Harry Potter: The Vampire Prince

Reaching the finals hadn't taken much time for Eve.

Perhaps there were many older wizards who could cast more complex spells—but what did that matter?

As Nolan had said, in a wizard's duel, only two things mattered: attack and defense. The Shield Charm and Barrier Spell could block most curses, and Eve Stock's lightning-fast Disarming Charm left her opponents with no chance to retaliate.

It didn't take long for the crowd to realize—this second-year Hogwarts girl was truly formidable.

"I'll defeat you easily, hostess," said her opponent in the finals.

The other finalist was from Bulgaria as well, but unlike the others, he was an Indian boy. Tall and in his seventh year, he had the distinctive features of his heritage, making it hard for the European wizards to distinguish him from others of his kind.

As McGonagall had warned, this Bulgarian boy knew how to wield Dark Magic.

Dark spells were incredibly effective in duels. He could summon Fiendfyre—flames no ordinary Shield Charm could stop. None of the younger wizards had been able to defend against it, and those who had tried bore painful burns.

It was far from sportsmanlike. Most adult wizards watching disliked the Bulgarian boy for it—but there was nothing they could do. After all, there were no rules forbidding the use of Dark Magic in a duel.

Eve felt a twinge of nervousness. She had never seen Fiendfyre firsthand, but she knew he would use it against her.

—What should I do? Should I forfeit? I'd still win prize money even if I backed out now. I've already met my goal.

The thought lingered. She opened her mouth, ready to step away.

But then her eyes drifted to the stands—where Nolan sat, watching silently.

—Nolan trained me. If I forfeit now, it means his training wasn't good enough. I can't let that happen!

Her gaze hardened, and she straightened her back. Lowering her head, she gave the Bulgarian boy a respectful bow.

The final duel began.

"Expelliarmus!" the Bulgarian boy cast immediately.

But Eve's Disarming Charm was faster. The two red beams collided mid-air, erupting in a shower of sparks.

Seeing he had lost the initiative, Eve wasted no time. She cast a Shield Charm over herself and quickly followed with a Barrier Spell, preparing for his next assault.

At first, the Bulgarian seemed reluctant to unleash Fiendfyre on a thirteen-year-old girl. His initial spells were tame—Petrificus Totalus and Stupefy—but they dissolved harmlessly against Eve's barriers.

Gradually, his frustration grew. His curses grew darker, edging into forbidden territory.

"He can't use Fiendfyre against Miss Stock!" McGonagall's voice trembled with anger. "If he does, I'll stop the duel myself! She's done well enough already!"

In the stands, the adult wizards were visibly tense. Eve's courage had earned their admiration, and when she narrowly avoided a spear of black iron by using a Levicorpus spell to flip herself mid-air, the crowd erupted into cheers.

"You flashy little brat. Try dodging this—Inferno!"

The boy finally unleashed his signature Dark spell—Fiendfyre.

Pale, ghostly flames rushed toward Eve the moment her feet touched the ground. Her heart pounded as fear flashed across her face.

For a moment, she remembered that Halloween night—Nolan's words echoing in her head:

"The more nervous you are, the calmer you must be. Use your brain. It'll often save your life."

Calm down. Calm down. Think this through!

The fire crept closer, inch by inch, as Eve's mind raced.

Fiendfyre can't be blocked by spells. Once it touches you, it spreads instantly. The only way to stop it… Right! It's drawn to living things!

But there was nothing alive nearby…

"Transfiguration is the most convenient magic. It can give you whatever you need in an instant."

"I understand now!" Eve whispered to herself, her eyes flashing with realization.

From her pocket, she pulled out a handful of candies—gifts from Dumbledore earlier that day.

The sweets scattered across the floor, clattering as they fell. Almost immediately, they began to twist and shift, transforming into pale white mice, just as Nolan had taught her through countless lessons.

The Fiendfyre surged forward, drawn to the newly animated creatures. The flames consumed them mercilessly, and the air filled with the acrid scent of burning fur and flesh. The mice screeched pitifully, their limbs flailing as they were swallowed by the ghostly inferno.

Eve didn't hesitate. She darted around the raging fire, her small figure moving like a streak of light. Her wand slashed through the air as she roared, "Expelliarmus!"

The Bulgarian boy's eyes widened in disbelief. He hadn't expected the little girl to dispel his Fiendfyre so cleverly—but he wasn't foolish. The Disarming Charm was fast, but he was ready for it.

"Protego Maxima!" he bellowed, thrusting his wand forward. "You think I'll lose to a second-year? Sectum—"

From the stands, Nolan's scarlet eyes dilated sharply. His hand twitched as if reaching for his wand.

"The Severing Curse—damn it!" Nolan muttered darkly.

Before the words had fully left his lips, he sprang into action.

In a single, fluid motion, Nolan's feet struck the floor with a sharp crack, propelling him high into the air. Gasps erupted from the crowd as he soared over the dueling platform, landing between Eve and the advancing curse.

The Bulgarian's spell finished mid-air. Sectumsempra.

Blades of invisible, razor-sharp magic shot toward Eve in a deadly arc, ready to tear through her like paper.

With the flick of two fingers, Nolan's left hand snapped, and a shimmering Protego engulfed him. The Severing Curse collided with his barrier, ringing out like steel against steel.

Sparks scattered, but the magical blades could not pierce Nolan's shield.

"Enough!"

Dumbledore's deep voice cut through the noise like thunder. The elderly headmaster rose from his seat, his eyes glinting behind half-moon spectacles.

"Enough, Mr. Isaac," Dumbledore said sternly. "Surely you are aware—the Severing Curse is forbidden in duels. Had Mr. Von Draugr not intervened, Miss Stock might have suffered irreparable harm due to your recklessness."

The Bulgarian boy rolled his eyes, flicking his wand lazily as if brushing off Dumbledore's scolding.

"Fine, fine. I apologize," he said, sounding utterly unbothered. Then, his tone shifted, smug and playful. "But let's be honest—he interrupted our duel. I panicked. The Severing Curse was… instinct."

"You're lying!" A French girl in the audience shot to her feet, pointing a trembling finger at him. "You cast that curse before he jumped onto the stage! Don't pretend otherwise!"

"Who saw it?" the Bulgarian boy shrugged, flashing a grin. "I didn't even finish the incantation. But what is undeniable is that this guy stormed the stage to save his girlfriend. Everyone saw that. According to the rules, I win by default."

The crowd bristled with frustration. Many scowled, some whispering angrily to one another.

But—like it or not—he was right.

Hogwarts had broken the rules first. Durmstrang had retaliated with an illegal curse afterward.

By all technicalities, the victory belonged to Bulgaria.

Nolan gazed quietly at the boy, his expression unchanging.

"Finished talking?" Nolan asked softly, raising his eyes.

"Yeah," the boy said with a cocky smirk. "I win this round. If you'd just waited until your little girlfriend was bleeding out, then jumped in, maybe Hogwarts could've won. But now? A shame, isn't it?"

Nolan's fingers curled around his wand.

"I see," he whispered. "You've said your piece."

Without further warning, Nolan raised his wand.

"Sectumsempra."

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