HP: Vampire Professor

The dawn had broken, but the oppressive dark aura of Dracula Castle rendered the air still and gloomy, like a perpetual twilight where the sun never fully rose. Most of the vampires within its walls had fallen into a deep slumber.

Dracula and Serena, each holding an umbrella, leaped from the towering battlements and landed lightly on the ground. To an outsider, there was no sign of the immense battle that had taken place. There were no bloodstains, no signs of a struggle. Instead, the ground was covered with a pure, snow-like layer of fine ash, spread evenly across the battlefield. A gentle breeze would stir up a white haze as it passed by.

They stepped silently onto the ashes of the Inferi, their footsteps leaving two shallow trails.

"I still remember last night," Serena suddenly broke the silence. "The Inferi below the castle wall were countless. Were you really able to control so many bats to burn every last one of them to ash?"

"Naturally," Dracula said with a slight smile, nodding at her. "Not a single Inferi within my sensing range escaped."

Serena puffed her cheeks, her expression a mix of frustration and awe.

"Keep working at it," Dracula said with a light chuckle. "Perhaps in a few hundred years, you'll reach this level too."

Just then, a look of surprise crossed Serena's face. She pointed toward the other side of the battlefield.

"Look, what's that?" she exclaimed, turning to Dracula excitedly. "That's definitely an Inferi! Don't try to deny it! Even you miss some sometimes!"

Dracula followed her gaze and, puzzled, saw a pale figure with dull eyes and slow, stiff movements wandering aimlessly. He frowned and vanished in an instant, reappearing beside the shambling corpse.

Unlike most Inferi, this one's body was remarkably intact, with all limbs present and very little decay. It appeared somewhat swollen, as if it had been submerged in some liquid for a long time. Dracula immediately examined the back of its neck and found a patch of burnt skin.

"Serena, look here," Dracula called to her as she flew over. He pointed to the back of the Inferi's neck. "I didn't miss this one. The flaming bats landed here, but for some reason, they didn't ignite it."

Serena's expression became thoughtful. "Could it be that your flames didn't work?" she asked. "Look at it, it's clearly been soaked for a long time. Maybe the fire from the bats was too small and was put out by the water?"

Dracula stared at Serena for a long moment.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Serena asked meekly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"I'm just wondering if you came out without your brain today," Dracula said with a look of exasperation. "Tell me, when did our natural flames ever become so fragile that water could extinguish them? Besides, there isn't much water left on it."

"Don't be so harsh, I was just making a guess…" Serena said timidly. "After all, I've never seen something that wouldn't catch fire…"

Dracula, equally puzzled, began to study the Inferi's face more closely. It was a rather slender corpse, with long, thick black hair that hadn't fallen out despite the long soaking. Since it was unkempt, it covered half its face. Dracula gently waved his hand, and a breeze swept the hair behind its ear, revealing a handsome face that still held a hint of its former pride, even through the swelling.

"He must have been no ordinary person in life," Dracula sighed softly. "I wonder how he came to this."

His gaze moved down, examining the Inferi's body. Although the long soaking had faded its robes, their expensive material was still discernible.

"Wait, look here!" Serena's voice suddenly rang out. "This mark looks familiar!"

She stood beside the Inferi, lifted its left arm, and pushed up the sleeve, revealing the inner forearm to Dracula. There was a vivid red mark—a skull with a snake emerging from its mouth.

"Is that… the Dark Mark?" Dracula stared at the mark in surprise, his confusion deepening.

As the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, Dracula had naturally come across information about the Dark Lord. He had even personally destroyed Voldemort's soul once. So he knew exactly what this mark was. It was a symbol only possessed by high-ranking Death Eaters. Death Eaters of Fenrir's level did not have this mark. But why would it appear on an Inferi summoned by Voldemort? Had Voldemort become so deranged that he would mercilessly kill his own followers and turn them into wretched Inferi?

"If he was once a Death Eater, it shouldn't be too hard to find out his identity."

Dracula suppressed his confusion and pointed to the left breast of the Inferi's robes.

"Reparo."

A flash of light passed, and the left breast of the robes instantly became a bright patch, as if a new piece of cloth had been restored. There was an exquisite family crest—a shield adorned with a chevron, two five-pointed stars, and a short sword. On either side of the shield stood two rampant greyhounds.

In heraldic terms, it was: Sable, a chevron between two mullets in chief and a sword in base, argent…

Meanwhile, at Number Four, Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey.

Early that morning, an argument broke out at the breakfast table in this discordant household.

"That's the third time this week!" a man as fat as a pig roared across the table. "If you can't control that owl, it's got to go!"

On the other side of the table, a thin boy with glasses tried to explain. "She's bored. She's used to flying outside. If I could just let her out at night…"

He was cut off by his uncle, Vernon Dursley. "Do you take me for a fool?" Uncle Vernon shouted, a piece of fried egg dangling from his thick mustache. "I know what happens when you let an owl out!"

The thin boy, resentful, quickly finished his breakfast and ran upstairs to his room, locking the door. He lay down on his old bed, feeling utterly dejected. This boy with glasses was none other than the famous savior of the wizarding world, Harry Potter.

However, the boy who lived, the hero who had won the House Cup for Gryffindor, was now locked in a small room, having had no contact with his friends for most of the summer. Ever since Harry had returned home, Uncle Vernon had treated him like a ticking time bomb. Harry was a wizard, a freak in the eyes of Muggles like the Dursleys. He had just finished his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was forced to spend his summer holidays in this disharmonious household.

If the Dursleys were unhappy about him being home, their unhappiness was nothing compared to Harry's. He missed Hogwarts so much it was a physical ache. He missed the castle, the secret passages, the ghosts, and his magic lessons. Thinking of his classes brought to mind his admiration for Professor Dracula, the strict Professor McGonagall, the kind Professor Sprout… even the once-hated, now complicated Professor Snape.

