Dark Deals: The Vampire Who Owns Hogwarts

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Dracula paid no mind to the skeptical looks of his students as he effortlessly took control of the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.

"The definition Miss Granger recited is not entirely wrong," he began, his voice low and commanding, "A vampire is, indeed, a dark creature." He paused briefly, allowing the words to sink in before adding, "But the description in your textbooks is far too simplistic. It only touches on low-level vampires and says nothing about their more powerful, higher-ranking kin."

His tone shifted as he continued, his words dripping with ancient knowledge. "Vampires, in fact, are cursed beings—caught in a state between life and death. This curse spreads through blood, making it far more dangerous than most of you realize."

There was an eerie silence in the classroom as Dracula spoke of the curse that linked the living to the dead. He explained it was similar to the curse wizards suffer when they drink unicorn blood to extend their lives. However, the vampire curse, he emphasized, was more contagious and left fewer scars.

"Vampires come in different levels depending on the purity of their blood," he said, his gaze sweeping over the class. "The lowest levels are the ones most often spoken of in your textbooks. These vampires are weak, haggard, and barely able to control their thirst for blood. They appear sickly, as though infected by some terrible disease. This is the version of a vampire most wizards—and Muggles—are familiar with."

"But higher-level vampires are far more dangerous. These vampires have learned to control their bloodlust and often coexist peacefully with wizards. It is these vampires who have close ties with wizards, and it is for them that the magical community has grudgingly accepted them as part of the human race."

The students sat up straighter, quickly scribbling notes on their parchment. Dracula could see they were hanging on his every word, hungry for knowledge beyond the pages of their textbooks.

"The reason vampires are so feared in our world," he continued, his voice becoming even more serious, "is that, like werewolves, they are highly contagious. Wizards fear being infected and turning into vampires or werewolves themselves, and so they shun them, much like they would avoid snakes or scorpions."

"But the truth is," Dracula added, leaning forward slightly, "if you act quickly enough, even if you're bitten by a low-level vampire or a rabid werewolf, there is still hope. The key to survival is timely treatment."

"The danger lies in blood-to-blood transmission," he explained. "If you drain the infected blood from a wound quickly enough, and then treat the victim with silver powder or the appropriate magic potions, the risk of becoming a werewolf or a vampire can be reduced substantially."

A young Hufflepuff student raised his hand with an eager expression. "Professor, if someone is infected, is there any chance they can return to their human form?"

Dracula's expression hardened, and for a moment, the air in the room grew heavy with tension. He shook his head slowly. "Once a person's bloodline has been completely altered, the transformation is irreversible," he said solemnly. "The wizard's soul is forever intertwined with the curse. There is no turning back. That is why it is essential to take precautions and act fast if you're ever faced with such an incident."

The Hufflepuff student looked visibly disappointed, but Dracula's gaze softened. His eyes scanned the room and landed on a familiar book lying on the student's desk. It was titled Hairy Nose, Human Heart, the poignant tale of a wizard struggling with lycanthropy. Dracula knew it had resonated with many wizards, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the past.

His gaze then shifted to Hermione's desk. It was piled high with books, many of them authored by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. Dracula's eyes narrowed as he noticed one particular title: Traveling with a Vampire.

Ah, Lockhart. The man who seemed incapable of writing an honest sentence. Dracula smiled faintly, his interest piqued by the irony. But the lesson, he reminded himself, was more important than indulging in thoughts of Lockhart.

"Now, aside from prompt treatment, there's something else you must know," Dracula said, his voice grave. "This is crucial, so pay close attention. Unlike werewolves, who lose all rational thought when they transform, vampires are not entirely mindless."

A ripple of surprise passed through the students. "Vampires can communicate," Dracula clarified, his eyes sweeping over the class. "In fact, if you find yourself face-to-face with one of these lower-level vampires—who are desperately thirsty for your blood—use your communication skills. Try reasoning with them."

Hermione immediately raised her hand, her face scrunched in confusion. "Professor, I've read that hungry vampires cannot be reasoned with. So is that really possible?"

Dracula's lips curved into a rare, knowing smile. "Ah, an excellent question, Miss Granger. So, here's what you need to remember: When you find yourself in such a situation, you must say one sentence before they can sink their teeth into you—"

He paused for dramatic effect, the classroom falling into expectant silence. "Say this: 'Your professor is Dracula.'"

A round of laughter rippled through the room as students laughed at his "joke". 

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The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Time had flown by faster than Dracula expected. "That's all for today," he said, collecting his thoughts. "We've covered the basics of vampires."

With a flourish, he conjured a goblet filled with a deep red liquid and took a slow, deliberate sip. The students gathered their things, but one eager student—Hermione—was still frantically scribbling on a piece of parchment, casting occasional glances toward Dracula.

Dracula raised an eyebrow, suddenly remembering something. "Ah, yes. Before you go, don't forget about your homework. Assistant Professor Quirrell will be coming around shortly to collect the work from last class."

The students let out a cry.

Just as they were preparing to leave, Harry Potter, ever the curious student, raised his hand. "Professor, are the blood-drained animals found in the Forbidden Forest the work of vampires?"

Dracula turned, his eyes glinting with an unreadable expression. "Mr. Potter, I personally investigated the matter. The creatures weren't killed by vampires."

He paused for a moment, his gaze turning towards the door, as if aware of something—or someone—just outside. A sly smile curled at the corners of his lips.

"Personally, I believe they were slain by none other than Voldemort himself."

At that exact moment, the door creaked open, and Quirrell, clutching a stack of papers, stepped into the room. As soon as he heard Dracula's words, his face drained of color, and the papers slipped from his hands, scattering across the floor.

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