CH: 10 Dracula's Office

After the Start-of-Term feast, Professor Dumbledore stood up once again, and silence fell over the Great Hall.

He presented some precautions to the young wizards, advising them against venturing into the Forbidden Forest and casting spells in the corridors.

Dumbledore's expression was not overly serious, and it seemed that these reminders may not have a strong impact.

At least when Dracula, seated at the High Table, glanced at the audience, he could discern the eagerness in the eyes of many Gryffindor students.

After ensuring that all necessary precautions and general announcements were made, Dumbledore's face shifted, his typically jovial expression turning solemn.

"Lastly," He began, his tone carrying a weight of utmost seriousness, "I must inform everyone that those who wish to avoid accidents and a painful demise should refrain from entering the corridor on the right side of the third floor,"

A few chuckles could be heard from the audience, as if they believed Dumbledore was joking.

Dracula, his curiosity piqued, turned towards the short figure of Professor Flitwick seated beside him, seeking further insight. "He doesn't appear to be joking." He inquired with genuine intrigue.

Professor Flitwick, with his characteristic sharp voice, responded promptly, confirming Dracula's observation. "Oh, indeed he is not," He affirmed. "Albus seems determined to protect something. Some time ago, several of us core subject professors set up intriguing obstacles to prevent that thing from being stolen by thieves."

Surprise flickered across Dracula's face. "Is that so?" He questioned, a hint of curiosity lacing his voice. "Why was I unaware of this? Isn't Defense Against the Dark Arts a core subject?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is certainly a core class! Ahem," Professor Flitwick asserted, his tone firm. He paused, feeling a hint of awkwardness creeping in before he continued, his voice slightly faltering. "Although you have enjoyed the privileges of a core subject professor in recent decades..."

As Professor Flitwick trailed off, he stroked his beard thoughtfully, trying to find the right words to convey his point. "But rest assured, Professor Dracula, it's understandable that you weren't aware. You happened to be away when Albus enlisted someone to set up the obstacles, so I asked Quirrell to handle it for you."

"I see," Dracula nodded, acknowledging the explanation with a composed demeanor.

In the next moment, he noticed the smile on Professor Flitwick's face freeze.

Standing in the center of the High Table, facing all the students, Dumbledore flicked his wand, causing a long golden ribbon to soar out, twisting and coiling above the dining table like a snake. It contained lines of text.

"Each of you choose your own melody," Dumbledore declared, his voice carrying an air of anticipation. "Get ready and sing!"

As the cacophony of unconventional "singing" filled the air, Dracula's expression froze in a mixture of surprise and disbelief. The chaotic symphony of voices stirred something within him, prompting him to voice his astonishment.

"Wait!" He exclaimed, unable to contain his bewilderment. "It has been 1000 years, and Hogwarts still hasn't composed a proper school song?!" Dracula turned to Professor Flitwick, seeking confirmation amidst the noisy chorus.

Professor Flitwick, delighted to have been spared from participating in the raucous rendition, stood atop his chair and spoke loudly, "Every headmaster considers this a Hogwarts tradition, and no one wishes to break it!"

Dracula was left speechless, unsure of how to react.

He vaguely recalled that Ravenclaw had composed the Hogwarts school song 1000 years ago. However, considering the musical limitations of that era in Britain, where bagpipes and flutes were prevalent, the four Founders had chosen to pass down only the lyrics, hoping that future generations of talented wizard composers would create melodic tunes for the school song.

Who would have imagined that subsequent Headmasters would interpret the absence of a composed melody as a deep meaning from the Founders, thus upholding the tradition of free choice in tunes, even after 1000 years.

After enduring the rendition of the school song, Dracula retreated to his office.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office was located on the second floor, connected to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class 31 on the second floor. Each time a class was held, the professor only needed to open the side door of the office and descend a short flight of stairs to reach the classroom effortlessly.

Dracula couldn't be certain whether this layout had always been in place or if it was specially arranged by Dumbledore to deter his habit of leaping out of windows...

In the office adorned with a dark aesthetic, Dracula encountered his teaching assistant, Quirrell.

"So, your solution to getting rid of the smell of garlic is to replace it with an even worse stench??" Dracula questioned, his voice tinged with skepticism. However, before he could voice his thoughts further, Quirrell abruptly entered the scene, forming a dark, impenetrable barrier that effectively sealed Quirrell off from the rest of the room.

"P-Professor Dracula, please be understanding...l-listen to me," Quirrell stammered from behind the barrier, his voice quivering with a mix of fear and nervousness.

