It was now the beginning of February. Snow still clung to the edges of the windowsills, but the atmosphere inside Hogwarts had begun to shift. The corridors bustled with renewed energy as students returned to the rhythm of study and social drama. For Caelum, however, the days were more deliberate. He had a plan, and every step needed to be measured.
Easter break was still a few months away, but it would be the window of opportunity he needed. He would enter the Forbidden Forest then. Not on a whim, not recklessly—but with knowledge, preparation, and purpose.
That began with Professor Rakepick.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was quiet as the last students filed out after class. Caelum lingered at her desk, her expression unreadable. Professor Patricia Rakepick—turns out to be a world-famous Curse-Breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank—was busy packing away her satchel, but her gaze flicked toward Caelum with casual attentiveness.
"Mr. Sanguine," Rakepick said without turning fully. "Is there something you wish to discuss?"
Caelum approached the desk. "Yes, Professor. I have a question… about vampires."
Rakepick raised a brow, clearly amused. "Are you asking me how to deal with your own kind?"
Caelum offered a thin, humorless smile. "Let's just say I'm not planning to duel my reflection. But hypothetically—if one were to encounter vampires in the wild, what would be the best approach?"
Rakepick set her satchel aside and leaned back against the desk, arms loosely folded. "That depends on the type. Wild ones? Feral? Or the more… civilized, old-blood clans?"
"Let's assume a clan," Caelum said evenly. "Hidden deep in forested territory. Somewhere like the Forbidden Forest."
There was a brief pause.
"Ah," Rakepick said slowly. "Then you're asking the wrong kind of question."
She straightened slightly, her gaze sharpening.
"For feral vampires—fire and light are your best tools. Enchanted silver if you can get it. Avoid close combat at all costs. They're faster, stronger, and highly territorial." A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "But I imagine you already know that."
Caelum didn't respond.
Rakepick continued, more serious now. "Clans are different. Older. Smarter. They won't attack blindly. You'll need strong mental defenses—Occlumency, control, restraint. And the sense to know when you're no longer the most dangerous thing in the room."
"Even they can be provoked," she added. "And when they are… a wizard doesn't last long."
Caelum's gaze didn't waver. "Are there any magical defenses they're particularly vulnerable to?"
"Fire, always," Rakepick said. "Beyond that… there are older methods. Eastern European warding traditions—blood wards, spirit bindings. Rare, difficult, and not something you'll find in standard textbooks."
She tilted her head slightly. "Why?"
"Research," Caelum replied simply.
Rakepick gave him a long, knowing look. "Be careful what you research, Mr. Sanguine. Some shadows have longer memories than the light."
…
Back in the library, Caelum delved deeper into his research. He combed through old records, newspaper archives, and dusty magical bestiaries, piecing together fragments of information.
Mentions of vampire activity in the Forbidden Forest were rare—but not nonexistent. Some accounts dated back decades, others were more recent. A handful described accidents. Missing persons. Incidents reports by the ministry.
Most, it seemed, shared a common thread.
They happened too close to the perimeter.
The wards surrounding the vampire territory were designed to keep them contained—not to keep wizards out. And so, even with the warnings produced by the wards, some still wandered too far—crossing the boundary they were never meant to breach. Not always by accident, either. Some knew exactly what they were doing.
A number of the victims had been identified as poachers. Others—dark wizards.
People who believed they could take something from the forest.
One passage caught his eye in an obscure tome:
"The coven known as the Gura Umbrei is believed to have retreated to the darkest part of the Black Forest centuries ago. Fragments of lore suggest they made contact with the blood magic of the old world, though no proof exists. They were rumored to be able to bend the blood of others to their will, to draw power from it directly—curse it, boil it, freeze it. Most believe it to be mere myth."
He paused. Blood magic.
While most accepted that vampires could influence minds—through whispers, or gaze—there was no known instance of them casting blood-related spells. It was long believed that such feats were exaggerations, the stuff of legend designed to scare children. But Caelum knew better than to dismiss legend too quickly.
After all, his very existence blurred the line between myth and reality.
The only problem was that the deeper he searched, the more fragmented the information became. Blood magic was a forbidden branch of study—locked behind Ministry seals or lost to time. And yet, some part of him burned with familiarity when he read those descriptions, like something buried was responding to the call.
He didn't know what it meant.
Not yet.
But he would.
By Easter, he would be ready