Harry Potter: The Vampire Prince

"Felix Felicis? This is my first time seeing it in person." Miles said enviously.

In truth, any wizard with common sense knew that Felix Felicis had a dazzling golden color.

Unfortunately, no one ever expected much from Miles Bletchley's intelligence.

Since Astoria said it was Felix Felicis, Miles didn't doubt it in the slightest. After all, why should he question his junior?

"Felix Felicis isn't a common potion. The brewing process is extremely complex, and one small mistake can ruin everything. Only a true Potions Master can craft it. Perhaps Professor Snape has some—I'm just guessing—but even if he does, it wouldn't be a large amount. Felix Felicis brings immense luck, and a competent wizard would always carry some for life-saving moments or crucial situations." Montague explained while Astoria discreetly tucked the bottle back into her pocket.

Miles smacked his lips. "And what does Astoria plan to use it for?"

Astoria had already regained her composure. She grinned mischievously. "Of course, I'm using it on Nolan. If he drinks this, maybe he'll finally accept me. Felix Felicis brings luck, doesn't it?"

"What a waste... If it were me, I'd use it to make a fortune in Galleons."

Miles began muttering, full of envy and jealousy.

But no one could quite tell whether he was jealous of Astoria or—just as always—of Nolan.

Montague, however, didn't think Nolan would accept Astoria so easily. She still looked so young, after all. He couldn't help but caution her. "Astoria, I think you're a little too young for this."

"Too young? Not at all! I'm already a big girl, and I believe in my charm!"

Montague shook his head, unsure how to judge Astoria's precociousness.

She was only twelve! Short, with a petite frame, and clearly still a child. Although... well, her angelic, innocent face combined with an oddly mature and alluring aura did have a certain charm. But not every guy would fall for a Lolita type.

"I still think you should wait a couple of years before falling in love."

"That's your opinion, not mine." Astoria shrugged, then warned him, "Even though our families are close, you're not my brother, Montague. You don't get to tell me what to do."

Montague merely shrugged and said nothing more.

At that moment, the common room doors swung open, and Nolan walked in, accompanied by Draco Malfoy.

The two of them were deep in discussion as they made their way toward the dormitories.

"They're offering fifty thousand Galleons, Nolan. Do you know how much that is? Fifty thousand Galleons could buy you half of Hogsmeade!" Malfoy's pale face was full of urgency. "Roderick Plumpton is the best Seeker in all of England. Over the past ten years, he's led the Tempest team to five championship wins. Some people say he's the best Seeker in all of Europe—my father thinks so too! He's making a serious offer. If not for you still being in school, he would have come to see you in person—he's looking for the greatest broomstick craftsman!"

"No.001 is a gift I made for Eve, Draco. You know I won't sell it."

"But Nolan, this is ridiculous! You could have given Stock a more suitable gift. I mean, all of Europe thinks your gift is too extravagant! If you put No.001 and No.002 up for auction, you could make over a hundred thousand Galleons! That's enough to start your own broomstick company!"

No matter how much Malfoy tried to persuade him, Nolan kept shaking his head, refusing to sell.

To be fair, for months now, professional Quidditch players had been reaching out to the broomstick company, hoping to buy the early-numbered Firebolts.

Any broomstick with a number under ten easily sold for a five-figure sum in Galleons, while those under a hundred still fetched thousands. The broomstick company was making a fortune, and a large portion of that gold had landed in Nolan's own pockets.

As the mad rush to purchase them continued, the wealthiest individuals began setting their sights on the No.001 and No.002 models still in Nolan's possession. Somehow, word had spread that the mysterious broomstick maker was a Slytherin student, and many prospective buyers had turned to the parents of Slytherin students for help.

One such buyer was England's top Seeker, Roderick, who had appealed to none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"Please, Nolan! Roderick is retiring next year, and he wants to ride the best broomstick for his final World Cup!"

In the end, Nolan, exhausted from Malfoy's relentless pestering, sighed and said, "Maybe there's another way. We could create a special edition."

"A special edition?"

"For example, we could remove the numbered designations and engrave something like 'Firebolt Special' or 'Firebolt EX' onto the handle. In the future, Comet Broomstick Company could produce limited-edition versions each year as prizes for the MVP of the World Cup."

"That's brilliant!" Before Nolan even finished speaking, Draco Malfoy grasped his hands excitedly, his pale face flushing with excitement. "Brilliant! Firebolt Special! Roderick will be over the moon!"

Draco was absolutely thrilled. He seemed genuinely excited on Roderick's behalf—maybe he was a hardcore fan.

Then again, the gleam in his eyes suggested otherwise. Perhaps the Malfoy family had taken a generous cut as middlemen for the deal.

"Nolan, you're a good guy, I've always said so!" Draco exclaimed, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. "Maybe I can get my hands on a Firebolt EX too! Then Potter will be green with envy! He'll never be able to catch me on the Quidditch pitch again—not even once! Don't you think?"

Nolan nodded indifferently. "You? Of course, you can."

"Really?!"

"Of course. As long as you can cough up fifty thousand Galleons."

And just like that, Draco Malfoy puffed up his cheeks and fell silent.

Draco was an amusing and endearing fellow. He had an almost obsessive fixation on Harry Potter, one that Nolan never quite understood. Couldn't he find someone else to tease and just let them both be?

That said, when Potter wasn't around, Draco was actually rather pleasant company. Though he was arrogant and proud, he always seemed oddly docile around Nolan—like a well-behaved, plush toy. It was... amusing.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

As Nolan and Draco continued discussing the marketing strategy for Firebolt's special editions and whether or not they should sell them to the French, Astoria suddenly appeared.

"Oh, hello, Astoria." Draco greeted absentmindedly.

"Can I borrow Nolan for a bit, Draco?"

"Of course, as long as Nolan doesn't mind."

Draco shrugged, already thinking about rushing back to his dormitory to write a letter to his father, Lucius. He hoped that before Comet Broomstick Company released the special editions, his father could keep Roderick on standby—giving the Malfoy family more time to carve out a bigger profit from the Seeker's desperation.

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