The pentagram before me glowed a pale lavender as I completed the ritual.
A piercing, unholy wail reverberated around my summoning chamber. In the center of the pentagram, a humanoid shape began to solidify.
I halted the process, freezing the entity between here and the place from whence it came.
"Repugnant sorcerer! Release me at once!" the creature hissed, its voice echoing as if a dozen other creatures spoke with it in a discordant harmony.
"I offer you a choice: Remain and serve me or return to your master and continue to suffer."
"Foul magic it uses to entrap me. A cage is offered to escape a cage!"
"You will be bound, yes, but you will enjoy freedoms you have never known. Reach out with your senses. Feel what lies beyond these walls and call my words untrue."
The creature hissed, but quieted as I lessened the bindings in the circle, allowing it to perceive beyond its circular prison.
"Sisters… They were lost."
"They are not lost. They are free to wander my forest – as you can be if you swear."
The creature appeared conflicted. I felt as it reached even further beyond the circle, seeking the extent of my lands. I stood prepared, ready to dispatch the creature if it attempted to escape.
"I swear." the creature said at last. "Malefic swears herself to you, master."
"So mote it be." The ritual circle dimmed to nothing. The creature lingered only a moment longer before she vanished. I felt her vacate my manor and dash into the forest to greet her sisters.
I was not worried. She was now bound to me and to my estate. To attack me was synonymous with attacking herself. She was the last I would bind to these lands. In addition to herself and her sisters, I had summoned many other entities to act as guardians and soldiers. Those who refused or who attempted to deceive me were banished or destroyed. Those who willingly bound themselves to me remained, stewards of my home evermore.
While I had managed to accumulate a sufficient number of servants, the process was…taxing. I recalled moments from the more long-lived of my past lives where such summonings and bindings were as simple to me as breathing. Such was not the case here. Every summoning sapped my strength as if I were calling forth the foremost of the outer planes. Something was interfering with my summonings.
In desperation, I had been forced to create this room and empower it to empower me to summon what aid I had. My method was able to bypass whatever barrier was preventing simple access to the worlds beyond, but it was still draining. As a result, the vast majority of my new servants were of species not documented nor known in Tamriel. I poured over every tome and sought information about such entities wherever it could be found prior to summoning them, but several species were simply too unruly to bind even with such preparations. Thankfully, my estate's protections were complete in the wake of this final binding. With this final addition, I was content to call my home defensible.
I tidied up the summoning chamber and retrieved my staff from where I'd rested it on its rack. I left the room and walked down the hall, found the staircase that led to the manor proper and climbed it.
The renovations had been a resounding success. The floor no longer caved, instead sitting sturdy as the strong trees surrounding the manor. Splintering walls had been replaced by whole paneling and paintings. Muggle paintings that is. I refused to abide sentient entities of indeterminate loyalties having access to my home. The art livened the area up and the sconces and chandeliers illuminated it. An additional lower level was successfully installed as well as all of my laboratories – a separate one for each summoning, enchanting, alchemy and runecraft with a final area set aside for when I was ready to attempt planar transits through whatever interference had hampered my summonings. All of my tailoring and smithing was done in the workshop attached to the west wing of the manor.
My crafts were how I had been making my living and paying for the materials I used to repair and improve my home. Diagon Alley held a wealth of resources that I frequently took advantage of. While I could have made everything myself over time, the ease of access and level of craftsmanship found in Wizarding Britain were sufficient enough for me to make use of a variety of items in my home. Diagon Alley was also where I had been peddling my own trade, selling many of the lesser creations I was capable of making.
While I still held a sizable account at Gringotts and half of the wealth I arrived with in my satchel, it was always wise to maintain a steady income stream. By selling minor potions, poisons and charms I paid for my renovations three times over, allowing me to retain the remainder of my earnings in my Gringotts vault.
I stepped out of my manor and ran a hand over the pillar of mauve crystals set just outside the front door. Glowing, sickly green runes pulsed up and down the pillar. It was one of thirteen spread around the property that maintained my rather extensive ward network and the only one to reside in the open. Unless all were destroyed, my wards would remain, a feat easier said than accomplished.
"Master!" a gravelly voice croaked from behind me.
"Draip." I greeted the spindly imp colored like tanned leather without turning. "See to the manor in my absence."
"Of course, master. How long shall your lordship be gone?"
"No longer than a day." I replied simply, already stepping through a portal, my illusory appearance in place.
As I tailored my manor and lands over the past years, I had devoured the books I purchased upon my initial arrival to this world. The magic here was disappointing in some ways and ingenious in others. It was a strange paradox I still desired to indulge myself in. Unfortunately, I had seemingly reached the end of what books purchased from Diagon Alley could provide me. Nevertheless, I was not one to be deterred.
Due to my second half's memories, I knew where one of the largest stores of knowledge in this entire world was kept. Accessing this store was as simple as teaching children for a measly year. In such time, I would be able to copy each book with my self-writing quills to add to my own, ever growing library. A single year paid for the acquisition of such a collection was a bargain.
My portal closed behind me as I walked purposefully up the steps in front of me. There were a multitude of ways to access the Ministry of Magic. As I had no desire to flush myself down a toilet, I always took the direct route – walking through the front door.
