Chapter 463: Vampire Gathering
The long-haired vampire standing behind Lockhart bared his elongated fangs and leaned forward, aiming to sink them into the man’s neck.
“Wait! You can’t do this!” Garr blurted, stepping in front of the scene.
“Yes, Artemis,” said the brunet man beside Garr. “This is his prey. He should have first taste.”
“Fine,” the long-haired vampire sighed regretfully, releasing Lockhart. “I’m starving.”
His eyes—slitted like those of a venomous serpent—scanned Lockhart’s neck. Lockhart froze, his face pale, his gaze flicking desperately to Garr.
“Listen,” Garr’s mind raced. He forced his voice into a strained, hunger-laden tone, as if speaking in the manner of his kind: “This blood source is rare. He’s a Wizard… so I think, once all is said and done, we can invite the elders to enjoy him slowly.”
Lockhart stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified—his expression clearly saying, I didn’t expect you to be this kind of monster.
“Wizard?” The long-haired vampire instantly perked up. He snatched the wand from Lockhart’s pocket, snapped it in half with a casual twist, then grinned, drooling with anticipation. “I’m quite eager. By the way… what’s your name?”
“Oliver!” Garr’s heart lurched. He blurted out a common name on instinct. “I’m Oliver Williams!”
“Oliver?” The vampire laughed. “Ha! You’re the third Oliver I’ve met. I’m Jack Roberts.”
The brunet man clapped Garr on the shoulder, grinning. “Even if the first two tasted bad, I think we’re going to get along just fine!”
Garr forced a smile. “Absolutely! Definitely!”
Meanwhile, he stared desperately toward the sky, hoping the owl that had delivered the parcel would notice his plight and bring help—perhaps his uncle.
But the owl was long gone. All he saw now were two bats flitting across the distant horizon.
—What’s going on? A vampire gathering? Right near Hogwarts? Are they mad?
Garr had his reasons for being here. But he couldn’t fathom why these vampires—unharmed by Dementors—had come running to this place. He wanted to ask, but feared revealing he wasn’t one of them. So he said nothing, only murmuring vague replies before falling silent, his nerves fraying with quiet panic.
The group then walked together toward the edge of the village. Lockhart, bound and gagged, was carried between two vampires, his limp form resembling a drunken man.
Hogsmeade, beyond its central commercial district, was otherwise indistinguishable from any ordinary village. Houses stood sparsely along the road, many tucked away in secluded corners—homes of reclusive souls. But the vampires were heading far beyond the familiar. Even Lockhart, who had spent seven years at Hogwarts and served as a professor for half a year, had never been to this part of the village—so far west, almost at its very end.
It was an old wooden house, two stories high, with seven or eight windows, its lower walls barely visible beneath thick, creeping vines and gnarled branches that twisted up from the ground.
Lockhart never got a chance to see more. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, he was thrown into a filthy storage room, face-first into dirt.
He barely lifted his head—only to see another person already bound inside.
A young woman, dressed in gray robes, sat in the corner, hunched over, her face buried in her hands, sobbing softly. She looked terrified.
“Be careful,” someone warned. “Didn’t you hear the new arrival? This one’s a Wizard.”
“Got it,” came another voice. A vampire approached with tape, swiftly binding Lockhart’s mouth and hands. Then they left, the door locking behind them with a final, echoing click.
Lockhart’s face crumpled. Despair washed over him.
Even if he’d mastered silent magic without a wand, he couldn’t free himself from the sticky tape. And now, with his mouth sealed, he couldn’t even cast a spell.
Lying on the cold floor, he wept—tears of regret.
If only he’d studied silent magic properly at school…
If only he hadn’t abused the Memory Charm for fame…
No, the worst mistake was coming to Hogwarts at all. It was a cursed place. Ever since he’d accepted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, misfortune had followed him like a shadow—never stopping.
Why was life so hard?
Beside him, the long-haired woman wept again, her sobs echoing like an owl’s cry. Lockhart, unable to speak, silently wept too, and for the first time, felt a flicker of kinship toward the girl.
He strained to turn his head, hoping to catch her eye—maybe she was a fan of his? Even if not, her hands were free. She could help him.
But the woman kept crying, her tears endless. Lockhart groaned softly, trying to signal his presence.
The sobbing paused. Slowly, she raised her head.
Her eyes were blood-red.
Her nose—only one nostril remained.
Garr, still outside, heard the mournful wail. He watched as the door closed behind them, and asked uneasily, “Who else is in there?”
“The House’s Master,” said a red-haired vampire.
“What?” Garr gasped. “This is her house? What if someone comes looking for her and finds us?”
“Don’t worry,” the red-haired vampire said. “She’s a Banshee. No one dares approach her.”
He shoved Garr inside. “Come on. Everyone’s here.”
Garr stumbled forward into the living room. Inside the dim, smoke-filled space, he counted at least twenty or thirty vampires.
Dozens of glowing, hollow eyes turned toward him.
Garr took a step back.
Then, Roberts bumped into him from behind.
“What’s wrong?” Roberts asked, puzzled.
“I… I’m just worried about the blood food I brought,” Garr stammered, making up an excuse. “He’s stuck with a Banshee. Can’t be killed, right?”
“Read more books, man,” Roberts chuckled. “Banshees are harmless. They just wail under the windows of the dead.”
Garr swallowed hard and stepped forward. Someone pressed a tall glass into his hand.
He sniffed it. Fresh human blood—scented with a strange, sharp note like pine resin.
“Special Banshee flavor,” the vampire grinned, winking. “You’ll like it, brother.”
