Instinct is a curious thing.
Even in the wizarding world, the nature of intuition remains an enigma. Wizards who place excessive faith in it are often dismissed as eccentric mystics by their peers. Even in the Trelawney family, renowned for their gift of prophecy, only a handful possess the ability to harness intuition with any real consistency.
Nolan had gone to great lengths to disguise himself, carefully suppressing all signs of his vampiric nature. As he stood now, the only unusual thing about him was his slightly cooler body temperature; in every other way, he appeared perfectly human. Not even a skilled wizard like Dumbledore would immediately detect his true identity.
And yet, despite all his expertise, Nolan had been seen through in an instant by an eight- or nine-year-old girl. It was unsettling, to say the least. Thankfully, Nolan was blissfully unaware that the silver-haired girl had seen past his facade. With a year still to go before her arrival at Hogwarts, her revelation remained nothing more than an eerie premonition.
The main floor of Gringotts was vast, bustling with activity. Around a hundred goblins scurried about, magnifying glasses in hand as they inspected coins and gemstones. Some weighed money on scales, while others, wearing small spectacles, busied themselves with accounting ledgers. The goblins seemed perpetually busy, their sharp movements and curt exchanges filling the air with an almost mechanical rhythm.
Nolan led Hagrid and Harry to a counter, where a goblin was idling. "We're here on Professor Dumbledore's orders," Nolan said smoothly. "We need to retrieve something from Vault 713."
The goblin gave Nolan a long, disdainful look before rolling his eyes. "Do you have a letter from Professor Dumbledore, sir?"
"Oh, yes, yes! Got it right here!" Hagrid exclaimed, fumbling through his pockets. His large hands weren't suited for such tasks, so he ended up dumping the contents of his coat onto the counter. Out spilled a soggy biscuit, a sticky mass that resembled wet earwax, a handful of what looked like scraps of rusty metal—probably collected from the Forbidden Forest—and a copy of the Daily Prophet from 1989. Finally, after much searching, Hagrid pulled out Dumbledore's letter and handed it to the goblin, who took it with an expression of utmost distaste.
"Seems legitimate," the goblin muttered reluctantly. He beckoned to another goblin with a thick, bristling beard. "Hey, Grimsby! Come over and verify this!"
Grimsby shuffled over, inspecting the letter before letting out a high-pitched squeal. "Yes! Yes, it's genuine! That's Dumbledore's handwriting!"
The counter goblin nodded and shouted, "Clanker! Clanker! Get over here and escort these three gentlemen to Vault 713!"
Hagrid had barely taken a few steps when he slapped his forehead. "Oh, right! We also need to stop by Harry Potter's vault and withdraw some money!"
Nolan and Harry followed Clanker deeper into the bank. The polished marble gave way to rugged stone walls, and the path turned into a steep, winding slope leading into the depths. The air grew colder with every step, and Harry, curious as ever, whispered, "They called him Clanker? Is that some kind of codename?"
"It's his name," Nolan replied blandly. "Goblins like giving themselves names like that. I once dealt with a female goblin named Teacup. When I asked my maid to serve her tea, she kept thinking I was calling her name."
"Teacup is a charming lady!" Clanker's sharp voice rang out ahead of them. "Lots of goblins would give their gold to marry her!"
"Who can say?" Nolan muttered, "To me, you all look the same."
They continued walking until Nolan's gaze landed on an old, filthy mine cart parked near the track. He grimaced. "You're not seriously expecting us to ride that contraption, are you?"
Clanker turned around, clearly irritated by Nolan's disdain. "We don't have anything else!" he snapped, his voice rising to a shriek.
"Oh, no, no…" Nolan muttered as he reluctantly climbed into the tiny mine cart, his discomfort palpable. He had no choice but to endure the grimy surroundings and the breakneck speed of the ride. The young vampire felt a wave of nausea building, and from the greenish tinge on Hagrid's face, it seemed the half-giant shared his sentiment.
Harry, however, was unfazed. The boy was brimming with energy, his curiosity unbridled. "What's inside Vault 713?" he chirped.
"That's not something you need to know," Nolan replied coolly, his tone leaving no room for further inquiry.
But Harry was undeterred. "I saw a flash of fire just now! Was that a dragon?"
"It's an Italian Ridgeback," Nolan replied, his voice tight as he fought to suppress his nausea. "The smallest of the European dragon breeds…" He broke off with a gag, clapping a hand over his mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick. I hate modes of transportation, especially in confined spaces."
At long last, the cart screeched to a halt in front of Harry's vault. Hagrid scrambled out in his usual flustered manner, while Nolan looked utterly drained, slumped against the cart as if it had drained the life out of him.