Dracula leaned in, his gaze fixated on Quirrell's hidden form. The barrier obscured his sight, but he listened intently to Quirrell's explanation. "I-i encountered...e-encountered a v-vampire in Romania," Quirrell stuttered, his voice strained with tension "In order to prevent him from...from coming after m-me, I had no c-choice but to do t-this."

As Quirrell's words hung in the air, Dracula's eyes flickered with heightened interest.

Dracula's curiosity ignited, and he leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "Have you ever seen a Romanian vampire?" He questioned, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Quirrell, his voice slightly trembling, answered, "Y-yes, I have."

Dracula's demeanor shifted, his expression growing more serious as he sat up straight in his chair, his gaze focused intently on Quirrell. "How are they faring now?" He pressed, his voice firm and resolute.

Quirrell blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. "W-What...what do you m-mean?" He asked, confusion etched across his face.

"Their behavior, their ways of operating, their mindset, the state of their community...everything," He explained, attempting to convey a smile that he hoped appeared kind and reassuring. Sensing Quirrell's discomfort, Dracula made a decision. He endured the lingering unpleasant smell, allowing Quirrell to enter his office and releasing him from behind the previously formed barrier. "Don't feel pressured, just speak freely."

"U-uh..." Quirrell, taken aback by the sudden intensity of Dracula's inquiry, stumbled over his words as he attempted to provide insight. "I-it's just...it's pretty much the same as b-before." He stuttered nervously. "The v-vampire is...still as s-savage as ever, with a p-pale blue complexion, a g-grotesque and h-hideous face...u-ugly, and a g-gaunt figure..."

Quirrell's voice wavered as he continued, recounting his harrowing encounter. "W-when he saw me, he l-lunged at me, thirsting for b-blood. I...of c-course, I didn't want to become his v-victim, so we f-fought...we fought for a long t-time, and I used...a s-spell to drive...h-him away..."

But before Quirrell could continue, his words was abruptly dismissed. The air grew tense as an abrupt interruption cut through the conversation. "That's enough! It's all nonsense!" Dracula's voice, dripping with disdain, filled the room.

Dracula's expression darkened with each passing word, Dracula's face contorted with a mixture of anger and frustration. Until he couldn't bear to listen no more. In an abrupt and forceful motion, he slammed Quirrell out of the office, closing the door behind him.

After a brief pause, Dracula's voice carried with a mixture of frustration and anger as he addressed the shaken Quirrell. "I don't care what excuse you come up with, whether it's to rid yourself of that stench or to be fired, you must choose one!" His words rang out, firm and resolute.

Quirrell, caught off guard and flustered, stumbled backward and collided with a sturdy stone pillar in the corridor, hitting the back of his head.

He reached out to rub his throbbing head, but as his hand neared, a malicious curse flashed through his mind.

He quickly withdrew his hand, which was halfway towards his head. Disheartened, he stood up and left Dracula's office.

However, he had barely taken a few steps when he was suddenly yanked back by an invisible force.

Dracula, still shielded by a barrier to ward off the smell, seized the opportunity to question Quirrell further. From behind the barrier, his voice carried with an air of intrigue. "One more thing," He began, his words tinged with curiosity. "I heard that you set up an obstacle for whatever Dumbledore is trying to protect. What is it that he wants to safeguard? Do you know?"

Quirrell's body stiffened at Dracula's probing question, a mix of fear and uncertainty coursing through his veins. "I...I don't k-know much." He faltered, his words cautious and hesitant. "I-i was only r-responsible for setting up the o-obstacle,"

As Quirrell's response hung in the air, Dracula let out a disappointed sigh, his voice tinged with frustration. "I suppose you don't know either," He murmured with a pout, his curiosity unsatisfied.

Eager for more information, Dracula probed further, his tone insistent. "So, what is inside the obstacle?" He questioned, attempting to coax an answer from Quirrell.

Quirrell hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. "A...a troll," he confessed, his words carrying a weight of unease.

Without uttering another word, In one swift motion, Quirrell once again found himself thrown out of the office, his head colliding with the same pillar.

Dracula's face contorted in a mix of disgust and disappointment at the revelation. "I should have known it was the stench of a troll," He muttered through clenched teeth, his distaste apparent.

His resolve solidified, Dracula looked towards Quirrell with a firm expression. "Go and remove that troll from Hogwarts immediately," He commanded, his voice carrying an air of authority. "I shall personally take care of the obstacle myself!"