The Sorting Hat's Dilemma

"You fool!" Voldemort's voice seethed with rage from the mirror. "After all this time, you still haven't noticed that Dracula is watching your every move?"

Quirrell's face twisted with confusion. "Watching me? Why would he bother with someone like me? I'm just... a joke at Hogwarts."

"If not for your utter failure," Voldemort's voice turned venomous, "I wouldn't have had to intervene personally. The magic I used to help you escape was beyond your control. You were never meant to wield such power."

There was a chilling pause before Voldemort's voice dropped to a cold whisper. "And now... I suspect Dracula allowed you into Hogwarts for one reason alone: to study the very magic I used to help you, and uncover all the secrets you carry with you."

Quirrell's breath hitched in fear. "What... what should I do now? If he's watching me, I'll never get the chance to find the Stone."

"Do not fret," Voldemort's voice was deceptively calm now, a deadly edge beneath the surface. "We will wait. Wait for a time when they're all distracted, when no one is watching. And then, when the moment is right, you will act—just as we planned."

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Voldemort didn't have to wait long for his chance to speak with Quirrell.

The days passed quietly, and as Halloween approached, Dracula was preparing to celebrate his first one at Hogwarts. A month had slipped by, and amidst his teaching career surrounded by young students, time had flown.

In the principal's office, high in the castle's main tower, Dracula leaned casually against a wall lined with portraits. Next to him was a pointed wizard's hat, strangely animated with an almost lifelike expression.

The Sorting Hat, once tattered and worn, now appeared pristine. No longer did it bear any marks of age or wear. Its surface gleamed as if it were brand new, with not a hint of its thousand-year history. But its expression... it was something else entirely. The brim of the hat was contorted into a pitiful frown, and the folds formed a pair of sad eyes. Its aura of despair was so heavy, it almost seemed to weigh down the room.

"Uuuuuuuuuuu... You can't do this to me!" the Sorting Hat moaned, its voice trembling. "Look at the difference between me and those ordinary hats!"

"Don't you feel uncomfortable after all this time without a proper wash? Why aren't you grateful for my little act of tidying you up?" Dracula asked, with a mischievous look in his eyes. 

He smirked, watching with amusement as the once-neglected hat now seemed almost too pristine for its own good. He gave it a playful toss, then caught it with a flourish, tossing it again, all the while enjoying the little game.

"Stop, stop! I'm going to be sick!" The Sorting Hat spun frantically, its tone pleading, "I was wrong, Lord Dracula, I shouldn't have protested your decision. Please... I've learned my lesson!"

Dracula stopped tossing, at the hat's frantic cries, placing it gently on the stool next to him. "What about now?" he asked with a sly smile, his fingers lingering just near the brim. "Any further objections?"

"No more objections, I swear," the Sorting Hat sighed, its voice now much weaker. "Your Majesty, please forgive me. It's... it's actually quite refreshing now, feeling clean... It's not so bad after all."

Dracula nodded approvingly and withdrew his hand, watching the Sorting Hat relax in its new, spotless form. Nearby, the portraits of past Hogwarts headmasters murmured in approval.

One, an older man with a goatee and sparse eyebrows, spoke up. "Much better. Finally, no more of that tattered mess every time I open my eyes."

Dracula glanced up and noted the name beneath the portrait: Phineas Nigellus Black. The name didn't ring a bell—he didn't know this headmaster personally, though he assumed Phineas had taken over after he'd... "fallen asleep."

Before Dracula could reflect further, another voice interrupted, a sharp, slightly sarcastic tone cutting through the air. "You know, I recall seeking you out several times when I was the principal, but you never bothered to visit. Now, however, when Dumbledore is in charge, you waltz right in to apply for a teaching position."

The voice came from a regal-looking woman in the next portrait. Her gaze was direct, a hint of reproach in her eyes. "Why the change, Dracula? What's so different now?"

Dracula grinned. "Ah, Delis, it's been too long." He waved casually at the portrait of the elegant Principal Delis de Winter. "As for your question... well, you did run Hogwarts so smoothly and safely that I never found much excitement there. But now, with Dumbledore in charge, things are... a bit more lively."

Delis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Lively, you say?"

Delis stifled a laugh, her gaze shifting toward the portrait of Dumbledore, who was looking more than a little annoyed.

"Professor Dracula," Dumbledore said with an amused yet weary tone, rising from his desk. "Are you speaking ill of me to my face?"

Dracula chuckled, his expression shifting to one of mock innocence. "Of course not. I'm merely telling the truth." He paused, then glanced back at the Sorting Hat, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "I've been distracted by this hat, and I still haven't asked why you've come to see me, Dumbledore. What's on your mind?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he adopted a more serious air. "Actually, it's not a big deal. Halloween is almost upon us, and I was wondering if you might have any ideas for a performance. It seems... fitting for a vampire count, don't you think?"

Dracula raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A performance, you say? I recall you advising me to keep my vampire identity under wraps, to avoid raising any unnecessary eyebrows from students or their parents."

Dumbledore smiled. "Normally, yes. But Halloween is different. On Halloween, whatever you do will just be seen as a bit of role-playing. No one will suspect anything..... unusual."

Dracula seemed to consider this for a moment before shaking his head. "Too much trouble. But I'll tell you what, I can write a letter and arrange for a famous mixed-race vampire singer to perform. It will also serve to call attention to something I need to address. And as for the decorations... leave that to me. Hogwarts professors aren't exactly known for their imagination in such matters."

Who knew what he had in mind for Halloween? Something told them it was going to be far from ordinary.

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