A Silent Vow Solo Finished

Future-dated, evening of October 31st, 2025

It had nearly been 2 months since stepping foot onto the grounds of Hogwarts. The glamour had worn off. The air grew bitter, the grass dulled, and the rush of classes were taken up in a hurry and seemed relentless, like a battle you were destined to lose. With the changes of the season, so did everything else around him, including the people.

Blaize didn't have what you would call great friends established by this point. Not that it bothered him much, or so he let on. Keeping to oneself meant less harm could potentially come to you because you didn't confide in as many people. Trusting people with secrets or information ended in futile arguments or fully waged wars, of which he didn't want to be a part of. But boy did the young Valerian heir have secrets to hide.

Pods of students scurried from one end of the castle together as the floating candles and magical eeriness of Halloween decorations dotted every wall. The holiday had previously been seen as tacky and went uncelebrated by his family. It was just another night in autumn where they sat down at a large, slender table and had a silent dinner. But here, it was different. A festive spirit crackled in the air, somewhat promising tricks and danger, other times giggles and treats. It was a confusing time to say the least, making the poor Slytherin more on edge then anything.

So, he stowed himself away, found a crook in the library amongst the towering shelves and sat down. His head pressed back against the smoothly lined shelves, feeling the rough hide of them caress the back of his head and back. The library provided somewhat of a sanctuary. People knew to leave you alone if you were there, unless you made previous plans to study together. Even in his own Common Room or dorm room, he wasn't ever truly alone. The chance a person could walk in on him during a sensitive moment was too risky for his liking. The only people that walked through a library was a person on a mission to find a certain book. A passerby would hardly take a second glance at some kid sitting on the floor. Perhaps he was assumed to be reading, studying, or even napping depending on the time of day.

Now he sat, chocolate frog in hand. One of the treats he that he somehow found in his possession. Eating in the library surely wasn't allowed, but he had no plan on eating the little creature, he just wanted the card. You could tell which students liked to collect them, when their eyes would light up or names you would rarely hear outside a History of Magic lecture were uttered in the hallways. The older students came back from Honeydukes with their pockets stuffed full of candies, chocolate frogs being one of the more popular choices.

His fingers fumbled with the crinkled wrapper, attempting to tear it open as quietly as possible, each movement deliberate and cautious. He clamped his other hand around the enchanted frog, feeling its soft, pulsing warmth, as he feared it might leap into chaos and wreak havoc among the seemingly mundane shelves lined with dusty, likely untouched and forgotten books. With much anticipation, he flipped over the card held in his other hand. A shaky breath, tinged with nostalgia and dread, escaped his parted lips as he beheld a face that had haunted his memories for the past year. Well, not quite the exact face, but a haunting echo of someone once revered—an idol that now left only sour thoughts in his mind.

This figure had authored a book titled "A Vampire's Monologue." At first, he had been drawn to the seductive allure of the thoughts of a creature that existed just beyond the veil of human understanding, or even well, even in the Wizarding World. How it must have been to be living amongst them yet separated by an unfriendly darkness. It was entertaining initially, a curious exploration into a world that felt both foreign and familiar. As he delved deeper, however, the novelty decayed into something monotonous, much like an uninspired homework assignment comprised of tedious questions layered with multiple subtexts. It took a uniquely sharp mind to author a book that could ensnare readers with its dullness.
On the other hand, it also possessed the skill to discern the hidden meanings lurking within the lines. To Blaize, this felt similar to unearthing the truth from the murky depths of reality that he got pretty lost in. For that brief moment, he felt a spark of admiration for the vampiric author, until mere curiosity devolved into horror, constructed on the day of his turning, which had only occurred months before his invitation to Hogwarts.

Distant memories of that fateful night still clung to him, the physical remnants of that experience echoing in the way his flesh burned with shame and the grotesque transformation he now bore. His skin, now devoid of the radiant, sun-kissed glow of a carefree youth, felt lifeless. His eyes, once lively and bright, now stared back at him like storm clouds—oppressive and grey, casting a haunting reflection. The transformation had drained the color from his dark brown hair, leaving it a pale, eerie hue that unsettled him to his core. Blaize loathed this change; he avoided mirrors and steered clear of conversations that might expose the turmoil swirling within him.

Instead of the outside intriguing him, it terrified him. The sunlight zapped his energy from him, making the boy much more entitled to his cavernous bedroom where he sought comfort and safety. He often found himself tormented by the thought of blackmail—what if someone discovered his truth, something unpreventable that occurred to him that he now had to live in shame with? The very idea sent shivers down his spine, igniting a primal fear of exposure that weighed heavily on his conscience.

His gaze returned to the card clutched between his trembling fingers, a shudder coursing through him as his heart raced. What struck him most was the exaggerated grin on the illustration, his elongated fangs prominently displayed as if mocking his own involuntary transformation. He brushed his hand lightly against the outside of his cheek, a once-familiar gesture now transformed into a cruel reminder of what lay within. When was the last time he had smiled that broadly? The memory felt like a distant dream, a wisp of joy that had been snatched away, leaving only an echo of loss. As his narrowed eyes trailed down the small card, he couldn't help but be drawn to the delicately sketched hands, with their long, tapering nails. This unsettling beauty blurred his vision momentarily as he glanced at his own. Nothing extravagant, but the reminder of his own vulnerability struck him like a cold wave. Blaize took several deep gulps of air in an attempt to quell the tightening sensation that constricted around his throat, a serpent suffocating him with its relentless grip. He pushed his hands through his tangled hair. A habit that had transformed it into a chaotic mess by the end of each day, and wiped the beads of sweat that had collected along the nape of his neck, the damp fabric of his robes clinging uncomfortably to him.

Rocking back against the shelf for support, he finally pushed himself off the floor, his shoes pressing firmly on either side of the figure printed on the enchanted card. In one swift, decisive motion, he kicked the card, sending it skidding several feet across the polished wood, the sound echoing eerily in the silence as he turned to retreat from his hidden compartment among the dusty shelves, each step taken in a haze of unresolved turmoil.

"I will never be like you."