"Come on, Von Draugr," the half-giant coaxed, trying to sound encouraging. "Just step onto solid ground—it'll make you feel better."
Nolan's face was ashen as he clung to the cart for dear life. "Don't even think about it. If I move, I'll vomit."
Meanwhile, Harry was too mesmerized by the contents of his vault to notice their plight. For someone who had grown up with nothing, the sight of all that gold was overwhelming. Perhaps, for the first time, he felt a sense of security. Money had that kind of magic.
Afterward, the infernal cart resumed its descent, and Nolan was convinced he was about to make history as the first vampire to die on a goblin mine cart.
When they finally reached the deepest level of the bank, Nolan barely had the energy to glare at the locked vault in front of him. The vaults on this floor had no keys—they were sealed with ancient goblin magic, accessible only to goblins themselves.
Pushing Harry behind him, Nolan's voice was sharp. "Stand back. Don't look at what's inside."
Clanker stepped forward, his gnarled fingers moving with deft precision as he activated the spell to unlock the vault. The door creaked open just enough for Nolan to slip through. Inside, the vault was starkly empty, save for a small cloth-wrapped package resting on a stone pedestal.
Nolan grabbed the package and stuffed it into his pocket, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Hagrid. "We've got what we came for. Let's get back to Hogwarts—immediately."
"Hey, now, no need to be so tense, Von Draugr." Hagrid waved him off. "Harry's got shopping to do. You can show him around Diagon Alley, help him pick up his books and robes for the year. As for me…" Hagrid gave a hearty laugh. "I'm heading to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink or two. That ride on the bloody mine cart was enough for a lifetime. Good thing I don't have enough Galleons to need a vault!"
"That's rather sad, don't you think?" Nolan retorted dryly. Then his gaze met Harry's, filled with unspoken hope. The boy clearly wanted someone to accompany him.
Nolan's response was swift and uncompromising. "Don't even think about it. I'm not here to play nanny to a first-year. If you're so desperate for a guide, just flash your name around—Harry Potter—and I guarantee some busybody will come to your aid. As for me, I've got more important things to do."
He turned and began to walk away, raising a hand in a dismissive wave. "See you at Hogwarts, Potter. Though I'd wager you'll end up in Gryffindor."
Harry watched Nolan's retreating figure, disappointment etched on his face. Left to fend for himself, he glanced nervously at the bustling street of Diagon Alley. "Do you think he hates me?" he asked Hagrid.
"Hates you?" Hagrid chuckled, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Oh, no, lad. He's like that with everyone."
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Wizards had many ways to travel, but the quickest method was Apparition. However, Nolan had yet to learn that skill. For someone who could fly, Apparition wasn't exactly essential. Besides, even if he mastered it, he wouldn't be able to use it to return to Hogwarts—an area of roughly one hundred miles around the school was charmed to block Apparition.
There was, however, a safer alternative: Floo Powder.
Nolan's current plan was to locate a shop with a fireplace connected to Hogwarts and use Floo Powder to return with the Philosopher's Stone.
Obscurus Books, a renowned publishing house, had just such a connection to Hogwarts. It was said that Professor Sinistra, who taught Astronomy, and Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff, had both published works through this publisher. To ensure quick communication with the firm, Hogwarts had linked the Astronomy preparation room's fireplace directly to Obscurus Books.
Today, Nolan's destination was the fireplace at Obscurus Books.
At precisely 3:27 in the afternoon, a black-haired, red-eyed boy clad in a hooded robe strolled through Diagon Alley. With a month left before the school term began, the alley was bustling with first-years and returning students shopping for supplies from the booklists that had already been sent out.
Nolan's sharp gaze picked out the red-haired Weasley twins, who were busily wrapping a massive rat as a gift. Judging by the glances they cast toward two dark-skinned twin girls selecting ice cream nearby, Nolan guessed they had a mischievous plan brewing. Afterward, the twins tried to introduce Nolan to their younger brother, Ron—a thin, freckled boy whose fiery red hair made him look like he was perpetually aflame.
Further along, Nolan encountered Hogwarts' resident beauty, Penelope Clearwater. The Ravenclaw upperclassman seemed delighted, proudly wearing her newly earned prefect badge. She eagerly inquired about Grand Duchess Felicia's well-being, a subject she apparently held in high regard. When Nolan gave her the address for Randall Gorge and mentioned that she could write to the Grand Duchess as a pen pal, Penelope was so thrilled she planted a kiss on his forehead before departing.
Diagon Alley was full of familiar faces for Nolan. The wizarding world was small, after all, with a limited population and less-than-stellar reproductive rates (though there were exceptions, such as the prolific Weasleys). This close-knit nature meant that nearly every wizarding family was interconnected in some way. Word had already spread that Slytherin had gained a remarkably clever new student last year, and his uniqueness had not gone unnoticed.
