I found him in the drawing room, as if he had been waiting for me there, though I suspected he had wandered the manor, checking on the wards, or perhaps listening to the pulse of the house. He looked up as I entered, his expression softening at the sight of me. The weight of grief in his eyes was tempered now by something else: curiosity, care, and cautious hope.
"Daphne," he said quietly, voice careful. "How are you feeling? Truly?"
I hesitated. I had spent hours exploring the hidden wing, reading journals, absorbing centuries of Greengrass knowledge. And yet… my memories were fragmented, like shards of a mirror pressed into a new shape. I could sense more of Daphne herself resurfacing in flashes, hints of her personality weaving through mine, but it was disorienting.
"I… I think I'm adjusting," I said finally. "Some of the memories are… clearer. Others feel wrong, like they're mine but not mine."
Elias nodded slowly, resting his hands on his knees. "That is to be expected. The curse you carry, the blood, and this… rebirth of yours… it does not simply overwrite the past. It folds it, stretches it, reshapes it. You are discovering yourself—layer by layer. Some parts will arrive on their own. Others… may never fully reconcile."
I swallowed hard, feeling the faint stirring of hunger beneath my skin, shadows tugging at the corners of my senses. "And the curse? The Greengrass blood? It—" I hesitated, unsure how much to ask, "—it's not just a story, is it? Some accident from centuries ago?"
Elias leaned back, sighing. His eyes turned distant, as if recalling events long past. "The first of your line to bear it—Aurelio Gramina. He was an apprentice of Varnieri, one of the Umbrae Vinculum ritual's architects. The ritual… exploded. Aurelio escaped with a shard of the black glass that had been created. Instead of purging the corruption completely, it fused with his blood. The Greengrass line carries that shard still—its influence manifests in certain… awakenings. You are one of them."
I traced a finger along the edge of the table, feeling the pulse of my own heartbeat and the faint stir of power beneath my skin. "So… this is inherited. It wasn't random. And yet, somehow I survived. Most… most before me didn't."
"Few did," he said softly. "Many succumbed too early. Many were lost before they could even comprehend what they had become. You have been given… something rare. Time. Clarity, if you can wield it."
I stared at him. "Time to learn. Time to understand. I… I want to. But…" My voice faltered, almost breaking. "…how will this affect me going to school? Hogwarts, magic lessons, learning to be a witch? I don't… I'm not just a child anymore. I'm…" I gestured vaguely to myself. "…this."
Elias leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You will be different, yes. The blood carries… instincts, reflexes, senses… that will be difficult to hide. Teachers may sense it; classmates may notice it. But your mind, your control, your patience—those are your shields. You can walk among them if you respect the curse and your own limits. And you must. Hogwarts will teach you what you need to understand about spells, charms, potions—but the rest… you will discover on your own."
I swallowed, considering. "So… I could go there. I could learn magic. Even with this curse. Even as a… vampire. It won't… prevent me?"
He shook his head slowly, gaze softening. "It will not prevent you. But it will shape you, guide you, and sometimes… challenge you in ways no other student will face. You will need discipline, cunning, and caution. You will need to master your hunger, your senses, your strength. Only then will Hogwarts be… survivable."
I nodded slowly, feeling both the weight of his words and a strange thrill. The idea of learning magic, of holding a wand, of performing spells—I could feel the pull of it even in my altered body. And yet, the shadows lurking beneath my skin whispered reminders: hunger, blood, instinct, danger.
"I think…" I began hesitantly, "I think I can do it. I don't know how yet, but I… I want to try. I need to understand who I am. And… maybe being at Hogwarts… will help me… anchor myself, somehow."
Elias's lips curved in a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Then we will prepare. Carefully. You will not be left to stumble in darkness. We will begin with what you already know—and guide the rest."
I exhaled, letting the tension in my shoulders ease. I was still a child, but one who had lived centuries in essence. I was still Daphne, but something else had taken root within me. The manor around us seemed to hum with quiet approval, shadows brushing softly against the walls like silent sentinels.
"And… my wand?" I asked, curiosity overcoming the edge of fear. "When will I have my wand? How will it choose me, if it even can? My magic… it feels… different now. Alive in ways I didn't expect."
Elias glanced toward the hidden wing, his expression thoughtful. "Soon enough. You haven't even received your Hogwarts letter yet. You still have nearly a year, and even if your transformation has made you more magically mature, I would not bind it to a wand quite yet. The wand chooses its own time—and it must recognize the truest part of you, not only what you are, but what you will become."
I nodded, a flicker of determination warming me from within. Hogwarts, magic, the world I had once known only as fiction… it all felt suddenly possible. Dangerous, yes. But possible.
