandages. Only his two eyes, two nostrils, and a few strands of his perpetually greasy hair were visible.

The unfortunate Professor Snape was unable to speak. He could only glare at Nolan with an icy, serpentine stare.

What Snape truly wanted to do was grab one of the foul-smelling bottles of skelegro potion and dump it all over the smug vampire's face before shoving him out of the infirmary.

Nolan observed Snape for a moment, studying his look of pure hatred. After a pause, he asked softly, with surprising seriousness, "Why didn't you protect Eve? Are you like those other brainless wizards, thinking she has tarnished Slytherin's reputation?"

Snape, naturally, did not respond.

Nolan continued, almost as if talking to himself, "Reserved and proud. Confident and noble. Willing to do anything for victory. Preferring self-preservation when faced with adversity. Slytherin traits, like those of the other houses, have their strengths and flaws. But Slytherins tend to believe they are more special than the others. It's that sense of superiority… stemming from their insistence on pure-blood status, something the other three houses don't emphasize. Eve's presence disrupts that sense of superiority. She's done nothing wrong, yet she's made into a scapegoat. Don't you think that's absurd, Professor Snape?"

Beneath the layers of bandages, Snape's lips curled into a faint sneer.

He couldn't bring himself to believe that a vampire—an immortal creature capable of living hundreds, if not thousands, of years—could genuinely feel compassion for a young witch or pity her plight. Vampires, Snape thought, had simply witnessed so much of the world's coldness and cruelty that they were numb to it. Besides, being inherently creatures of the dark, vampires weren't exactly brimming with empathy or kindness to spare.

Nolan stared at Snape, unwavering. Then he sighed softly and said, "When you're discharged, please protect her, Professor Snape. You're my Head of House. I don't want to be too disappointed in you. And right now, I'm still very angry with you."

With that, Nolan turned and left, leaving behind Snape to contemplate the cryptic message.

It was Nolan's third day of confinement in the hospital wing.

Around midday, Madam Pomfrey came to check on Nolan Von Draugr's condition. Nolan wasn't particularly fond of her, primarily because she insisted he consume high-calorie foods—an absolute torment for a vampire.

"Oh no, Madam Pomfrey, you know I don't like chocolate…" Nolan muttered, staring dejectedly at the oversized piece of chocolate and the full glass of chocolate milk on the tray before him.

Madam Pomfrey, unbothered, reassured him, "Drink it, child. I must remind you, you were subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. Even adult wizards are often pushed to the brink of madness by it. You need sweets. Eat up."

"If only you could get me some blood-flavored lollipops or a glass of O-positive, that would be much better…" Nolan mumbled under his breath, his voice tinged with grievance. Nonetheless, under Madam Pomfrey's encouraging gaze, he reluctantly took a small bite of the chocolate.

"It's truly remarkable how quickly you're recovering… I still can't believe someone dared use the Cruciatus Curse within Hogwarts' grounds. I'll make sure Professor Dumbledore ensures that vile dark witch ends up in Azkaban. My students can't endure this kind of torment."

Once the talkative nurse left, satisfied, Nolan stuck out his tongue with an audible blech before muttering, "I'm going to vomit… Here, you eat it, Eve."

He pulled back the curtain, revealing none other than the silver-haired princess, Eve Stock.

Eve had been confined to the hospital wing for three days. She had been unconscious for the first two days and had only awakened today. However, she was still incredibly weak—her lips pale, her face bloodless, her entire being frail and pitiful.

Nolan moved the tray in front of her. The young girl tried anxiously to sit up, but her body wouldn't cooperate. The Cruciatus Curse seemed to have damaged something within her.

When she reached out for the chocolate, her hand trembled so much that Nolan gently took it from her and held it to her lips.

"Thank you, Nolan," the little witch said sweetly, her smile radiant with sincerity.

"You're welcome," Nolan replied politely.

After finishing the chocolate, Eve began to doze off, clearly needing rest. Nolan was about to draw the curtain closed to let her sleep peacefully when he felt his clothing being tugged.

"Don't go, Nolan," Eve whispered, burying her face in the blanket, her luminous eyes peeking out.

Nolan found himself helpless against her pleading gaze. Scratching the back of his head, he sat down by her bedside. "You can let go of my sleeve. I'll make you a promise—I won't leave your side until you fall asleep."

"I don't want to…"

"Then hold my hand instead."

Nolan extended his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Eve stretched out her still-trembling fingers. Nolan clasped them firmly.

"Your hand is so cold…" Eve murmured softly. "Not warm at all."

Feeling the warmth of the young witch's hand, Nolan spoke quietly, "My body temperature is very low. Creatures with low body temperatures aren't great at feeling emotions because their hearts lack warmth. They don't experience much joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness."

"But I think you're a good person, Nolan…" Eve insisted stubbornly, her voice growing quieter until it was barely a whisper. "Thank you for saving me."

"You're welcome," Nolan responded courteously.

"And… thank you for saving me during Flying class, too."

"You're welcome," he repeated, nodding seriously.

Seeing his earnest, almost silly demeanor, Eve's lips quivered, as though she wanted to laugh. But instead, tears welled up and spilled over.

"Nolan, you're the only one who's kind to me!" she cried. "Everyone in the House hates me. Even my family hates me now! I don't want to go to school anymore, but I don't want to go home either. What am I supposed to do?"

Nolan remained silent for a long time, listening to the little witch's sobs.

"Nolan, what should I do? I don't want to stay at Hogwarts. I don't want to go back home. I want to go somewhere no one knows me. Will you come with me? I want to go with you…"

Looking into Eve's tearful eyes, Nolan asked softly, "You want me to leave Hogwarts, too?"

Eve fell silent.

Nolan spoke gently, "Eve, you're too fragile. Strong people don't need anyone's approval; they thrive on their own."

"But I'm not strong…"

"You can be," Nolan said seriously. "You were sorted into Slytherin. That House is despised by the other three, yet its members don't let that discourage them. They do what they believe is right. Eve, you're a Slytherin now. Do you understand? The Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes. If you think it did, it's because you're only seeing the surface, while the Hat saw your soul."

~~~----------------------

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