Dark Deals: The Vampire Who Owns Hogwarts

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Unlike the Halloween feast, the lavish Christmas banquet began at noon.

As Harry and Ron stepped into the Great Hall, they were left stunned by the grandeur of the festive scene. The tables were laden with a hundred succulent roast turkeys, heaps of roasted meats, mountains of boiled potatoes, large platters of sausages, buttery peas, and dishes of thickly marinated meats paired with lingonberry sauce.

At regular intervals along the tables, wizarding crackers and firecrackers sat piled, adding a playful touch to the festivities.

Fred and George were already busy with the firecrackers. With a loud bang reminiscent of cannon fire, a cloud of blue smoke engulfed the mischievous twins, who burst into hearty laughter, clearly enjoying themselves.

Amid the laughter, Harry and Ron overheard one of the twins excitedly sharing their ambitious dream: to one day create fireworks big enough to engulf the entirety of Hogwarts Castle.

Harry glanced through the smoky haze and fixed his gaze on the professor's table. There sat Dumbledore, who had transformed his pointed wizard hat into a flower-adorned bonnet, chuckling at a joke shared by Professor Flitwick.

However, Dracula, seated nearby, swirled the wine in his goblet and cast a peculiar look in Harry and Ron's direction, his expression unreadable yet unsettling.

"Ron, do you think Professor Dracula's looking at us strangely?" Harry whispered nervously, unable to shake the feeling.

Ron, mid-bite of a chicken leg, mumbled through his mouthful, "Don't worry, mate. He probably loved the gift we gave him and wants to come thank us."

Although still skeptical, Harry turned to glance at Dracula again, only to find that the professor had already shifted his attention elsewhere.

"Maybe you're right," Harry relented, grabbing a chicken leg from the table.

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At the professors' table, Dumbledore, adorned in his festive bonnet, turned to Dracula with a smile.

"Professor Dracula, why aren't you wearing a Santa hat?" he asked, his voice lighthearted.

Professor McGonagall, wearing her tall black top hat, nodded in agreement, her hat tilting slightly as she moved.

Dracula shrugged indifferently, his attention on the bright red pudding before him. "Christmas isn't really my thing."

"Come now, Professor Dracula! You've got to embrace the Christmas spirit," Professor Flitwick encouraged, standing atop a tall chair to retrieve a colorful cracker with a hidden paper hat.

With a flick of his wand, Flitwick conjured a puff of thick pink smoke from the cracker, revealing a pink paper hat adorned with tiny white hearts.

"Ah, such a lively color scheme!" Flitwick exclaimed, then turned to Dracula. "What do you say, Professor? Would you wear this as a Christmas hat?"

Dracula dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "No, that won't be necessary. But I think I do have a hat in mind."

With that, Dracula extended his hand toward the Great Hall's doors.

"Accio!"

Moments later, a pristine brown leather peaked hat soared through the air and landed neatly in Dracula's hand.

Dumbledore's cheerful demeanor faltered slightly as he recognized the object, his expression turning wry.

"Ahhh! Who dares summon me like this?" the hat grumbled loudly, clearly disgruntled. "Flying from the eighth floor to the first—it's enough to give me vertigo!"

Then, it caught sight of Dracula.

"Ahem. Lord Earl! Fancy seeing you!" the Sorting Hat exclaimed in an exaggeratedly polite tone. "I must say, only a wizard of your caliber could summon me with such ease. A remarkable feat, truly."

"You're quick to adapt, I see," Dracula remarked, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Well, naturally. I'm a magical hat imbued with the wisdom of the four founders!" the Sorting Hat declared proudly, puffing itself up.

The other professors began to take notice.

"Is that the Sorting Hat?" Flitwick asked, eyes wide in astonishment. "Merlin's beard! I barely recognized it—it's so clean!"

"Has it been reincarnated? Not a single patch remains!" added Professor Kettleburn, hobbling closer with his cane and wooden leg.

The Sorting Hat drooped in response to the remarks, its voice tinged with melancholy. "Oh, those patches were marks of my storied history… Now, I look no different from any ordinary hat…"

"Enough whining," Dracula said, picking up the Sorting Hat by its tip. "I didn't have a Santa hat, so I'll just use you instead."

"What?! I'm a magical artifact, not some mere holiday prop!" the Sorting Hat protested indignantly.

But then it caught sight of the icy flames flickering at Dracula's fingertips.

"…But of course, nothing could be more fitting than being honored as your choice of headwear, Lord Earl," it amended hastily.

Satisfied, Dracula extinguished the flames and donned the Sorting Hat, joining the festive atmosphere.

It wasn't long before the hat began muttering.

"Hmmm… Difficult, very difficult. I think you'd do well in…"

"What nonsense are you mumbling about?" Dracula interrupted, his brow furrowed.

"Oh, occupational habit!" the Sorting Hat stammered. "My apologies, Lord Earl."

Dracula's interest piqued. "Go on. Let's hear which house you think I belong to."

"Well, if you insist…"

The Sorting Hat took a dramatic breath, then shouted loudly:

"Azkaban!"

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