Chapter 110: 110: The Elf

There was indeed an elf hiding in the Forbidden Forest, and Nolan and Dumbledore had found her. She appeared to be a young female elf, no older than fourteen or fifteen by human standards—but Nolan knew better. Elves, like vampires, were a long-lived race. They could live for four or five centuries. Until the day they died, elves retained their youthful and beautiful appearance. It was impossible to judge their true age by looks alone. The elf wore a green ranger's cloak, a bow slung across her back, and clutched a freshly caught rabbit in her hand as she moved swiftly through the forest. Nolan and Dumbledore followed closely behind, hidden by Disillusionment Charms. After about ten minutes, they arrived at the elf's dwelling. Elves were naturally resourceful. With nothing but vines and leaves, she had crafted a nest for herself. A canopy of branches shielded the upper part from the wind and rain, while a bed of soft leaves formed the base. In the cold, dark expanse of the Forbidden Forest, the elf's leafy shelter exuded a strange sense of warmth and coziness. The elf hung the rabbit from a tree branch and sat beneath it, pulling down her hood to reveal a cascade of shimmering golden hair. She began brushing it with something small and delicate. "Your friend seems to be living quite comfortably right at Hogwarts' doorstep," Nolan remarked with cold sarcasm, glancing at Dumbledore. "It seems, Professor, that your gamekeeper is not as vigilant as a guard dog. If he can't catch an intruder—let alone one who's built herself a nest in his backyard—you might want to consider firing him. He's clearly not much use." "Oh, poor Hagrid," Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "You can't expect him to outwit an elf. Hagrid has never been particularly adept at dealing with creatures as nimble and clever as this." "Well, with giant blood running through his veins, the fact that he can even speak and think rationally is miracle enough," Nolan replied, shrugging. As he spoke, Sheila, the white snake, slithered down his wrist. Upon touching the ground, she shifted seamlessly into her human form. Nolan leaned close to her, whispering a command into her ear. "Bring me that elf. Alive." Sheila nodded silently, vanishing into the shadows without a trace. Dumbledore watched with quiet admiration. "Your servant is impressive. Her stealth is remarkable, even among magical creatures. What was she before?" "Sheila was once a Muggle—a vampire hunter for the church," Nolan said casually. "I caught her, gave her the First Embrace, and turned her into the thing she hated most—a vampire." "And yet she doesn't seem to hate you," Dumbledore observed with interest. He seemed to wonder if vampires possessed the ability to manipulate the minds of others. "What do you expect me to say? That I changed her heart?" Nolan smirked faintly. "I didn't. I simply spent time with her every day. Sheila stopped hating me on her own. When she was a Muggle, she was lonely. As a vampire, she isn't. Maybe she thinks being a vampire is better than being human. Who knows?" He shrugged again. "Honestly, I don't care how she feels. We get along well enough. Her feelings are her business." As the two conversed, commotion broke out near the elf's shelter. Or perhaps it didn't—because the elf hadn't even noticed Sheila's approach. By the time the foolish girl realized something was wrong, the cold edge of a blade was already pressed against her throat. "Eep!" The elf let out a terrified yelp, tossing the half-eaten rabbit leg aside. "You snuck up on me! That's so unfair!" Her voice was soft, high-pitched, and childish. Nolan and Dumbledore emerged from the shadows. Nolan's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight before him. The elf had a round, cherubic face—more innocent-looking than any first-year at Hogwarts. She was small, short, and lacked any of the traits that marked adult elven women. She looked like a child, except for the brilliant golden hair and sharp, pointed ears that betrayed her true nature. Nolan's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he chuckled softly. "If sneaking up on someone is unfair, what does that make the three people who ambushed me half a year ago? Were they the most dishonorable cowards alive?" "That's different!" the elf girl shrieked. "We were trying to preserve our species! It was for the greater good!" Sheila furrowed her brow and pressed the tip of her blade a little harder against the elf girl's neck. The elf let out a sharp "Eep!" and paled visibly, trembling under the cold steel. "Shameless," Nolan scoffed, crouching down to meet her eye level. He pinched the elf's chin between his fingers, tilting her face toward him as his gaze turned icy. "You want the Philosopher's Stone?" The elf's face went even paler. She frantically averted her eyes, shifting uncomfortably as if hoping to escape his scrutiny. At the same time, her small hands opened and closed at her sides, betraying the overwhelming nervousness that consumed her. "You're not very good at lying," Nolan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Nolan, if you had more experience with elves, you'd know they're generally pure-hearted beings. Elves rarely lie—and even if they tried, they lack the cunning to do it well." "Or perhaps they lack the intelligence to deceive," Nolan released her chin, his voice laced with faint mockery. The round-faced elf sniffled, her lips quivering as she fought to hold back tears. Her eyes glistened, brimming with the same fragile innocence as a scolded child. It seemed he had genuinely frightened her. "Let's keep things peaceful, Nolan. I doubt she's planning to run," Dumbledore remarked, tapping his wand to transform the tree roots into a chair and table. He seated himself comfortably and began pulling items from his seemingly bottomless pockets, one after another. "...Are you planning a picnic?" Nolan arched an eyebrow. "Would you like some watermelon juice, Nolan? I know you enjoy red beverages," Dumbledore offered with a lighthearted chuckle, filling a tall glass with bright red juice and sliding it across the table. He turned to the elf. "And what about you, miss? Can I offer you something as well?" "Dumbledore," Nolan's tone hardened, irritation flashing in his eyes. This was not how he intended to handle the situation. It didn't matter how harmless she looked—this elf had attacked him before. Worse, she had tried to steal precious alchemical tools from Hogwarts. To Nolan, she wasn't just an innocent girl. She was an assassin. A thief. Dumbledore, however, seemed unfazed by these facts. With a grandfatherly smile, he offered a handful of colorful candies to the elf, who gazed at them with wide, eager eyes. "Relax, Nolan," Dumbledore said, his voice soft but firm. "I find it hard to believe that an elf would harbor truly malicious intent. When faced with conflict, we should seek to resolve it, not escalate it through violence." "Then why don't you try reasoning with the next Dark Lord you encounter?" Nolan shot back sarcastically. "I believe you're right," Dumbledore replied cheerfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Next time I see Tom, I'll have a chat with him." He gave Nolan a playful wink and, unfazed by the young vampire's growing frustration, turned his attention back to their unwilling guest. "Now then, miss," Dumbledore said gently, "May we have the pleasure of knowing your name first?"