Cornelius Fudge trembled slightly. He was not accustomed to the sight of vampires baring their fangs.
No white wizard ever truly felt comfortable around dark magical beings, even if those beings embodied eternal beauty. Beneath that beauty, people still remembered the lurking shadows of death.
"Dumbledore… you must tell me… Dumbledore, what is Mr. Von Draugr doing? He—he's not going to… to kill Fi, is he?" Fudge stammered.
"Kill her? I doubt it."
Dumbledore shifted his tone with remarkable ease. Once it became clear that this situation could not be avoided, he leaned into it, letting his curiosity take hold.
"When a vampire finds someone… interesting, they rarely kill them outright," Dumbledore remarked, his voice soft but laced with meaning.
He was right.
Aside from fledgling vampires driven by uncontrollable bloodlust, very few vampires drained their victims completely. It was wasteful—like killing the goose that laid the golden egg. Even vampire families valued sustainability.
Nolan's fangs pierced Fi's neck. He drank slowly, the warm trickle of blood gradually quelling the anger burning inside him.
As for Fi—
The poor, inexperienced Auror still had no idea what was happening to her.
She felt heat bloom through her body, but a deep chill settled into her bones. The strange blend of warmth and coldness wrapped around her, heightening her senses in ways she couldn't comprehend.
And as more of her blood flowed into Nolan's mouth, the sensation intensified.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.
Fudge's face turned red. His head jerked to the side, as if averting his gaze could somehow erase the awkwardness of witnessing such an intimate act.
Dumbledore's eyes, however, sparkled with amusement and quiet understanding.
With hands clasped behind his back, the headmaster stepped closer to Nolan and the trembling Auror.
"There's no need to be so embarrassed, Cornelius," Dumbledore said lightly. "This… pleasure is something our dear Miss Fi cannot resist. Drinking blood is one way vampires reproduce. Naturally, it feels… pleasurable to the recipient."
Nolan released Fi from his bite, letting her body slump against the wall. He wiped his mouth with a crisp handkerchief, his expression cool and composed.
"I didn't infect her," he remarked, dabbing at the faint smudge of crimson on his lips. "The blood of the Von Draugr family is valuable. I wouldn't waste it on a random woman."
"A random—? She's an Auror of the Ministry!" Fudge sputtered, momentarily outraged.
But the realization struck him swiftly.
"Wait—you mean to say, Mr. Von Draugr, that she won't turn?"
Fudge's heart leapt with relief.
If Fi disappeared under mysterious circumstances during his term, the backlash would be catastrophic. A missing Auror was the kind of scandal that led to public outcry—and worse, political upheaval.
"Yes. She won't turn," Nolan confirmed lazily.
"But I wouldn't mind keeping her as part of the Von Draugr collection. Her blood type is A. Not rare, but pleasant enough."
Without another word, Nolan conjured a long, silver cord.
He looped it around Fi's neck with the casual ease of someone putting a leash on a pet.
"No!"
Fudge's shrill cry echoed down the alley.
"You can't take her!"
"That's not your decision to make, Minister," Nolan replied coldly, his gaze flicking toward Fudge.
The mere weight of Nolan's eyes made the portly Minister shrink into himself, nervously fiddling with his robes.
"Your people dared to interfere in my battle, point their wands at me, and accuse me of crimes. There must be consequences," Nolan stated plainly.
"This woman now belongs to me."
Fi, still dizzy from the blood loss, let out a weak, garbled protest as Nolan tugged lightly on the cord, guiding her forward.
He led her a few steps before pausing to glance over his shoulder.
"Oh, and Minister," Nolan added, "I suggest you train your Aurors better. This time, Dumbledore was here. I won't be so lenient next time."
Nolan's footsteps echoed softly as he walked away, Fi trailing reluctantly behind him.
Dumbledore followed at a leisurely pace, hands tucked into his sleeves.
Fudge remained frozen in place, watching the two figures vanish into the busy street.
The Minister had no idea what schemes Dumbledore and Nolan were plotting.
But he knew one thing for certain—his competence as Minister of Magic would once again be questioned.
It was only a matter of time before the Daily Prophet published headlines about a missing Auror.
And when that day came, the public's outrage would undoubtedly fall squarely on Cornelius Fudge's shoulders.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake… this couldn't possibly get any worse…"
Meanwhile, Dumbledore and Nolan strolled leisurely back to Hogwarts, using Floo powder to return through the fireplace.
As Nolan stepped out of the flames, he casually handed the Sorcerer's Stone to Dumbledore.
"Here. The task you gave me is complete," Nolan said, brushing soot from his sleeves. His crimson eyes flickered with curiosity. "Though I am rather intrigued about what you plan to do with it… I must admit, I'm surprised you haven't simply destroyed it. Are you pursuing immortality as well, Professor Dumbledore?"
"Immortality?"
Dumbledore chuckled softly, the twinkle in his eyes sharp and bright.
