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Chapter Text

Dracul watched his son as he talked about the progress of the city with a small smile on his face. With Zobek defeated, Alucard had used his position as his lieutenant to take over Zobek’s companies and was now using them to rebuild the city. After centuries of fighting and grieving and rage he now had this. His son lived and he was content to let the humans keep their homes in and around his castle if it pleased his son.

“Sire.”

A dishonored vampire knelt in front of him, avoiding his gaze.

“What is it?”

When the dishonored vampire refused to answer Dracul moved, pulling himself up from his relaxed sprawl to glare down at the cowering creature in front of him. Dishonored and other creatures that followed him knew better than to disturb him for no good reason, especially when he was with his son. Narrowing his eyes, he repeated his earlier question.

“What. Is. It.”

Glancing up nervously, the dishonored answered. “There is a mortal man entering the castle, my prince, he reeks of alcohol, and he does not seem to notice our presence.”

Dracul narrowed his eyes further and raised a brow, “And why does this concern me?”

“He talks to a creature he holds in one of his hands, he shakes it and calls it “Freak.” He also…. He calls the castle a church, my prince, and speaks of a priest that will purge the Freak of its freakishness.”

There was silence before Dracul threw back his head and laughed. “A church and a priest in my territory? I think not. Let the man come here, I wish to see what will happen.

The dishonored vampire bowed before scampering off to spread the word to let the man through the castle unharmed.

Alucard stepped up to stand next to his father’s throne, frowning, “Truly, Father? What do you have planned for the man?”

“Nothing, Trevor. I just want to see what he wants, then the castle and its creatures can have him. Besides, a church and a priest?”

“I admit that it is strange, but most you torment him?”

“Yes. Humor me this once, son. Please?

Alucard sighed but nodded, stepping back into the shadows, and summoning the Crissaegrim to him. “Very well, Father. Just this once.”

The pair straightened when they heard heavy footsteps—for a man—and drunken slurring as an overweight man stumbled into the throne room. There was nothing remarkable about him; he had beady eyes, a large and bushy black mustache, a small neck, and wore a stained and disheveled suit as he advanced.

Dracul turned to face his son when the younger vampire stiffened. “What is it, son?”

“That man,” Alucard gestured with his hand still on his sword’s hilt, both keeping their voices low enough to not be heard by mortals, “met with me today. He is called Vernon Dursley and he is from England. Our meeting was not very productive, so I can see why he turned to the bottle. I cannot tell why he is here, however.”

Dracul hummed lowly as he sat back in his seat and allowed the shadows to cover him again.

“Hullo? Anyone here? A pries’ or som’thin’?”

Dracul shifted, “I am here. Why do you ask?”

The man, Vernon, grunted as he swayed forward and held up a bundle wrapped in a dirty green cloth. “’Cause I got a job for you.”
As both father and son leaned forward to study the bundle both felt their anger rise as they took notice of the pale and bruised skin, the dark mop of hair, the panicked shaking and nervous gaze.

“A child.”

“A freak.” Vernon spat the word and tried to take another swig from a now empty bottle. “I need you cleanse or exercise her or whatever it is you do.”

Alucard took a step forward as he spoke, glaring down at the man. “You want us to exorcise a child? And for what reason?”

“She’s a freak. We didn’ even wan’ her, but we got paid to take ‘er in.”

Dracul grinned menacingly, baring his teeth as he began to rise from his throne and prowl towards the drunk.

“So, you come into my domain, wanting to dispose of a “freakish” child and you do not even know who rules this castle. You do not know what you come asking a favor from, you do not know what I am, and yet you still demand from me. I am no holy figure of the Light; I no longer serve God.”

Vernon took several steps back as Dracul advanced, taking in the vampiric features now visible to him. “Who, what, who are you?”

He bared his fangs in a mockery of a smile, his eyes flashing red, “I am Dracul, Prince of Darkness and Lord of the Night, and this is my castle.”

Vernon’s eyes widened as he scrambled backwards madly, trying to get away from the vampire lord. As Dracul prowled forward Vernon threw the child towards him. The child didn’t make a sound, only curling into a pitiful ball as Alucard lunged forward to cradle her protectively in his arms. Dracul let out a hiss as he yanked the walrus’ head back and bared his throat.

“I will let you live on one condition: leave and never return, tell no one of this.”

“I won’t, I promise, please.”

“Then go.”

“Th-thank you, thank you.”

“Be thankful that I have already fed and there is so much fat running through your veins you are not worth a meal.”

The man scrambled for the doors, tripping over his feet and puffing out his breaths as he ran from the vampires.

“Dursley?”
He froze, turning back with wide eyes and Dracul smirked.

“Be wary of the other creatures in the castle, they may have let you in, but you’ll have to fight your way out.”

The doors slammed shut dramatically and Dracul turned back to his son. Alucard paid him no attention, only focusing on the small child who was still curled up and afraid in his arms. As he walked closer, he was able to smell blood on the girl, old blood and new as if she had been continuously beaten. He could also see that she was swamped in the rags she wore as clothes.

“Please, child, relax. We will not harm you.” Alucard’s distress was plain to see as he worried over the child, his short time as a father obvious in the way he fussed with and curled over the girl. “Please, I need to make sure that you are unharmed.”

Carefully and slowly, the girl unfolded herself while glancing around with nervous green eyes. There was a bruise on the left side of her face with a split lip on the same side, her limbs were also mottled in bruises in various states of healing, and her hair was a dirty and choppy mess around her shoulders.

