While the rest of the vampires still conversed and danced, Ambrogio Sangria, the Pontifex Maximus of the coven made his way down a hidden stairway, behind a hidden doorway, which led to a hidden guest room, which connected to the outside. The elderly vampire took a key from his neck and carefully opened the door, which only he had access to from this side of the chateau.
Already waiting inside is a stern, hard-faced wizard. The wizard in question has a rough harsh voice as he says, "You're rather early, Ambrogio. To what do I owe this unexpected honor?"
"It is nothing," Ambrogio replied with a dismissive gesture, before sitting down across the table from the wizard.
Now seated, Ambrogio carefully studies the wizard, before a cold smirk appears on his face. "It would appear, Minchum, that you will be losing the wizarding elections against the current Minister of Magic Jenkins, my early condolences."
Harold Minchum, the current rival of the Minister of Magic for the position of the next Minister of Magic narrowed his eyes into dangerous squints at the elderly wizard. "You would do well to remember, Ambrogio that a staked vampire in the sun always burns to death."
Ambrogio lets out a low chuckle in reply as if having heard a rather comedic joke rather than a threat. Finished laughing, Ambrogio mockingly says, "You need me, Minchum. Or else, where would you be now? Who else has carefully removed your enemies without notice nor being traced back to you?"
Minchum sneers, before saying, "The poisoned bottle did not work, I need you to try again."
"Impossible," Ambrogio flatly declined. "The one that was able to sneak in was lucky at that time, but since then, and we've checked, the Minister of Magic's office has become impenetrable. And I did vigorously warn you at that time that there would be no second chances."
Minchum curls his hand into a fist, before relaxing and saying, "Very well, what about attempting an attack outside of the Ministry?"
"The attack at the Malfoy Wedding further increased the security placed on the Minister of Magic at all times," Ambrogio vehemently pointed out. "There are no further opportunities for us to act."
"Where there is a will there is a way," Minchum ruthlessly countered.
"Indeed," Ambrogio rasped. "But we are vampires, and there are no second chances for us, and I will not jeopardize the coven for a mere flimsy chance that cannot be guaranteed to work."
"Surely, there is someone who would be foolish to do so," Minchum further prodded.
"If there is, they are nowhere near talented enough to do so," Ambrogio retorted. "It would do us, no good."
"I refuse to resign myself," Minchum hissed. "She is an obstacle for us."
"Us?' Ambrogio said with a frown. "You must mean yourself, Minchum."
Minchum blinks for a moment, before quickly covering his lapse. "My apologies, it was a slip of the tongue."
Ambrogio slowly nods his head and says, "Well, if that is all, I shall now depart."
"Wait," Minchum said. "Have you received an invitation from a wizard, who calls himself, the Dark Lord or Lord Voldemort?"
"We have, but we refused the envoy upon learning that the wizard had recruited werewolves," Ambrogio said with a shudder. "I will not have us working alongside with such vile, brutish creatures."
"And what if they are no longer in his service, what then?" Minchum further pried.
"We will play second fiddle to no one," Ambrogio snapped. "Is that all, wizard?"
"That is all, vampire," Minchum nastily countered. "Until we meet again."
Ambrogio sent the wizard a fierce scowl, before rising to his feet and locking the door behind him. The Pontifex Maximum silently waited next to his side of the door and waited for the wizard to depart. Not long after the sound of a candle being blown out is heard, before footsteps, the sound of a door closing, and finally, the sound of a door being locked.
Satisfied that the conditions were still met, Ambrogio slowly climbed the stairs. He was tired and wished to rest now, but he still had one last thing to take care of. Making his way to a hidden room, Ambrogio carefully opened the door, before stepping inside.
There lying on the ground is the bound, weeping figure of the now ex-Pontifex Victoria. "Ah, poor, poor foolish thing," Ambrogio Sangria crooned.
Victoria struggled to speak, but only muffled cries can be heard through her gag. With eyes full of tears, the young female vampire begged for her life. "There, there, it will be over soon," Ambrogio whispered as he knelt on the stone ground next to her.
His pale, blue-lined veined hands rise and gently touch her neck. Victoria's eyes are wide with fear as she struggles not to move even a centimeter at feeling sharp, long nails running down her jugular. Trying not to draw even more attention to herself, she even ceased to struggle to speak.
"Do you know that it is possible for a vampire to prolong their life?" Ambrogio said out loud. "Oh, yes, it is very much possible to live for more than two hundred and fifty years. However, there is a very harsh requirement to do so. Would you like to know what it is, Victoria?"
Too afraid to move her head, Victoria's eyes wildly dart around in reply. She did not want to know. She wanted to leave never to return again to this wretched, foul place!
Ambrogio slowly lowered his head and says, "Oh yes, all it takes is for a vampire to survive by draining the life blood of other vampires."
Victoria's eyes bulge in panic as she struggles to move to no avail. She was like a fly trapped in a spider's web, and already cocooned knowing that spider returning to the web to suck her insides, while she was still alive!
With gentle care like a lover about to kiss his sweetheart, the silver-haired head of Ambrogio bent down and hovered over the satin-smooth, perfectly pale neck. Not even breathing he says, "Ironically, I'm nearly eight hundred years old. And every two-hundred and fifty years, I fake my own death and move on to another coven. This is my third coven, and soon enough, it will be time to move on again."
Ambrogio paused, before adding, "Naturally you must be wondering why no one notices? Well, I leave no sired children, I always change my name, and pay a sorcerer to change my face every single time. It's quite costly, I admit but well worth the outrageous price."
Victoria tires not to gulp at feeling his mauve tongue carefully licked her trembling neck, before his fangs suddenly descended in savagery. Hungeringly slurping her blood he held her up by her hair. Despite the burning pain, everything began to fade away into overwhelming darkness until nothing remained.
Ambrogio did not move from her neck until every single last drop of blood in her body was gone. Licking his lips and teeth clean, he allowed for the truly and now very much dead husk to fall to the ground.
"Delicious," Ambrogio said in satisfaction. "The young ones always taste the best. A pity that I can so rarely indulge with such delicacies."
Licking his lips again, Ambrogio fondly recalls a memory from the past. "Though far from the best," Ambrogio hungrily said as he licked his lips at recalling a most diving taste.
"The best-tasting blood, I've ever had been a muggle turned vampire named Lazarus D'Eath. The poor lovestruck fool thought himself in love with a witch and eloped. However, to do so was to go against the coven itself, and I rather enjoyed watching him plead for his life begging only to return to his witch," Ambrogio mused out loud.
"His fear and despair were exquisite like the finest aged wine," Ambrogio recounted to no one but the corpse at his feet. "And even now, I can still clearly recall the very moment, when the light was extinguished from his eyes. It's a memory that I dearly cherish."
Easily kicking the husk into a corner, Ambrogio rises to his feet and cleans off any specks of blood before emerging from the hidden door. He'd have one of the servants remove the corpse, before disposing of the servant. It would ensure that nothing was tracked back to him. And nothing ever had.
Thusly, so with a light skip in his step, Ambrogio retreated to his coffin to rest for the day. With such boundless energy and a satisfied belly, he'd sleep like the very dead. And who said that vampires couldn't joke?