September 2, 1991, was a Monday.
This morning, Dracula was about to teach his very first Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts.
At precisely nine o'clock, the enchanted bell on the tower rang across the campus, signaling the start of lessons. The sound echoed through the grand corridors as students rushed to their classrooms.
In that same moment, the side door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office creaked open. Dracula stepped out, descending the marble steps in his usual, graceful manner. His black cloak swayed behind him, seemingly defying the laws of gravity.
Inside the classroom, rows of third-year Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students waited, their gazes fixed curiously on the new professor. Half of them wore robes trimmed in scarlet; the others in cheerful yellow.
The young wizards were quietly wondering about their new professor. His striking looks and confident presence were impressive, but could his teaching skills live up to them? Or was he just another professor who looked the part but would fail to deliver, like so many before him?
"Good morning, everyone," Dracula said, his voice smooth as silk.
The students responded in unison, "Good morning, Professor!"
Standing tall on the podium, Dracula let his piercing gaze sweep across the room. He paused briefly when his eyes landed on two familiar red-haired troublemakers from Gryffindor—Fred and George Weasley. Their identical grins gave him a sense that they would be more entertaining than the rest.
"I'm sure you already know me from last night's banquet," he began. "I am Professor Dracula, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor."
His lips curled slightly, the smile revealing just a hint of his sharp canines. "I trust you'll find this class... illuminating.
"I certainly hope you won't bore me," he added, the edges of his smile sharpening.
A ripple of unease spread through the students. Was he joking? Was he serious? With this professor, it was hard to tell.
"Now then," Dracula continued, clasping his hands behind his back. "Let's begin our first lesson. Today, we will—"
He paused, glancing down at the desk in front of him. It was empty, save for a solitary pointer. The stack of lesson plans painstakingly prepared by his assistant, Professor Quirrell, and the mandatory textbook, Dark Magic: A Guide to Self-Defense, were noticeably absent.
Dracula frowned slightly, though it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual air of confidence. There was no way he'd admit to such an oversight in his first class. Improvisation would have to do.
"—begin with a test," he said smoothly, straightening.
A wave of confused murmurs rippled through the classroom.
"A test?" asked a bold Gryffindor girl.
"Yes, a test," Dracula replied, his smile widening. "We'll evaluate your spell-casting abilities. Starting now, each of you will cast your most impressive spell on me. One by one."
The room fell silent.
"On you, Professor?" a nervous Hufflepuff boy squeaked from the front row.
"That is correct, Mr. Hufflepuff," Dracula said, stepping down from the podium and approaching the boy. His eyes gleamed mischievously as he added, "What better way to gauge your progress? Don't hold back—I assure you, I'm quite… resilient."
The boy gulped, his hands trembling as he raised his wand. "S-Stupefy!"
The spell shot toward Dracula, crimson light cutting through the air. Without flinching, Dracula raised his hand, catching the spell mid-air as if it were a mere fly. The magical energy dissipated harmlessly against his palm, like a wave breaking against a cliff.
The classroom erupted in gasps.
"Not bad," Dracula said, inspecting his hand with mild interest. "Your casting technique is impressive for your age. What's your name?"
"C-Cedric Diggory, sir," the boy stammered.
"Well done, Mr. Diggory. Five points to Hufflepuff." Dracula gave him a rare nod of approval.
The students exchanged nervous glances as Dracula moved down the row, stopping in front of the next victim—er, student. "Your turn."
One by one, the young wizards cast their spells, ranging from Expelliarmus to Petrificus Totalus. Dracula deflected each with the same nonchalance, either with a flick of his wrist or by simply standing still.
But as the demonstrations continued, Dracula's expression darkened. It wasn't long before his patience wore thin.
"Is this the best you can do?" he snapped after a particularly weak Lumos from a trembling Hufflepuff girl. The air around him grew cold, and his cloak billowed ominously as if caught in an invisible storm. "Two years at Hogwarts, and this is all you've learned? Eating pumpkin pasties and trading Chocolate Frog cards?"
A collective shudder ran through the class. One or two students looked on the verge of tears.
"Enough!" Dracula barked, returning to the podium with a dramatic sweep of his cloak. "All of you, together—cast your most powerful spells on me at once!"
The students stared at him in stunned silence.
"The student whose spell impresses me the most will be excused from homework this week," Dracula added, his voice taking on a sinister edge. "And the five weakest casters? Double homework. Plus, you'll report to my office for detention. I'll personally see to your education."
A murmur spread through the classroom as the students processed his words.
Hearing Dracula's words, Cedric shot to his feet, his expression a mix of alarm and disbelief.
"Professor, please! Don't be reckless! The Defense Against the Dark Arts professors always seem to... well, encounter problems!"
Dracula waved a dismissive hand, utterly unfazed. "Reckless? Nonsense. I'm just too bored to drag this out." His tone was as nonchalant as ever, and a faint smirk played on his lips. "Frankly, none of your spells have enough power to even give me a scratch."
The classroom fell silent, the young wizards frozen in shock. Was this overconfidence? Arrogance? Or... was he serious?
Amid the stunned silence, two students sitting near the back began exchanging knowing glances. Fred and George Weasley, ever the opportunists, leaned closer, whispering in hushed, excited tones.
"Blimey, George," Fred murmured, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Is this professor really trying to get himself fired on his first day?"
"Looks like it," George whispered back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Twenty galleons, Fred. Twenty galleons, down the drain if he doesn't last a week!"
Fred stifled a laugh. "He might not even make it to the end of this lesson!"
The twins exchanged an enthusiastic fist bump, already scheming how to turn the chaos to their advantage. For once, Hogwarts might have just found a professor as unpredictable as they were.