Alucard bared his teeth in silent anger as Dracul let out a low hiss, causing the girl to flinch back against his chest.

“Breathe, girl, we are not angry with you.” Dracul allowed himself to soften and relax and slip back into being Gabriel, father of Alucard.

Alucard nodded and shifted his grasp on her, so she was able to see them easier. “My father is right, we are not angry with you, only your treatment.”

The girl nodded slowly, nervously twisting her hands in Alucard’s coat.

“Will you let us help you with your wounds, child? We only want to help you.”

Again, only a nod.

Alucard smiled softly at her and readjusted his grip as he made his way to his rooms.

The girl was quiet throughout the rest of the night, never making a sound or speaking. Alucard had retrieved a shirt of his from somewhere for her to wear after she had bathed, and he had patched up her wounds. She worried them both with her unnerving silence and she had only answered their questions with a nod or shake of her head.

“What do we do with her, Father?"

Alucard paced around Gabriel’s room as they let the girl rest in his. They both wanted to help the girl and keep her safe, but neither wanted to let her go.

“I don’t know, Trevor. We don’t have somewhere to put her, and people will want to know what happened her.”

“We could keep her.”

Gabriel paused as he turned to face Alucard again. “What?”

“She has nowhere to go, her guardians have abused her, and you can smell the magic in her blood as much as I can. I…” Alucard trailed off as he stopped pacing and met his father’s eyes. “I want to keep her.”
Gabriel sighed, part of him warring with each other as thought over his son’s words. “We let her stay for a week, if she wants to leave then we will let her.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Gabriel nodded and reached out to pull him into a hug. “Of course, son, now get some rest. You have another meeting tomorrow.”

They weren’t expecting much to come from the girl. As much as the two wanted to keep her, they didn’t want to force her to stay or be afraid of them due to their nature. Despite this, she stayed. She relaxed around them, opened to them. She liked the Castle and its inhabitants, and most of the demons and the Castle adored her in turn. The girl never gave them a name to call her by and from what they could tell, she didn’t know her name.

Alucard had been a father once and for some reason, it felt like the girl belonged to the strange family he and his father had built. It confused both father and son, but the two of them still adored the girl. It didn’t take long after the incident for Alucard to claim her as his own child.

Gabriel and Alucard raised her in the Castle, allowing her to bloom into her own power and her own magic. She was part of their twisted family, their daughter and granddaughter. It couldn’t last, however; fate had a tradition of walking over Dracul’s family, and the Wizarding World couldn’t stop from interfering with the Potter family.

Chapter Text

“Excellent!” Dumbledore smiled as the last of the cheers died out. “We now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you to give your champions all the support you can muster. By cheering for and supporting your champion, you will contribute to—”

But Dumbledore stopped speaking, the cause of his sudden silence obvious as the fire in the goblet turned red for a fourth time. Sparks were shooting into the air followed by a long tongue of flame with a piece of parchment fluttering silently in the air.

Seemingly automatically, Dumbledore reached out and plucked the parchment out of the air, freezing and going pale when he read the name on it. Voice trembling and shaking in surprise he cleared his throat and read out—

            “Iris Potter.”

Charlie froze, eyes immediately going to Rose at the Ravenclaw table before going to their mother at the Head Table.

When Voldemort attacked, his twin had been assumed dead alongside their father. A few months later, his mother Lily had given birth to his sister Rose, a last gift from their father she had said. Lily had never remarried, and never forgot James or Iris. Her view had been changed after that night and she was extremely supportive of both of her remaining children, calming their panic when they were sorted into Hufflepuff and then Ravenclaw despite everyone’s insistence that they were going to be in Gryffindor. To hear the name of the dead Potter child caused everyone to turn to the remaining Potter children and their mother.

Lily rose to her feet, face thunderous as she glared across the room. “What is the meaning of this?”

Everyone shuddered at how her voice echoed across the room, many professors themselves shrinking away from the enraged redhead as Dumbledore reached out in an attempt to calm her.

“My dear, please—”

“Don’t “my dear” me, Dumbledore. Someone put the name of my dead daughter into this accursed goblet in some sick and twisted joke. When I get my hands on them—”

Suddenly, the flames turned a deep, blood red as a flaming circle carved its way into the floor of the Great Hall. All the students yelled in surprised and scrambled away as the professors whipped out their wands in defense, the champions running back into the Hall at the outburst before gaping in surprise. The flames jumped towards the ceiling before crashing down to the floor, leaving a ring of scorched stone in their place and a dark-haired girl in the middle.

As the girl rose to her full height (she was very tall, Charlie thought absently) everyone gasped. Her eyes looked like the flames, a bright and unnatural amber that glowed as she glared at the room at large. Her clothes were stranger than her eyes, though. The girl—woman? —wore a simple dark gray shirt tucked into black pants. Everything else was covered by some sort of armored coat, in a rich shade of red, that had silver details and armored boots. The woman turned as she took in her surroundings, on guard and wary of them.

“Who are you? Why have you summoned me here?”

Professor Dumbledore stepped forward and lowered his wand slightly, drawing the woman’s attention to him. “Are you Iris Potter?”

The woman frowned and shook her head. “I am Evelyn Belmont, of House Belmont. I don’t know of this “Iris Potter.” Now, why have I been summoned here against my will?”

The headmaster held out his hands placatingly in an attempt to calm down the woman. “You are here, dear girl, because Iris Potter was elected as a champion in out tournament. Iris herself was supposed to be summoned here instead of you if she still lived.”

“But she did not come.”

