Dark Deals: The Vampire Who Owns Hogwarts

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In the early morning, the Forbidden Forest echoed with a deafening cry.

Hagrid knelt on the ground, his massive frame shaking as tears streamed down his face. Before him lay the lifeless body of a unicorn, its once-pristine white coat marred and lifeless.

Nearby, Dracula stood helplessly, trying to block out Hagrid's shrill cries.

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Time rewinds to an hour and a half earlier. 

It's February, the start of a new term at Hogwarts. At this time of year, the chill of winter still dominates the land, with spring hesitant to break through. The sun, lazy and reluctant, hides below the horizon, leaving the world wrapped in a gentle, silver glow. 

But the absence of sunlight does not plunge the world into darkness. Winter's heavy snowfall remains thick and untouched, reflecting the starlight above and casting the Hogwarts grounds in a soft, ethereal brightness.

Dracula loved this kind of night—a bright sky without the sun to taint it. Early in the morning, before most of the castle's inhabitants had even stirred, he leaped gracefully from the window of his office. Landing soundlessly on the snow, he began a leisurely stroll across the grounds, reveling in the serene beauty of the snow-covered Hogwarts castle. 

As he walked, his sharp senses caught sight of a massive figure hurrying across the snow. 

"Good morning, Professor Dracula!" Hagrid called out as he trudged past, his enormous boots crunching loudly on the snow. 

Dracula stopped and floated alongside him, his curiosity piqued. "Hagrid, what are you doing in the castle so early? 

Hagrid's face, damp with dew and red from the cold, remained serious as he replied, "There's trouble in the Forbidden Forest. I need to report it to the Headmaster immediately!" 

"Oh, then by all means. Dumbledore is likely still in his slumber. Just make sure you knock hard on his door and don't let him sleep through it," Dracula remarked, his voice calm yet filled with a subtle amusement. Though he had little concern for what transpired in the Forbidden Forest, the situation did intrigue him. He was more interested in how to use it to his advantage. "If Dumbledore refuses to wake no matter how forcefully you knock, I would be more than willing to assist."

He floated effortlessly beside Hagrid, his black and red robes trailing like shadows in the night. With a casual flick, he picked up a snowball, about the size of Hagrid's head, from the ground.

"I could fly straight to the roof of the castle and smash this snowball through the window of Dumbledore's office," Dracula suggested, his tone eerily serious. "That would surely rouse him from his sleep."

Hagrid, looking at the snowball, felt a twinge of sympathy for the headmaster. "Well… it's not that urgent," he replied. "There are signs of what we suspect to be vampires in the Forbidden Forest. For the safety of the little ones and the wizards, I must inform Dumbledore immediately."

Dracula's suddenly stopped floating, his dark eyes narrowing. Hagrid turned around, surprised to see a sudden shift in his friend's demeanor. The air around them grew colder, more oppressive.

"Perhaps it's better not to trouble the old headmaster just yet, Hagrid," Dracula said, a darker edge creeping into his voice. With a careless flick of his hand, he sent the snowball spinning into the air, where it shattered into a flurry of snowflakes. "Why don't we go straight to the Forbidden Forest and deal with this rogue vampire ourselves? That might save Dumbledore the worry."

With a sharp snap of his fingers, the stillness of the night was broken by an almost palpable force.

The next moment, Hagrid felt a strange sensation, as if a dark moon had collided with him and passed through his massive body. When his eyes blinked open again, they were already near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid, stunned, took in the familiar sight of the shacks and vegetable gardens before him, then the foreboding expanse of trees that loomed ahead. His mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Wait… how did we get here so fast?" Hagrid stammered, wiping his brow, unsure whether the dampness was from dew or sweat. "This… what kind of magic is this?"

"Consider it disembodiment," Dracula replied nonchalantly. "Now, let's find these vampires, shall we?"

Hagrid, still reeling from the sudden change, could do little more than follow the professor deeper into the forest, feeling as though he had no choice but to accept the situation.

As they ventured through the trees, Hagrid came across a disturbing sight—a shriveled rabbit lying beside a bush, its body gaunt and drained of all life.

"Look at this poor creature," Hagrid said, voice thick with unease. "Its blood's been drained, leaving only skin and bones. I can't think of any other creature capable of this other than a vampire."

Dracula's expression darkened as he levitated the rabbit's lifeless form, studying it closely.

"This wasn't done by a vampire," he said, shaking his head. "There are no bite marks, no wounds. Vampires can't drain an animal's blood without leaving a trace."

"Could it be another magical creature?" Hagrid wondered aloud, racking his brain. "Maybe we should ask Professor Erborn? He's been teaching Care of Magical Creatures for years—he might have an idea."

Dracula didn't answer. His eyes remained fixed on the hare's body, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Finally, he spoke, his voice low.

"Hagrid, how long do you think this hare's been dead?" he asked, eyes never leaving the lifeless form.

Hagrid studied it closely, then confidently answered, "Judging by its state, I'd say two, maybe three days. I've been a gamekeeper for years, and I'm certain of it!"

But as soon as he spoke, a cold realization hit him. His eyes widened in horror.

"Wait a minute," he muttered. "How could this body last two or three days? In this season, when food is so scarce, no predator would leave it untouched for so long! Not even a day, let alone three!"

Dracula nodded gravely, his gaze unwavering.

"Exactly. The most likely explanation is that this rabbit was cursed—kept in a state by dark magic. Its body is saturated with an evil aura, one that drives away any creatures from feeding on it."

Hagrid's face twisted with confusion. "So… you're saying this isn't the work of vampires, but dark wizards?"

Dracula only shrugged, though his eyes gleamed with a subtle intensity. "It's just a theory. Let's keep looking for more of these bloodless bodies."

Hagrid led the way, his steps confident as he ventured deeper into the Forbidden Forest. His familiarity with the terrain allowed him to navigate effortlessly, yet each step he took grew heavier as he stumbled upon more and more shriveled animal carcasses—each a silent testament to some unseen force at work.

The sorrow in his heart deepened as the trail of lifeless creatures continued, until he reached a clearing, where a stream wound its way through the forest. There, on the pebbled banks, lay a creature that stopped him in his tracks.

A unicorn, her pure white coat gleaming even in death, lay by the stream's edge. Her golden hooves were submerged in the water, her silvery mane tangled in the current. Despite the days that had passed, her body remained untouched by decay—her mane still shimmering, casting an ethereal glow against the surrounding snow.

A sacred unicorn. Fallen.

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