Nolan spent three days in the home of the elder wizards in London, and those three days were nothing short of delightful.
Unlike the young wizards he usually encountered, who often seemed immature and naive, these older wizards were different. They were wise, perceptive, and engaging conversationalists. Even when discussing the most complex magical theories, they somehow managed to make the topics fascinating rather than dry or exhausting.
"Are elder wizards always this easy to talk to?" Nolan asked Professor McGonagall at one point, curiosity lacing his voice.
The Transfiguration professor gave a small, knowing smile.
"Oh, only those with true talent receive such treatment from them," she replied offhandedly.
It was obvious—Nolan was one of the gifted few.
After all, it was already incredibly rare for a vampire to possess wizarding abilities.
And Nolan had not only proven himself capable as a wizard—he had excelled in ways that shattered expectations.
Just how rare was someone like him?
It was almost unheard of.
Before Nolan, no young wizard had ever mastered Runes before the age of fourteen, let alone applied that knowledge to invent new spells and magical artifacts from scratch.
…
On the third day, the elder wizards finally resolved the greatest challenge in the spell Ancestris.
As Nolan scribbled down the final rune with his quill, a wave of applause erupted throughout the room.
"Brilliant!"
"Spectacular, lad!"
"You've just made history!"
The eldest of the wizards, Mr. Austin, let out a booming laugh, his eyes twinkling with pure excitement, as though Christmas had arrived early.
"Astonishing! You, boy, have just given us one of the greatest Transfiguration breakthroughs of the century!" he declared.
Madam Helene, Fleur's grandmother, immediately turned to Professor McGonagall, her expression serious.
"Minerva," she said firmly. "Are you absolutely certain that Hogwarts won't let us take Nolan to Beauxbatons? We desperately need a genius like him!"
It was clear—she wasn't ready to give up.
She had been insistently making this request for three days straight.
…
Not far away, Sareth Bernard, the self-proclaimed "Transfiguration Genius" of Beauxbatons, stood with an ashen face, completely speechless.
And what could he even say at this point?
By now, he had fully realized just how vast the gap between himself and Nolan truly was.
Even after spending three days watching the elder wizards work, he still didn't fully understand what they had been researching.
He couldn't even grasp the purpose of the spell.
And to make matters worse…
During these past three days, he had watched helplessly as Fleur and Nolan grew closer and closer.
Each time he saw them talk, saw Fleur laughing effortlessly beside Nolan, the pain in his chest deepened.
Fleur Delacour—the goddess of Beauxbatons!
And yet, she clearly wasn't interested in him.
…
Later that evening, the elder wizards opened bottles of champagne and butterbeer, celebrating their intellectual victory with unrestrained joy.
At their age, there were very few things left that could excite them anymore.
Birthdays? No. Those were nothing special—each birthday was simply a reminder that they had one less year left to live.
But a breakthrough in magic? That was worth celebrating.
…
At the banquet, Professor McGonagall had definitely had a bit too much to drink.
Her cheeks were flushed red, and she was giggling uncontrollably at the jokes made by Mr. Austin.
At one point, she even collapsed against Nolan's shoulder, her laughter muffled as she tried (and failed) to regain her composure.
Meanwhile, Rachel, the young German witch, subtly tugged at Nolan's sleeve, her eyes gleaming with an unspoken request.
"Come take a walk with me outside," she whispered.
Nolan nodded and followed her out into the cool night air.
"Congratulations, Nolan."
Rachel's voice was warm, filled with genuine admiration.
Her frankness was typical of German witches—she didn't hesitate to speak her mind.
"My great-grandfather told me about your achievement," she said. "You've overcome a challenge that has never been solved in a thousand years."
Nolan's voice remained calm.
"It wasn't just me," he said evenly.
"Professor McGonagall was guiding me the entire time, and it was Mr. Austin and Madam Helene who found the key breakthrough."
Rachel shook her head fiercely.
"But they all respect you!" she said, her excitement evident.
"I've never seen my great-grandfather show this much interest in a young wizard before!
"He told me that you have an incredible future ahead of you!"
Nolan simply continued walking at a leisurely pace.
"Perhaps," he said softly.
An incredible future…?
Maybe.
But that future might not necessarily be one he lived as a wizard.
Nolan wasn't researching magic just to become a famous wizard.
His goal was to strengthen his clan.
He was seeking a way for vampires to use magic—a way for his kind to evolve and survive in a world where the power of magic was fading.
Just as Duchess Felicia had once said:
For magical creatures to survive in an age where magic is weakening, they must find a way to evolve.
That is the only path to survival.