“You did.”       

The woman hummed, thoughtful. “I am not this Iris Potter, but I will compete.”

“What?”

The exclamation rang in the Great Hall as all students stared at her in shock and caused Evelyn to huff at them before returning her attention back to Dumbledore. “I will compete. Why not? There is no Iris Potter here and I have been summoned. I will make the best of this situation even if many will claim that I am in fact this Iris.”

Professor Dumbledore sighed and gestured for the stranger to follow him and join the other champions in the chamber behind the head table.

Evelyn sat in silence as the old man, Headmaster Dumbledore, finished his explanation. Last she knew, she had been lounging in the library reading and was waiting for her father to get back from a meeting before she felt a pull and ended up in a circle of fire in Hogwarts. The redhead woman, apparently the mother of Iris Potter, and her children wouldn’t stop staring at her. It didn’t bother her, the creatures under her grandfather’s command were much more disturbing and were probably the cause of her calmness regarding the situation. It was more than likely that her father and grandfather would be pissed, but she could feel the Goblet’s power wrapping around her. Evelyn wouldn’t be able to break it herself and she couldn’t reach out to her father and grandfather. Without any other options, it was best that she take what control she could get over the situation. Besides, it would be fun.

“Alright. What’s the first task?”

A fat man with classic blonde hair and blue eyes came forward, a nervous but exuberant grin. He might have been handsome once, this Ludo Bagman, but time had changed him to look like a classic betting man. “It’s a surprise! You all,” he gestured to the rest of the champions, “have until November 24 to prepare for it. Best of luck to you all!”

Evelyn blinked at the basic instructions before turning back to Dumbledore.

“What about a room for me?”

He blinked as if startled before nodding. “Of course, my dear girl, if you follow Charlie, he can take you to the Gryffindor tower.”

“No.”

“What? Why wouldn’t you want to be in Gryffindor?” Charlie looked personally offended that she didn’t want to be in his mother's house, the greatest house in his eyes. (Despite Lily raising them to be accepting, both children were partial to her own house.)

Evelyn huffed in amusement and reached out to ruffle Charlie’s curly brown hair. “Calm down, boy. I’m going to compete for my family and our house and the people under my grandfather, no one else. Besides, I’d go mad surrounded by children all the time.”

Charlie grumbled and moved away from her, running his hands through his hair again. “Where will you sleep then?”

Dumbledore hummed and stroked his beard in thought. “Lily can take you to where the professor’s living quarters are; there should be some empty rooms available for you. Would you do the honors Lily?”

“Yes Albus.”

Evelyn nodded in parting to the other occupants of the room before following the redhead witch.

The walk was quiet, neither woman making a sound and Evelyn took the moment to actually look at her supposed birth mother as the woman side-eyed her. Lily had dark red hair and emerald green eyes, she was lightly tanned and sported a small smattering of freckles across the button nose Charlie and Rose had inherited. She was rather tall for a woman, Evelyn supposed she got some of her height from her. All in all, Lily was politely pretty, but Evelyn couldn't see any of her own features reflected back at her.

The two came to a stop in front of a pair of large wooden doors, prompting Lily to speak.

“These are your rooms; they are only accessible to you and anyone you let in willingly. There is a kitchen, common room, bathroom, bedroom, and small office. If you need anything, feel free to ask me, the headmaster, or any of the other professors for help.”

Evelyn nodded, “Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Potter.”

Lily turned to leave but hesitated at the last minute as she studied Evelyn closely.

“Yes, Mrs. Potter?”

“Are you…” Lily swallowed. “Are you sure you haven’t seen Iris? That you’ve never met her?”

“I don’t even know what she looks like.”

Lily smiled fondly. “She had James’ almost black hair, nothing could tame that mess, and my eyes. Besides that, she looked like James’ mother, what could have been aristocratic features if she had grown older.”

Evelyn hummed, thinking. Before she had been abandoned by Vernon and before the incident, her hair had been a very dark brown, but it was so short she couldn’t really do anything with it and had only just begun to curl before she turned. Her eyes had also been green, but more of a hazel than Lily’s own emerald, and her own skin much paler than that of any of the Potters’ she had seen. It was…plausible that she could be the lost, likely dead, Potter girl, but she highly doubted it. Besides, if she was Iris, then why had she been left with the Dursleys?

“No, I have not.”

Lily seemed to crumple with those words. “She’s been dead for so long, but when I heard her name, I couldn’t—I just wanted to hope a little bit. Hope that she was still…”

Evelyn nodded. “I’m sorry for getting your hopes up, Mrs. Potter. I’ll have to go to bed now.”

“Oh, right. Sleep well.”

Evelyn nodded in return again before she entered her chambers and locked the doors. Waiting until she no longer heard Lily’s footsteps, she allowed herself to crumple.

She had been torn away from her grandfather’s castle before being bound and chained to a goblet, forced to compete in a death tournament. While she had grown up in Dracul’s castle, surrounded by demons and the like, raised by the Prince of Darkness and his son, turned to be part vampire; she was still only fifteen. There wasn’t any way she could reach out to her grandfather and father or break the contract by herself. She may be strong, but she still drew power from her grandfather and his Castle.

Sighing, Evelyn shoved herself to her feet and made her way over to the bedroom. She absently lowered the fire before pulling the shadows around her bed and making a canopy with them. Dismissing her coat into the shadows and curling into the covers, Evelyn allowed sleep to take her, hoping that she would be able to find a way to speak with her grandfather and father when she woke.

