Harry Potter: The Vampire Prince

Even after a year had passed, Malcolm and Miles still didn't get along.

Everyone knew Malcolm was a staunch blood purist, proud of his lineage—making him, in that regard, a model Slytherin. Just like the newly enrolled Draco Malfoy, Malcolm fit the mold perfectly.

Miles, on the other hand, was a half-blood. And while there were plenty of half-bloods in Slytherin these days—Eve Stock being the most glaring anomaly—half-bloods still didn't command the same respect as pure-bloods. Malcolm looked down on Miles. Miles couldn't care less. That was the root of their endless conflict.

"You fascist bastard!" That day, the two of them were at each other's throats in the common room. Miles hurled the nastiest insult he could muster at Malcolm. "How did your mother even manage to give birth to such a miserable prick like you? Who knows if your blood's even pure? Maybe you're just some bastard she had with a Muggle on the side!"

Malcolm roared in fury. "Don't you dare insult my family, you filthy Mudblood!"

"I'm not a Mudblood! I'm half-blood!" Miles snapped, drawing his wand. "You'll pay for that—I'll make you pay! Let's see if your precious bloodline will protect you now. Draw your wand!"

"Fine! I'll show you what happens when you challenge noble blood!"

The air in the common room crackled as the two squared off, eyes blazing. The younger Slytherins watched nervously. Bloodline arguments were always sensitive—no one wanted to step in. Siding with either party would spell trouble.

At that moment, the common room door creaked open, and in walked Nolan, holding a battered broomstick. His eyes lazily swept over Miles, then Malcolm. "What's going on?"

"He destroyed my poster!" Miles shouted, his voice shaking with outrage. "That was a limited-edition Julie Delpy poster! My dad and I worked hard to get the enchantment right—she actually moved! There's only one of those in the entire world, and now it's ruined! Completely ruined!"

"I won't have some Muggle woman prancing around like an idiot in our dormitory," Malcolm sneered. "You should find better interests. Someone like Libera Rousseau. Now she's a beauty—and pure-blood."

"She's a bloody actress! You can't expect a movie star to have wizarding ancestry!"

"I don't care about your… movies. Real wizards don't need such lowbrow entertainment. That's why you're a half-blood and I'm pure. Simple as that." Malcolm smirked, tossing the torn pieces of the poster in the air. "Besides, women like her—dressed like that—we all know what they are."

"You take that back! Don't you dare insult Julie Delpy!"

Miles lunged, but the next second he was blasted backward—along with Malcolm.

Nolan frowned as he flicked his wand, brushing dust off his robes with the other hand. His voice was calm but sharp. "If you two don't stop bickering all day long, I'll turn you both into toads."

The common room fell silent.

Everyone remembered the time last year when Nolan had actually turned Malcolm into a toad. He'd carried him around for weeks—even brought him to class, attempting to feed him worms.

In the corner, Draco Malfoy swallowed nervously.

He hadn't expected Nolan Von Draugr's magic to be this powerful. A single flick of the wand and two Slytherins were sent flying. Draco doubted he could manage such a thing himself.

In fact, he wasn't entirely sure even his father Lucius could.

Draco cautiously leaned toward Monta and whispered, "Isn't dueling with wands forbidden in the common room? Why didn't anyone stop him?"

Monta laughed heartily, clapping Draco on the shoulder. "You've got to understand—no one wants to cross Nolan Von Draugr. Around this time last year, Malcolm insulted Eve, and Nolan turned him into a toad. The transformation lasted for half a month. By the end of it, Malcolm almost seemed to embrace his amphibious lifestyle. One night, I caught him crawling around the common room on all fours."

Draco shivered, his grip tightening on the armrest. "Didn't any of the professors stop him?"

"That's the strangest part," Monta said, lowering his voice as if Nolan might overhear. "The professors… they don't seem eager to interfere with him. Almost as if upsetting Nolan is worse than letting him disrupt discipline. Even Dumbledore didn't step in when it happened. Listen, Draco—Nolan's not just anybody. Everyone knows it, even if they don't say it out loud. We don't provoke him lightly. But as long as you don't piss him off, he's easy to get along with. It actually takes a lot to make him angry."

Monta Lockman was one of the more good-natured Slytherins, but even he wouldn't risk stepping in to save Malcolm.

That was the Slytherin way—self-preservation above all.

As Monta finished recounting the story to the first years, Nolan had already finished dealing with the two troublemakers. By now, Miles and Malcolm were battered and slumped against the wall, practically in tears.

"We won't fight again! We swear!" they pleaded, sniffling pitifully.

"Good," Nolan said with a satisfied nod. "I'd appreciate that. You're both incredibly loud when you argue."

With that, he grabbed them by the collars—one in each hand—and dragged them back toward their dormitory, leaving the rest of the Slytherins exchanging wary glances.

And just like that, peace was restored to the Slytherin common room.

The young Slytherins returned to their books. They were diligent—not like the Gryffindors, who wasted every free moment on games or mischief. In Slytherin, most students studied hard, either out of personal ambition or the heavy expectations of their families. It was no wonder they had claimed the House Cup for six consecutive years—Snape's favoritism notwithstanding.

Barely five minutes passed before a blood-curdling scream erupted from Nolan's dormitory.

Malcolm bolted into the common room, eyes wide with terror, tears streaming down his face. "There's a snake! A snake!" he wailed.

"Calm down, Malcolm." Miles emerged behind him, barely suppressing a laugh. "That's just Nolan's pet. She's been with us since first year. She's never bitten anyone. Honestly, I'm more surprised that a Slytherin like you is afraid of snakes. Isn't that a bit embarrassing?"

Malcolm's face turned pale. "S-Since first year?! Y-You mean… it's been here the whole time!?" His lips trembled, and he staggered backward, glancing around as if expecting more serpents to slither from the shadows.

He couldn't fathom it—he'd been sharing a room with a snake for over a year without even realizing it.

"Her name's Sheila," Nolan said casually, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a slender, pale snake coiling around his wrist. His touch was gentle, almost affectionate, as if he were caressing a lover. "She's family."

Sheila's ruby-red eyes glinted as she flicked her tongue toward Malcolm, hissing softly.

Malcolm's gaze locked with hers.

His eyes rolled back.

With a faint "Gah!" he collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

Poor guy.

The young Slytherins shook their heads in silent sympathy.

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