Professor Vampire.

Chapter 30: The Mysterious Brunette Boy

Outside the chaotic Quidditch stadium, the mysterious black-haired boy walked slowly towards Hogwarts Castle.

Suddenly, his gaze flickered, as if sensing something. Instantly, his figure became transparent and disappeared into the air.

The blank diary he was holding fell to the ground, now completely still, as if it were just an ordinary notebook forgotten by a young wizard.

Dracula, holding an umbrella, silently appeared near the spot where the black-haired boy had vanished.

His wine-red eyes scanned the area. When his gaze briefly lingered on the fallen diary, he noticed it was just an ordinary notebook and then nonchalantly looked away.

"Strange, there should have been some unusual magical fluctuations here just now," Dracula said, puzzled.

At that moment, a group of lively Gryffindor lions, dressed in gold and red uniforms, came running with their brooms.

They surrounded Harry, who had just achieved a great victory, and excitedly waved at Dracula. Harry's two friends, Ron and Hermione, followed beside the group.

"Professor, thank you so much!" Wood, the Quidditch team captain, was the first to suppress his awe of Dracula and stepped forward to express his gratitude.

Harry also squeezed out from the crowd, looking at his idol, Professor Dracula, unsure of how to speak.

"Professor, you saved Harry's life!" Hermione, his good friend, was the first to speak up, feeling guilty. "Because of my mistake in judgment, I interrupted Professor Snape's counter-curse and almost got Harry killed. If it weren't for your bat, I'd probably blame myself for the rest of my life..."

"Yes, Professor!" Ron eagerly agreed, "That big bat of yours was amazing! When can you teach us that in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"I'm being serious, Ron!" Hermione shot him a glare.

"Do you all want to learn?" Dracula withdrew his gaze from scanning the surroundings and looked with interest at Ron and the Gryffindor wizards.

The little lions quickly nodded.

"Of course, I can teach you," Dracula said.

But before they could show their excitement, he flashed a mischievous smile. "However, you'll have to wait until you've all achieved an 'O' (Outstanding) in your Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures classes before you'll be able to learn this spell."

Upon hearing this, the eager Gryffindors suddenly looked dejected.

As new students, Harry and Ron looked around, bewildered, not understanding what the "O" meant.

"You might not know what 'O' stands for," Fred said, seeing their confused expressions. He leaned in, or rather, leaned towards Harry, and said, "Harry, you know Percy, right? Look at him, he's almost gone mad just trying to get as many 'O's as he can."

"And he might not even get them!" George added, leaning in front of Harry.

Harry thought of Percy rushing to the library every time class ended, with no time for rest, and couldn't help but shiver.

"Hey! I'm your brother!" Ron complained, looking at the backs of his two older brothers.

The Weasley twins exchanged glances and didn't seem inclined to explain further.

Dracula, standing under his umbrella, watched with amusement as they complained, feeling that his role as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was not in vain. Just tormenting young wizards brought him considerable enjoyment.

"Alright, congratulations on winning the match," he said dismissively and then walked off, still holding his umbrella, towards his office.

He really didn't want to be in the sun anymore!

...

After Dracula and the young wizards left, the seemingly ordinary blank diary that had fallen to the ground suddenly underwent a change—

Ink began to seep out of the diary, gradually forming into a pitch-black humanoid shape, which then morphed into a fully colored human form.

A tall, black-haired boy appeared next to the diary, bent down, and picked it up.

The boy looked very young, no more than sixteen years old. His features were blurred, and he emitted a strange, misty glow, as if viewed through a foggy window.

"Using my own Horcrux to manifest a body is really unpleasant," the boy said, standing upright with the diary in hand. His expression carried a hint of malevolence.

In the next moment, the diary opened by itself to a blank page.

Ink traces began to appear on the paper, gradually forming into a sentence—

"You cannot just take my things!"

The writing was elegant but appeared somewhat twisted and disordered, expressing deep dissatisfaction with the boy's actions.

"Of course I can," the boy replied with a grim smile. "I am your past, present, and future. Your things are my things."

"And I am everything to you!"

He forcefully closed the diary and headed straight towards Hogwarts Castle.

...

The events at the Quidditch match had heightened the vigilance of Hogwarts professors.

Professor McGonagall organized a thorough search, meticulously patrolling all areas of the castle and conducting strict checks on staff and faculty, hoping to find the wizard who used the dispelling spell to negate the effects of her and Snape's slowing charms.

In the professors' lounge, all the staff had been screened, and since they were all known employees, there were no apparent issues. Dracula, who had recently started teaching, was vouched for by Dumbledore. The only suspect left was Quirrell, who persistently refused to remove his turban.

"Professor Quirrell, are you really not willing to take off your turban?" Dracula asked, reclining on the sofa in the professors' lounge, his legs crossed.

Although it was confirmed that Quirrell was not the one who had cursed Harry's broom, Dracula knew he had many secrets. So, he took this opportunity to try to uncover some of them.

"Professor... Professor Dracula, I... I really can't take off my turban," Quirrell stammered.

"So you're refusing to cooperate with Hogwarts?" Dracula raised an eyebrow.

"No... that's not it," Quirrell blushed, looking unsure of what to say.

"It's just a turban, it won't make your head fall off," Dracula said with a faint smile. "Unless there's something else hidden under your turban?"

Quirrell looked distressed, bit his lip, and resolutely reached for his turban.

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