Charlie sighed as he paced around the Hufflepuff common room. Everyone was focused on him and Cedric, asking about the mysterious fourth champion.

“Charlie?”

He turned to look at Cedric. “Yeah Ced? What’s up?”

“What’s the matter? You’ve been off ever since…. Evelyn touched you.”

“It’s probably nothing, but…” he swallowed, “when she touched me, I could have sworn I felt claws and she was so cold.”

The rest of Hufflepuuf muttered and shifted around them, made more uneasy by the news. Charlie took a breath before he spoke again.

“I don’t think Evelyn wants to hurt us, but I don’t think she’s good either.

Chapter Text

Evelyn huffed as she ghosted through the shadows on her way to the castle’s main hall. Hogwarts’ wards were impressive, but nothing compared to Castlevania’s own, and it was easy for her to step into the shadows and twist them around her where most wouldn’t be able to. Granted, she mused, most can’t compete with our power.

She was “late” for breakfast, but she didn’t care; her focus was on finding the headmaster, apparently one of the other professors was taking her to get magically supplies. Falling back into her solid form, she allowed herself to fall into step behind them. Walking into the hall, Evelyn blinked at the sight she had seen the night before but not truly taken in.

The hall held five tables in total. The main four tables were assigned to the Houses of the school with the visiting students occupying the green-and-silver and blue-and-bronze tables. The high table seated who she was looking for; the headmaster sat in a throne-like chair with his deputy to his right and Lily Potter to his left.

The minute she began to walk down the center isle whispers began to spread around the hall. Evelyn allowed their stares and allowed herself to stride through the crowded hall as if she was back in Castlevania, imitating her grandfather.

(Alucard’s daughter she may be with her quiet thoughts and quick quips, but she was also Dracul’s granddaughter with her boldness and snarling criticism.)

“Evelyn.”

“Headmaster.”

The old man smiled at her benignly. “Good morning, dear girl, it seems you’ve missed breakfast.”

Evelyn smirked stiffly, “I don’t need breakfast. Besides, I was told that one of you would be taking me to get some “magical supplies.””

“Ah, very well then. Professor McGonagall is typically responsible for taking First Years to get their school supplies.”

The severe looking woman in the green robes turned to face Dumbledore. “What about my classes, Albus?”

“Don’t worry, Minerva,” the old man smiled brightly, “I can handle the classes while you take care of Ms. Belmont here.”

“Heir.”

Dumbledore frowned, “Pardon?”

Evelyn gave him a narrowed-eyed smirk, “I’m Heir to the Belmont Bloodline and to House Dracul, it makes me Heir Belmont.”

“Oh, of course dear girl.”

Professor McGonagall rose from her seat and made her way down to where Evelyn was standing in the middle of the Hall. “Heir Belmont, please come with me.”

“Of course.”

With one final glare at the headmaster, Evelyn turned and followed the deputy headmistress out of the Great Hall and through the Entrance Hall before the Professor took her arm with a brisk warning of, “Hold on tight.”, before she turned on her heel and pulled Evelyn into a tight and squeezing tube.

Contrary to her and her grandfather’s preferred form of transportation, the wizard’s moving was painful and disorienting. When Evelyn and Dracul moved, they completely disregarded their physical forms and moved their essence and blood through the shadows and then pulled the shadows with them.

Landing on the balls of her feet with a slight jolt, Evelyn pulled herself to her full height before falling into step with McGonagall.

“What is this place?”

The pub was dank, dirty, damp, and packed full of people and smoke. It reeked and automatically made her vampiric senses recoil in disgust.

“This is the entrance to Diagon Alley, our center of magical commerce, come along now.”

Evelyn followed after the witch, watching quietly as she opened the entry way and led them through the crowded street and to the bank. Thankfully, the streets weren’t too crowded as many families had children at home and the way to Gringotts was unblocked. The guards, goblins in red and gold, sneered as McGonagall walked past them and into the entrance hall. She gave a sharp huff of amusement as their gazes turned to her and they balked as Evelyn allowed part of her power to show and her eyes to glow. Entering the entrance hall, her amusement grew, and a sharp smile formed as she read the engraving on the silver set of doors.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

“A warning, how…” Evelyn trailed off as she walked past the second set of guards, “quaint.”

McGonagall finally stopped at one of the goblin tellers, Graveltongue by the plaque, and withdrew a key from the pockets of her robes and handed it to the goblin behind the counter. “We need to access the Hogwarts’ Fund Vaults.”   

The goblin sneered at the professor before glancing towards Evelyn and blanched, his gaze snapping back to McGonagall. “We will need proof of your claim to the Vaults.”

“I have not had to provide proof of this since I first tool over the position of Deputy Headmistress, why do I need to now?”

Graveltongue grinned nastily, “A new requirement as these particular Vaults have not been accessed for two decades now.”

“Very well.” McGonagall’s lips pursed as she nodded. “Wait here, Heir Belmont, this should only take a moment.”

Another goblin appeared and led the witch into one of the many doors lining the long halls, leaving Evelyn alone with the goblin that was now eyeing her suspiciously.

“Heir Belmont.”

She tilted her head. “Yes?”

“You have a concrete claim to that bloodline?”

“I do.”

The goblin teller nodded sharply and gestured another goblin forward. “Follow him, he will take to Stonehold, who will in turn test your claim.”

Pivoting, Evelyn followed the new goblin into another of the many doors and down a short hall before stopping next to an office door.

The goblin bared his teeth and grunted at her. “Here.”

