Dark Deals: The Vampire Who Owns Hogwarts

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"Professor Dracula, Minerva is very dissatisfied with you now."

In the principal's office, Dumbledore sighed, his gaze fixed on the silver-haired figure lounging before him.

"I remember," Dumbledore began with a hint of weariness in his voice, "being reminded at the beginning of term to be mindful of the professor's image and not to be jumping out of windows." His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles, but his tone was serious. "So why, may I ask, did you bring the students along this time?"

Dracula, on the other hand, was reclining on the plush sofa with an air of nonchalance, a blood-flavored lollipop casually hanging from his lips. He absently stroked the feathers of the ever-vigilant phoenix, Fawkes, who perched nearby.

"So, does this mean Professor McGonagall wants to expel me?" Dracula asked, glancing up at Dumbledore with an almost bored expression.

"Expulsion? Hardly. We'd never find another Defense Against the Dark Arts professor so… unique," Dumbledore replied with a shake of his head, his voice taking on a more playful edge. "But if no punishment is meted out this time, Minerva will have every right to be upset."

"Then let's just punish me. I have no objection," Dracula said, his tone as casual as ever, as if discussing a routine matter.

Dumbledore gave a weary sigh, clearly relieved. He reached into his drawer and retrieved the employee processing notice, ready to deal with the situation.

Just as he was about to sign it, Dracula's voice interrupted once more.

"Then let's talk rent for Hogwarts Castle," Dracula said with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Excluding the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake, the castle and its supporting facilities alone span thousands of acres. Given that I've been a colleague here for several months now, I'll offer you a preferential price—one million Galleons a year for the lease."

He held his hand out to Dumbledore, the corners of his lips curling upward in amusement.

The old headmaster froze, his hand halting in mid-air, the processing notice still in his grip. After a long pause, he silently tucked the notice back into the drawer and instead handed over a small, carefully wrapped package adorned with the Honeydukes logo.

"Ahem," Dumbledore began, his expression shifting from exasperation to a more diplomatic smile. "Professor Dracula, I believe there is still room to negotiate with Professor McGonagall."

He gestured to the package in his hand. "This, I had specially commissioned as a gift. A decades-old favorite of mine—Blood-Wine Chocolate. I thought, as a vampire, you might appreciate it."

Dumbledore placed the package on the table with a flourish. "You can sample it here, and in the meantime, I'll... speak with Minerva."

With that, the old headmaster turned on his heel and quickly exited the office, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Dracula chuckled softly to himself, his eyes glinting with amusement. He wasted no time in tearing open the package, eager to try the sweets. A piece of blood-red chocolate landed on his tongue, its richness filling his senses. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he leaned back on the couch, enjoying the moment.

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Before long, Christmas vacation arrived, ushering in a sense of festive cheer and much needed break. Professor McGonagall had already compiled the list of students serving Christmas detention, and before the holiday feast, she made her way around the Gryffindor table, checking off names and confirming which students would be staying behind for the break.

As she made her rounds, the crisp parchment of the detention list in hand, Professor McGonagall's stern expression was interrupted by the appearance of a familiar figure. Dracula, casually passing by, caught sight of the scene and slowed his pace, intrigued.

The moment Professor McGonagall noticed Dracula, her face shifted ever so slightly, her expression becoming somewhat tense. Since their last conversation with Dumbledore, McGonagall had completely changed in her interactions with Dracula. No longer dismissive of his "unique" teaching methods, she now seemed to regard him as something... more.

Dracula surmised that Dumbledore must have filled McGonagall in on his true identity. Despite her usually composed nature, even the unflappable Deputy Headmistress couldn't resist the pressure of knowing the truth about the mysterious new professor. With the absurd rent Dracula demanded—one million Galleons per year for Hogwarts—there was little room for her to argue.

After all, not everyone could afford to pay such a sum, especially with the burden of housing and maintaining a centuries-old castle like Hogwarts. And in comparison to the many chaotic Defense Against the Dark Arts professors who had come and gone, Dracula was certainly a breath of fresh air, relatively speaking. His teaching methods may have been unconventional, but his competence was undeniable.

"Fred Weasley, George Weasley?" Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the air as she stopped in front of the twins, who were grinning mischievously. "Are you two sure you want to stay in school this holiday?"

"Yes, Professor!" Fred answered cheerfully, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Our parents are going to Romania to visit our second brother, Charlie. They've abandoned us!"

"Yes, abandoned!" George chimed in, putting on a pitiful face. "Only Hogwarts can take in two poor, forsaken Weasley brothers."

Professor McGonagall shot them a stern look, but it faltered. With an eye-roll and a sharp huff, she continued her rounds, leaving the twins to revel in their antics.

As the professor walked away, Dracula, who had been observing with interest, approached the mischievous duo.

"Your parents are off to Romania?" Dracula asked, his tone unexpectedly softer than before. He absentmindedly adjusted his collar, a rare, almost hesitant look crossing his features.

"Yes, Professor," George replied, looking up at him with curiosity. "Our second brother, Charlie, works at the Romanian Fire Dragon Sanctuary."

"Yes, Charlie's the real son!" Fred added with a grin, poking fun at their family's dynamic.

Dracula paused, clearly lost in thought. After a brief moment, he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against something smooth and delicate. He pulled out a crystal ball that shimmered softly in the low light. Inside, a faint moon seemed to swirl, its dim glow adding an air of mystery to the object.

"Here," Dracula said, holding the ball out to George. "Take this and deliver it for me. Write to your parents and ask them to do me a favor. When they arrive in Romania, have them go to Brown Castle. There, they'll need to hand this crystal ball to the guard."

George looked puzzled. "Just the crystal ball? No letter or anything?"

"No need for a letter," Dracula replied with a slight chuckle, shaking his head. "Just give it to any guard, and they'll know what to do. Trust me."

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, and then added with a grin, "And for your help in this, I owe you one. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

The twins exchanged a look, their faces lighting up with excitement. "No problem, Professor!" Fred said, slapping his chest with pride. "You can count on us!"

But just as they were about to continue their conversation, a loud and heated argument broke out across the Gryffindor table. The sudden outburst caught everyone's attention, and even Dracula's gaze flickered over to the source, his curiosity piqued.

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Two minutes ago, Professor McGonagall had just finished her rounds of checking the number of students staying at Hogwarts for Christmas break and had left the auditorium. The clinking of silverware and hushed conversations filled the air as the students resumed their meals, unaware that a new tension was about to rise.

As soon as Professor McGonagall left, the atmosphere around the Gryffindor table shifted. Draco Malfoy, a tall and thin Slytherin wizard with neat platinum blond hair and a pointed chin, walked deliberately toward the table from the direction of the Slytherin table. Accompanying him were Crabbe and Goyle, two large and dim-witted followers who sandwiched him on either side, making him appear more imposing than he already was.

"I feel really sorry for those people," Draco said loudly to his lackeys, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "They have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because their families didn't want them."

He cast a glance at Harry as he spoke, his words clearly meant to provoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled, their laughter booming across the hall.

Harry, swallowing the last bite of pudding in his bowl, tried to ignore him, but Ron, sitting next to him, couldn't hold back. His face flushed with anger, and without warning, he shot up from his seat.

Fred and George had been joking around, but Ron's temper was legendary when it came to Draco. The rivalry between the Weasley family and the Malfoys was no secret, and Draco's taunts had clearly crossed the line.

Ron didn't wait for Harry's advice. He bumped into Draco with a jolt, and before anyone could intervene, Crabbe and Goyle were already moving in, their massive bodies stepping between the two boys. A tense silence fell over the table as the scene threatened to escalate.

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