It wasn't long after the letter that I headed over to Sheila Bennett's house, and she was already waiting for me at the door with a scowl on her face.
"Where exactly did I fail to make myself clear that you aren't welcome here?" Sheila muttered sharply, standing right in the doorway. "Go away."
"Come on now," I laughed at her. "At this point in history, we're practically best friends..."
"Best friends my arse," Sheila retorted with a growl. "What do you want?"
"My children just received a letter from a magical school," I said with a sigh. "And for the sake of their late mother's memory, I can't deny this to them, nor can I let them find out what they really are."
"Seriously? A letter? That's so old-fashioned... Which institution sent it? They usually send emails," Sheila replied, confused. "Which country was it from? Brazil? Ethiopia? Japan? Belgium?"
"None of those... Hogwarts, in England," I said, and Sheila's mouth fell open.
"Are you kidding me?" She nearly stumbled backward. "You're going to send your children to a school for commoners?"
Wait, did her dialect just change? Wasn't she the one who always called wizards "bad-blooded wand-wavers"?
"Changed your vocabulary, have we?" I asked with an amused smirk.
"Well, my granddaughter is starting to develop her magic now," Sheila said with a sigh. "She can be rather narrow-minded and traditional about certain things. I don't want her looking down on other witches, even if they don't come from a 'proper' bloodline."
"And which school is your granddaughter going to?" I asked, curious.
"Emails came from every single one," Sheila spoke with pride and a smile. "After all, I'm a Bennett—royalty among witches—and my granddaughter is no different."
Makes sense. They're descendants of Qetsiyah. Quite simply, the malevolent being who controls the afterlife of every supernatural creature.
I'd even say she's being modest. Honestly, when your ancestor controls what happens to everyone after death, you are royalty to all.
"So which one is she going to?" I asked. Bonnie would be fascinating to have around. This world is quite different from the show's version, and I intend to start giving my children more autonomy—both biological and adopted. Bonnie is exactly the key to helping them solve their problems.
"None... I don't want my granddaughter involved in any of this mess," Sheila replied sharply. "I want her to have a normal childhood, an education, a normal adult life—a home, a family, and to die peacefully of old age."
"Well, that's... interesting. And rather contradictory coming from you," I responded with a chuckle. "Because you let her be friends with my child... And your ancestors were bound by debt and vengeance?"
"You're already treating the Gilberts like your own children... Getting soft for such an ancient vampire, aren't you?" Sheila laughed, genuinely amused. "The answer is... I'll pay the price when my time comes. But my granddaughter's happiness matters most. I won't let her follow her mother's path... Being friends with the daughter of a vampire as powerful as you means she'll have protection against enemies she could never defeat on her own. Simply being associated with you keeps her safe. You owe me this, Nik."
"Fair enough, fair enough," I replied, waving my hand. "Now, down to business. I don't want my children's Mikaelson magic to awaken—but Iris speaks to every animal, and Harry speaks to snakes. That means they already have magic, and they've received their Hogwarts letters..."
"Don't worry," Sheila said with a sigh. "They'll be able to use magic easily with a wand. Nothing can truly seal magic away—everything holds magic, from ordinary humans to gods. All I did when I sealed your children's magic was mask it. They'll appear to be... commoners, for a while."
"Excellent," I said happily, turning to leave.
"Wait—your children speak to animals?" Sheila called out, sounding astonished. "Tell me the truth—that's one of the rarest abilities in the magical world. Druid magic, long since extinct, mostly because your kind—vampires and werewolves—blamed them and the Aztecs for that ridiculous Sun and Moon curse."
I couldn't help but laugh. That curse doesn't exist—it's a lie I helped create. Klaus and the Mikaelsons invented it.
And it destroyed entire bloodlines.
"Search me, I wasn't born a witch," I replied, waving dismissively. "I suppose I'm what you'd call an anomaly. I never bothered to look into my own magical lineage."
"Wait... You're descended from a witch?" Once again, Sheila's jaw dropped. "Son of a— I assumed the magic came entirely from the mother... That's why your children got the letter. She was a non-pureblood, wasn't she?"
I felt a flash of anger, but took a breath.
"Watch your tongue when speaking late mother of my childrens ," I warned, my voice firm. "She is not here to defend herself."
"I apologize," Sheila answered, and I heard sincerity in her voice—not fear, not awe, and not pretense. "Losing the person you love most is the worst pain imaginable. My husband was a good man, too, even though he was human."
"I understand," I said, seeing the sadness in her eyes. "Just don't say it again."
"But even if you weren't born a witch, that magical potential is still inside you," Sheila said with a sigh. "My ancestor knew you—and that's what's particularly dangerous and surprising. I don't know how old you are, but you're likely far more powerful than ordinary vampires your age because of the magic you inherited from your mother."
