Harry Potter: The Vampire Prince

"Stop, Nolan!"

From the moment Nolan had stepped onto the platform, Dumbledore had felt an ominous weight settling in his chest. Now, that premonition was unraveling right before his eyes.

Nolan's Severing Curse was far more vicious than the Bulgarian boy's—those invisible blades of magic, wrapped in black sorcery, sliced mercilessly through the boy's skin.

Blood spurted in sharp bursts, painting the stage with vivid streaks of red. The witches in the audience shrieked in terror.

"Stop! Hogwarts student, cease this at once!" Aurors from the Ministry rushed onto the platform, attempting to shield the boy from Nolan. But it was clear to everyone—this black-haired wizard was not to be trifled with.

Nolan's eyes gleamed dangerously. "Don't get in my way. Sectumsempra!"

Blades of cursed magic shot toward the Aurors, tearing through the air. One of them crumpled instantly, gasping as blood seeped through his robes.

A barrage of Binding Curses streaked toward Nolan from all directions. The adult wizards had realized—this boy was out of control.

With a snap of his fingers, Nolan summoned another Protego. The barrier shimmered around him, deflecting the curses with a metallic clang, clang, clang.

His eyes glowed red, filled with seething rage as he glared down at the trembling figure below him. "Bastards… I'll remember every face that dared to cast a spell at me just now. Every single one."

"Damn it, he's gone mad!" McGonagall's voice trembled as she turned sharply to Dumbledore. "You need to stop him, Albus! Now!"

Dumbledore's expression darkened, shadows pooling beneath the lenses of his half-moon glasses.

"Stop him?" Dumbledore's voice was soft, but heavy. "Stop Von Draugr?"

"Listen to me, Dumbledore!" McGonagall snapped. "I don't care who he was before he came to Hogwarts. Right now, he is no one. He is my student. Do you hear me? Nolan Von Draugr is my student. And I will not let my student become a murderer!"

Her voice rang clear across the hall, each word deliberate and unyielding.

Even so, on the platform, Nolan's eyes were locked on his prey. The crimson hue deepened as he towered over the bloodied Bulgarian boy.

"Do you want to die?" Nolan's voice was soft, but deadly. He pressed his wand to the boy's chest. "You idiot… Do you realize what you did to Eve? You didn't even apologize. Who do you think you are? What were you planning to do to her, huh?"

"I—I was wrong…" the Bulgarian boy stammered, crawling backward in desperation. His terrified eyes darted around the stage, silently begging for someone to stop this living nightmare.

"This wand…" Nolan's left hand clenched the boy's wand, his grip cold as iron. "This is what cast those curses, isn't it?"

With a sharp crack, he snapped the wand cleanly in two.

The Bulgarian boy's breath hitched.

Before he could react, Nolan's boot came down hard on his right hand.

"And this arm…" Nolan's voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "This is the hand that cast the Severing Curse, isn't it?"

Nolan's heel twisted mercilessly.

The sickening crunch of bone echoed through the hall.

A scream erupted from the boy's throat, raw and piercing.

"Confringo! Confringo! Confringo! Confringo!" Nolan repeated, his voice vibrating with fury. The Blasting Curse exploded over and over, pulverizing the boy's arm.

Flesh shredded. Bone fragments splintered into the air. By the time Nolan stopped, the boy's right arm was nothing but a mangled, bloody stump.

And still—

"Sectumsempra!"

Once more, invisible blades tore through the boy's chest, carving deeper into the raw wounds.

"Isaac!" A woman's anguished cry shattered the silence.

A middle-aged witch had thrown herself toward the platform, sobbing hysterically. "Stop it! You monster—stop!"

Nolan's gaze slowly drifted toward her.

"You're his mother, aren't you?" His voice was devoid of warmth, his scarlet eyes flickering with dark amusement.

McGonagall felt her stomach lurch.

Without hesitation, she stepped between Nolan and the witch, raising her wand protectively. "Mr. Von Draugr, that is enough. You're out of control. I know it's not your fault, but you must fight the darkness in your blood."

"Don't interfere, Professor McGonagall." Nolan's voice was icy, sharp enough to cut glass. "That boy is scum—a disgrace of a wizard. The woman who raised him must be no different."

He paused, his lips curling faintly. "Let me erase her, too."

"Nolan Von Draugr!" McGonagall's voice thundered across the platform, as fierce as the crack of a whip. She pointed her wand directly at him.

"Look at me! Look closely at who I am! I am your professor! I taught you Transfiguration! I taught you Animagus transformation! And you dare speak to me like this?"

"Professor McGonagall…"

The red glow in Nolan's eyes dimmed slightly. His grip loosened, and the unicorn wand in his hand slowly lowered.

But just then—

"Nolan, look over here."

It was Dumbledore's voice.

The white-bearded wizard stood beside Eve, his hand gently resting on her trembling shoulder.

The crimson light in Nolan's eyes flared violently once more as he glared at Dumbledore with unmistakable hostility. "Old man… are you threatening me? You want to fight?"

Dumbledore's expression remained calm. "You know there are far more important things for you to protect… don't you?"

He gave Eve's shoulder a gentle squeeze, lowering his voice. "Go to him. Hug him. Perhaps that will help him calm down."

A moment later, Eve Stock threw herself into Nolan's arms.

"Nolan… please… stop… I'm begging you," she whispered, trembling uncontrollably. The small witch was terrified—terrified by the unrestrained fury she had just witnessed from Nolan.

As Eve pressed against him, Nolan's breath slowed. The red faded from his eyes, leaving behind the cold, detached expression that was all too familiar.

He looked down at the witch who had screamed earlier and spoke softly, "You're lucky."

McGonagall wasted no time, seizing Nolan by the wrist. "Come with me. Now."

The stern professor dragged Nolan and Eve toward the exit, urgency etched into every step.

Before they could leave, more Aurors flooded into the hall. Wands drawn, they immediately pointed them at Nolan.

"Professor McGonagall! You must leave him here! He attacked one of our own—"

"Gentlemen."

Dumbledore stepped between the Aurors and McGonagall's group, blocking their path with a single raised hand. His sharp gaze swept across the room.

"I believe we have far more pressing matters to attend to at this moment."

"He killed my son! Dumbledore—he killed my child!"

The Romanian boy's mother wailed, tears streaming down her face. "He's a monster—a dark wizard! You have to lock him away!"

Dumbledore turned to her with a serene smile, his voice calm and composed.

"No wizard in England is simply 'locked away,' dear lady. Here, we call that place Azkaban."

His light tone did little to soothe her anguish.

"But… your son isn't dead. Believe me, he's merely injured. We'll take him to St. Mungo's, and I'm certain everything will be fine."

"I don't care!" The woman's eyes blazed with fury. "I want him to pay for what he did! That boy—Von Draugr—"

"Hmm… if I recall correctly, it was your son who first used the Severing Curse on my student."

Dumbledore's words, while gentle, carried an icy weight that made the witch shudder involuntarily.

"Miss Stock is Mr. Von Draugr's dear companion. Believe me, young wizards tend to… lose themselves in moments like this. Of course," Dumbledore continued with a thoughtful nod, "I will ensure that Mr. Von Draugr faces a severe punishment. Let me think… how about… detention when we return to Hogwarts?"

"Detention?" The woman's voice cracked with disbelief. "He nearly killed my son, and you're suggesting detention?"

Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic glance. "Oh, dear lady, if you'd prefer to escalate this further, I'm certain the Minister of Magic would be delighted to have a discussion with you."

He offered her a playful wink, as if the entire matter were nothing more than a misunderstanding at a schoolyard brawl.