Garr took two sips. The warmth spread from his throat to his stomach, every cell in his body sighing with satisfaction.
In exile, he’d rarely tasted fresh blood. The blood from the hospital’s refrigerated supply had been tainted—bitter, artificial. He almost shouted, “Another one!”—but restrained himself.
Even better, as he listened to the murmurs around him, he realized no one here knew each other. They’d all been sent the same invitation letter—strangers brought together by shared desperation and the same dark fate.
“Hi,” a young vampire girl approached, smiling. She raised her glass. “I’m Sophia.”
“Uh… I’m… I’m Oliver,” Garr mumbled, nearly forgetting the fake name he’d invented.
Sophia sipped her blood, then leaned in. “Do you think the invitation was real?”
“Uh… I don’t know,” Garr said, stalling. “Do you doubt it?”
He tossed the question back.
“Who knows?” She leaned against a cabinet, eyes scanning the room. “They said each of us would get at least thirty thousand Galleons after success. I wouldn’t even dream of such luck…”
—Thirty thousand? Garr nearly choked, swallowing the blood in one gulp. He finally understood why everyone here looked so desperate.
It wasn’t just hunger. It was greed.
Not just for blood—but for gold.
For something real, something shiny.
Thirty thousand Galleons…
And right near Hogwarts?
What kind of operation could make that much money?
Even without knowing the details, Garr felt a cold knot of dread tighten in his chest. He needed to leave—now.
He drained the glass, set it down, and casually said, “Sophia… I think I’m allergic to Banshee blood. Can you show me where the restroom is?”
But Sophia’s eyes suddenly snapped upward.
“Look!” she said. “That’s probably our host.”
Garr turned. A man and woman were descending the stairs.
The man exuded darkness—every inch of him screamed Dark Wizard.
The woman looked like an ordinary housewife… but her eyes held a sharp, dangerous glint.
“Welcome, welcome, brothers and sisters,” the man said with a wide, chilling smile. “Thank you for accepting my invitation. It brings back memories of the old days—when we worked together as one. But now… after so many bases fell, we’re all scattered. I heard many of you have been struggling lately…”
“Cut the talk,” growled a vampire with a scar across his face. “We’re all just cannon fodder—thrown into battle and barely survived. Unlike you, who stayed close to the boss.”
“Exactly,” another vampire, his face burned beyond recognition, sneered. “We just want to hear what big deal you’re offering. If you’re lying… I swear, I’ll tear you apart, piece by piece.”
Garr saw it clearly—most here weren’t after some grand fortune. They were driven by greed, not belief. They’d come for a chance, no matter how slim.
And for many, even a few hundred or thousand Galleons would be worth the risk.
“Once you hear it,” Majer Byerd said, his smile deepening, “you’ll understand why the reward is so large. In fact… the real number might be even higher.”
“Are you kidding?” Roberts roared. “Kidnap a Hogwarts student? Wade Gray? Are you suicidal? Want to die? Then do it alone!”
He turned to leave—only to be blocked by the scarred vampire.
“Admittedly, Wade Gray’s treasure vault could hold hundreds of thousands—or even a million Galleons,” the scarred vampire said calmly. “But with Dumbledore around, no one can touch it.”
He turned to Majer Byerd. “I assume you don’t want to die either. So what’s your plan?”
Majer Byerd grinned. “I received a message. Dumbledore will be meeting the headmistress of Beauxbatons this weekend.”
He spread his arms. “Hogsmeade Weekend. All the young wizards are running around the village. Lose one or two? No one would notice.”
“Are you insane?” Roberts scoffed. “You think you can snatch a wizard that obvious right in front of everyone? I bet Dumbledore would appear in under three seconds.”
“Yes,” Majer Byerd said. “Which is why we need someone inside to bring him here. Someone who can be caught—without anyone suspecting.”
He paused. “The hardest part is already taken care of. Someone inside will bring Wade Gray here. Any questions?”
“Even so,” Artemis said nervously, “it’s not foolproof. What if he brings friends? What if a Hogwarts professor shows up?”
“Which is why I invited you,” Majer Byerd said bluntly. “If this were truly risk-free, I’d do it myself. But if it works… it’ll be like picking up money off the ground.”
“Still,” Artemis frowned. “Even if Dumbledore’s not here, Hogwarts has powerful professors. And this village is full of wizards.”
“True,” Majer Byerd shrugged, smiling. “If caught… you die. But then, the rest of us get more money.”
The words hung in the air.
The thought of golden riches—mountains of Galleons—flickered in their eyes.
The burned vampire licked his lips. “Well… it’s worth a try. How do we split the reward, Majer?”
“I want the man—alive,” Majer Byerd said. “Everything in his vault is yours.”
“After we capture him,” the scarred vampire asked, “how do you escape? Any Portkeys?”
“No such luck,” Majer Byerd said with mock regret. “The wizards who could make Portkeys were killed by Gellert Grindelwald. We’ll have to use Floo powder. And yes—there’s a fireplace here.”
A silence fell.
The fireplace could only carry two people at a time. That meant the whole group would need time to evacuate.
They couldn’t speak the destination clearly while transformed into bats.
If the operation was exposed, those left behind would die. And in the chaos, they might turn on each other—fighting for the last chance to escape.
But if they stayed hidden for just twenty or thirty minutes…
Well, it would be easy.
No one doubted they could catch a teenage boy.
They only feared becoming the ones left behind.
After a moment, the vampires exchanged glances—unspoken understanding passing between them. Fear and worry were buried beneath shared greed.
The plan began.
(End of Chapter)
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