The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

The letter came early, tucked neatly between the folds of The Daily Prophet. Caelum opened it by the fire, recognizing the elegant script and wax seal.

Caelum,

If you're not too busy avoiding society or brooding under snow-draped towers, I have information I believe will interest you. I'm spending a few days in London over the break. If you're willing, meet me at Florean Fortescue's. I'll be the one not wearing school robes.

—Vesper Blackbourne

He read the note twice, then tucked it back into its envelope. A smile, barely there, brushed the corner of his lips. Of course she'd phrase it that way.

Later that morning, he found Amelia in the study reviewing parchment scrolls beside a warm cup of tea.

"I was wondering if I could go to Diagon Alley," he said. "I want to pick up a few Christmas presents... and meet a friend."

Amelia looked up from her notes, eyes warm but alert. "A friend, hmm? I'm glad to hear that." She didn't press for names. "Just don't forget your scarf, and be back before sunset."

Snow blanketed the rooftops and cobbled paths of Diagon Alley like an enchanted quilt. The shops bustled with warmth despite the chill, shops glowing golden against the pale blue of the winter day. Steam drifted from chimneys, and the scent of cinnamon and pine lingered in the air.

Caelum made his way through the crowd, his cloak fluttering behind him as he approached Fortescue's. The warmth of the café welcomed him as he stepped inside, the doorbell chiming softly above his head.

Inside, near the frost-fogged windows, Vesper Blackbourne sat with perfect posture. Her school robes were gone, replaced by a long, fitted coat of deep forest green trimmed in silver—elegant yet casual in a way only someone raised in old pure-blood traditions could manage. A soft wool scarf was draped neatly around her shoulders, and her dark hair was swept back in a twist that exposed just a hint of silver earrings. She looked up as he approached and smiled, but didn't stand.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said as he slid into the seat opposite her.

"There's no reason not to," Caelum replied. "Especially if you have something I should know."

"I thought so," she murmured, brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve. "I spoke to my father during the holidays."

He raised an eyebrow. "You told him?"

"I didn't name names," she clarified. "But I asked him why two families like Rosier and Avery would expend so much effort on a single first-year student. He agreed—it's not just unusual, it's suspicious."

She leaned in slightly. "So he did some digging. Discreetly. And when I visited home, he told me what he found. Nothing concrete, mind you—nothing official. But he believes there's someone behind the Rosiers. Someone pushing them."

Caelum's gaze sharpened. "Who?"

"That's the thing," Vesper said with a touch of frustration. "It's not a person. Or if it is, they're hidden well. But my father suspects it may be a group—or at the very least, someone with connections outside of Britain. Old, hidden names. Not just interested in your existence... but your blood."

"My bloodline," Caelum murmured.

Vesper nodded. "Adrian Rosier's original interest in you wasn't about containment—it was acquisition. Possession. You were a project, not a threat. And now that he's gone, someone else is waiting to see what becomes of you."

He was silent for a moment, staring out the window. Snow fell gently outside, swirling in lazy circles.

"You said something once," Caelum said at last, eyes still on the glass. "That in the wizarding world, there's only one thing that matters."

Vesper's voice softened. "Power."

He finally turned to look at her. "And that's what they're afraid of."

"No," she said. "That's what they want."

She stood, brushing down her coat. "You should be careful, Caelum. This isn't about school rivalries anymore. It never was."

Caelum was quiet for a beat, absorbing the weight of her words, then met her gaze.

"Thank you," he said simply. "The information was helpful."

Vesper gave a faint smile. "Like I said before—I like vampires." She turned to leave, pausing just long enough to glance over her shoulder. "And now one in particular owes me a favor."

Caelum raised an eyebrow slightly at that, but said nothing.

She offered a brief nod, then added with a hint of amusement, "Goodbye, Caelum."

Then she walked out into the cold, her boots crunching softly in the snow.

Caelum remained seated for a while, letting the words settle. Somewhere in the background, a clock chimed noon, but he barely heard it. He could feel it now—threads being pulled around him, invisible hands weaving old blood and forgotten fire into something dangerous.

And he was in the center of it all.