Chapter 13 — Hagrid's Little Cutie
After chatting briefly with Dumbledore, Dracula found his mood somewhat gloomy.
He clearly remembered that he had originally come to the headmaster's office to demand an explanation. Yet somehow, under Dumbledore's expectant gaze, the responsibility had turned into something he was now supposed to strive for in the future.
Silently, Dracula placed a mental label on Dumbledore: master swindler.
After their short conversation, the two of them descended the automatically rotating staircase outside the headmaster's office and arrived on the fourth floor, heading together toward the restricted corridor on the right.
"I've never understood why you would place something dangerous inside a school," Dracula said, glancing down the empty hallway before turning to Dumbledore. "You're just putting the students in danger like this."
"Professor Dracula, as you just mentioned, Voldemort may return at any time," Dumbledore replied. "Under such circumstances, I need a way to determine his exact condition in advance. The school is the only place where I can maintain complete control."
"So this is essentially a trap for Voldemort, correct?" Dracula frowned slightly. "If Voldemort can fall for such a crude trap, I'd have to start worrying about the current state of the wizarding world."
"Honestly, letting someone that foolish become a dark lord whose name people are afraid to speak… impressive work."
"Let's not say that," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "When Voldemort was young, he was actually quite clever. The only reason he will come here is because I'll be placing something in these chambers that he simply cannot refuse."
"I guarantee that even if he knows it's a trap, Voldemort will still try to break through."
"Oh?" Dracula raised the corner of his lips with interest. "So the bait must be very valuable. Aren't you worried that by bringing an evil vampire like me here so casually, I might grow tempted and steal it for myself?"
"Professor Dracula, there's no need to speak like that. I trust that you are not such a person," Dumbledore said warmly.
He then added, "Besides, the item I placed here is something you're already quite familiar with, and something you would have no interest in. According to Nicolas, you'd probably be too lazy to take it even if it were placed right in front of you."
Dracula paused.
So the bait was something Voldemort desperately desired… but something he himself regarded as worthless?
"Did Nicolas lend you the Philosopher's Stone?" he asked, frowning.
Dumbledore smiled and nodded.
"That's quite the price to pay just to lure Voldemort out," Dracula said with a click of his tongue. "I didn't quite believe it when Nicolas said you two were close friends despite the age gap. Now that I think about it, that description was actually rather conservative."
In truth, Dracula had very little interest in the Philosopher's Stone.
Its two most famous abilities—brewing the Elixir of Life and turning stone into gold—held no appeal for him.
He himself was already an immortal being. In fact, after living for so long, he was beginning to feel rather bored with existence. Finding amusement had become the only motivation keeping him going.
As for turning stone into gold, that was even less appealing. Once wealth reached a certain level, it became nothing more than a meaningless string of numbers. Dracula had absolutely no interest in money anymore.
The Stone likely possessed other strange effects as well, but during the hundreds of years he had known Nicolas Flamel, Dracula had already played around with those functions enough to grow tired of them.
Just as Nicolas had said—if the Philosopher's Stone were placed in front of him, he probably wouldn't even bother picking it up.
"Fine. How you use it is your business. It has nothing to do with me," Dracula said with a bored tone. "What I want to know now is how you plan to stop bold students from sneaking in here."
"If you ask me, those Gryffindor twins are a major risk. The more you forbid them, the more they'll want to try."
"Ah, Professor Dracula, there's no need to worry," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "Hagrid's little cutie will chase them away—and won't cause them any serious harm!"
"Hagrid's little cutie?" Dracula looked at him in confusion.
"A big dog. With proper training, it won't harm young wizards," Dumbledore said, winking at him. "Of course, I also contributed a bit to that training."
Dracula snorted in disbelief.
In his mind, Hagrid had probably raised some extremely ferocious dog that Dumbledore had placed here as a guard. The poor beast was likely under some sort of spell—perhaps a Confundus Charm or a Memory Charm—so that it wouldn't harbor too much hostility toward Hogwarts students and would simply chase mischievous children away from the restricted area.
As they chatted, they eventually arrived at a door.
Beyond this door lay the first chamber guarding the Philosopher's Stone.
"…So this is Hagrid's 'little cutie'?" Dracula said speechlessly as he looked up at the enormous dog sitting on the ground, taller than he was.
"Of course. In Hagrid's eyes, it certainly is," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "He even gave it a name—Fluffy."
Before them stood a dog that filled the entire space between the floor and the ceiling.
It had three heads.
Three pairs of wide, crazed eyes; three noses sniffing and twitching in their direction; and three drooling mouths, saliva dripping from yellow fangs and splattering onto the floor.
The moment Fluffy saw Dracula and Dumbledore enter its territory, the three-headed dog leapt up. All three heads barked furiously at the same time.
"WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!"
Neither Dumbledore nor Dracula paid much attention to such a harmless "little dog." They simply continued chatting as if nothing had happened.
"Did you know, Professor Dracula?" Dumbledore said. "Three-headed dogs have a fascinating trait. When they hear music, they fall asleep. So perhaps you could try singing a song to Fluffy."
"Then why don't you sing?" Dracula replied, folding his arms and glancing at him.
"Well, you must be considerate toward an old man…"
Dumbledore's voice suddenly trailed off as he glanced helplessly at the vampire professor beside him—who wore the face of a young man.
He had just remembered the true age of the person standing next to him.
Dracula watched him with interest, clearly waiting to hear the "young" headmaster sing.
Just as the elderly headmaster was about to change the subject, Fluffy—who had finally grown tired of being completely ignored—let out a furious roar and lunged toward them.
"RAAAOOOOWOOF!!"
Irritated at having his amusement interrupted, Dracula glared viciously at the dog.
His wine-red eyes met Fluffy's gaze.
Instantly, the dog felt the overwhelming suppression of a superior dark creature—a primal fear rising from deep within its bloodline.
Fluffy tried to slam on the brakes but failed, skidding forward and collapsing right in front of Dracula.
"Whiiiine…" it whimpered pitifully.
Dracula stepped forward a few paces and reached out, rubbing one of Fluffy's heads.
"The texture's not bad. Nice and fluffy… just a bit dirty," he said while scratching behind the dog's ears. Then he turned to Dumbledore. "Would you like to try, Dumbledore?"
…
…