"And the curse?" I asked quietly. "Will it… change how I learn, how I live there?"
He shook his head slowly, but the sorrow in his eyes was unmistakable. "It will change you. Shape your perception, your instincts, your very being. But it need not destroy you. You have the choice to master it… or succumb. And I know you, Daphne—you will try to master it."
I swallowed hard, the words echoing in my chest. "Even if I… feel it calling sometimes? The hunger… the whispers in my veins?"
"Yes," he said softly, leaning forward. "It will call. You will hear it in quiet moments, in the presence of others, when the magic around you is strongest. It will test you. You may falter. You may want to give in. But remember—you are not alone. Not entirely. You have your mind, your wit… and, if you choose, your discipline."
I felt the weight of possibility pressing down on me. Mastery over magic, mastery over myself, mastery over the curse that had defined centuries of my bloodline… could I truly hold it? I imagined the Hogwarts grounds, the library, the classrooms—all of it waiting for a girl who was both child and ancient, human and not. Could I walk among the students without revealing the pulse beneath my skin? Could I cast spells without letting instinct or hunger guide them?
Elias's voice broke through the storm of thought. "Daphne… you must see the curse as part of you, not merely a danger. It is your inheritance, yes, but also your key. Understanding it, respecting it… that is how you survive. That is how you thrive."
I nodded again, more firmly this time. "Then I'll try. I'll learn magic, control myself, and… find a way to exist there, at Hogwarts. Somehow. Without… destroying anyone. Without destroying me."
He studied me a moment longer, a flicker of pride—quick, fleeting—crossing his features. "Good. Begin with patience. Begin with control. Let the world come to you in its own time. And when it does… you will be ready. But remember: even the strongest must obey the limits of their own blood. Do not ignore it. Respect it. It will keep you alive."
I let the words sink, feeling the pulse of my own blood beneath my skin, stronger now, yet restrained by focus. "I… will," I whispered. "I have to. I don't have a choice, do I?"
"No," he said, softly, but with certainty. "Not truly. But choice matters, Daphne. Even in curses, even in blood, even in shadows. You may not choose the awakening—but you can choose how to walk in it."
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the weight of that truth settle. The hunger would come. The instincts would test me. Hogwarts would wait. And in the quiet of the manor, with Elias watching, I understood for the first time: I had a chance to be more than what the curse had intended.
The weeks that followed blurred together in a rhythm both familiar and impossible. Days were measured not by sunlight—they barely touched me—but by the slow mastery of my own body, the tentative refinement of reflexive magic, and the quiet lessons Elias set before me.
Some days, he guided me through spells, letting me feel the pulse of magic in a way no other child could. Shadows shifted as I moved, a subtle dance between instinct and will, sometimes aligning perfectly with a flick of my wrist or a whispered incantation. Other days, he simply let me explore, wandering the manor's hidden wings, reading centuries-old diaries, and practicing control over the hunger that still tugged at the edges of my awareness.
It was strange—learning magic as a vampire, as a being who was both child and ancient. My senses detected things others never could: the faint hum of the wards, the lingering pulse of a spell cast decades ago, the quiet resonance of bloodlines in the manor itself. Sometimes it was exhilarating. Other times… terrifying. I could feel the curse coiling beneath my skin like a serpent, patient, waiting.
I began to piece together what surviving Hogwarts might look like. The lessons, the camaraderie, the routine—all would be different for me. Wandwork could be impossible to hide from peers, my senses detecting even the tiniest misfire in a charm. My speed, my strength, my reflexes… all needed careful masking. The social nuances, the teasing, the first friendships—they would have to be approached carefully, measured, and rehearsed in my mind a dozen times before stepping into the halls.
I often caught myself staring at the manor windows, imagining the train, the castle, the world outside my carefully warded sanctuary. And still, I trained. I learned to suppress sudden bursts of power, to dampen my heightened senses when they pricked too sharply. I read and reread the histories of my ancestors, the awakened Greengrass who survived and those who did not. Each lesson whispered a warning: the curse could shape you, but it could also destroy you.
And then, one crisp morning, as autumn edged the manor gardens with gold, a letter arrived. Hogwarts. A real Hogwarts letter. Its parchment smelled faintly of ink and smoke, wax sealing it with the familiar crest that had haunted my imagination for years.
I held it in my hands as though it were a talisman. My pulse, already slow and measured, quickened just slightly. The seal was unbroken, the ink crisp, official. My first step into a world I had once thought fictional was about to begin.
Elias watched me from the doorway, his expression unreadable but soft. "It is time,"