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Harry quietly slipped out of the Borgin and Burkes antique store, put his cracked glasses on his nose, and looked around.
In front of him lay a dirty alley, seemingly lined with black magic shops. Borgin and Burkes seemed to be the largest, and some shrunken human heads were eerily displayed in the window of the store opposite. Separated from the two facades, a large cage was filled with huge black spiders.
In a dark doorway, two ragged wizards were watching him and whispering, and some non-humanoid creatures were licking their lips at him.
Harry felt horrified and wanted to leave this strange place as quickly as possible.
He trotted along, holding on to his broken glasses from time to time.
…However, two minutes later, he sadly realized he had lost his sense of direction.
"Are you lost, my dear?"
Suddenly, an old, unpleasant voice sounded in Harry's ears, startling him.
An old witch stood before him, holding a dish of what looked like a dead man's fingernail. She looked at him grimly, baring teeth that appeared to be covered in moss.
Harry shivered and backed away hastily.
"I'm fine, thank you," he said, trembling. "I just..."
At that moment, Harry suddenly felt something grabbing his shoulder and lifting him into the air.
The old witch below stretched out her sharp nails, trying to pull Harry down from the sky, but his body rose too quickly, and the hunched-back witch couldn't reach him.
Harry's feet were off the ground now, and he was flapping his legs in panic, trying to break free, but too afraid of falling and becoming the old witch's prey again.
So Harry bravely turned his head, hoping that whatever was grabbing him had been covered in Defense Against the Dark Arts class… as it was the topic of their first-year final exam, maybe he could remember the solution!
Turning his head, Harry saw a huge bat gripping his back, its wings flapping steadily.
This bat looked familiar...
Like...
Like the one that caught him on the Quidditch pitch!
Harry's anxious heart suddenly relaxed, and he was even in the mood to start admiring the scenery from above.
He saw the furious expression of the ugly old witch, saw many shady-looking wizards on the narrow streets watching him in astonishment, and noticed a window so luxurious it stood in stark contrast to the rest of the alley…
A silver-haired man sat inside the window, elegantly holding a crystal glass and sipping wine.
The bat's wingbeats slowed down, hovering near the window. Then it suddenly accelerated and hurled Harry's thin body toward the wall next to the window.
"Ah—" Harry screamed in terror as the wall loomed closer.
Just as he was about to crash into the marble wall, the silver-haired man inside glanced sideways at him.
In the next moment, the marble wall seemed to turn into liquid, with rippling spirals appearing.
Harry passed through the thick wall and landed heavily on a soft sofa.
"Mr. Potter, I think you owe me an explanation for why you're wandering a dangerous place like Knockturn Alley," came Dracula's flat voice from beside him. "Curious about this place? Snuck in secretly?"
"Professor Dracula!" Hearing that voice, Harry was completely relieved and cried out hoarsely, "I got lost... I used Floo Powder for the first time today and accidentally inhaled soot. So I may have said the wrong word..."
"The words Diagon and Knockturn don't sound that similar. How much soot did you inhale?" Dracula asked with a teasing smile.
Then he noticed that Harry was indeed covered in soot, even staining the cushions of the luxurious sofa.
Dracula frowned.
"Well, it does look like you inhaled quite a bit of soot."
He snapped his fingers. The soot in the compartment disappeared instantly, and even Harry's glasses were repaired, now looking brand new.
"Thank you, Professor…" Harry said weakly. "Why does Knockturn Alley feel like such a sinister place... Ah—no, Professor, I didn't mean to imply you are sinister."
Dracula's face immediately darkened.
"Do you know who that old witch who stopped you was?" he asked maliciously, sneering. "It's in the curriculum for second year. If you had reviewed over the summer, this shouldn't be a difficult question."
"Ah?" Harry was stunned. "She's not just an old witch with a weird look and personality?"
"It seems you haven't previewed the coming term's material at all." Dracula smiled pleasantly. "If you had looked carefully, you would've seen the many warts on her face and neck—similar to fungus or solid blisters."
"If you looked even more carefully, you might have noticed her feet were much narrower than normal. That's because the creature only has four toes."
"So... that old witch wasn't even human?!" Harry asked in shock.
"Yes, she's a Dominatrix," Dracula chuckled. "Dominatrixes love eating raw liver, especially children's livers. If I hadn't happened to find you nearby, you might've already had your heart and liver taken by her—and your whole body would've disappeared without a trace!"
Harry broke into a cold sweat and trembled with fear. He swore never to return to this cursed place called Knockturn Alley!
"Well, since you didn't prepare during your break, you'll have twice the homework of everyone else for the first two weeks at Hogwarts," Dracula said casually, glancing at Harry, whose face turned pale.
"Professor, there's a reason I didn't review my lessons!" Harry quickly explained. "When I returned to the Muggle world, my aunt and uncle locked away all my magic-related things—I had no chance to review!"
"What a poor child," said Dracula.
Harry's face lit up with hope, thinking his extra homework would be canceled.
"But what does that have to do with me?" Dracula continued coldly. "And how do I know that's not just an excuse?"
"Let's say what you said is true. Since you used Floo Powder to get to Knockturn Alley, you must've already left the Muggle home and stayed with a wizarding family for a while… Hmm, I suppose you were staying with Ron."
"So when Ron brought you home, did you just spend all your time playing and completely ignore your homework?"
Harry stared blankly at Dracula's long speech and finally understood—
Whether or not he reviewed didn't matter. This petty professor was clearly just taking revenge for being called "not serious" a moment ago!
