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"Excuse me, Myrtle, I have a few questions for you. Will you answer them honestly?" Dracula coughed twice, forcing the conversation to shift away from its earlier awkwardness.
Myrtle perked up immediately, her transparent face lighting up with excitement. "Of course! Ask anything you want!"
Dracula took a moment, his piercing gaze steady. "Did you see a wizard wearing a purple turban come here, around nine this morning?"
"No," Myrtle replied, her translucent fingers fidgeting. "But... I did see someone incredibly handsome this morning—he was headed toward the prefects' bathroom. So naturally, I followed him."
Her tone turned sour as she continued, "But after waiting there forever, he never showed up! He must've tricked me."
Dracula exchanged a bemused glance with Dumbledore. Helena, however, looked less amused.
"How could someone from Ravenclaw stoop so low as to sneak around hoping to spy on boys in the bathroom?" she snapped, her voice carrying an echo of her mother's stern authority. "It's disgraceful! No wonder you lose all sense when you see Uncle Dracula. You're utterly shameless!"
Myrtle shrank back, her ghostly form trembling slightly. Dumbledore, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly entertained.
"And just how handsome was this boy you saw?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Would you say he's as handsome as Professor Dracula here?"
Myrtle glanced nervously at Dracula, then quickly looked down. She nodded, then shook her head, her ethereal form flickering with indecision.
"What does that even mean?" Dumbledore asked, puzzled.
Myrtle hesitated. "It's just... they're both so handsome. I can't decide who's more handsome."
Dumbledore frowned, as though trying to recall any Hogwarts student who might rival Dracula's charisma. "Do we even have someone at the school who matches that description?"
"Certainly not Percy Weasley," Dracula said dryly, his tone laced with disdain.
Dumbledore chuckled but pressed on. "Robert Hilliard, perhaps? He's a Ravenclaw prefect. He's rather good-looking, wouldn't you agree, Ms. Grey?"
Helena shook her head decisively. "He doesn't even come close to Uncle Dracula."
"Well, this is perplexing," Dumbledore murmured, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
Dracula, leaning against the sink, looked around at the odd scene—two male professors and two female ghosts debating the relative attractiveness of Hogwarts students. It felt bizarre, even by his standards.
"Enough speculation," Dracula said, cutting through the chatter. "Myrtle, describe the boy you saw."
Myrtle's ghostly form shimmered as she tried to recall. "Well....He had black hair—deep and pure, like ebony. His eyes were the same, dark and intense. His skin was pale, almost luminous. He had... an air about him, like he carried secrets. And... oh, he had this deliciously villainous charm!"
Dracula raised an intrigued brow. A villainous charm? Now that was someone worth identifying.
But as Myrtle spoke, the atmosphere shifted. Helena's expression darkened, and Dumbledore's face grew grave.
"Tom Riddle," they said in unison, their voices heavy with recognition.
Dracula tilted his head, curious. "Tom Riddle? Should I know that name?"
Helena's voice wavered as she began to explain. "Tom Riddle... he tricked me. He stole Rowena's crown." Her hands clenched tightly, her ghostly form flickering with anguish. "I... I thought he was kind, understanding. He was so charming..."
"So you gave him the crown?" Dracula asked, arching a skeptical brow. "Helena, you've been a ghost long enough to know better than to trust a pretty face.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Dracula," Helena whispered, her voice barely audible.
"No need to apologize to me," Dracula replied, waving a dismissive hand. "But the crown is a different story. If this Tom Riddle has it, I'll make sure it doesn't stay with him for long." His voice dropped, laced with a dangerous promise.
Myrtle and Helena exchanged uneasy glances, both shivering as they caught a glimpse of Dracula's sinister determination.
"Helena," Dracula continued, his tone sharp, "where did you last see the crown?"
"In a hollow tree," she admitted. "In a forest in Albania. But he must've taken it by now."
Dracula turned to Dumbledore, his expression unreadable. "And what about you, Dumbledore? Did this Tom Riddle deceive you too?"
Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Not me. But he deceived everyone else at Hogwarts. Perhaps if I tell you his other name, you'll understand."
Dracula raised an inquisitive brow.
"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore said, his voice heavy, "is also known as Voldemort."