With a sharp crack, the space around Nolan twisted violently.
His lungs emptied in an instant, his entire body compressing as if he had been plunged into the deepest depths of the ocean. It was an odd sensation—like that moment of weightlessness in an elevator, only far more intense.
Three to five seconds later, his surroundings snapped back into focus. Light and shadow stretched outward from a single point, spreading across the dim landscape.
He had arrived in a cemetery under the cover of night. Above him, bats flitted through the air, their wings cutting through the silence, while crows croaked out their eerie, off-key songs.
"Welcome back, Your Highness."
Miss Theresa appeared out of the darkness, offering him a polite curtsy.
Nolan gave her a soft smile and handed over the empty basket in his hands. "I'm home."
…
"How does this look?"
Eve held up a V-neck T-shirt, pressing it against Nolan's chest as if measuring it against him. "Maybe you should experiment with different styles. Classic looks are fine, but they make you seem a bit too... stiff."
"Do I?" Nolan blinked, looking genuinely puzzled.
Meanwhile, Libera Rousseau was lounging comfortably on his bed, legs crossed, her arms wrapped around a very pretty Muggle girl.
The girl's skin was flushed, her lips slightly parted as if lost in a dream, and on her delicate neck, two fresh bite marks stood out clearly—evidence that she had just served as Libera's dinner.
"Your Highness should try a hip-hop style," Libera suggested lazily, stretching like a satisfied cat. "Or maybe punk. If you need makeup, I can help. Not all witches are bad at it, you know. Back in the Muggle world, a talent scout even tried to recruit me once. Too bad they had no idea I was already famous in the wizarding world!"
She flashed a smug smile, tossing her thick red hair over one shoulder with a flick of her wrist.
Libera was convinced that her fame was her greatest advantage in competing for Nolan's affection.
After all, what man wouldn't love the idea of seducing a world-renowned beauty into his bed?
Eve glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, pressing her lips together.
Damn it... does this mean I've already lost?
Her gaze flicked down to Libera's figure, and a bitter realization settled in.
It was the body.
It was definitely the body.
That day, Eve had come to understand quite a few things—one of them being that Libera Rousseau, the so-called "dear relative" of Grand Duchess Felicia, was not only Nolan's most favored lover but also, perhaps, her strongest rival.
But while Eve and Libera were busy waging their silent war, Nolan was utterly oblivious.
Vampires had their own sense of fashion. They loved capes, favored tailcoats, and often dressed with a seriousness that made them look like grumpy old aristocrats.
"How about this one? Or maybe this? And for outerwear, a long hooded coat—" Libera mused, throwing out ideas.
"It's summer!" Eve snapped, looking utterly exasperated. "A long coat will make him look like a complete idiot! He'll stand out among Muggles like a sore thumb!"
"But His Highness is a vampire!" Libera shot back, equally stubborn. "Vampires should own their style! A vampire should absolutely dress like some eccentric, vintage-loving lunatic!"
Nolan's eye twitched.
He didn't particularly enjoy listening to women bickering around him, but even he had no idea how to put an end to it.
So, in the end, he turned to Miss Theresa, his ever-reliable maid.
"Which one do you think looks best?" he asked.
Theresa gracefully picked out a sleeveless, lightweight jacket. It had a long hem that just barely covered the hips. "This one. You can wear it over the V-neck. And for accessories, I'd choose this necklace."
Nolan nodded. "That works."
Theresa helped him put on the outfit, fastening the necklace as well.
When he turned around, he was met with the piercing glares of both Eve and Libera.
Sensing their frustration, he cleared his throat and muttered a small excuse.
"Miss Theresa has always had good taste."
Eve's expression twisted with fury.
"That bastard!"
And the moment Nolan cracked out of existence with his Apparition, she furiously grabbed the jacket she had wanted him to wear—
And threw it to the floor.
…
"Good afternoon, Tom."
With a sharp crack, Nolan appeared inside the Leaky Cauldron.
His sudden arrival didn't startle the older wizards lounging in the pub—after all, Apparition was only fascinating to young witches and wizards. These seasoned patrons had long grown accustomed to it.
However, Tom, the pub's hunchbacked innkeeper, looked genuinely surprised. "Mr. Von Draugr, I didn't realize you were old enough to start learning Apparition."
"Professor McGonagall thought I was ready. She found me a good teacher," Nolan replied casually, settling onto a barstool. He accepted the glass of tomato juice Tom slid across the counter and asked, "How's business been lately?"
"Oh, thanks to you, quite well." Tom chuckled, hunched over as he wiped a mug with a rag. "Wizards love stopping in for a Butterbeer or two when they visit Diagon Alley. It's a fine little pastime. Here, this one's on the house."
"Thanks, Tom." Nolan took his time eating a tomato salad, glancing around the pub as he chewed.
A trio of elderly witches sat in a corner, chatting idly as their enchanted knitting needles wove scarves of their own accord.
Not far from them, two old wizards were using their wands to make a pair of ragged gray rats duel. One of them clutched his head in frustration, yelling, "Lux, don't you dare lose! I bet three Galleons on this match!"
And then…
Sitting alone in a corner, sipping a Butterbeer, was a young wizard. He had a fair, well-defined face and a sturdy build—someone Nolan found oddly familiar.
"Hey, Von Draugr!"
The boy raised his glass in greeting, then walked over with an easy grin. "Shopping for school supplies? Has Hogwarts sent out the book lists yet?"
"Not yet," Nolan answered lightly. "They seem to be running late this year. I suppose they're still looking for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
The boy chuckled, looking entirely too smug. "I'd bet good money they're struggling. Everyone knows that job is cursed. Who'd be dumb enough to take it?"
Nolan swirled his tomato juice in his glass, his voice barely above a murmur. "Unlike Muggles, wizards actually believe in curses. And frankly… so do I." He tilted his head slightly and asked, "What are you doing here, Diggory?"
Cedric Diggory.
A year ahead of Nolan, the Hufflepuff Seeker, and one of the most popular students in Hogwarts—if it weren't for Nolan, he might have been the most popular.
"Just looking for some fun," Cedric admitted with a wink. "The summer's been dull, don't you think? Say, Von Draugr, for all the time we've spent at Hogwarts, I don't think we've ever actually spoken."
"That's true." Nolan nodded thoughtfully.
At that moment, the Weasley twins tumbled out of the Floo Network, stepping out of the fireplace with exaggerated caution. As they dusted off their robes, they whispered urgently to each other.
"That was our last pinch of Floo Powder. Let's hope Mum doesn't murder us for using it up."
"Murder us? Are you out of your mind? She'll obliterate us!" the other twin groaned. "That's why I'm going to make the most of tonight. If we're dying anyway, we might as well go out happy!"
Nolan greeted them with a nod before turning back to Cedric. "We're heading to a Muggle bar for a night out. Want to come?"
"Whoa there, Diggory!"
The twins immediately latched onto Cedric, throwing their arms around his shoulders and slapping his back like old friends. "Mate, look at us—what do you think we are?"
"What, a boy band?" Cedric quirked an eyebrow, smirking. "Alright, count me in."