The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

The Hogwarts Library, with its vaulted ceilings and sunlit windows, was perhaps the closest thing to peace Caelum could find. Even with the stares in the corridors, the tension in the common room, and the whispered rumors trailing him like shadows, this place remained quiet. Neutral. A sanctuary.

He sat alone at a corner table surrounded by aged tomes and dust-laced rays of light. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the cover of a closed book, but his mind wandered far from its contents.

Vesper Blackbourne.

Her words from last night still echoed.

"Maybe even the whole the wizarding world, in the end, only cares about one thing… and that is power."

Caelum didn't disagree.

The effort the Averys had put into painting him as a threat—leaking classified documents, stirring gossip, and dredging up Greyhouse history—was excessive. It wasn't just fear or prejudice. They were pursuing something.

Something connected to him. Perhaps the same reason Adrian Rosier had taken an interest in him the day they first met. Caelum needed answers.

And tonight, he would begin.

But first—there was something else worth remembering.

…

—Flashback: That Morning—

He was headed down from the Slytherin dorm when he heard someone call out.

"Caelum!"

He turned to see Bastian Flint, catching up with Evran Thorne beside him. Both looked hesitant.

Bastian scratched the back of his neck. "Look… we wanted to say sorry. For how we acted yesterday."

Evran added quickly, "We—shouldn't have flinched like that. It wasn't fair. You're our friend."

"If it's okay with you," Bastian said, almost sheepish, "We'd still like to be that."

Caelum paused. Looked between the two boys.

Then he gave a small nod. "Sure."

That was all he said. But it was enough.

And for now, having friends like these two was more than enough.

…

That Night

Silas Avery was fast asleep in his bed, surrounded by the soft breathing of his roommates. Shadows shifted unnaturally at the edge of the dormitory—almost like they slithered.

Then they coalesced into form.

Caelum emerged from the darkness, quiet and precise. He stepped over trunks and scattered robes and placed a wooden chair beside Silas's bed. A silencing ward pulsed faintly across the canopy—nothing would wake the others. He made sure of that.

Silas stirred, then blinked. When he saw the figure sitting beside him, his mouth opened in a silent scream. But no sound came.

"I just want to talk," Caelum said calmly. "If I wanted you gone, we'd be in the Forbidden Forest already."

Silas froze, staring into Caelum's eyes. "Wh—What do you want?"

"Why did your family go this far?" Caelum's voice was cold. "Leaking my classification. Spreading lies. Dragging Amelia's name into it."

Silas hesitated. His bravado was stripped away in the darkness.

"They… want you to snap," he admitted. "To get you declared unstable again. So you'd be removed. Put back in an institution—or somewhere worse."

"For what purpose?"

Silas shook his head. "I don't know. My father said the Rosiers were invested in this. Something about 'taking back what was lost.'"

Caelum's gaze sharpened. "So you don't know the real reason."

"No. I swear."

Caelum stood, looming above him, the shadows drawing close to his frame. He leaned down.

"Then this is your last warning. You come after me again—and it won't be a conversation."

Silas didn't move. Couldn't speak.

Then the shadows pulled away, and Caelum vanished into the dark, leaving nothing behind but a whisper of cold air and fear.

…

Morning light spilled faintly through the narrow windows of the Slytherin dormitory, filtered and muted by the lake's deep green hue. The cold stones radiated a subtle damp chill, and silence hung over the room, broken only by the rustling of bedsheets and the distant splash of the lake outside.

Silas Avery sat stiffly on the edge of his bed, staring down at the floor. His school robe hung untouched over his bedpost. His hair, usually meticulously combed, was in disarray. The bags under his eyes looked more like bruises.

"You alright?" asked Alex Mulciber, one of his roommates. "You look like you haven't slept at all."

"Stomach bug?" offered Crispin Dornan, sitting up and yawning. "I told you not to touch those sausages at dinner. Dodgy batch."

Silas didn't answer immediately. He blinked slowly, rubbed the back of his neck, and replied hoarsely, "I'm fine."

But the reply was mechanical.

As the three boys dressed, the conversation shifted to its usual rhythm—more specifically, their shared campaign against a certain half-vampire student.

"So," Crispin muttered as he adjusted his collar, "how are we doing this today? Should we slip those flyers into the Gryffindor common room? Or—"

"We're not doing anything," Silas cut in sharply.

Both boys turned to look at him.

"What?"

Silas stood, slowly pulling on his robe. "We're done."

"Done?" Alex echoed. "But why? You said the point was to isolate him, ruin his image—"

"And it's done." Silas's voice was quieter now, but more insistent. "Everyone thinks he's a freak already. No point drawing more attention to it."

Crispin squinted at him. "This isn't about that stomach bug, is it?"

Silas didn't answer.

…

His mind drifted.

Back to the night before.

The moment he opened his eyes and saw Caelum Sanguine, cloaked in shadow, sitting beside his bed like a ghost made flesh.

"If I wanted you gone, we'd be in the Forbidden Forest already."

Silas had never felt fear like that—not even during the war.

There had been something in the air, in the way the shadows clung to the boy.

And those eyes—piercing, golden, gleaming like fire behind smoke.

Not human. Not even angry. Just... certain.

Predatory.

Even after Caelum had vanished, the pressure on Silas's chest remained.

He'd laid there, sweating through his sheets, unable to sleep.

Every time he shut his eyes, he saw those eyes staring back.

…

Back in the dorm, Silas straightened up.

"No more notes. No more flyers. He's not worth it," he muttered. "We've done what we were supposed to do."

"And what about your father?" Crispin asked, frowning. "Didn't he want you to keep pushing?"

Silas hesitated. Then said flatly, "I'll tell him it's under control."

Because the truth was—Silas no longer wanted to find out what would happen if Caelum ever lost that control.

If the thing everyone called a beast ever decided to act like one.

And deep down, something told Silas that he'd already gotten off lucky.