Chapter 57: 57: Dumbledore's Request

That day, Duchess Felicia gave Nolan a vivid lesson, showing her beloved younger brother what explosive power truly meant. Her sword moved as she willed—starting, stopping, and even carving perfect right angles mid-air. She could halt the blade just as it was about to pierce the space between Nolan's brows, displaying an extraordinary control that bordered on supernatural. "Control the rhythm of battle. Accelerate when your opponent thinks they can defend themselves; shatter their defense. If you command the rhythm, you command the fight. From there, focus on increasing the power of your strikes," Felicia instructed, her tone as sharp as the edge of her sword. Her fighting techniques were dazzling, almost artistic. Nolan couldn't guess how many vampires might ever manage to master her methods, but he was certain of one thing: anyone who could would become unimaginably powerful. "When you release a strike, shift to an explosive transformation for speed. Once you've accelerated, switch to a strength-based transformation. You'll only have one-hundredth of a second to execute both transformations... Strike!" Without warning, Felicia burst into motion. Nolan barely registered her movement before she seemed to materialize right in front of him, her longsword slicing down at blinding speed. In that fraction of a second, Nolan forced his arm to transform into the structure of a cheetah's limb, focusing on accelerating his counterstrike. Did their blades clash? No—no, they didn't. Just as the swords were about to collide, Felicia stopped her strike mid-swing. Her blade seemed utterly devoid of inertia. In the next moment, her sword whipped backward at an equally impossible speed, leaving Nolan—having overcommitted to his counter—stumbling forward. Before he could recover, Felicia deftly swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. Her weapon defied all natural laws. Training concluded for the day, the siblings returned to the estate. "Welcome back, Duchess Felicia, Master Nolan," greeted Miss Theresa, who had been waiting at the entrance. She bowed gracefully before taking the two longswords to store them away. At her feet, Miss Nancy, the black cat, meowed insistently. She scampered to Felicia and stood on her hind legs, batting at the duchess's skirt with her paws. "Felicia, Felicia, pick me up!" demanded Miss Nancy in her peculiar, aristocratic tone. Amused, Felicia scooped her up and began teasing her with a finger. "Hmm? What's the matter, Miss Nancy? Has the cat food been unsatisfactory lately? You seem to have gotten a bit rounder. Have you been sneaking into the manor's cellars for some plump, juicy rats?" Miss Nancy let out a string of indignant meows. "Felicia! What do you take me for? A common stray? How dare you accuse me of eating such filthy creatures! Since I arrived at the Randall Gorge, I haven't caught a single rat—not one! Even if I encounter them while wandering the estate, I pretend I didn't see them!" Nolan, taken aback, couldn't help but gape. "What kind of cat are you?" Miss Nancy puffed out her chest with pride, pawing delicately at her face. "The exceptional kind, of course!" Felicia pouted playfully and began tickling the cat under her chin. "Oh, you're exceptional, all right. I've never seen such a useless cat in my life. Even witches' black cats know how to chase off freeloading pests. Miss Nancy, what do I keep you around for?" Nolan watched Felicia and Miss Nancy's playful bickering with mild amusement. But their lighthearted exchange was interrupted when Miss Theresa returned, holding a letter in her hands. However, her gait was peculiar—she walked with a noticeable limp. "Miss Theresa, what happened to your left leg?" Nolan asked with concern. "It seems to be rotting, Master Nolan," she replied with her usual cold composure. "There's no need to worry. It's not a serious issue. Even with preservation spells, my body experiences wear and tear. Regular replacements are necessary." Felicia's grip on Miss Nancy loosened, and with a startled meow, the cat fell straight to the floor. Luckily, she was a cat and landed gracefully, though not without protesting loudly. Felicia, ignoring the indignant meows, clapped her hands together with excitement, her expression gleaming with mischief. "Oh, that reminds me! A few days ago, I found a Muggle with the most exquisite legs—long, straight, and absolutely perfect! I brought her back. I'll have her legs amputated, preserved, and attached to you, Theresa!" Nolan paused to consider. "It's been a few years since the last replacement, hasn't it? Might as well replace the upper body as well. This time, I could try adding Ancient Runes to ensure the new parts never decay." For the first time, a faint trace of emotion crossed Theresa's typically stoic face. She bowed her head slightly in gratitude. "Thank you, Master Nolan." Felicia grinned and flung her arms around Nolan, hugging him tightly and resting her chin on top of his head. "Hehe, my Nolan is the best! No one else's Nolan even comes close!" she declared, entirely nonsensical but thoroughly pleased. Then, as if remembering something, she shifted her attention. "By the way, Theresa, what's that letter you're holding? I think I caught Dumbledore's signature on it." "Isn't Dumbledore younger than you, Felicia?" Nolan commented dryly. Felicia ignored him completely, snatching the envelope from Theresa with a gleeful laugh. The letter bore the elegant, emerald-green handwriting that Nolan recognized well. Albus Dumbledore's name and the Hogwarts crest were prominently displayed. "Oh! It's the booklist for next term! Here, Nolan—" She handed over one envelope but paused when she noticed another addressed to her. It read: Dear Duchess Felicia Von Draugr, I hope this letter finds you well and that the serene beauty of Randall Gorge remains as eternal as it was a millennium ago. Regarding my decision to invite you as last year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, it was initially met with skepticism by many. However, I believe your performance has silenced any doubters. You've not only earned the respect of all but also provided the next generation of witches and wizards with a truly enriching year. I trust you've already heard rumors that Voldemort, the Dark Lord, is still alive—though barely clinging to existence. He is a shadow of his former self, teetering on the brink of the afterlife. Yet, even in his weakened state, his menace cannot be underestimated. Recently, I received troubling news. Voldemort has set his sights on the Philosopher's Stone. After much persuasion, I convinced my old friend Nicolas to entrust the Stone to my care. For now, it is secured within Gringotts, but we both know that is far from impenetrable. In the coming days, I plan to move the Philosopher's Stone to Hogwarts, the safest place in the magical world. However, there are whispers that Voldemort has already allied himself with factions from the Night World, plotting to infiltrate Gringotts and seize the Stone. Due to the Ministry's interference, neither the Order of the Phoenix nor I can act directly in this matter. Thus, I must humbly request your assistance. Trust me when I say that if the Philosopher's Stone were to fall into Voldemort's hands, it would spell catastrophe for both the wizarding and vampiric worlds alike. I await your reply. Yours faithfully, Albus Dumbledore Felicia folded the letter with an unreadable smile, the gleam in her eyes shifting from playful to something much sharper, much more dangerous. ~~~---------------------- 2 Chapters per day on patreon. Advance 55+ Chapters patreon .com / HPdreame