After a few more minutes of spirited, festive chaos, the Great Hall buzzed with the arrival of students from all four Houses, their faces alight with anticipation.
Dumbledore rose, his voice cutting through the din, and with a solemn yet warm tone, announced the official commencement of the Halloween feast. He then introduced the evening's first guest performer: the renowned singer, Lorcan Deius.
A figure with strikingly pale skin and handsome, sculpted features emerged onto the makeshift stage before the colossal jack-o'-lantern. Clad in a black, high-collared wizard's robe, he clutched a microphone fashioned from a macabre string of miniature skulls. A charming, almost predatory smile touched his lips, revealing two impeccably sharp fangs as he surveyed the young wizards.
The hall erupted in a wave of enthusiastic applause, punctuated by bursts of gleeful screams, particularly from the more excitable young witches.
"Thank you, thank you, everyone!" Lorcan Deius, the half-blood vampire, waved to the adoring crowd before inclining his head respectfully towards the professors' table. "Tonight, I dedicate the song 'Beside You' to you all!"
Since his debut in the magical world, Lorcan had meticulously cultivated a cool, aloof vampire persona. His captivating looks and sensually rich voice had garnered him immense popularity among witches. "Beside You" was his signature piece, a melody dripping with vampire allure. Its English title, a clever pun – "Necks to You" – masterfully evoked the intimate, almost tender image of a handsome vampire gently nibbling a young witch's neck, subtly reframing the act of feeding as something harmless, even desirable.
This captivating portrayal had propelled the song to smash-hit status, dominating the magical music charts for an unprecedented nineteen consecutive weeks. It significantly enhanced the vampire's image within the wizarding world, even sparking a peculiar boom in vampire-themed delicacies – a key reason Dracula had encountered so many curious vampire-inspired snacks during his recent re-emergence.
As the final, haunting notes of the song faded, the students remained momentarily spellbound, lost in the music and its blush-inducing imagery.
Lorcan Deius bowed deeply to the captivated audience, then gracefully exited the stage. Dracula caught his eye, offering a subtle wink, before rising from the professors' table and quietly slipping out of the hall himself.
Amidst the occasional rumble of enchanted thunder, Dracula found a quiet, shadowed corner in the Hogwarts Entrance Courtyard. He leaned against an ornate stone pillar, the cool night air a welcome change, and became lost in thought.
A few minutes later, Lorcan Deius emerged from the hall, his footsteps quickening as he approached. Reaching Dracula, he dropped abruptly to one knee.
"Half-blood vampire Lorcan Deius, at your service, Count Dracula!" he declared, his voice filled with solemn reverence.
"There's no need for such formality here," Dracula replied, his tone mild as he gestured for Lorcan to rise. "At Hogwarts, you may simply call me Professor Dracula." He studied the younger vampire's dark hair and piercing blue eyes. "Judging by your age, you must be the great-great-grandson of Deius, am I correct?"
"Yes, Lord," Lorcan affirmed seriously. "My great-great-grandfather left a strict edict. The Deius family is bound to obey Count Dracula unconditionally for all generations and must never entertain thoughts of rebellion."
"You have no need to obey me," Dracula said quietly, his gaze distant. "What I require now is knowledge. Tell me of the vampire clans during the century of my… slumber. It seems vampires are a rare sight in England now. Are they still primarily congregated in Romania?"
"Indeed, Lord Dracula," Lorcan replied. "Most lower-level vampires still prefer Romania. The unified leadership there ensures a more stable distribution of blood resources, making it their preferred sanctuary." He paused. "Our family maintains little contact with that faction, so our knowledge of the full situation is limited. However, during my father's active years, I recall hearing of significant conflicts between the vampire clans and the werewolves – a major clash, by all accounts."
He continued, "Here in England, many wizards still harbor deep-seated prejudices against vampires, perceiving them solely as brutal, bloodsucking fiends. The few songs I've released have been an attempt to challenge this perception, and they have been met with a surprisingly positive response."
Dracula nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "I understand. Your family's efforts are… noted."
"Lord Dracula," Lorcan ventured, a hopeful note in his voice, "will you not consider a personal visit to Romania? Your very presence could swiftly resolve the grievances between the werewolves and our kind!"
"We shall see," Dracula said, his tone nonchalant as he shook his head slightly. He turned his gaze back towards the brightly lit hall, where several shimmering ghosts now drifted from other parts of the castle, making their way towards the ongoing feast.
"Let us return," Dracula decided. "The ghosts are about to perform their customary spectral show, which signals that the Halloween feast is nearing its conclusion."
Back within the Great Hall, the Halloween banquet was indeed winding down. Ghosts floated in ethereal twos and threes, serenely drifting through the walls as they departed. The young wizards were contentedly finishing the last remnants of their food.
Harry Potter was in the midst of eating a jacket potato when Assistant Professor Quirrell suddenly burst into the hall with dramatic flair. His large, signature turban was askew, and his face was a mask of pure terror.
All eyes were fixed on him as he staggered towards Dumbledore's chair, leaned weakly against the table for support, and gasped out, "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know."
With that, he collapsed to the floor, seemingly unconscious.
Chaos erupted instantly. The festive atmosphere shattered, replaced by a cacophony of shouts and panicked murmurs. Dumbledore had to unleash several sharp cracks of purple fireworks from his wand to regain control and silence the throng.
"Prefects," he commanded, his voice calm but firm amidst the turmoil, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
Dracula's brow furrowed as he observed Quirrell, who had fainted with such convenient timing. The man who had previously managed to evade his grasp could hardly be incapable of restraining a mindless troll. Moreover, the cleaned troll, the one Dracula himself had dealt with, had already been secured in the trapdoor chamber. Where, then, had this new troll materialized from?
Pondering this, Dracula leaped down from his seat at the professors' table, his movement too swift for most eyes to follow, and teleported directly to Quirrell's side.
"Tell me," Dracula demanded, his voice a low, cold command that cut through Quirrell's feigned unconsciousness, "are you truly incapacitated, or is this merely an act? And further, did you not dispatch the troll into the chamber as instructed? From whence did this new creature originate?"
Quirrell's expression remained blank, his eyes closed, as if genuinely lost to the world.
But when Dracula's hand, positioned just above Quirrell's face, began to glow with an ominous, dark flame, Quirrell stirred. He pretended to slowly regain consciousness, his eyes fluttering open with a vacant look. "I… I had a spare troll," he stammered weakly, "hidden in my office… but I failed to keep a proper watch on it, and it… it escaped."
A flicker of something unreadable crossed Dracula's lips, almost a smile, but far colder. He chuckled, a dry, humourless sound.
"How… interesting," he mused softly. "Tell me then, Professor. Where, precisely, in the dungeons should I venture to find this wayward troll of yours?"
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