Harry Potter: The Vampire Prince

High Priestess Lúthfa swiftly selected the elite rangers she needed for the mission.

They assembled in the central square of the elven village.

The ranger squad consisted of twenty-two elves, all of them masters of archery—the best of the best, according to Lúthfa.

The entire village gathered around them, offering the finest weapons and provisions to aid their journey.

The rangers filled their quivers with enchanted arrows, each one infused with powerful magic. These weren't just ordinary projectiles—they could explode upon impact, capable of shattering even a troll's rock-hard skin.

Nolan observed the craftsmanship of the elves with a keen eye.

He admired their elegant recurve bows, each one intricately carved with exquisite floral patterns, both beautiful and deadly.

He had to admit—elves were artists far beyond the reach of Muggles.

They had the uncanny ability to turn ordinary objects into masterpieces—a stark contrast to wizards, who somehow managed to make everything they touched look uglier.

The leader of the rangers was a young elven woman, bearing a striking resemblance to Lúthfa.

"This is Shafa," Lúthfa introduced her.

She glanced at Nolan and added with a knowing smile, "In fact, you've probably seen her many times before… but perhaps you mistook her for me. It wouldn't be the first time. Even among elves, those familiar with us occasionally confuse the two of us."

"Shafa is my younger sister."

At first glance, Shafa and Lúthfa looked nearly identical.

But there was a reason why they felt so different.

To put it in Muggle terms—

Lúthfa was the white-collar intellectual, while Shafa was the blue-collar warrior.

As the High Priestess, Lúthfa carried herself with an air of nobility, something cultivated through years of leadership and reverence.

Shafa, on the other hand, was a ranger through and through—her life spent in the wilds had honed her sharp instincts and made her presence subtle, almost unnoticeable unless one paid close attention.

But one thing was certain—her archery skills were unmatched.

"Shafa is the best archer in our village."

Ligeitoli chattered excitedly beside Nolan, following him like a shadow.

She was joining the expedition, having volunteered to act as their guide.

Lúthfa, after some hesitation, agreed to let her come.

Nolan, however, was far less interested in Shafa and far more concerned about something else.

His gaze swept across the square, and his expression darkened.

"Where is the werewolf?" he demanded.

The elves around him exchanged uncertain glances.

Nolan's eyes narrowed.

"When I arrived in this village, I tied him up and left him right here."

His gaze dropped to the empty ropes on the ground.

"Now, all that's left is this. So, would someone like to tell me where the hell he went?"

"Maybe he escaped," one of the rangers remarked dryly.

The mocking tone in his voice did not go unnoticed.

Nolan turned his head slowly, eyebrow arching in amusement.

"Oh, fantastic. Now we have a lead."

He clicked his tongue.

"A werewolf escaped in an elven village. Brilliant idea."

He folded his arms, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Tell me—just how bright does one have to be to come up with something like that?"

The ranger who had spoken bristled.

With a scowl, he stepped forward, towering over Nolan.

"Watch your tongue, vampire," he growled.

"You're not in your little vampire castle anymore. This is our village."

Nolan opened his mouth to retort, but before he could—

Ligeitoli hurriedly grabbed the ranger's arm.

"Ah! Tony! Don't make trouble!" she pleaded.

Nolan turned to her with a smirk.

"This idiot is one of your admirers?" he asked, unimpressed.

Tony shot Ligeitoli a furious glare.

"Stop getting so close to the vampire, Ligeitoli!"

Then, in an act of sheer audacity, he jabbed a finger toward Nolan's chest and declared:

"I am her fiancé!"

"So, vampire—stay the hell away from her!"

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

Nolan laughed.

Not just a chuckle—a full, mocking laugh.

"Ligeitoli?" he repeated, as if struggling to believe it.

"This little brat already has a fiancé?"

He gave the young elf girl a slow once-over, then turned back to Tony with an amused smirk.

"Tell me, do elves not consider marriage a bit… premature for someone her age?"