After greeting everyone who approached him, Nolan glanced at his pocket watch. It was 3:33 p.m. He turned into a narrow side street, a necessary shortcut to reach Obscurus Books. The alleyway, two streets west of Knockturn Alley, carried a faint but unmistakable hint of dark magic in the air.
The path was unusually deserted, a fact that put Nolan on edge. His expression grew cold as he continued walking, counting down the 300 meters to his destination.
Then, his silver-heeled boots came to an abrupt stop. Nolan pursed his lips, muttering softly, "Three of them... Looks like Dumbledore had good reason to involve the Grand Duchess. Our half-giant friend wouldn't have been able to handle three dark wizards."
With a sharp click, Nolan scraped the sole of his boot against the cobblestone to produce a deliberate sound. He turned on his heel, his crimson eyes wide and glowing with a dangerous, icy light.
The young vampire's left hand gripped the cloth-wrapped Philosopher's Stone tightly, while his right hand slid into his pocket, fingers curling around his unicorn-hair wand.
Nolan could feel the danger closing in.
Something was about to happen.
The next moment, the enemies appeared!
Two from the north, one from the west!
Nolan drew his wand without hesitation and fired a Barrier Charm, then kicked off the ground, dashing into the narrow gaps between the buildings. He sprinted swiftly, his long bangs blown aside by the wind, revealing his blood-red eyes. Like a shadowy panther prowling between the structures, he moved with grace and purpose.
"Catch him! Catch him! Take the Philosopher's Stone!" bellowed a middle-aged wizard in his forties, swinging his wand. "Stupefy!"
Nolan glanced back sharply, his wand aimed precisely. "Stupefy!"
The two scarlet beams collided mid-air, exploding in a fiery burst of sparks!
The middle-aged wizard fired three more spells in rapid succession. Nolan deflected the first two with a Barrier Charm and a Petrification Charm, but the third spell slipped into a blind spot between the other two. Unable to block it in time, Nolan clenched his left fist and punched directly at the incoming spell.
With a resounding bang, the spell shattered against his fist. He felt the searing heat of the magic burn his skin, a tingling numbness spreading up his forearm. But that was the extent of it.
As it turned out, a vampire's magical resistance was indeed extraordinary.
While the middle-aged wizard hurled his spells, the second attacker—a woman cloaked in green—moved in. She approached silently, her speed astonishing. Nolan couldn't see her face beneath the hood but could sense her inhuman nature.
Her movements were incredibly fluid. Running, leaping, she sprang into the air and loosed her weapon—a sleek, arm-length composite bow. In her right hand, she held three long arrows, which she nocked and fired all at once.
Nolan darted left, planting his right foot against a wall and vaulting upward with a triangle jump.
The hooded woman fired again, three more arrows streaking toward him in rapid succession.
Simultaneously, the middle-aged wizard launched two Petrification Charms.
None of it hit Nolan. His movements in mid-air were impossibly nimble. After three quick jumps, he reached the roof of a building four meters high. Landing smoothly, he turned and caught one of the arrows mid-flight with his bare hand. Without missing a beat, he flicked his wrist, sending the arrow hurtling back with incredible speed.
The hooded woman hesitated, diving into a roll to dodge.
The arrow Nolan had thrown embedded itself into the ground with a deafening crack, piercing straight into the narrow crevice between two cobblestones.
As another spell from the middle-aged wizard came hurtling toward him, Nolan raised a leg and kicked, shattering the spell into a cascade of sparks.
Then he turned his head—just in time to see the third attacker joining him on the rooftop, charging at full speed.
"Close combat, is it?" Nolan muttered softly, lowering his center of gravity as he sprinted forward.
He clenched his fist and struck out, his blow landing with a loud thud against the attacker's crossed arms.
The force sent the man staggering back two steps. Nolan moved to press the advantage, but a sudden gleam of steel stopped him short.
A magnificent sword had appeared in the attacker's hands, seemingly out of nowhere. Just a second ago, Nolan was certain the man had been unarmed.
What kind of magic is this? Nolan wondered briefly. But as the sword's blade lunged toward him, he didn't flinch. Instead, he raised his left wrist to block it directly.
The attacker froze, stunned. His blade, sharp enough to cut through steel like butter, had failed to slice through the wrist of what appeared to be a mere boy.
That moment of hesitation was all Nolan needed. Closing the gap, he drove a powerful punch into the man's abdomen.
The attacker was sent flying, skidding across the rooftop. Nolan raised his wand without pause. "Petrificus Totalus!"
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