Without thinking, Evelyn bared her own fangs back and cackled when the goblin turned and fled, barely hanging onto his dignity. Allowing a grin to remain on her face, Evelyn knocked on the door and strode in at the loud bark of “Enter!”

The office was decorated with weapons and similar trophies and the goblin behind the desk had a tight grip on his quill. “Belmont.”

“Goblin Stonehold.”

The goblin, Stonehold, stared into her eyes. “I am told you have a claim on the Belmont bloodline. Both sides.”

Evelyn raised her head proudly. “I do. My father is Alucard, born Trevor Belmont, son of Dracul, once called Gabriel Belmont.”

Stonehold nervously swallowed before holding out a heavy metal bowl, “I’ll need your blood as proof of your heritage to give you access to the vaults.”

Nodding, Evelyn raised her wrist to her mouth and tore it open, allowing the blood to gush into the bowl. Like her grandfather, her blood was vivid red laced with black, and she had no problem with giving it away; it was how one accessed parts of Bernhard Castle after all.

“I—very well. The Belmont vaults are yours.”

“My thanks.”

She disappeared into the shadows, laughing into the darkness as she heard Stonehold curse in his mother-tongue and guards appear in the room. The Belmont Vaults were easy to find, their power connected to her grandfather and her by extension. She slid into the vaults and paused.

The vault was huge; lined with dark wood and stone that descended level upon level into the deep depths of the Earth and lit by electric lamps of a sort. Bridges, pathways, and moving platforms crisscrossed as far down as the vault went, allowing access to every inch of the vast wealth contained there. It was full of tall bookcases packed to the brim; the books were in a multitude of languages, mainly Latin, and contained information about any and all monsters that her father’s lineage had hunted down throughout history. There were shelves and cases full of proudly displayed trophies from hunts and weapons from ages past, all with a plaque listing the item name and its obtainer. At the far end of the vault under family portraits was a wall of chests that Evelyn knew contained the treasures and memoirs of the Belmonts depicted above them.

Evelyn grinned in delight. Making her way over to a chest that had a wand imprinted on the lid and a Belmont holding a wand above it. Opening it, she was pleased to find that it was neatly stacked with books and had a handful of pouches full of wizarding money. Grabbing three of the money pouches, Evelyn twisted into the shadows and allowed herself to regain her physical form in the front hall where McGonagall appeared to be waiting.

“Professor.”

“Oh, Heir Belmont.” The witch seemed slightly put-off by Evelyn’s presence. “I have the money required for you Hogwarts supplies; we only need to get them now.”

Evelyn hummed. “Do you know what I need?”

“Of course, I have it memorized.”

“Is there anything that requires my exact presence?”

“Only your wand.”

“Very well.” She straightened and ran a hand through her hair. “I will go get my wand and then tour this...marketplace.”

“I beg your pardon? Yo-you have no funds!” McGonagall was clearly scrambling to figure out a way to keep Evelyn by her side.

The dhampir raised an eyebrow, dark against pale skin, as her amber eyes flashed in annoyance. McGonagall recoiled. “I accessed my family’s vaults just now. I have the funds and have no reason to accompany you. We can meet on the front steps when the sun starts to set.”

Before the professor could process any more Evelyn was walking back through the hall and both sets of doors, down the steps, and into the bustling alley. Chuckling to herself at the look on the witch’s face, Evelyn scanned the shop windows before her gazed settled on “Ollivander’s.”

The store was plain and shabby with the only display being a singular wand on an old and faded purple cushion. Stepping inside, her gaze scanned the narrow shop that was absolutely packed with thousands of narrow boxes, likely holding wands, on shelves and the floor and other various objects.

“Oh! Hello there miss.”

Turning, she came face to face with an old man with faded hair and misty silver eyes. Strangely, even though there was little resemblance, she was reminded of the Toymaker. Both seemed to be kind old men that had no idea what they had truly been dragged into.

“Hello. Are you the wand maker?”

“I, uh, yes, I am. If I may, what is your name?”

“Evelyn Belmont, House Belmont.”

“Oh. We’ve only had three of you come here.”

Evelyn tilted her head, “We?”

The man straightened up. “Oh. Of course. I am Garrick Ollivander, this store has been run by my family since 382 B.C. When I refer to “us” I mean my family and I.”

“Ah. Well then, since you’ve had my family here can you get me a wand.”

“Of course. Which arm do you favor?”

“Both.”

Ollivander hummed as he took out a tape measure with silver markings and measured her from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around her head. “Don’t worry miss, none of our wands are the same and you won’t get a good reaction from another’s wand nor them from you.”

Evelyn grinned, making sure to hide her teeth. “Do you have anything to hold them?”

“Of course: wand holsters. I can get you a customized one after I get you a wand.”

“And if you can’t?” Evelyn tilted her head, genuinely curious.

“I’ll make you one. I probably have to, your family members all needed custom wands. Now, if you would follow me.”

Grin still on her face, Evelyn followed him into the back of the store. The shelves and drawers opened at a flick of his wand. Placed in shallow holders and pale grey lining were shards of wood, stone, hair, bones, and a few powders.

“Reach out to these and point out those that feel they belong to you.”

Nodding, Evelyn narrowed her eyes and subtly reached out with her power. The first was a medium brown wood, followed by a light yellowish wood, a chord dark red and charred looking mass of muscle, a string of vine, and a bumpy piece of pale bone that likely belonged to a form of magical creature.

