Chapter 30 — The Mysterious Black-Haired Boy
Outside the chaotic Quidditch pitch, the mysterious black-haired boy walked slowly toward Hogwarts Castle.
Suddenly, his eyes flickered, as if sensing something. In the next instant, his figure abruptly became transparent and vanished completely into the air.
The blank diary in his hand fell to the ground, motionless, looking just like an ordinary notebook carelessly dropped by a young wizard.
Dracula, holding his umbrella, quietly appeared near the spot where the boy had disappeared.
His crimson eyes swept the area, and when they briefly passed over the fallen diary, they lingered slightly, only to find it was just an ordinary notebook. Shrugging, he turned his gaze elsewhere.
"Strange… there was definitely a different magical fluctuation here a moment ago," Dracula said, his voice tinged with curiosity as he held his umbrella.
At that moment, a group of energetic young lions in red-and-gold Gryffindor robes came running with their brooms.
They gathered around Harry, who had just performed heroically, waving excitedly at Dracula. Harry's two friends, Ron and Hermione, followed alongside the group.
"Professor, thank you so much this time!" Wood, captain of the Quidditch team, suppressed his awe of Dracula and stepped forward to express his gratitude.
Harry squeezed out from the middle of the group, staring awkwardly at his admired Professor Dracula, unsure how to speak.
"Professor… you saved Harry's life!" Hermione spoke first, guilt lacing her words. "It was my misjudgment that interrupted Professor Snape's counter-curse and almost caused Harry to fall. If not for your bat, I would have blamed myself for the rest of my life…"
"Yes, Professor!" Ron added, excitement written all over his face. "That huge bat of yours was awesome! When will you teach us that in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"I'm being serious, Ron!" Hermione shot him a sharp look.
"Do you all really want to learn it?" Dracula asked, lowering his gaze from scanning the surroundings to look at Ron and the other Gryffindor students with genuine interest.
The young lions nodded eagerly.
"Of course, I can teach you," Dracula said.
But before any surprise could appear on their faces, he smirked mischievously. "However, you'll need to earn 'O' grades in Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures first. Only then will you have the ability to learn this magic."
Hearing this, the once-eager young Gryffindors immediately wilted.
New students Harry and Ron looked around at their older classmates, bewildered. They had no idea what this "O" represented.
"You probably don't know what an 'O' means," Fred whispered to Harry, noticing their confused expressions. "Harry, you know Percy, right? See how obsessed he is with grades? That's what all those 'O's are about."
"And you're not guaranteed to get them either!" George added, leaning closer to Harry.
Harry shivered at the thought of Percy rushing to the library immediately after class every day without a moment's rest.
"Hey! I'm your brother!" Ron shouted, glaring at the backs of his two older brothers facing Harry.
The twins merely winked at him, showing no intention of explaining further.
Dracula, standing beneath his parasol, chuckled as he watched their complaints, thoroughly enjoying the small torment of young wizards. It was proof that this Defense Against the Dark Arts professor hadn't wasted his time—the joy of watching students suffer was quite satisfying.
"All right, congratulations on winning the match," he said perfunctorily, then, without further ceremony, walked toward his office, shielding himself from the sun.
…
After Dracula and the students left, the seemingly ordinary blank diary on the ground suddenly began to change.
Ink seeped from the notebook, gradually forming a pitch-black humanoid figure, which then shifted to display the full range of colors of a human body.
A tall black-haired boy appeared beside the diary and bent down to pick it up.
The boy appeared very young, certainly no older than sixteen. His features were blurred, and a strange, hazy glow emanated from him, as if he were being viewed through a misty window.
"Having to manifest my body through my own horcrux… really annoying," the boy muttered, straightening with the diary in hand. His expression carried a faintly sinister edge, openly displayed.
The next moment, the diary flipped open on its own to a blank page in the boy's hands.
Ink traces began to form on the white page, gradually arranging into a sentence:
"You cannot just occupy my things!"
The handwriting was neat yet slightly twisted and chaotic, conveying deep disapproval of the boy's actions.
"Of course I can," the boy said darkly with a sinister smile. "I am your past, present, and future. Your things are mine."
"And I… am all of you!"
He forcibly closed the diary and strode directly toward Hogwarts Castle.
…
The events during the Quidditch match had put the Hogwarts professors on high alert.
Professor McGonagall organized a thorough search, patrolling every area of the castle and conducting strict checks on all staff, hoping to locate the wizard who had bypassed her and Snape's slowing charms.
In the staff room, nearly all the professors had been screened. Everyone was a familiar face, with no obvious issues. The newly arrived Professor Dracula had Dumbledore's full backing. That left only the suspicious Quirrell, who still refused to remove his turban.
"Assistant Quirrell, are you really unwilling to take off your turban?" Dracula asked, reclining on the staff room sofa with his legs crossed.
Although Dracula could confirm Quirrell was not the one cursing Harry's broom, he knew there were many secrets hidden beneath the turban. This was the perfect opportunity to uncover at least some of them.
"Pr-Professor Dracula, I… it's really inconvenient for me to remove my… my turban," Quirrell stammered.
"So you're unwilling to cooperate with Hogwarts?" Dracula raised an eyebrow.
"N-no, that's not it," Quirrell's face turned red, unsure how to respond.
"Taking off a turban won't cost you your head," Dracula said lightly. "Could it be that you're hiding something else under there?"
Quirrell looked wronged but gritted his teeth, resolutely reaching for his turban.