The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

The curtains flew open with a flourish, and blinding morning light poured into the room like a golden tidal wave.

Caelum recoiled dramatically under the sheets, groaning like a dying man.

"Mercy!" he gasped. "You're trying to kill me!"

"You're so dramatic," Susan Bones giggled, arms crossed, standing triumphantly at the window. "It's just sunlight. It won't melt you. Probably."

From beneath his blanket cocoon, Caelum cracked one yellow-tinted eye. "You say that now. But when you find only ash on this bed, don't say I didn't warn you."

Susan rolled her eyes with a grin, then turned to leave.

"Breakfast's ready. Auntie says don't keep her waiting. And she made waffles. with strawberries"

The sound of her feet pattering down the staircase was followed by a distant shout of "Waffles!" as she disappeared into the kitchen.

Caelum sighed and sat up slowly. The sun filtering through the curtains didn't burn, but it did irritate—a prickling discomfort just under his skin. He winced slightly, pulled a thin sleeve over his arm, and swung his legs off the bed.

His room was still lined with bookshelves. The walls bore pinned notes in Latin, runic translations, diagrams of magical circuits, and spell casting rhythms. At the far end, a narrow desk was cluttered with parchment, inkpots, and a stack of marked assignments.

He was no longer the pale boy of six who had entered Greystone with nothing but questions and fire.

He was now eleven—and today, something new loomed just over the horizon.

…

The scent of warm butter and cinnamon filled the dining room as Caelum entered.

Amelia Bones sat at the head of the table, the morning Prophet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She glanced up as he took his seat across from her.

"You're late," she said, though her tone was more amused than stern.

"Attempted murder via sunlight," Caelum said dryly. "Perpetrator: Susan Bones."

Susan grinned from her seat, already halfway through a waffle stacked dangerously high.

Amelia arched a brow. "You're still here, aren't you?"

"Barely."

Amelia set down the paper. "How's your reading on Fundamentals of Ancient Runes coming?"

Caelum poured himself some juice before answering. "Finished chapter thirteen last night. I've been cross-referencing the rune clusters with older Norse variations. I think the Ministry's translation of laguz is oversimplified."

Amelia gave an approving nod. "Good. And the Occlumency exercises?"

He hesitated, just for a moment.

"Better. I can hold the visual barrier longer now. Still not perfect."

"You've made more progress than most adults manage in twice the time," Amelia said. "But you must keep training. Occlumency isn't just defense. It's control—over yourself, your thoughts... your magic."

He met her gaze, knowing full well what she meant.

The fire.

The blood.

The whispering hunger that still rose, now and then, like a tide just behind his ribs.

"I know."

Amelia leaned forward slightly. "Caelum, you're powerful. And you're responsible. That's a rare combination. But if you want to truly protect yourself—and the people you care about—you must understand every part of who you are. Magical, vampiric, or otherwise."

Susan reached across the table and handed him a waffle.

"Eat," she said. "Can't rule the world on an empty stomach."

He took it with a faint smirk.

"Not planning to rule the world."

"Not with that attitude."

They laughed together, and for a moment, it was just breakfast and family and sunlight.

…

Later that morning, Caelum stood in his room, holding a sealed envelope in his hand. The wax bore the familiar crest of a lion, snake, badger, and eagle—each representing one of the four houses of Hogwarts.

The letter was simple, formal, and full of promise.

"Dear Mr. Sanguine,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..."

He stared at the parchment for a long time, then set it down gently on his desk.

This was it.

The beginning of something new.

And somewhere deep inside, in the part of him still tangled between fire and memory, he felt the spark stir.