"Something wrong with that painting?" Snape asked.
"Yeah, big problem." Sullivan quickly filled him in on the whole vampire count incident with Tonks.
Snape stroked his chin. "Five hundred years… the timeline actually lines up. Still doesn't help us much right now."
"Exactly," Sullivan said. "According to the murals, the townspeople drove Dracula out. So why the hell is his portrait still hanging here like some kind of honored guest?" An idea hit him. He reached up and tried to pull the painting off the wall.
It wouldn't budge—the metal frame was bolted down like it had grown into the stone. Sullivan drew his wand, pointed it at the ceiling, and shouted, "Get moving!"
It was the same simple spell he'd learned from Lupin—the one that had opened the secret passage under Anthony's bed. Every loose object in the room started jiggling. The Dracula portrait slid forward a few inches, then swung open like a cabinet door, revealing a round mechanical dial hidden behind it.
Unlike the half-magic, half-mechanical trap in Anthony's basement, this one was pure clockwork. The dial spun under the spell's influence until a one-meter-wide, five-foot-tall hidden door clicked open in the wall.
"Let's check it out," Sullivan said, leading the way.
Inside was a potions laboratory—cauldrons of every size lined the benches. On the desk they found an old, battered notebook. The name on the first page stopped both of them cold:
Frant Slytherin.
Slytherin. As in the Slytherin? They flipped through the pages. The early entries were relaxed, almost cheerful.
"I've wandered into a strange little town. The Muggles here actually know about wizards, but they're idiots—they tried to capture me and force me to brew potions for them."
"I killed a few of the ringleaders. That settled them down. They finally learned the proper way to treat a wizard lord. Since they're offering me tribute every day, I've decided to help them a little."
"This place isn't bad. No lord, and the people accept wizards. I think I'll stay for a while."
"The townsfolk showed me to a castle and said the previous lord had been driven out. The place is ownerless now—if I want, I can live here permanently."
"A Count-level vampire showed up, threatening to turn the whole town into his blood slaves. After some digging I learned the truth: the vampire is the castle's original owner—Dracula."
"His own people exiled him, so he pledged himself to the vampire queen Lilith and became one of them to reclaim what he lost."
"I defeated Dracula and banished him. The townspeople are absurdly grateful—they've started calling me their protector god. It feels… surprisingly good. Who would have thought a Slytherin could earn the reverence of Muggles?"
"Something's wrong. This town is hiding something. The people are keeping secrets from me."
"Everyone's dead. Even me—I've been hit with a strange curse. I have to find it…"
"Haha! I did it! Even though I don't have much time left, I succeeded. I never imagined something like the Hopping Pot truly existed. It will never discover what I've done—I used its own power to seal it away."
When they finished reading, both Sullivan and Snape wore deep frowns. According to Frant Slytherin, the townspeople hadn't been killed by the dark wizard at all—the "merciful" Hopping Pot was responsible.
"Who do you believe?" Sullivan asked.
"I don't know," Snape said flatly. "But if I have to pick one, I'm trusting Slytherin." He didn't even try to hide his bias—being Slytherin House Head came with a healthy dose of that famous Slytherin pride.
"Maybe we should head back to town and get to the bottom of this," Sullivan suggested. His look said he respected Snape's take.
"But Mr. Su, the whole town is full of Inferi," Teemo worried. "How are just the three of us supposed to get back?"
Sullivan pulled out the Magical Disruptor orb. "Remember what happened when I used this earlier?"
Snape thought back. The moment the pulse hit, every towns-person had frozen. "The Inferi are being controlled. The Disruptor breaks the link between them and their controller. Without orders they just stand there like corpses."
"Yeah, but it only lasted five or six seconds before the connection re-established," Sullivan said with a grin. "So we hit them with a pulse every six seconds. Keep resetting the whole damn town."
"Can that orb even fire that fast?" Snape asked, surprised. He'd seen its power firsthand. Rapid pulses would basically create a continuous anti-magic field—extremely dangerous.
"Who said I only have one?" Sullivan smirked. "Give me a minute—I'm going to modify this thing."
They spent the night in the castle. Sullivan pulled out a whole arsenal of alchemy tools and worked until the early hours, rebuilding the Disruptor.
By dawn Snape was staring at a oversized revolver lying on the workbench—except every chamber in the cylinder was a Magical Disruptor orb. (Technically it was closer to a grenade launcher, but Sullivan had styled it like a massive revolver.) Each shot would spin the cylinder, load the next orb, and start recharging the spent one so it could fire again in six seconds.
Sullivan handed the heavy weapon to Teemo. "Let's go. Time to head back and see what this town is really hiding."
The three of them left the castle with the grim determination of soldiers heading into battle. But when they reached the town they stopped dead in their tracks.
Everything was back to normal—peaceful, sunny, and picture-perfect. Residents strolled around with happy smiles, chatting and working like nothing had happened.
"Where are you three from?" An older woman approached them with the exact same friendly question as the day before.
"Shut it," Sullivan snapped. He ignored her and marched straight to the Green Apple Inn. A wooden sign now hung on the door:
CLOSED FOR RENOVATION.