Dark Deals: The Vampire Who Owns Hogwarts

Quirrell was suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

Though he was only an assistant professor at Hogwarts, known for his peculiar purple headscarves, timidity, stuttering, and general air of fragility, Quirinus Quirrell had unexpectedly gained a notorious reputation. Yet, the real turning point—the incident that cemented his infamy—occurred on the day of the Quidditch match.

No one could have predicted that the Defense Against the Dark Arts assistant professor would sneak into the girls' bathroom during the match while most of the castle was empty.

If Harry Potter hadn't miraculously caught the Golden Snitch in under five minutes—cutting short what should have been a match lasting hours or even an entire day—Quirrell's shocking behavior might have gone unnoticed.

It turned out that the enigmatic purple headscarf he wore year-round wasn't just a quirky fashion choice. Beneath it lay the truth about a man who was now widely regarded as a perverted scoundrel. Quirrell had crossed a line that set the entire school ablaze with outrage.

Understandably shaken, the female students at Hogwarts banded together. They avoided Quirrell at all costs, walked to the bathrooms in groups, and kept a wary eye out, determined not to fall victim to his lecherous tendencies. Even the boys distanced themselves, disgusted by the idea of such a man tarnishing the dignity of wizarding society.

"Professor, how could you appoint someone like Quirrell as your assistant?" Penelope Clearwater, the fifth-year Ravenclaw prefect, demanded in the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.

Percy Weasley, the fifth-year Gryffindor prefect, stood by her side, his red hair practically bristling as he nodded.

This wasn't just a Ravenclaw issue or a Gryffindor protest. Percy had rallied prefects from all houses, leading them to Dracula's office in a united front. Their demand was clear: Quirrell must be expelled. Nothing less would suffice.

But what really troubled Dracula wasn't just the protests. It was the idea of losing Quirrell. After all, Quirrell was more than a teaching assistant. He was Dracula's homework grader, lesson planner, and paper writer—a tireless worker who also provided endless amusement with his quirks. Letting him go felt like losing a valuable tool and a source of entertainment.

Still, the situation couldn't be ignored. Dracula dismissed the prefects with a wave of his hand, directing them to Professor McGonagall. He needed time to think.

Deep down, Dracula doubted that Quirrell was guilty of the accusations. Why would a pervert choose a semi-abandoned bathroom, of all places? The logic didn't add up. There had to be something more to the story—a darker secret lurking in that decrepit bathroom.

Determined to uncover the truth, Dracula stood from his desk, strode to the window, and leaped out with feline grace. As his form shifted mid-air, he transformed into a sleek bat, his wings carrying him swiftly to the third floor.

He entered through a dusty, narrow window that hadn't been cleaned in decades, slipping silently into the dim, semi-abandoned girls' bathroom.

The scene was dreary. A cracked and stained mirror, stone sinks with peeling surfaces, and a wet floor illuminated by the weak flicker of a few low-burning candles exuded an air of neglect and mystery.

Dracula reverted to his human form and began a meticulous search for anything unusual. His crimson eyes glimmered in the candlelight as he scanned the shadows for traces of dark magic.

A sudden "creak" interrupted the silence. The bathroom door opened slightly, and Dracula instinctively cast a Disillusionment Charm to conceal himself.

If a student saw him here, it would be catastrophic. He'd be no better than Quirrell in their eyes.

But no one entered. The door remained ajar, as though inviting someone in.

Moments later, a familiar figure stepped into view—a figure Dracula hadn't expected to see. Through the faint light, he recognized the piercing eyes and half-moon spectacles.

Dumbledore.

Their eyes met, each seeing through the other's concealment spells.

"What a coincidence, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Good evening, Professor Dracula."

They spoke in unison, their expressions betraying a mix of surprise and amusement.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Professor Dracula, I was here to inspect the crime scene. However, one might question the appropriateness of your presence in a girls' bathroom at night."

Dracula arched a brow, his tone dry. "And I suppose your presence here is entirely above reproach, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Touché. But let us say my intentions are purely investigative."

"Then we're on the same page," Dracula replied smoothly. "I suspect Quirrell's actions were influenced by dark magic. It's my duty as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to investigate such possibilities."

The two exchanged a knowing smile, silently agreeing to work together.

After sealing the bathroom door with protective spells to ensure privacy, they delved into their search.

The headmaster of Hogwarts and the infamous Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, united for a hidden investigation in the dead of night. It was a partnership that would surely raise eyebrows—if anyone ever found out.