Not quite, Sheila—but you don't need to know that yet. First, I need to get the family ready for travel.
Some time later...
I gathered everyone in the living room: Elena, Jeremy, Iris, Harry, Amara, and Jenna. They sat on the sofa watching me attentively while I turned on the television and stood before them.
"Uncle Nik, what are you doing?" Jeremy asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
"Just wait a moment," Jenna said with a smile at her nephew. "He's going to explain. Have patience."
"Daddy, Daddy!" Iris shouted happily, waving her arms. "Start now, start now!"
"Yes, yes!" Harry called out, waving along with her.
Elena and Amara simply nodded.
"Alright then, let's get started." I pulled up an image on the screen—a view of London. "My wonderful family, I have an announcement: early holidays for all of us... We're going to London this Friday."
"What?" Jeremy and Elena exclaimed in unison. "But—what about our final exams? Does that mean we're skipping them?"
Both of them looked down, disappointed.
"It's all been sorted out already," I said firmly, though gently. "You two will sit your exams, and Amara will take you straight from there to the airport. Jenna and I will sort out everything else with the travel arrangements. And I expect top marks from you two, you little rascals."
"Language, dear," Jenna corrected me.
"Right, right," I replied with a grin, waving it off.
"Yaaaaay!" Iris and Harry cheered together, bouncing happily.
Friday
Everything went exactly as planned. Jenna, Harry, Iris, and I headed to the airport first. Since I have my own private jet, we didn't need to worry about layovers or connections.
It cost a pretty penny to keep it fueled and ready—but I'm wealthy beyond measure, so frankly, I don't care.
I also brought Alex and Mary along. She wanted to visit family, plus some of the young she-wolves and their cubs we'd rescued from that alpha's harem—you know, the one whose pack Alex and Mary wiped out after they hurt Jeremy.
I kept things low-key so it looked like we were flying commercially. After all, I don't want the children knowing exactly how wealthy I am.
It could cause problems if they mentioned it to a friend—jealousy, danger... best they stay unaware.
Before long, Amara arrived with Elena and Jeremy. They looked genuinely surprised that we—and the plane—were still waiting for them.
Honestly, where am I going wrong with raising these kids? They still doubt everything so much.
We took off, and before long, we landed in London.
The very first place we went was Gringotts. The old Klaus had stashed money everywhere—human world and supernatural alike.
For all his faults—depressive, paranoid, brooding—he was certainly prepared.
"Honey... what are they?" Jenna stepped closer to me, taking my hand, looking at the goblins with a mixture of confusion and unease.
"Goblins," Amara smiled, clearly amused. "They're still around... Even after two thousand years in hiding, some things never change. Who would have thought those little pests would run a bank?"
"Goblins?" Jenna looked at the immortal woman, horrified. "Like the ones in stories and movies?"
She wrinkled her nose and leaned back.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"Not quite like the fairy-tale version," I chuckled, patting her head. "Don't worry, they're not dangerous—just grumpy. Best not to get too close to them when I'm not around, though."
I walked straight up to a teller booth and stood before the goblin behind the counter.
"Good afternoon. I'd like to make a transfer," I said, meeting his eyes.
"Get in line," the goblin snapped, scowling. "Or we shall have you removed."
Insolent little creature. I let a fraction of my power ripple outward—just enough. I noticed nearby people shrinking away in fear, and every goblin in the bank froze.
Well, at least someone here is competent. Three nearby wands were drawn, and ten others clenched their fists—ready to defend.
Thirteen wizards. A pity. If it had been a hundred, I might have actually enjoyed a fight.
I turned my attention back to the goblin.
"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow.
"N-nothing, sir," the goblin bowed his head quickly. "Who would you like to transfer to?"
"All assets from the Mikaelson vaults. Into a new account under the name 'Nik Sommers'," I said, showing him my family ring—the Mikaelson crest. "I am Niklaus Mikaelson. I have the authority to do this."
"Sir... Elijah Mikaelson placed a block on your access," the goblin stammered, terrified.
"My eldest brother strikes again, does he?" I let my aura flare just a little more. "I know you can override that. And I don't want to speak to a manager. Do it. I know exactly who you are, Burgdk—and I know how this works."
"Y-yes, sir!" The goblin was practically trembling now. "But... Master Elijah will be notified. All the Mikaelsons will know—if they are alive and active."
"Let them know. I have something that will make my brother's life wonderfully complicated..." I reached over and gently—though perhaps a touch too firmly—tilted Amara's face toward mine. She's immortal; she'll be fine. "Someone who looks exactly like Tatia. He's going to hate how much this looks like a prank."
"Sir Nik... you're hurting me," Amara whispered softly, submissive.
"Nik, let go of her," Jenna tapped my arm firmly.
"Right, sorry," I smiled at them both, releasing her gently. "Now—everything is clear. Make it happen."