"Oh no, Nolan. As I've told you before, living forever isn't as wonderful as it sounds. It strips away pieces of your soul, even if you happen to be the greatest wizard in history."
With a mischievous grin, Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag.
"Fancy a sweet, Nolan? It'll help with the fatigue."
Nolan arched an eyebrow.
"You carry cockroach clusters everywhere, don't you?" he asked with disdain.
He tugged at the leash in his hand, and the dazed and bewildered Fi stumbled forward with a yelp.
Poor Fi.
Reality was finally sinking in—her captor, the strange boy she'd foolishly pointed her wand at, was a vampire.
And now, here she was, being paraded through the halls of her old school, led on a leash like a dog.
Dumbledore could clearly see her, yet the old headmaster didn't seem the least bit concerned.
It was maddening.
Fi was moments away from an emotional breakdown.
Dumbledore, utterly unfazed, led them both to the fifth floor.
Stopping in front of a stone gargoyle, he uttered the password.
The gargoyle leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase that led to the headmaster's office.
Once inside, Dumbledore carefully unwrapped the Sorcerer's Stone and placed it on his desk.
As he examined it with a few quick flicks of his wand, he answered Nolan's lingering question.
"You asked why I'm keeping it?" Dumbledore mused. "The answer is simple, Nolan. The Stone may be of no use to me, but with a little creativity, we can make it quite useful."
Nolan tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Like cheese in a mousetrap?"
Dumbledore laughed, eyes crinkling with delight.
"I must say, I never know what a vampire will say next," he replied with a wink.
"Do you have a mouse problem in your castle as well, Nolan?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
Nolan sighed dramatically.
"My cat isn't very reliable. She seems to think hunting mice is beneath her. Apparently, that sort of thing is reserved for 'less sophisticated' cats. Hers is the kind of sophistication that involves charming her way into extra servings of gourmet cat food. I don't know how she ended up like this… lazy creature."
Dumbledore laughed heartily at Nolan's exasperation.
"Well, Nolan, I believe you'll enjoy the game we're about to play," Dumbledore said, brushing a hand over the gleaming red Stone.
"This year, we're setting a trap here at Hogwarts. This Stone… will be the cheese at the center of the cage. And the mouse we intend to catch—"
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened, his voice dropping to a quiet intensity.
"—is none other than the Dark Lord himself."
He smiled, blue eyes twinkling once more.
"It's quite the delightful game, don't you think?"
Nolan's lips curled into a faint smile.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore."
Their eyes met for a brief moment.
And in that silent exchange, both wizard and vampire shared the same thought.
Let the game begin.
The remainder of the summer holidays passed quietly, with Nolan spending most of his time training in combat under the relentless supervision of Felicia.
Felicia was unforgiving when it came to honing his skills. She demanded Nolan cultivate explosive power—just as their mother had once trained her, pushing Felicia to the limits of her strength as a child.
Of course, Nolan didn't spend every moment with Felicia.
Take, for example, the female Auror he'd dragged back on August 1st - Fi.
That day had not been one of her finest.
Her robes were reduced to tatters by a swift "Diffindo," and her shrieks echoed through the grand halls of the vampire estate. Fi had been certain her fate was sealed—that she'd be devoured by the boyish vampire standing before her.
But to her confusion and mild offense, Nolan hadn't even glanced at her bare skin.
He rifled through an old trunk without so much as a passing comment, finally pulling out a long black dress with white frills, complete with an apron.
Fi's eyes widened in horror.
"Is this… a maid's outfit?!" she screeched.
"You can thank me later," Nolan replied flatly, clearly losing patience.
"If you paid attention, you'd realize the Van Draugr collection is far more prestigious than you'd imagine. We have noblewomen from the Muggle world, princesses, even a few famous witches. Libera was here the other day—perhaps you'll meet her if she isn't too busy clinging to Felicia on the fourth floor."
Fi had no choice but to endure.
A week into her stay at the vampire estate, she grudgingly admitted Nolan was right.
The sprawling estate was filled with people—living, breathing people.
None of them were vampires, yet they resided there, nurtured and protected by the Van Draugr family.
To Fi's surprise, most of them didn't seem to mind.
In fact, some appeared to revel in their peculiar captivity.
One figure in particular stood out—Libera Rousseau, a witch whose name carried significant weight in the wizarding world.
Fi watched in astonishment as the once-proud Libera followed Felicia and Nolan like an obedient pet, her captivating voice dripping with honeyed sweetness whenever she spoke to them.
It was baffling.
Fi remembered Libera vividly—they had been rivals at Hogwarts.
Libera was the untouchable beauty of Slytherin, while Fi, diligent and sharp, had been Ravenclaw's rising star.
Back then, Libera was arrogant and impossible to please.
Fi had never seen her bow to anyone.
"Why don't you escape?" Fi couldn't contain her curiosity any longer and posed the question one afternoon.
Libera simply laughed, her red curls bouncing around her shoulders.
"Escape? Oh, that would be easy… but why would I?"
Fi frowned.