Suddenly, Rachel grabbed Nolan's sleeve, stopping him in his tracks.
"Nolan!" she said, her voice slightly breathless.
"I'm leaving for Germany with my great-grandfather tomorrow. I don't know when we'll see each other again. Maybe in two years at the next Quidditch Cup…"
Her blue eyes shimmered under the moonlight.
"…But no matter what, I have to tell you this."
She took a deep breath.
"I know we haven't known each other for very long," she said honestly.
"But, Nolan… I like you."
Nolan shrugged and replied calmly, his voice quiet.
"I know. You didn't exactly try to hide your feelings."
Rachel's eyes widened slightly, then she hesitated before asking, "And what do you think?"
Nolan's response was cold, unwavering.
"Too rash."
"Oh…"
Rachel's voice wavered, her eyes turning red as if she were trying not to cry.
She mumbled something under her breath before muttering, "Then… I'll go back first."
With that, she turned sharply on her heels and ran off, her footsteps echoing softly against the pavement.
Nolan let out a small sigh, watching her disappear into the dimming light.
The sky above him had started to shift—twilight darkening into night.
He lifted his gaze to the rising moon, its glow turning brighter, clearer.
His scarlet eyes flickered to life.
At that moment, his entire aura changed—the quiet, human-like presence of before faded away, replaced by something sharper, colder, undeniably inhuman.
A voice came from beside him.
"You're awfully cold, you know that?"
Nolan didn't even flinch.
"Stop spying on me, Veela," he said, turning his head. "And while we're at it—tell me, if you were in my shoes, wouldn't you have rejected her too?"
The night breeze swept past him, rustling the withered autumn leaves.
There, on an old, rusted swing, Fleur Delacour sat with a lazy elegance, her silver hair glistening under the moonlight.
The metal chains creaked softly as she gently rocked herself, her silky strands swaying like liquid silver in the wind.
"I would have rejected her too," Fleur admitted.
She leaned back slightly, her lips curving into an expression that was both playful and knowing.
"I enjoy tempting men," she continued. "I like watching them fall in love, like moths drawn to a flame.
"It makes me feel…" She chuckled. "Like I have power—that I am irresistible.
"But the moment they actually confess their feelings… I reject them immediately."
Nolan raised an eyebrow, walking toward her.
"That's… not a very Veela-like thing to do."
Fleur let out a soft laugh, tilting her head to the side.
"Who says it isn't?" she mused, her deep blue eyes glinting mischievously.
Then, she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into a sultry whisper—the kind that felt like velvet brushing against the ears.
"But, you see… I'm only half Veela."
Her expression turned wickedly amused, like a cat playing with its prey.
"I refuse to kiss or date a man who's been ensnared by my Veela charms," she said. "That's what a Veela would do."
"But I—" she placed a delicate hand on her chest—"am a witch."
Nolan folded his arms.
"Then you're going to have a hard time finding a boyfriend."
Fleur grinned.
"Not necessarily!" she chirped, kicking her legs playfully.
Then, her expression turned teasing, and she pouted dramatically.
"Come on, vampire," she whined. "Push me!"
Nolan sighed, but he still placed a firm hand against her back and gave her a push, sending the swing into motion.
Fleur's laughter rang out through the quiet Muggle neighborhood, bright and musical, like a string of silver bells.
The night breeze carried it far into the distance.
…
The next day, Fleur's family returned to France, and Rachel's family departed for Germany.
Before leaving, Professor McGonagall dragged Nolan into one last discussion.
She had an idea—a bold one.
She wanted to co-author a book with him.
A book that would document everything about Ancestris—its theoretical foundation, its incantations, and its applications.
"This book," she declared, "will become a Transfiguration bible for the next several centuries."
The elder wizards were also eager to contribute.
Several of them agreed to write the foreword, ensuring that the book would carry weight within the magical academic world.
"It might cause quite a stir," McGonagall admitted as she and Nolan left Graven Street together.
She sighed, rubbing her temple.
"I can't even remember the last time a spell of this magnitude was invented…
"Thank you, Mr. Von Draugr.
"This might very well be the greatest achievement of my entire career."
Nolan simply shook his head.
"Professor McGonagall, you still have a long journey ahead of you," he said lightly.
"Who knows? One day, you might even become Hogwarts' next headmistress."
McGonagall's face hardened immediately.
"That is not a blessing, Mr. Von Draugr."
She narrowed her eyes, her voice firm.
"No one wants Professor Dumbledore to retire.
"He is the symbol of Hogwarts.
"He is its guardian.
"No one—not me, not anyone—can replace him."