Ollivander nodded as she passed the items to her. “Yew, fir, dragon heartstring, vine, twelve and three-quarter inches for a bit of flare, and white river monster spine. Oh, this wand will be very interesting indeed.”

“How so?”

“It will imbue with great power, mainly dark, and will be firmly loyal to you. The spells will be forceful yet elegant, something aided by the length of the wand. Stand back now.”

Doing as told, Evelyn watched as Ollivander began to chant in Latin as the wood components began to align themselves. The heartstring curled around the spine with the light shades of wood merging together around it and the vine curling around them in turn. Once complete and in her hand, the long wand was a light golden color with dark brown wood curling to around the middle of the wand before it narrowed into a point. The handle was shaped similarly to her grandfather’s Void Sword with a twisted pattern and a conical point at the very end.

“Thank you, Ollivander.”

“It was my pleasure, Heir Belmont.”

At the front of the store Ollivander gave her a holster and took his payment before she exited the store. Checking the sky, she was pleased to note she still had time before she had to meet McGonagall at Gringotts. Baring her teeth in a smile, Evelyn tucked her wand into its holster before heading to the darker section of the market that had been calling out to her.

Chapter Text

Evelyn stared blankly at the other champions as they grouped together in the tent. She had grown tired of the nattering from Rita Skeeter long ago; apparently her warning during the “Weighing of the Wands” ceremony hadn’t lasted, she would need to fix that soon. Only slightly more bearable was the Deputy Headmistress’ hovering. Ever since Evelyn had returned to the steps of the goblin bank after retrieving her wand and wandering through a few adjacent alleyways in search of something interesting…and a snack.

Evelyn allowed herself a moment to remember the flow and taste of blood and revel in the boost in power it had given her. It was a needed meal considering how far she was from her father and grandfather, the wells of her power.

Returning to the present as McGonagall returned from lecturing Skeeter for trying to sneak into the “Champions’ Tent” to interview them. The witch glanced at Evelyn as if making sure that she was still in the room before walking over to…Cedric perhaps to give him a few encouraging words.

“Good-o! Everyone’s here, glad you made yourselves at home!” There was a plump blonde-haired, blue-eyes man grinning proudly at the tent. He reminded Evelyn of a boy who never grew up, something that only grew with the yellow and black robes that reminded her of a bee. “Now, time to fill you in! When the audience has assembled, I’m going to pass around this bag” – he held up a small, purple pouch and shook it cheerfully— "and from this bag you will choose a miniature, er, things you are going to face! There are multiple…varieties, as you’ll see. And—um—one more thing: your task…is to…. collect the golden egg!!”

The man left, smiling giddily. Glancing at the champions, she noted that Cedric was the only one to visibly respond before he began to pace around. The other two champions—Flower and Victer maybe? —hadn’t reacted at all beyond looking sick. Evelyn hummed, thoroughly bored, as she walked towards a corner of the tent that was clear and open enough for her plan. Reaching into the shadows, she grinned as she pulled out her sword and spun it lazily.

Not caring if anyone saw her, Evelyn allowed herself the joy of spinning a sharp weapon around near mindlessly. It always filled her with pride to wield a sword—or any weapon, but she preferred her sword—around with clean, well-practiced movements. Her father and grandfather had been and still were renowned warriors that managed to haunt the nightmares and memories of their foes. Evelyn scowled, another thing that she didn’t like about being here; she couldn’t allow her true prowess to show. When she was in the Castle she took after her father: a silent yet proud stride that did nothing to obstruct the view of the weapon. Her grandfather rarely had his weapons out in the open because he rarely needed to use them, he was a dangerous being in his own right and needed no help from a material weapon. Bringing her sword around and freezing at the sound of a camera going off and a bright flash of light. Evelyn froze as her eyes darted over to where Rita Skeeter stood with her photographer, having snuck their way back into the tent.

Alucard had found a way to hide his appearance through modern cosmetics like foundation and colored contact lenses. Few noticed, and any that did were told that he had a rare genetic order that gave him unusually pale skin and strange eye colors. Most believed that he wore the concealments because he didn’t wish to startle any of the people he was conducting business or interviews with. Whenever Evelyn had gone out in public her own eyes had been covered with similar lenses. It had been fairly amusing, in actuality, when she had clung to her father during an interview and the reporter had politely and curiously inquired if her father was married. The poor man had been startled into awkward silence when Alucard had said that his wife, son, and mother had all died and left only he and his father behind. To the public, Evelyn had been found abandoned by her father and grandfather and adopted by them when they had fallen in love with the little child.

Evelyn usually followed her father around to the few business dinners he went to as a reminder that he considered her mother—his wife, Sypha Belnades—to be the only woman to win his heart, hold his soul, and wear his ring. They had been polite dinners with the two of them standing for a few pictures by well-known and neutral publishers. Her personal favorite was the one where she was standing with her head against his shoulder and leaning into the slight hug he was giving her as the smiled calmly at one another. They had looked so human, so mortal, so caught up in each other and the love they had as father and daughter that Evelyn had requested the publisher not release that photo and instead leave it with her and her father. It now sat on the side table next to her bed with a painting similar to it above her grandfather’s fireplace in his quarters to remind him that he was no longer alone. It was also one of the times that she had worn a suit that matched her father’s usual three-piece in cobalt blue over flint grey; Evelyn’s had futured silver cufflinks and her father had worn gold.

