"I'll count to three, and you'd better give it your all," Dracula said coldly from the podium, his piercing gaze sweeping across the hesitant young wizards. "If you don't want double homework or a cozy evening in detention, you'd better not hold back."
His voice dropped ominously as he began the countdown.
"Three."
The room filled with nervous whispers and darting glances. Most students looked helplessly at each other, hoping someone else would object or come up with an excuse.
"Two."
Fred and George Weasley exchanged grins, their "righteous and awe-inspiring" expressions somehow managing to inspire both dread and amusement. Slowly, one by one, wands began to rise in shaky hands.
"One."
As Dracula's final word echoed through the classroom, the twins sprang into action.
"Mucus ad Nauseam!" they shouted in perfect unison, aiming their infamous snot-producing spell at their professor.
Dracula's eyes twitched ever so slightly in what might have been disgust. With a casual flick of his hand, he sent the spell hurtling back at them. Instantly, the twins' noses began to drip uncontrollably.
"Ah, brilliant one, Fred," George sniffled, wiping his sleeve across his face.
"Your aim was impeccable, George," Fred retorted, retaliating by smearing his brother's robes with snot.
The rest of the class, seeing the twins' antics, began to summon their courage. Under the looming threat of Dracula's punishment, spells of all varieties flew through the air.
Dracula stood motionless in the center of the chaos, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. He spread his arms, closed his eyes, and allowed the barrage of magic to strike him head-on. The spells fizzled and dissipated against his body like raindrops on stone, leaving him entirely unscathed.
When the last spell flickered out, the classroom fell silent.
"Professor? Professor?" Cedric Diggory's tentative voice broke the quiet. He had barely cast anything, unable to bring himself to attack Dracula.
"Professor, are you all right?" he asked, his concern echoed by murmurs from the rest of the class.
Even the twins paused their snot-slinging contest, peering at Dracula with wide eyes.
"Do you think we overdid it, George?" Fred whispered, though his grin betrayed a hint of hope.
"Could be, Fred," George replied, his expression a mixture of glee and guilt. "Do you reckon he's finally cracked?"
Dracula's crimson eyes snapped open.
"QUIET!" he barked, slamming his pointer onto the lectern with a loud crack.
The students froze in their seats as Dracula calmly surveyed the room.
"The results are in," he announced, his voice like a blade cutting through the tension. "The collective spell power I just received doesn't even surpass Mr. Diggory's earlier effort. Congratulations, Mr. Diggory—you're excused from homework this time."
Cedric blinked in surprise, then nodded gratefully.
"As for the rest of you..." Dracula's smirk deepened. "The five weakest spells? Homework doubled and detention with me tonight."
Groans erupted across the room as he singled out the unfortunate students. They shuffled to the side, looking utterly defeated, while Dracula directed them to practice spells until they could manage something passable.
For the rest of the class, he assigned the first chapter of Dark Magic: A Guide to Self-Defense to be studied thoroughly by next lesson.
With everything settled, Dracula began pacing the room, casually glancing through their textbooks as though it were a light novel. It wasn't long before he had absorbed all the material and was confidently guiding the students through their assigned topics.
When he reached Fred and George, Fred raised his hand, his face streaked with drying snot.
"Yes?" Dracula asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.
"Professor, are you sure you're feeling fine? All those spells... nothing? Not even a headache?" Fred asked, sounding equal parts curious and defeated.
George sniffled and nodded, his expression mirroring his twin's.
"Don't worry about me," Dracula replied with a wicked grin. "You should focus on yourselves... and on saving up. I'll be expecting those forty galleons soon."
Fred and George exchanged horrified glances before hanging their heads, their earlier glee completely drained.
Dracula turned and strode away, the faint sound of his amused chuckle lingering in the air as the bell rang to mark the end of class.
---
After class, Dracula strode through the corridors, his dark cloak billowing behind him. He pushed open the door to the headmaster's office without knocking.
Dumbledore, seated calmly behind his desk, looked up from a letter he was reading.
"I think the teaching at Hogwarts is very problematic," Dracula remarked casually, leaning back in a chair in front of the wall lined with portraits. He sucked on a bloody-flavored lollipop from Honeydukes, his expression indifferent. "How is it possible that there are students who have been studying magic for two years and still can't cast a basic spell? Dumbledore, what do you think the four founders would say about you?"
Dumbledore, unfazed, adjusted his glasses with a soft smile. "Professor Dracula, the third-year students are wizards who passed their second-year exams. It's hard to believe they can't cast spells. Perhaps your teaching style is a bit... intimidating?"
"It's not fear, it's their mentality," Dracula replied, his voice laced with annoyance. "Hogwarts students are spoiled." He bit into the lollipop, his hand instinctively reaching for the window to throw it out.
But then he hesitated. The stern image of Professor McGonagall flashed in his mind, and he quickly retracted his hand. Instead, he tossed the candy stick to Fawkes, the phoenix. "Clean this up for me, will you?"
Fawkes gave him a disdainful look but obeyed, breathing fire to turn the candy stick to ash. Dracula watched, his mind still lingering on his thoughts about the students' weak discipline.
"If it had been a few centuries ago, students like these wouldn't survive in society after graduation," he muttered.
Dumbledore, maintaining his calm, smiled softly. "Times are changing, Earl Dracula. Even if wizards aren't strong in certain areas, they can still make a life for themselves."
He paused, his voice warming as he listed examples. "Take Celestina Warbeck, the famous singer. Or Devlin Whitehorn, who founded Nimbus Brooms. Even Glenda Chittock, the radio host of The Magic Hour... There are many ways to shine in today's world, even if you aren't the most powerful wizard."
Dracula gave him a long, silent look. "Maybe you're right," he said after a moment, his tone less certain. "But the curse of Defense Against the Dark Arts still lingers. That means Voldemort hasn't truly vanished. A new war is coming, and by then, what use will these so-called 'shining points' be when they can't defend themselves?"
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, then shook his head gently, removing his glasses to polish them. "Sometimes, when people say 'the Dark Lord is gone,' it's a form of self-deception. They want to believe it, but deep down, they know better." He sighed, his gaze lingering on Dracula. "The decline of the Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts over the past few decades has certainly impacted the magical world."
He met Dracula's eyes and gave a small, knowing smile. "That's why Hogwarts needs professors like you, Earl Dracula."
---