The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

"Are you ready?" Amelia Bones asked, her tone grave yet measured as they stood outside the Ministry's designated Portkey checkpoint.

Caelum nodded once. "Yes."

Their journey to Azkaban was conducted under tight security. The first leg brought them to a secure Auror station on the coast of Scotland. From there, under a sky thick with mist, a thestral-drawn carriage awaited them—charms woven thickly into its frame, capable of deflecting both minor curses and prying eyes. They had to take the carriage, since Azkaban was surrounded by anti-Apparition wards for security reasons.

Caelum said little on the ride. His mind reeled not only with what he might learn, but also with what he should do after.

He sighed. It was useless to think about it now. He didn't even know what kind of information Adrian Rosier had—if he was even willing to tell him at all.

The silhouette of Azkaban rose like a jagged wound from the sea, its dark stone walls slick with rain and seawater. Waves crashed violently against the cliffs far below, the cries of distant prisoners echoing faintly through the roaring winds.

And even before the thestrals touched down near the north landing platform, he could feel it.

The Dementors.

They didn't need to be seen to be felt—their presence leeched the warmth from the air, dampened every bright thought and memory. The closer they came, the more Caelum felt that unbearable cold gnawing at his soul.

"Here," Amelia murmured, handing him a piece of chocolate. "Just in case."

Caelum took it with a stiff nod. "Thanks."

The pair were escorted inside. They bypassed the main cell blocks and ascended a narrow spiral stair to the tower where Adrian Rosier had been confined in magically enforced isolation—kept under observation, denied visitors, and restrained by enchantments that supposedly prevented wandless magic or speech-triggered incantations.

Adrian sat at a cold iron table, looking thinner than Caelum remembered, but just as unnervingly composed.

When they entered, he looked up—and grinned.

"Well," he rasped, voice still edged with mockery, "if it isn't the Ministry's most promising hound and her little half-breed pet."

"Watch it, Rosier," Amelia warned, standing with her wand half-raised.

"I'm not here to trade insults," Caelum said flatly, taking a seat across from him. "I want answers."

"Oh? And you think I'll give them to you?" Adrian laughed—a quiet, eerie cackling that echoed off the stone.

"I've kept my silence for five years, boy. They've used Veritaserum, tried Legilimency, tried tricks far subtler than your baby-faced questions. What makes you think you'll succeed where the best of the Ministry failed?"

Caelum didn't respond immediately. Instead, his eyes dropped to Adrian's left arm—scarred, burned from the confrontation they'd had months ago.

"That arm…" Caelum said. "Still can't move it, can you?"

Adrian's grin twisted. "You like what your fire did to me? It's dead flesh now. Can't feel a thing. Dangling, useless. I'm half a man now… and I owe it all to you."

"I know this is about my blood," Caelum said sharply. "It always has been. You came after me because of it. I'm not like other vampires. Or wizards. You know why."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop further. Adrian tilted his head slowly.

"You're clever," he murmured. "Smarter than you look. Or perhaps the bloodline really is asserting itself."

Amelia's gaze narrowed. "Bloodline?"

Adrian's eyes flicked to her, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, come now, Director Bones, surely you've pieced that much together. He's not your average bloodsucker, is he?"

Then he threw his head back and laughed—a long, unhinged peal of madness that echoed off the stone walls, wild and ragged.

"Well, since it's come to this… let me give the boy a little gift. I have nothing more to lose anyway."

He leaned forward, his ruined arm twitching slightly.

"You want to know what you are, boy?" he hissed, eyes gleaming. "Varnak's Seed. That's what they call you. A relic. A curse. A child carrying the remnants of a bloodline that should've been erased long ago."

Amelia stepped forward, wand raised.

"Varnak… is that the name of the bloodline?"

Adrian laughed—brittle, and mocking. He opened his mouth to speak again—

But then he froze.

His eyes glazed over, the mirth draining in an instant.

A crimson glow erupted beneath his skin, pulsing through the fabric of his prison robes. Strange sigils surfaced across his chest.

Adrian looked up, locking eyes with Caelum.

"It's too late," he whispered.

"They already know."

"No—!" Amelia shouted. "Get back!"