Now, though, this picture was completely uncredited and unpredicted while capturing Evelyn in her element. She straightened and slid the sword into the sheath at her hip as she calmly strode towards the intruding pair. Her father had long-since impressed upon her that most times a calm persona for an annoying but public event was best; she still favored her grandfather’s obvious rage when around those that she didn’t know and couldn’t manipulate the public’s image of her. “Ms. Skeeter, if you could please refrain from taking unsolicited pictures of myself while sneaking into places you shouldn’t be.”

“Oh, but there’s no need to worry about me; I only give my readers the truth Ms. Potter—”

“Heir Belmont. I am heir to the House of Belmont and the Belmont bloodline; I should be addressed as such. I have no knowledge of this Potter girl except for that she died over a decade ago and that I was summoned in her stead because our magics are similar enough.” Evelyn reached and the shadows were quick to sink their way into the camera, it began to smoke. “Now, I believe the Headmistress McGonagall was looking for you. Good day.”

The two stumbled out and Evelyn heard them curse when they finally noticed the smoking camera.

The blonde man from earlier reappeared carrying a purple sack mostly made of what appeared to be silk. “Well, the audience is assembled! It’s time for you to choose your challenger! Ladies first,” Evelyn stayed in the corner and watched as the Frenchwoman reached into the bag and pulled out a small, green dragon with a “2” label around its neck. The blunt looking Viktor pulled out a bright red dragon lettered “3” and was followed by Cedric pulling out a blue-grey dragon with a short snout and the letter “1.” Evelyn could feel her amusement growing as she walked over to reach into the sack.

Her miniature dragon was black and lizard-like with yellow eyes. The number “4” laid around its neck. She would be last then. It was getting hard to hold in her laughter.

“Well, there you are! You have each chosen the dragon you will face and in which order, you see. Now, I’m going to leave in just a moment since I’ll be commentating. Mr. Diggory, you’re first, just leave when you hear a whistle, all right? Now…Ms. Belmont…could I have a quick word? Outside?”

“You may.” Evelyn followed him out of the tent and into the trees before he turned to greet her with a smile on his face.

“Ludo Bagman, pleasure to meet you Ms. Belmont.”

“Heir Belmont, sir, and a pleasure.”

They shook hands.

“Feeling alright? Anything I can get for you? Got a plan?” He lowered his voice and leaned close like he was sharing something secretive. “Because I don’t mind sharing a few pointers, if you’d like them, you know. I mean, I don’t know if you’ve had any training…. Anything I can do to help…”

Evelyn felt slightly amused that he couldn’t connect her with the House that had hunted demons for centuries. “No, thank you, but I know what I’m going to do.”

A whistle blew behind them.

“Good lord, I’ve got to run!” And then he was hurrying off.

Evelyn walked back to the tent and nodded at Cedric as he approached before stopping before him. The boy looked rather green, and she found herself feeling pity for him. Likely he had thought this a calm competition and not a death match with a dragon.

“Good luck, Diggory. Do your best; aim for the eyes and disguise your scent if you can. Be sneaky and simple. A simple summoning should get you what you need once you’ve made it to cover.”

He blinked and swallowed as a hoarse grunt came out of his mouth and he blushed as he cleared his throat. “You…. know a lot about dragons.”

“Family knowledge.” Evelyn wanted to laugh at the hidden joke that he couldn’t understand, “Truly, though, put your safety above the competition and good luck. I know that sweet Charlie boy is fond of you.”

“Thank you, er…”

“Evelyn, Evelyn Belmont.”

They shook and nodded as they continued past one another. The crowd roared and screamed and yelled and gasped as one while Evelyn and the other Champions listened in the tent. Viktor was staring at the ground, Fleur was pacing. Evelyn was listening attentively to Bagman’s commentary; it took about fifteen minutes before there was a furious and deafening roar. Cedric must have gotten past the dragon and grabbed the egg. Bagman continued to boast about Cedric before a whistle blew and he called for Fleur.

The poor girl was trembling, and Evelyn found herself grabbing her wrist as their eyes locked. There was something…different about here. Evelyn found herself reminded or the succubae and incubi in the Castle. Evelyn allowed her grip to tighten as a smirk crossed her face, “Use what you have to your advantage, don’t hold back.”

The French girl blinked before inclining her head in respect and squaring her shoulders as she headed out. Evelyn and Viktor were left alone for the next ten minutes as they listened to Bagman’s insistent commentary. Applause, a lull, applause again, and the whistle blew. Viktor stalked out and she didn’t bother to stop him, knowing that there was no changing his mind with that determined glint in his eye. The process repeated. A roaring shriek, stark silence, blinding applause, a lull, more applause, and the whistle.

Evelyn shoved herself to her feet and strode out past the trees and through the fence. Hundreds, thousands of faces stared at her in rapt attention. And there, at the other end of the enclosure, was the large black beast. It was easily fifty feet tall and looked much more dangerous than the copy that now resided in her room thanks to her shadows.

It crouched over its eggs, half-furled wings and spiked tail leaving large gouges in the ground as it thrashed. The bright yellow eyes glared at her as it bared its teeth. Evelyn smirked. The beast was unsettled by her, but it couldn’t tell why, and neither could the crowd. She allowed the wind to blow her scent towards the dragon and watched as it froze before curling back and hissing at her.

Evelyn threw back her head and laughed. It wasn’t her laugh, not the thing that held the same quiet yet deep tones of her father and grandfather when they were simply Gabriel and Trevor Belmont. No. No, this was the laugh that had echoes across battlefields and reminded the Brotherhood of Light why they feared the Dark. Reminded them that Dracul had once been God’s Chosen One, His Champion of the Light before he became the Prince of Darkness and then the King of Hell after defeating Satan for the second time with his Levithan.