He stood up indignantly, stared straight at Dracula, and declared loudly:
"Professor, I accept the extra homework!"
Seeing Dracula's half-smiling face, Harry quickly decided to surrender.
There was no use resisting. It was better to agree quickly to prevent the workload from tripling. After all, Dracula's homework usually wasn't too much… Well, as long as Hermione didn't remind him constantly!
"Professor, you're right. I am staying with Ron," Harry admitted. "I mispronounced the destination and ended up in Knockturn Alley. Now I'm separated from them, and they must be worried. So… could you take me to Diagon Alley, please?"
Dracula glanced at him, then casually placed his crystal glass on the table.
"Then let's go. It's time for me to leave anyway." He stood, walked to the window, and opened it.
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In fact, when this compartment was first built, the luxurious window was deliberately sealed shut to ensure the utmost privacy. No one could open it—no drafts, no prying eyes. It was a fortress of solitude, befitting the secrets it guarded.
But Dracula found the official route cumbersome. To exit, one had to weave through the maze-like middle hall, pass countless booths, then descend the stairs from the second floor entrance of the White Feilong Bar down to the first floor's Black Wizard Tattoo Shop. Such a long, winding path was inefficient.
"Better to jump out of the window," Dracula had said one day, his voice calm but firm.
To accommodate his whim, the proprietress of the Bai Feilong Bar reluctantly ordered the window to be magically altered—now it could open and close freely, a rare concession in a place that prized discretion above all.
At that moment, Dracula slid open the window with a practiced hand and leapt silently from the building.
Harry, drawing on the lessons from his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, clenched his jaw and followed without hesitation, plunging after him.
Just before their feet touched the ground, a shadow darted beneath Harry's feet—a bat, gliding softly upward. It cradled him gently, cushioning his landing, allowing him to touch down gracefully in the dark, narrow alley below.
The window of Bai Feilong Bar swung closed behind them, sealing shut once again as if it had never opened—unyielding, impenetrable, denying any curious eyes a glimpse inside.
Dracula crossed his arms and led Harry with an unhurried stride through the labyrinthine alleys, twisting and turning until the gloom gave way to the faintest hint of dawn light.
Harry noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The sinister glances that had shadowed their passage now flickered into something else—fear, awe, and reluctant respect. The dark wizards and creatures who lingered in the alley seemed to shrink back, their eyes darting away hurriedly whenever they caught sight of Dracula.
"Professor," Harry asked softly, his curiosity piqued, "the people here... they seem afraid of you. Have you dealt with them before?"
Dracula cast a lazy glance at the shadowed figures, his silver hair gleaming faintly in the twilight. A sneer curled on his lips. "Those petty beings? I don't trouble myself with them."
Harry could only offer a silent thumbs-up, knowing full well that he couldn't argue with such unwavering confidence.
The truth was simple: Knockturn Alley thrived on dark magic, but Dracula was a shadow far deeper and older than any they'd encountered. Even without ever meeting him, these creatures sensed the immense power that radiated from this silver-haired stranger. They knew better than to test their luck.
After several minutes of walking, the oppressive darkness began to dissipate. Warm sunlight filtered through, pushing back the shadows and lifting the haze.
They finally emerged into the bustling brightness of Diagon Alley. In the distance, the gleaming white marble façade of Gringotts Bank stood like a beacon.
Dracula stopped at the edge of the alley, stepping aside into the shadow beneath a shop's eaves, his disdain for the sunlight evident.
"You don't need me to escort you the rest of the way, do you?" he asked.
Harry shook his head firmly. "No, Professor. Thank you for your help today."
Without waiting for a reply, Harry dashed toward Gringotts, where Hermione stood on the pristine white steps, waving at him with a radiant smile.
Dracula watched him go, then caught sight of the approaching Weasley family from a distance. He chuckled lowly to himself and slipped back into the shadows, vanishing without a trace.
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Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, the Great Hall buzzed with the near-complete arrival of faculty and staff.
One peculiar tradition of this venerable school was that many professors lived on-site year-round. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick—seasoned wizards without family ties—considered the students their family. Without any pressing obligations elsewhere, they remained within the castle's ancient walls even during summer breaks.
As Snape whispered something discreetly into Dumbledore's ear, McGonagall methodically organized the list of incoming students and banquet arrangements, while Flitwick chatted animatedly with Professor Sprout.
Suddenly, the enchanted ceiling dimmed noticeably.
"Is it about to rain?" Flitwick asked, tilting his head upward. "But there aren't any clouds…"
McGonagall's eyes flicked to the ceiling with a knowing expression. "Perhaps Professor Dracula has arrived. When students are absent, he enjoys these little… adjustments."
Before anyone could respond, Dracula materialized on the professors' bench, sliding elegantly into his chair as though it were his throne.
He had always harbored a distaste for the enchanted ceiling, which flooded the hall with sunlight—a brightness ill-suited to a creature of the night.
Yet, with access to the castle's magic nodes, Dracula had devised a clever workaround: by manipulating the flow of magic powering the ceiling, he could dim the light, casting a shadowy veil over the hall.
Of course, such a display was only possible when students were away—too many young wizards and witches present, and it would both dampen their spirits and reveal Dracula's true nature as a vampire sensitive to sunlight.
Dracula himself cared little for secrecy, but Dumbledore remained ever vigilant.
With the hall now dimmed to his liking, Dracula settled comfortably as Dumbledore rose and, with a warm smile, led the applause.
"Let us congratulate Professor Dracula," he announced proudly, "the first Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in decades to be reappointed for a second year at Hogwarts!"
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