Outside the chaotic Quidditch pitch, the mysterious black-haired boy walked slowly towards Hogwarts Castle.
Suddenly, his eyes flickered slightly, as if he had sensed something. Immediately afterwards, his figure abruptly became transparent and completely disappeared into the air.
The blank diary in his hand fell to the ground without any further movement, looking just like an ordinary notebook abandoned by some young wizard.
Dracula, still holding his parasol, quietly appeared near the area where the black-haired boy had vanished.
His wine-red eyes scanned the surroundings. His subtle gaze paused for a fraction of a second when it passed over the diary lying on the ground, but he merely found it to be an ordinary notebook and casually shifted his gaze away.
'Strange… there were indeed some different magical fluctuations here just now,' Dracula said with a hint of doubt, still holding his parasol.
At this moment, a group of energetic Gryffindor students, clad in their gold and red uniforms, ran over carrying their broomsticks.
They surrounded Harry, who had just made a great contribution to their win, and waved excitedly at Dracula. Harry's 2 friends, Ron and Hermione, also followed closely beside the group.
'Professor, thank you so much this time!' Wood, as the captain of the Quidditch team, was the first to suppress his awe of Dracula and stepped forward to express his gratitude.
Harry also squeezed out from the middle of the group. He looked at Professor Dracula, whom he admired so much, not knowing how to start speaking.
'Professor, you saved Harry's life!' His good friend Hermione spoke first, her voice filled with guilt. 'Just now, because of my misjudgement, I almost interrupted Professor Snape's counter-curse and nearly got Harry killed. If it were not for your bat, I am afraid I would blame myself for the rest of my life…'
'Yes, Professor!' Ron chimed in excitedly. 'That big bat of yours was so cool! When can you teach us that in Defence Against the Dark Arts class?'
'I am being serious, Ron!' Hermione glared at him, though there was no real heat in it.
'Do you all really want to learn it?' Dracula withdrew his gaze from surveying the now-empty surroundings and looked at Ron and the group of Gryffindor students with clear interest.
The Gryffindors nodded repeatedly, their faces eager.
'Of course, I can teach you,' Dracula said, a slight smile playing on his lips.
But before they could show expressions of outright joy, he curled his lips into an ill-intentioned smirk. 'However, you must all achieve an "O"—Outstanding—in your Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures Ordinary Wizarding Level exams. Only then will you have enough ability to learn this particular spell.'
Hearing this, the Gryffindors, who had been looking forward to it so much, immediately wilted. Their shoulders slumped.
As 1st-years, Harry and Ron looked blankly at the older students who seemed on the verge of tears, not understanding what this "O" truly represented in terms of effort.
'You probably do not know what "O" means,' Fred, seeing the 2 boys' blank expressions, leaned closer to them—or rather, leaned closer to Harry—facing him as he spoke. 'Harry, you know Percy, right? Look at him—acting like he is studying himself silly all the time. That is all for getting a few more "O"s.'
'And he might not even get them!' George added, leaning in front of Harry as well, his expression equally grave.
Harry thought of Percy rushing to the library every single day after class, without any apparent time to rest, and could not help but shudder.
'Hey! I am your brother!' Ron complained, looking at the backs of his 2 elder brothers who were still facing Harry.
The Weasley twins turned their heads and winked at him, showing no intention of explaining anything further to their youngest brother.
Dracula stood under his parasol, gleefully watching their miserable expressions. He was deeply feeling that being the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was not a waste of his time at all—just tormenting these young wizards was proving to be very pleasing indeed.
'Alright, congratulations on winning the game,' he said perfunctorily, then turned and walked towards his office, still holding his parasol.
He really did not want to be in the sun any longer.
After Dracula and the young wizards had all left, the blank diary that had fallen on the ground—the one that looked so ordinary—suddenly underwent a strange change.
Strands of ink seemed to emerge from the diary, gradually solidifying into a pitch-black human figure. Then, this figure shimmered and transformed, taking on all the colours and form of a human body.
A tall, black-haired boy appeared next to the diary. He bent down and picked it up.
The boy was very young—definitely no more than 16 years old. His features were slightly blurred, and he emanated a strange, hazy light, which was very peculiar, as if one were looking at him through a layer of misty glass.
'Only by borrowing my Horcrux can I manifest my body. This is so… annoying,' the boy said, holding the diary and straightening up. His expression vaguely revealed a sinister meaning that was wantonly, almost proudly, displayed.
The next moment, the diary opened on its own, suddenly flipping to a blank page in the boy's hand.
A few traces of ink were outlined on the white paper, gradually combining to form a sentence—
'You cannot just take over my things like this!'
The font was very beautiful, elegant even, but it seemed somewhat distorted and chaotic, carrying a deep dissatisfaction with the boy's actions.
'Of course, I can,' the boy said with a gloomy, chilling smile. 'I am your past, present, and future. Your things are my things.'
'And I… am your everything!'
He forcibly closed the diary in his hand and walked straight towards Hogwarts Castle, his hazy form melting into the lengthening shadows.
The unsettling events that occurred at the Quidditch match put the Hogwarts professors on high alert.
Professor McGonagall organised a large search, closely patrolling all areas of the castle. She also conducted a strict screening of all faculty and staff, hoping to find the wizard who had used the spell that had counteracted her and Snape's slowing charms.
In the professors' lounge, all the faculty and staff had basically been screened. Everyone was a long-time employee who knew each other well, and there were no obvious problems or suspicious individuals among them.
Dracula, who had only just come to teach, had naturally obtained Dumbledore's personal guarantee, leaving only the ever-suspicious Quirrell, who stubbornly refused to take off his turban.
'Assistant Quirrell, are you really unwilling to take off your turban?' Dracula asked. He was lounging with his legs crossed on a sofa in the professors' lounge, looking pointedly at Quirrell.
Even though it could be confirmed that Quirrell was not the one who had placed the curse on Harry's broom, Dracula knew that the man harboured many secrets. So, taking this opportunity, Dracula prepared to uncover at least a part of them.
'P…Professor Dracula, I… I really cannot… it is really inconvenient for me to take off my… my turban,' Quirrell stammered, his eyes darting around nervously.
'So, you are not cooperating with Hogwarts' official work?' Dracula raised an eyebrow, his voice smooth but edged with something sharp.
'N… No, it is not like that,' Quirrell said, his face flushing a deep red. He looked like he did not know what to say or how to extricate himself.
'It is just taking off a turban. It will not make your head fall off,' Dracula said with a faint, almost predatory smile. 'Could it be that there is something else hidden inside your turban?'
Quirrell put on an expression as if he had been greatly wronged. He bit his lip and then, with a look of grim resoluteness, reached out his trembling hand towards his purple turban.
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