Startled gasps and whispered conversations followed me as I walked across the polished stone tiles of the Ministry's floor towards my intended destination. Much to my irritation, I had become something of a mysterious celebrity over the years. My potions and charms – sold by Ravenscrest Mystical Goods, my official, licensed retailer – were some of the most sought after in Britain. My potions especially were talked about in the same breath as those made by the greatest alchemists to ever live. Praise was frequently offered to my shop for revolutionizing potioncraft. I had not sold anything more than minor potions I felt would be no threat to me if the secret of their creation was uncovered. The fact these creations were considered legendary brews spoke more to the ability of the alchemists of this world than it did about my own talent.
In the beginning, shortly after my shop had opened and began selling its wares, people went so far as to attempt to send me mail laden with bribes and false offers of friendship. When the owls stopped returning, tragic casualties of the dangers surrounding my home, the letters stopped.
"How may I help you?" the attendant asked without looking up, too absorbed in her paperwork to offer me more than the most fleeting of attention.
"I wish to begin the process for achieving a Mastery in Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms."
"All Masteries must be arranged through your mentor." the woman answered automatically, flipping her paper over and scribbling on the opposite side. "Once your mentor has scheduled a date, we will administer the proper tests and you will receive your Mastery if you pass."
"That is the problem. I do not have a mentor."
Huffing in irritation, the woman turned to glare up at me from her desk, freezing when she finally registered my presence, her eyes widening in shock. "L-Lord Beolfag, forgive me. I thought–"
"Must I suffer through a mentorship, or may I simply prove my skills by passing your tests?"
"You–you want to teach?" The woman's jaw was opening and closing strangely. A rapid analysis spell proved she was not having a stroke. Such an inconvenience would hamper my ability to receive my Masteries.
"Yes. I have come to understand that Hogwarts is several instructors short. Should I seek out a mentor or–"
"No!" the woman exclaimed, bolting to her feet, eyes frantic. "That will not be necessary, my lord. I am sure Hogwarts would be delighted to have a potions master as accomplished as yourself. If you would please follow me? We can begin the tests."
Humming in affirmation, I followed her into a separate room, ignoring the excited whispers and feverish chatter of the witches and wizards behind me.
X
Achieving a Mastery was far too simple. The most rudimentary elixirs were considered 'difficult' to brew. The Defense Against the Dark Arts proctor would be incapable of combating me even when limited to the sole use of the weakest of my spells. And the instructor does not need to know any charms capable of creating any truly impressive effects. I could have passed these trials as an apprentice. The entire process took a total of two hours, and that was only because it took the proctors forty-five minutes to test my potions.
Still, I had expected the testing to take longer. With the available time, I penned my application for three separate Hogwarts positions and paid to have a Ministry owl deliver the letters. To my surprise, my efforts were unnecessary.
"Lord Beolfag?" a kind, elderly voice said from behind me just as the owl carrying my letters leapt off of my arm and into the sky.
"Yes?" I replied, expecting there to be some issue with my testing.
Smiling warmly, the man waddled up to me and extended his hand to shake. "My name is Armando Dippet. My friend Alexander tells me you have applied to teach at Hogwarts."
I did not know which of the proctors Alexander was. I did not remember any of their names if I were to tell the truth.
Extending my hand and shaking Armando's politely, I said, "That is correct."
"What a fun coincidence! I happen to be the headmaster of that esteemed institution. May I ask what precisely you are interested in teaching?"
Retracting my hand as I reevaluated the man – he was not imposing in either the physical or mystical sense, and doubts began to form in my mind about willingly putting myself in this man's employ – I said, "I am most interested in teaching Potions. However, I am now qualified to teach both Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms as well."
The old man's eyes lit up with bright joy. "Splendid! Our Potions professor has recently moved on to new experiences. I believe the man behind Ravenscrest Mystical Goods would be an excellent replacement."
"Is it possible to schedule an interview for later in the week?"
"No need. Anyone who can complete three Masteries in two hours will certainly be a boon to my students. Take this," With a flare of magic, a small, leather-bound tome appeared in Armando's hand. "It contains important dates at the start of this upcoming school year, expected class sizes, general curriculum guidelines, everything a new professor needs to get into the Hogwarts spirit! Ensure you arrive at Hogwarts no later than the twenty-fifth of August to prepare for the students' arrival. You need not spend every waking hour on school grounds, but knowing the layout of the castle and your fellow professors will be a boon. I look forward to seeing you at the start of the school year." Armando nodded respectfully and shuffled away, out of the owlery and off in the direction of the floo system.
I watched him go perplexed. This was the man entrusted with the safety and future of the nation's youth, and he had just blundered a vampire into his school without the slightest hint of understanding the magnitude of his folly. Not for the first time, I wondered how the wizards of this world were so inferior to those of my first half's home. Tamriel would have devoured this entire civilization until there was nothing left but ash and fractured memories.
Putting the headmaster's incompetence aside, I opened a portal and transported myself home. I sat on the porch with a glass of wine, sipping my drink as I read through the preparatory material Armando had given to me. I would be prepared for the task I had undertaken, even if it was merely a byproduct of my true goal of acquiring Hogwarts's library.