Chapter 20 — Just Before Halloween
"You fool!" Voldemort roared at Quirrell in the mirror. "After all these days, you still can't see Dracula's defenses?"
Quirrell's expression was clearly bewildered. "Defenses? Why would he bother defending himself against a laughingstock of Hogwarts?"
"All because of you, you incompetent fool, that I had to intervene personally that day," Voldemort said coldly. "The magic I used to get you away was far too rare for someone of your skill to handle."
"Now I even suspect that he allowed you to come to Hogwarts just to study that very magic I used to escape with you—and to uncover other secrets you carry!"
"Th…th…what should I do?" Quirrell stammered, visibly terrified. "Does this mean I have to be under his watch at all times, and… and I'll never get a chance to search for the Philosopher's Stone again?"
"Don't worry yet. We can wait for the right opportunity," Voldemort said, his tone dark and calculating. "Wait for a moment when everyone is gathered together, too busy to notice you. Then, you do as I say…"
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The opportunity Voldemort mentioned didn't take long to come.
Immersed in a teaching career surrounded by so many young students, over a month passed quietly. Dracula was approaching his first Halloween at Hogwarts.
In the Headmaster's office on the eighth floor of the castle's main tower, Dracula leaned against a wall adorned with portraits. Beside him stood a pointed wizard's hat.
The brim of the hat had a split, and two folds formed the semblance of eyes. At this moment, the brim and folds made the hat appear utterly despairing, as though its very soul mourned—so much so that men would be silenced and women would weep!
"Wah… wah… you can't treat me like this! I am the Sorting Hat, with thoughts of my own. Every speck of dust on me represents my long history…" the hat wailed heartbreakingly. "And now, just look at me! How am I any different from those ordinary, common hats?"
At this moment, the once tattered and dusty Sorting Hat looked completely rejuvenated. All the wear, the patches, and the frayed edges had been repaired and made neat; its filthy exterior had been thoroughly cleaned.
Now, the Sorting Hat looked as good as new, showing no trace of the thousand years it had actually existed.
"After all this time without a bath, don't you feel uncomfortable? Let me clean you properly—why are you so unwilling?" Dracula asked playfully, inspecting the pristine hat.
He tossed it into the air and caught it repeatedly, enjoying the game immensely.
"Stop! Stop! I feel sick!" the Sorting Hat spun and pleaded loudly. "I was wrong, Count! I should not have questioned a single decision of yours!"
Hearing the hat beg, Dracula paused and casually placed it on a nearby stool.
"So… do you still wish to protest?" Dracula asked, a slight smile on his lips.
His long fingers rested on the brim. It seemed that if the Sorting Hat's response didn't please him, he would resume giving it the delights of free-fall and mid-air spinning.
"I won't protest anymore. I dare not," the Sorting Hat replied in a weary, absent-minded tone. "Count, please spare me. I was just not used to it earlier, but now, I admit—being clean actually feels quite nice."
Dracula withdrew his hand, and the Sorting Hat let out a deep sigh of relief.
The portraits of former headmasters on the wall also seemed to approve of the hat's fresh, clean appearance.
One Slytherin headmaster with sparse eyebrows and a goatee commented,
"Excellent. Finally, I don't have to start each day with my mood ruined by that ragged, tattered hat."
Dracula looked up and saw the name beneath the portrait: Phineas Nigellus Black. Dracula didn't recognize this headmaster; Phineas must have served after Dracula had gone into slumber.
Another witch took up the conversation.
"Sir Dracula, I remember summoning you several times when I was headmistress, but you never bothered to come to Hogwarts to see me. How is it that now, with Dumbledore as headmaster, you apply to be a professor yourself?"
She looked directly at Dracula, her tone tinged with acidity.
"Ah, Dorothea, long time no see," Dracula raised a hand, greeting the portrait of the intelligent and elegant headmistress Dorothea Devent.
Then he didn't hesitate to shift the blame to Dumbledore. "Dorothea, during your years as headmistress, Hogwarts was far too safe and stable. At that time, I probably couldn't have found anything interesting to do."
"But now it's different. Under Dumbledore, Hogwarts is full of potential mischief. Take the yearly rotation of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, for example—it piqued my interest greatly."
Headmistress Devent chuckled softly, casting a glance at Dumbledore, who looked helplessly on.
"Professor Dracula, I feel like you're speaking ill of me to my face," Dumbledore said, rising from behind his desk and approaching Dracula.
"Not at all. I'm merely speaking the truth," Dracula said, silently shifting the topic. "The Sorting Hat distracted me earlier; I got caught up giving it a thorough cleaning. I haven't asked why you called me here yet."
Dumbledore was pleased to follow his lead. "It's nothing serious. Halloween is coming soon, and the holiday fits the aura of a vampire count perfectly. I wanted to ask if you, Professor Dracula, had any ideas for a performance or entertainment?"
"Performance?" Dracula raised an eyebrow. "I remember you telling me before to avoid revealing my vampire identity, to prevent complaints from some students' parents."
"Other times it would indeed be inappropriate," Dumbledore smiled. "But Halloween is different. Whatever costume or appearance you adopt, the students and professors will simply see it as role-playing—they won't truly doubt Professor Dracula's identity."
"Hmm… forget about performing myself. Too much trouble," Dracula shook his head. "But I could write a letter to invite a well-known half-blood vampire singer for the event. I also happen to need to ask him a few things."
"Additionally, I can handle the decoration of the Great Hall. Given the limited imagination of Hogwarts professors, it's really inconvenient for them to handle such matters themselves!"