Harry remembered clearly that he had had a big argument with Professor Snape before coming home, once again ruining their recently improved relationship. Lying on his bed, his mind felt unusually clear, yet when he recalled the argument, his memory felt strangely hazy. Growing up bullied by his cousin Dudley, he had still managed to find ways to enjoy himself. A boy who grew up in such an environment rarely became easily angered. He figured the argument was a moment of impulsiveness, a failure to control his eager desire to mend their relationship.

"I should probably write an apology letter to Professor Snape," Harry thought, staring at the yellowed ceiling.

But he couldn't. As soon as he had arrived home, Uncle Vernon had locked his spellbooks, wand, robes, cauldron, and top-of-the-line Nimbus 2000 in the cupboard under the stairs. That Harry would be kicked off the Quidditch team for not practicing, or that he had no homework to turn in, was of no concern to the Dursleys. They were the most conventional, change-averse Muggles imaginable. Having a "wizard" in the family was a great shame.

Uncle Vernon had even locked Harry's owl, Hedwig, in her cage.

Ron, Hermione... Neville, why haven't you written to me? Harry thought in agony. If you had just sent your own owls, I wouldn't be unable to send even a single letter…

Just as tears were welling up in his eyes, he heard the sound of pages turning from the window. Harry subconsciously turned his head and saw a blank, black-covered diary flipping its pages on its own.

"Tom?!" Harry walked to the window in surprise, his eyes blurry with tears. "How did you get out of the cupboard under the stairs?"

Then he realized the diary couldn't hear him directly, so he found a quill he had hidden in the crack of his bed, dipped it in his own saliva, and wrote his question in the diary.

Two lines of elegant handwriting appeared on the blank page:

"Harry, I told you I can use a small amount of magic."

"Can you help me escape this awful place?" Harry wrote. "I don't want to stay here anymore, but I've lost my wand. I can't use magic, and I can't deal with them."

"Be patient, Harry," the diary wrote. "Although I don't have the power to take you away from here, I can give you a good idea."

"First, we must make them pay for the suffering you've endured!"

Seeing the increasingly messy handwriting, Harry hesitated. "Is that a good idea? I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school. I'll be expelled."

"Don't worry, I'll take revenge on them for you," the diary wrote coaxingly. "There won't be any flaws. When the school year starts, you'll still be able to take the express train to Hogwarts as usual. Now, tell me, do these people have anything important planned recently? I'll ruin it for you, and once I've had my revenge, I'll get your wand back for you."

Harry thought for a long time. Ultimately, the desire to get his wand back took over. He clenched his jaw and wrote:

"Tonight, Uncle Vernon is hosting a wealthy builder and his wife. They are very important guests. It's about his drill sales for the year."

"I understand."

These words appeared, and then the diary fell silent. Harry carefully placed the diary under his mattress, afraid his aunt and uncle would discover it.

That evening, Vernon Dursley was in the middle of a very awkward conversation with the wealthy builder, Mr. Mason, and his wife.

"…Mrs. Mason, tell Petunia about those jokes about American plumbers. She's been wanting to hear them…" he said with what he thought was a friendly smile.

Just then, the diary quietly appeared on top of a cupboard in the corner of the dining room.

"Finite," a general counter-spell appeared on the blank page of the diary. The Unplottable and Repelling Charms that the diary had placed on the house were instantly broken. The next moment, an owl that had been circling nearby for hours swooped into the house like a whirlwind, circling near the ceiling before flying toward Harry's room.

Mrs. Mason let out a sharp, strange shriek at the sight and fled the house, shouting, "Madmen, madmen!"

Mr. Mason lingered for a moment. He told the Dursleys that his wife was terrified of birds of all shapes and sizes and asked if this was some kind of deliberate joke. Vernon Dursley smiled awkwardly and watched him leave.

As soon as Mr. Mason was gone, he charged up the stairs with a nimbleness that belied his size.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Uncle Vernon hissed, his face uncomfortably close to Harry's.

"I've been in my room the whole time, I haven't done anything!" Harry said, glancing nervously at the spot under his mattress. He really hadn't done anything, just waited for good news from Tom the diary.

"OWLS! ALWAYS OWLS!" Vernon's face was flushed red with impotent rage. "Last year, those blasted birds made us homeless, and this year, it's them again, ruining a huge business deal for me!" He loomed over Harry like a large bulldog. "Owls, is it? Well, I've got news for you, boy... I'm going to lock you up... no owl will ever get near you! And you'll never go back to that school! Never!"

True to his word, Uncle Vernon had someone install iron bars on Harry's window the very next day. He personally installed a cat flap in the bedroom door and delivered a small amount of food through it three times a day. They let Harry out to use the bathroom in the morning and evening, but otherwise kept him locked in his room.

"Tom, look what you've done," Harry wrote in the diary, sitting by the window and watching the sun set behind the bars. "Ruining Uncle Vernon's plans did make me happy, but now I can't get out at all."

A line of writing appeared in the diary, particularly jarring in the striped sunlight.

"Harry, don't forget you're a wizard. A wizard won't be imprisoned by a bunch of Muggles."

"But underage wizards can't use magic outside of school. If I do, I'll be expelled from Hogwarts."

"Don't worry, Harry. The Ministry of Magic will at most give a warning for a first offense," the diary wrote slyly. "Would you rather be locked in this tiny room for the rest of your life, or fight for your freedom and leave this miserable place? Think about the spells I taught you before, Harry."

The diary flipped through its pages on its own once more, then closed, leaving only its black cover to disappear into the fading sunlight.

And where the diary had been, a holly wand lay quietly.

[Chapter Complete]

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