"You can't honestly mean you want to stay here. Do you desire immortality that badly? I'll admit, it's tempting, but selling your soul to vampires?"
"You don't understand," Libera cut in coldly, her playful tone vanishing in an instant.
"You're Muggle-born, aren't you? You didn't grow up during the war. You have no idea how helpless wizards were when true danger came knocking. You can't comprehend what it was like, living in constant fear."
Fi opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss.
She hadn't lived through the horrors of Voldemort's reign the same way others had.
For Libera, survival wasn't just a preference—it was a priority.
Libera's expression softened, her lips curling into a wistful smile.
"The Van Draugr estate is the safest place in Britain. Here, I have nothing to fear. And if I'm lucky enough to earn even a drop of their blood, to become one of them… all the better."
She glanced wistfully at the staircase where Nolan had just disappeared.
"Don't you find Prince Nolan charming? I'd happily bear him a child—an adorable little vampire even more beautiful than he is. That's been my dream since I was twelve."
Fi was stunned into silence.
She couldn't argue.
Her understanding of Voldemort's era was superficial at best, and she had no way of knowing the weight Libera carried.
Perhaps it was this conversation—or perhaps something else entirely—but Fi found herself softening toward the Van Draugr siblings.
And when she finally surrendered to Nolan's demands and allowed him to drink her blood, the sensation left her trembling.
The pleasure of it… was intoxicating.
Fi knew she was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.
"It's like… a drug," she thought uneasily, clutching at her collar.
The Auror who had never touched so much as a drop of Firewhisky was beginning to suspect she was in far more trouble than she'd realized.
Nolan spent the next few days not only honing his combat techniques but also fixating on the lock of golden hair he had taken.
He was adept at unraveling magical properties—vampires had a heightened sensitivity to magic, and Nolan, as a rare vampire wizard, possessed an innate ability to feel, touch, and deconstruct spells as naturally as breathing.
In that delicate strand of hair, he detected the telltale essence of an elf—noble, pure, and beautiful… yet thoroughly insufferable.
Yes, elves were always like that.
Beautiful, but rigid. Arrogant to the extreme. Even the slightest brush from another species would earn a glare of contempt.
It was precisely this hauteur that made forest elves such prized slaves.
Who wouldn't relish the thought of dragging something so high and mighty down into the dirt?
Had it been merely an elf who attacked him that day, Nolan wouldn't have given it much thought.
But buried within the hair's magic was another signature—seduction.
"That's veela," declared Felicia the moment she laid eyes on it.
"Veela are magical creatures native to France. You don't often see them in England. They resemble elves, just as breathtaking, but—hmm?"
Felicia's eyes narrowed in mock suspicion as she glanced at Nolan.
"Did I say something wrong? Hahaha! Oh, Nolan, my dear, you're adorable. No matter how beautiful they are, they could never hold a candle to your darling sister, could they?"
Nolan stared blankly.
"Sure. Whatever you say."
Felicia beamed, clearly satisfied with that answer.
With a playful laugh, she explained further.
"Veela may look similar to elves, but they're entirely different creatures. Elves carry themselves with dignity, while veela are… a little more vulgar. Both are stunning, of course, but they despise each other. It's quite entertaining to watch, really."
"Like vampires and werewolves?"
Felicia wrinkled her nose.
"Well, not to the point of mortal enemies…" she mused uncertainly. "They just find each other distasteful. Veela don't like to fight, though. They'd rather use their beauty to get what they want. Elves think they're nothing more than glorified prostitutes."
"How charming," Nolan remarked dryly.
Felicia laughed louder.
"It's not an unfair comparison, is it?" she teased.
Nolan arched a brow.
"Do elves and veela… ever interbreed?"
"Hmm… good question," Felicia said, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
"It's not impossible, I suppose. Veela are all female, but elves have males. Throw aside the whole 'racial feud' thing, and it's bound to happen sooner or later.
"Though, veela hybrids tend to be fickle creatures. And elves, as you know, are hopeless romantics—one partner for life and all that. Hard to imagine the two ever lasting beyond a single rendezvous."
Nolan didn't know if Felicia's assessment was accurate, but the strand of hair told its own story.
He could sense the mingling of both veela and elven magic in it.
…
One morning, Nolan received two letters—one from Cho Chang and the other from Eve Stock.
Coincidence or not, both girls invited him to Diagon Alley for a day of shopping.
Libera, the fiery-haired witch who had recently taken up residence in the manor, clearly wanted to tag along.
Her curiosity about Cho had only grown stronger over the past week, and the thought of another girl occupying Nolan's attention made her itch with suspicion.
But Nolan promptly turned her down.
Libera was left gnashing her teeth against the arm of a chair, sulking in frustration.
For the record, she had finally achieved her long-standing goal—taking in Felicia's blood and becoming her latest death-bound kin just a week ago.
Now a fledgling vampire, she had developed an odd habit of chewing on furniture.
Apparently, her new, ever-growing fangs itched incessantly, and gnawing on things seemed to help.
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