Chapter 3 — Coffin Lid
Dumbledore thoughtfully attached a statistical report of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors' accidents along with the appointment letter. He placed it on the desk and slid it toward Dracula.
Dracula picked up the long list and began reading it with great interest:
"Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Accident Statistics — trampled to death by a wild boar, blown up by their own spell during class, got lost in the castle and starved to death, tripped over their own foot and smashed their head on the lectern…"
"Heh, heh, heh… it seems even the number of people who manage to leave this position alive is quite small." Dracula laughed with obvious amusement, revealing two sharp fangs.
"Ahem."
Seeing Dracula so entertained, Dumbledore quickly coughed twice as a reminder and pointed him toward one of the entries further down the list.
Dracula shifted his gaze to the line indicated and immediately stopped laughing.
On the parchment it read—
"Listened to a student tell a joke and laughed for half an hour before literally dying of laughter."
"…"
He tossed the accident report aside, picked up the appointment letter, and casually signed his name.
"Alright. Aside from their causes of death, is there anything else I need to know about being a professor?" Dracula asked, looking toward Dumbledore.
"Since you've agreed to the position, we are now colleagues."
Before even answering Dracula's question, Dumbledore eagerly stood up and warmly shook his hand. "Everything you need to prepare is already written in the appointment letter. As for the teaching content—that will be something you must consider yourself."
"I imagine the legendary Count Dracula must be quite skilled at defense against Dark Magic."
Dumbledore deliberately emphasized the word defense, as if reminding him that this class was Defense Against the Dark Arts, not a course on practicing Dark Magic.
"Don't worry, Headmaster," Dracula said, casually waving his hand as he strolled toward the window of the Headmaster's Office.
After only a few steps, however, he suddenly turned back.
He took the blood-flavored lollipop from Dumbledore's hand, then returned to the window and leapt out once again…
Dumbledore glanced at the open window and couldn't help spreading his hands helplessly.
Then he looked at the appointment letter lying on the desk and chuckled happily.
"Nicolas, thanks to you, Hogwarts has finally managed to recruit a reasonably reliable Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this time."
With a cheerful expression, Dumbledore took out a bronze mirror bearing a phoenix relief, strikingly similar to Dracula's own mirror, and spoke toward it.
Meanwhile, the résumé bearing the name Quirinus Quirrell, lying in the corner of the desk, was subconsciously ignored.
…
London — Diagon Alley
With the blood-flavored lollipop in his mouth, Dracula lazily examined the supply list that had come with the appointment letter.
"To think a professor even needs to prepare a wand. What a hassle."
Although he grumbled about it, in order to experience the fun of being a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Dracula had no choice but to head toward Ollivanders Wand Shop in the depths of Diagon Alley.
The development of the wizarding world had always been slow. Aside from a few small shops changing owners and some storefront signs looking even more worn-out than before, the layout of Diagon Alley was almost identical to how it had been a hundred years ago.
And Ollivanders was still, as always, the finest wand shop.
However, Diagon Alley seemed unusually lively today. Many people were crowding toward the direction of the Leaky Cauldron.
Dracula's wine-red eyes shifted slightly as he looked deeper into the crowd.
He saw a group of wizards surrounding a small child wearing tattered round glasses, speaking to him with curiosity and reverence—some even bowing.
The thin little wizard seemed completely overwhelmed, doing his best to respond to everyone's enthusiasm, constantly shaking hands with them like a puppet being passed around.
Seeing the chaotic scene, Dracula immediately lost interest. He turned around and continued walking toward Ollivanders Wand Shop.
Accompanied by a series of jingling bells, Dracula stepped into the small, shabby shop. Looking around at the thin layer of dust covering nearly everything, he subtly frowned.
Hearing the arrival of a customer, an old man with pale skin and light, almost colorless eyes quietly slid out from the back.
"Good afternoon," he said softly.
But after seeing Dracula, a puzzled expression appeared on his face.
"Strange… very strange…"
Dracula found this kind of mysterious pretense and time-wasting behavior rather irritating. He stared at the man expressionlessly.
A subtle ripple of dark power stirred in the air, and his crimson-and-black cloak fluttered even though there was no wind.
Ollivander was startled and immediately stopped trying to act mysterious.
"Sir, it's like this—I remember every wand I've ever sold. Every single one," he quickly explained.
"But I have no recollection of ever selling you a wand. Perhaps you purchased your wand from another wandmaker?"
"No. I've never bought a wand." Dracula folded his arms and fixed his gaze on Ollivander's pale eyes. "I've come to purchase my first wand."
Ollivander looked shocked.
"You mean to say you've never used a wand in your entire life?"
"I've used one before, but I'm not very accustomed to it."
In truth, the craft of wandmaking had only fully matured within the past few centuries. Dracula had long since grown accustomed to wandless magic, as well as using a vampire's innate magical abilities for both combat and daily life.
If he hadn't once experimented with someone else's wand out of curiosity, he might not even know how to properly use one.
If it weren't for the fact that he now had to teach students, Dracula likely would never have considered purchasing a wand for the rest of his life.
"Oh, then you have missed one of the greatest arts in the world," Ollivander said instinctively. But noticing Dracula's displeased expression, he quickly corrected himself. "Of course, everyone has the freedom to decide whether or not to use a wand!"
As he spoke, he took a wand down from a shelf and placed it into Dracula's hand.
"Straight-grained pine, unicorn hair core, fourteen—wait!"
Before he could finish the introduction, Ollivander suddenly snatched the wand back in panic and immediately began performing a careful maintenance charm on it.
"How could this be? I can feel this wand trembling!" he exclaimed in disbelief.
Dracula merely shrugged.
There was nothing surprising about it. Unicorns and dark creatures like vampires were naturally incompatible, and an ancient vampire like him had an even stronger influence on unicorn-related materials.
After properly stabilizing the wand with the unicorn hair core, Ollivander became far more cautious.
He brought out wand after wand with dragon heartstring and phoenix feather cores for Dracula to try. Yet none of them could properly resonate with his magic. Using these wands felt even less comfortable than casting magic without one.
"Forget it. There's no need to keep trying."
After repeating the same motions for what felt like ages, Dracula had long since grown completely bored. When he saw Ollivander preparing to go upstairs to fetch even more wands, he firmly stopped him.
With a loud bang, a thick slab of black wood was suddenly slammed onto the floor of Ollivanders Wand Shop.
"Use this wood instead. Make me a new wand from it."
Leaning casually against the wooden board, Dracula spoke calmly—while holding the lid of his own coffin.