She stalked forward and twisted so she was a stream of shadow-mist intertwined with blood and small sparks. When she stopped twisting, she was a wolf made of smoke and mist with embers dripping from her fangs. Her eyes were the bright, burning orange of a wildfire and flames leapt from them as she stalked forward towards the cowering lizard.

Gabriel Belmont was now known as Dracula, but that came from Dracul. The Dragon. He had decimated battlefields for centuries and Evelyn was his Heir, the Daughter of the Wolf-child of Dracula. This creature was just a mere lizard, and it was powerless to stop her as she climbed into its nest and plucked the golden egg up in her jaws.

Twisting again as she reached the entrance of the enclosure, the egg ending up in her claws. It had taken a large amount of her energy, but it had been worth it. The entire thing could have been much worse had she not relied on the powers that came with being a dhampir and of Dracul’s bloodline.

Evelyn walked past the professors and stopped at the edge of the enclosure to eye the judges as they shakily gave her the score. 8, 9, 10, 10. That was unexpected from the dour-looking Headmaster of the Russian school, she would need to watch him. Her family did have a history of developing fanatic followers over the centuries, after all. Bagman was continuing his commentary in the nonsensical shouting.

“At thirty-seven, Heir Belmont is in the lead having retrieved her eggs with no damages to herself or the dragon. Physical ones, at least. And an impressive use of her…. hellhound…Animagus form?”

Evelyn strode back to the tent with her head held high, refusing to acknowledge any of the onlookers in any form. The other champions were still outside so she swung herself into a chair, crossing her legs and beginning to play with the rings decorating her fingers.

“Well done, all of you!” Bagman threw a nervous look at where she sat in the chair with the egg sitting by her feet. “Now, a few quick words. You’ve got a good, long break before the second task, which will be in the morning on February the twenty-fourth—but don’t worry! Were giving you something to do in the meantime! If you look at your eggs, you’ll see that they open with those hinges there. You need to solve the clue inside the eggs because they’ll tell you what the second task his and help you prepare for it. All clear? Sure? Off you go then!”

Evelyn left the tent, walking into the woods intent on finding herself a meal. When she reached a clearing a witch jumped out of the trees. Acid green robes, obnoxious matching quill; Rita Skeeter.

“Congratulations, Evelyn! I wondered if I could have a quick word? How did you turn into that creature? How do you feel about the scoring?”

“Yes, you can have a few words.” Evelyn leaned in close as if ready to share a secret, “A few words with my barrister, I’ll be sure to give you their information.”

And she stalked deeper into the big, black woods.

The Hufflepuff common room was filled with cheers and yelling. There were piles of cakes and tarts next to flagons of butterbeer and pumpkin juice on every available surface. Someone had charmed banners on the wall to show Cedric heroically running through flames with the golden egg in his arms. A few others showed Krum and Fleur with their heads on fire as they panicked. There was one banner, right next to one of Cedric’s, that showed Evelyn Belmont’s Animagus form snarling at the dragon.

Cedric and Charlie happily helped themselves to food, chatting amicably with their friends while ignoring the fact that Cho Chang wasn’t a Hufflepuff.

“What’s in the egg, Cedric?”

Looking up from where he and Cho had been pressing their foreheads together to stare into each other’s eyes, Cedric blinked confusedly at Ernie Macmillian. “What?”

“What’s in the egg, Cedric?”

“Yeah, Cedric, go on, open it! Let’s see what’s inside!”

Cedric frowned, “I’m supposed to figure out the clue on my own….it’s in the tournament rules…”

Cho huffed quietly as she pushed herself off Cedric’s lap and hefted the egg from her arms to his. “You’ll figure it out on your own, you can still show it to us.”

“Open it! Open it! Open it!”  Charlie was grinning and laughing as he joined the chant, joyous as the atmosphere in the room grew. “Open it! Open it!”

Chuckling bemusedly, Cedric stood up and pried the egg open from a seam that ran around it. Nobody got a clear look before a horrible and terrible screeching filled the air, it was the most horrible sound Charlie had ever heard.

Cho screamed as loud as she could, struggling to be heard over the wailing, “Shut it!”

The noise shut off as the golden egg was slammed shut.

“What was that?”

“A banshee? Maybe you have to face one of those next, Cedric!”

“It could be another dragon!”

“Or a dementor again!”

“Maybe it was someone being tortured!”

“If it was, you should ask that Evelyn about it, she probably know everything about torture.”

“What?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“I heard one of the Ravenclaw upper years talking about it. She’s a hellhound Animagus, she can’t be all good. And have you seen her eyes?!”

“But that doesn’t mean she tortured anyone!”

“She isn’t normal either way! What else did you hear, Ernie?”

“Well, they were talking about….”

Charlie was already grabbing his father’s invisibility cloak and moving out of the room. Ernie may be pompous, but his heart was in the right place. It made sense, too; the claws, the eyes, the Animagus form…. It made sense that Evelyn wasn’t a human. He had to tell his mum, ’Mione, and Ron about this and see if they’d heard anything.

He stopped, frozen, as he saw Evelyn sweep past, her eyes glowing in the dark. It hurt Charlie’s brain to look at her and the shadows around her for too long. He could hear something skittering around her and the air seemed to distort and flicker like he was looking through a candle flame.

Charlie swallowed and hurried up to his mum’s room. Ernie was right: Evelyn was dangerous. Especially if she could lock eyes with him through the invisibility cloak and merely smile before walking off.