"I am an adult!" Ligeitoli yelled indignantly.

She stamped her foot, face flushing red.

"Elves can have children at fifty! Of course I can get married!"

Then, with equal frustration, she turned on Tony.

"And I am NOT your fiancée! Stop saying nonsense!"

"Ligeitoli, you are!" Tony shot back without hesitation.

"No pure-blooded elf would ever marry you except for me!"

"I have the right to decide my own marriage, Tony!"

"No, you don't!"

The two descended into a full-blown shouting match, their argument growing louder by the second.

Nolan rolled his eyes and turned back to the Lúthfa sisters.

"Well," he drawled.

"So much for elves being pure and sacred when it comes to love."

His voice was laced with mockery.

"Marriage is such a pain. Love is rare enough as it is—Muggles and wizards have long since learned to just settle for whatever they can get."

His smirk widened.

"Seems like elves are catching up with the trend."

Lúthfa watched the two quarreling elves with concern.

With a sigh, she muttered under her breath—

"We… also wish elven love could remain pure."

Shafa, the elven ranger and Lúthfa's younger sister, spoke up with a calm yet resigned tone.

"Unfortunately, Tony's attitude toward marriage doesn't violate elven morals. We can't punish him for it."

"Not even the High Priestess can?" Nolan raised an eyebrow.

"Elven High Priestesses do not interfere in politics," Lúthfa explained.

"Our society doesn't require politics—only a few rules and the necessary punishments."

As she finished speaking, she clapped her hands together, snapping the arguing elves out of their quarrel.

"Rangers, we are heading northwest, toward the swamp. Perhaps this journey will bring something valuable to our homeland."

She then gestured to Nolan.

"This is Nolan Von Draugr, a vampire. He will be traveling with us—"

"Not without a price."

Nolan suddenly interrupted, his voice smooth and deliberate.

A hush fell over the gathered elves.

All eyes turned to him, filled with distaste and suspicion.

The average elf had no knowledge of the Draugr name or what it represented.

To them, he was just a vampire—a creature of darkness.

And forest elves were creatures of light.

It was only natural that they despised him.

But Nolan remained unfazed.

"I have made a deal with your High Priestess, Lúthfa," he announced.

"When this journey is over, I will have the right to take two of your forest elves with me."

A wave of murmurs swept through the crowd.

Some elves turned to Lúthfa, demanding an explanation.

Nolan's patience snapped.

"Silence, long-ears."

His voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

"I could have simply spent a handful of Galleons to purchase two elves from the black market. Why didn't I?"

He smirked.

"You long-ears aren't particularly rare or special, are you?"

"All I need are two elves to serve as my wardens—caretakers for my estate, guardians of my gates."

His gaze darkened.

"I came to Ireland for one purpose, Lúthfa High Priestess. And I alone will decide which two elves I take with me."

Ligeitoli's breath caught in her throat.

Her small hands curled into fists.

Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst out of her chest.

Would he choose me?

Would he take me away?

Her cheeks flushed at the thought.

But the next moment, her heart plummeted.

Because Nolan casually lifted a hand and pointed—

Not at her.

But at Lúthfa.

"For example, you, High Priestess Lúthfa."

Silence.

Utter, stunned silence.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then, chaos erupted.

"You insult our High Priestess, vampire!"

A ranger stormed forward, face red with fury.

It was none other than Tony—the so-called fiancé.

His finger jabbed toward Nolan's chest as he snarled.

"Filthy creature! You should be thrown back into the darkness where you belong!"

But Nolan didn't even spare him a glance.

His gaze remained fixed on Lúthfa.

"Well?" he asked.

"What do you say, High Priestess?"

Lúthfa's expression was unreadable.

Her delicate hands tightened into fists, but her voice remained calm and composed.

"So this is your price for using the Philosopher's Stone to help us?"

Nolan shrugged, utterly indifferent.

"That's right."

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