Winsty felt like she'd stepped into a horror film—during the day.
Her heart pounded, unusually sensitive.
Then Blake said something that froze her blood: there were others in the room besides him and Professor Rochiel.
Terror gripped her.
"Whoosh!" Vita whipped out her wand, eyes narrowing as she scanned the room.
Her expression darkened. If Blake was right, it meant someone had been in the room all along, completely evading detection.
For Vita, that was a humiliation.
Still, part of her doubted it. No one had ever hidden from her that well.
But Blake's true sight and keen awareness pierced all illusions.
Without hesitation, he strode into Winsty's room.
Vita flinched and reached out, trying to stop him—walking in blind was dangerous with an unknown enemy.
But Blake was already inside.
Winsty's room was not what he expected. Everything was in shades of black and gray—curtains, sheets, personal items. Only the standard-issue school furniture added contrast.
Blake ignored the décor and turned to the top of the bookshelf.
There sat a palm-sized gargoyle statue. Its dark, glassy eyes glittered with a malevolent glint—at least, that's what most people would see.
But through Blake's eyes, all disguise was meaningless.
It was a curled-up bat, unmoving.
Grindelwald and Vita followed him in, both noticing the statue.
Grindelwald narrowed his eyes. Though he couldn't see through it, he sensed its unnatural presence. Something about it dared them to challenge it.
Vita turned to Winsty.
"Where did that come from?"
"I... An owl delivered it yesterday," Winsty said, nervous. "It said I won a prize from the Daily Prophet... I thought it was a gift. I just put it on the shelf."
Even Grindelwald frowned at that. As the secret power behind the Prophet, he knew for a fact no such giveaway existed.
He and Vita exchanged looks.
"Reveal yourself!" Vita cast a spell.
A beam of magic struck the statue—"Whoosh!"
It transformed before their eyes.
The dusty gargoyle crumbled, revealing a small, dark bat.
Winsty's face drained of color.
She knew exactly who it was.
The bat fluttered down and began to change, growing in size, its features morphing.
Fangs shrank, wings folded, and in seconds, a pale man in black robes stood before them.
Winsty stared in horror.
"You again..." she whispered.
"I'm saddened by your reaction, Winston," the man said, voice cold and emotionless.
"Why can't you leave me alone?" she asked, voice cracking.
This was her father—the one who should love her most.
But all he wanted was to make her like him: an emotionless vampire.
"Windy," he said, "I'm not turning you into one of those pathetic half-blood leeches. What I offer is true transformation—noble vampire blood, real power, eternal life."
"What's so wrong with that? People crave power and immortality. I'm giving them to you."
Winsty's voice trembled. "No... I don't want it."
"Why?" he demanded.
"Because... I wouldn't be human anymore. I'd lose everything—my emotions..."
She glared. "Do you even remember how Mother died?"
"You never saw her as your wife. Just a tool to breed me."
The fury in her eyes blazed.
"She was just human. You shouldn't resent me for that," he replied coldly. "Humans are food. Even witches—just a step above livestock."
"Shut up!" Winsty screamed. "Do you even know what love is? What family means?"
"By your logic, I'm food too!"
"No," he said quietly. "You are not like them. You carry the blood of a noble vampire—and, regrettably, some filthy human blood."
"That's why I want to perform the ritual—to purify you."
Winsty backed away, resolute. "Never. I won't let you."
He stepped forward but stopped—two figures now stood between him and his daughter.
"So wizards are food too?" Grindelwald said, amused.
Blake smirked. "If that's the case, he must've killed a lot of people."
Grindelwald asked, "How many, exactly?"
The vampire sneered. "Do you remember how many slices of bread you've eaten?"
Blake scratched his chin. "That line sounds familiar…"
"I know you're powerful," the vampire said, "so leave now. Don't stop me from taking my daughter."
Blake glanced at Grindelwald. "We've killed him five times today, right?"
"Yup."
"Still yapping. Think he's got a goldfish brain?"
"Maybe. Or maybe you decapitated him and scrambled his brain."
The vampire ignored them.
"I didn't fight seriously before. I wanted Winsty to witness the vitality of vampire kind."
He turned to Blake. "You restored her memory, didn't you?"
"Yep. You planning to thank me?"
A rare sneer twisted the vampire's face.
"Oh, I should thank you. If not for you, Winsty would have seen the worst of humanity through Lockhart."
"She'd have no illusions about humans and would've accepted her transformation."
Blake's expression darkened. "Wait... you arranged Lockhart?"
"You wanted that scumbag to kill your daughter so she'd turn to you?"
"You even faked your own death?"
The silence was answer enough.
"You still believe in those pitiful human emotions," the vampire muttered, glaring at his daughter. "Because of him."
Suddenly, Blake's system chimed: Gold Treasure Chest Obtained.
Grindelwald's senses flared. "Watch out!"
Blake's eyes snapped to the vampire.
The vampire whipped his cloak—and a crushing wave of force blasted toward them.
Anyone else might've been torn apart.
But he wasn't facing just anyone.
Blake tapped the air. A shimmer spread—mirror space.
The attack was sucked into it and vanished.
"Bat soundwaves? Not bad," Blake said calmly. "But if we're gonna fight, let's not wreck Winsty's room."
He raised his wand—and a dimensional portal dropped from above, engulfing everyone except Vita and Winsty.
A blink later, they were standing on Nurmengard's Quidditch pitch.
The vampire glanced around, clearly shocked.
"This power... It's not of this world."
"Oh?" Blake said. "How would you know?"
"I've lived for centuries. Never seen magic like this."
"Then maybe you've wasted those centuries," Blake replied. "Because you've just succeeded in annoying me."
"Aha... an honor," the vampire said darkly.
He floated into the air, glaring at Blake.
"I can smell your blood... You'll make fine prey."
Blake smiled, unfazed. "Bonus. You'll make a great test subject."
"Avada Kedavra!" Grindelwald's voice rang out.
Green light shot straight at the vampire.
But he raised his robe. The curse bounced off.
"That won't work on me," he sneered. "We're beyond human magic."
Then his body began to change.
His cloak turned to leathery wings. His skin turned blue. Fangs lengthened.
In moments, he'd become a monstrous, half-human, half-bat creature.
"Bloody hell," Blake muttered. "That's not a Harry Potter vampire... That's a full-on Skyrim vampire lord!"
"Be afraid, little human…" the monster rasped.
"Actually," Blake replied, "I'm afraid I'll break you too fast. Then you'll be useless as a test subject."
Grindelwald frowned. "Blake, need a hand?"
"No thanks," Blake grinned. "I want to enjoy this."
Since gaining the Elder Wand, he'd invented several powerful spells. What better way to test them than on something unkillable?
He raised his wand.
"I don't like craning my neck, so why don't you come down!"
He pointed skyward.
"Eat my ancient magic!"
A bolt of lightning as thick as a barrel cracked down from the heavens.
"Crack!"
The monster screamed as it crashed to the ground.
Blake blinked, mildly disappointed.
"That's it? One strike?"
He sighed.
"Finding a decent punching bag these days is way too hard…"
=============
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