Chapter 28 — The Out-of-Control Broom
Dracula stood at the edge of the Quidditch pitch on a tall stand, holding his parasol.
His expression was one of clear "keep out," forming a sharp contrast with the excited atmosphere of the young witches and wizards around him.
Out of respect for the infamous Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the small wizards instinctively gave him plenty of space, crowding themselves into the four corners of the stands, shivering in the cold.
Madam Hooch, acting as referee, stood in the center of the pitch, broom in hand, waiting for the teams to take their positions.
Harry glanced toward the stands. First, he spotted a large banner fluttering high above the crowd that read, "Go Potter!" in shining letters. Then his eyes fell on the solitary, parasol-holding Dracula, who stood out conspicuously atop the stand.
Dracula gave a slight nod to Harry, who was standing on the pitch in his gold-and-red Gryffindor robes.
Harry gripped his Firebolt 2000 tightly.
The support of his Gryffindor teammates, coupled with the encouragement from the professor, sent a rush of confidence through him. He felt ready to take on Slytherin with courage!
After a brief announcement, Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle with force. In the next moment, fifteen brooms shot into the sky simultaneously, ascending high into the air.
The match had begun.
Dracula, meanwhile, sank into a state of utter boredom.
He had little interest in the young wizards darting through the sky on brooms, or in the various winged balls flying around. None of it moved as fast as he could, and the spectacle offered none of the thrill the students felt—only tedium.
Moreover, it was a bright, sunny day, which did little to improve the mood of a vampire like him.
He scanned the crowd, watching the little wizards cheer and scream with excitement, feeling the overwhelming noise and vibration of the stands with increasing irritation.
Several times he considered slipping away from the stand, but each time he noticed Harry, Gryffindor's Seeker, searching for the Golden Snitch. The boy's gaze would flick toward Dracula's position, as if silently asking for his approval.
Reluctantly, Dracula stayed put, enduring the atmosphere that was far from comfortable for a vampire.
Just as he was about to give up entirely and leave despite the students' expectations, he noticed a small wizard in yellow-and-black robes sitting among a group of Hufflepuff students. The boy was watching the match intently, occasionally jotting notes in a notebook.
This young wizard, Cedric Diggory, had a face and bearing that hinted at the potential of a vampire noble. Dracula found himself impressed.
With a snap of his fingers, he conjured a massive bat. The bat flapped its wings and swooped over to the adjacent stand, scooping Cedric up in its claws.
Cedric's eyes widened in shock as he was lifted off the ground by the enormous creature.
But thanks to the quick reflexes honed in Dracula's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he quickly pulled his wand from his pocket, ready to cast a Spark Charm as a signal to the professors.
Before he could act, the bat dropped him onto the neighboring stand and vanished into the air.
"Good morning, Mr. Diggory," a familiar voice said beside him.
Dracula had enlarged his parasol and planted it firmly on the stand, creating a patch of shade rare for such a sunny day.
"Sit anywhere you like," he said, reclining on a bench he had just conjured with Transfiguration. He gestured to the other bench, making small talk. "I saw you taking notes earlier. What did you write?"
Cedric, facing Dracula, Hogwarts' "most fearsome professor," nervously cast a pleading look toward his Quidditch teammates.
But those who had originally intended to rescue Cedric from the bat's claws quickly averted their eyes at the sight of Dracula, pretending not to know him. Even his prefect, Truman, gave him a helpless look, silently leaving him to his fate.
"Good morning, Professor," Cedric said, forcing himself to speak. "I'm the Seeker for Hufflepuff. I was observing Potter's techniques to see how he plays Seeker."
"What do you think of Potter's skills?" Dracula asked, bored.
"They're pretty good for his age," Cedric replied, impressed.
At that moment, the very subjects of their discussion—two Seekers—flew overhead, one after the other. Dracula's large parasol blocked them from view, causing Cedric, who had been watching eagerly, a wave of anxiety.
"Professor, it's sunny today. Do you really need the parasol?" he asked. "And don't you feel cold wearing just that thin robe in this weather?"
"Not at all," Dracula said, adjusting his red-and-black cloak. "Besides, I dislike the sun. Using a parasol on a sunny day seems perfectly reasonable, doesn't it?"
As their conversation continued, Cedric gradually relaxed, enjoying a pleasant chat with Dracula.
But the calm was short-lived. Suddenly, something unexpected happened on the Quidditch pitch—
High above, Harry's broom began to behave strangely. It twitched and twisted wildly, slowly—and increasingly—lifting him farther from the pitch.
"What kind of tactic is that?" Cedric asked through his telescope, watching Harry. "Is it some new psychological strategy to confuse the opponent?"
Dracula's wine-red eyes narrowed as he focused on the unfolding scene.
Harry's broom rolled and tumbled uncontrollably. He could barely hold on. Suddenly, the broom gave another violent lurch, and Harry was thrown sideways, clinging with one hand as he dangled in midair.
"Wait, this isn't a Quidditch tactic. Potter's broom is malfunctioning!" Dracula said, frowning.
He immediately glanced toward Professor Quirrell, who was watching from another stand.
But the situation was not what he expected—
Dracula had assumed Quirrell had already sided with Voldemort, that all his previous probes had been for the Dark Lord's benefit, and that this incident would be another chance for Quirrell to attack Harry for Voldemort.
Yet now, as Harry struggled with the Firebolt 2000, Quirrell was showing no signs of casting a spell. He simply sat there, enjoying the match with genuine interest.