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'"This is... Shadow Wood?" Ollivander's eyes widened as he examined the plank Dracula had brought. "This material is recorded as one of the most suitable for necromancy and dark magic."
He scratched his chin, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face. "But as far as I know, this sort of wood has been extinct for many years."
Ollivander stared at the hexagonal plank in Dracula's hand, noting that it was roughly the size of a person. His eyes widened even further.
"You haven't been out digging up graves and helping yourself to coffin lids, have you?" Ollivander asked, his tone a mixture of suspicion and fascination.
Dracula's expression darkened. 'Enough of that. Will you do it or not?'
'Of course I'll do it!' Ollivander replied, excitement creeping into his voice. 'How could I pass up such a rare material?'
'What sort of wand core do you want? Dragon heartstring or phoenix feather? Unicorn tail hair is out of the question, it wouldn't suit you…'
As soon as the topic turned to wandmaking, Ollivander became chatty. Dracula raised a hand, cutting him off.
'I'm not interested in those three. Do you have any other options?'
'To be responsible, after decades of testing, I can say unicorn tail hair, dragon heartstring, and phoenix feather are the most stable wand cores,' Ollivander said, his tone proud. 'So I never use anything else.'
"What sort of wand core do you want? Dragon heartstring or phoenix feather? Unicorn tail hair is out of the question, it wouldn't suit you…"
As soon as the conversation turned to wandmaking, Ollivander became quite animated. Dracula raised a hand, cutting him off.
"I'm not interested in those three. Do you have any other options?"
Ollivander drew himself up, pride shining in his eyes. "After decades of careful study and experience, I can say with absolute confidence that unicorn tail hair, dragon heartstring, and phoenix feather are the finest and most reliable wand cores in existence. That is why I use nothing else in my wands."
Dracula's lips curled with interest.
"Would more money help?"
Ollivander straightened, unmoved. "I'm a man of principle. I think you've misjudged me."
Dracula's eyes glinted. "Principles can change, can't they?"
Dracula pinched the tip of his right little finger. With a sharp crack, it snapped clean off. A cold, shadowy flame flickered around the severed digit, leaving behind only a slender white bone, smooth as polished jade.
Ollivander's eyes bulged as Dracula, utterly unbothered, handed him the bone. In an instant, the vampire's finger regrew, pale and flawless as though nothing had happened.
"You… you are—" Ollivander stammered, his gaze darting between Dracula's deep burgundy eyes and silver-white hair, realisation striking him.
Watch your tongue," Dracula warned, his gaze dangerous and voice edged with menace.
"No, no, I only meant to say you have excellent judgement!" Ollivander backtracked hastily, forcing a nervous, obsequious grin.
He eagerly took Dracula's coffin lid and the finger bone. 'Shadow Wood for the wand, the finger bone of a powerful magical being for the core—what a perfect combination! Don't worry, an Ollivander wand will never let you down!'
Just then, the bell above the door tinkled. New customers had arrived.
Ollivander quickly composed himself, his manner becoming mysterious once more.
Dracula turned his attention to the entrance, where two figures hesitantly squeezed into the narrow shop. The contrast between them was extreme. The smaller was a boy, short and thin, looking rather undernourished. The larger was a giant of a man, broad and tall, nearly filling the doorway.
'Good afternoon,' Ollivander said softly. 'Yes, yes, I knew I'd see you soon, Harry Potter, no problem. Your eyes…'
'Aren't you the boy who was surrounded by a crowd earlier?' Dracula interrupted, peering curiously at the bespectacled boy.
'Don't you know me?' The boy asked, surprised.
'Should I?' Dracula replied, amused.
Before the boy could answer, the giant beside him exclaimed, 'What? You don't know Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived?'
His voice was so loud that the wand boxes stacked to the ceiling shook.
Dracula glanced at the dust swirling through the shop in disgust. With a flick of his sleeve, he sent a breeze to clear the air.
He stepped closer to the boy, examining the lightning-shaped scar that was mostly hidden beneath a mop of messy hair.
"So you're the saviour, Harry Potter? One wouldn't guess it from your appearance," Dracula remarked, his eyes lingering on the boy's thin frame and shabby clothes.
"If all goes well, I shall be your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. You may call me Professor Dracula." The vampire's tone shifted, taking on the measured authority of a professor addressing his first pupil.
"We shall have plenty of time to study how you managed to defeat Voldemort."
At the sound of that name, both Ollivander and the giant shivered. Harry, however, looked up at the tall, striking man and felt a strange sense of admiration.
Since entering the wizarding world, Harry had heard countless people mention 'You-Know-Who', but not one dared say the name Voldemort. Dracula's casual confidence made a deep impression.
Still, Harry had a question.
'Professor, when I was at the Leaky Cauldron, a Professor Quirrell said he would be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. Are there two professors?'
Dracula's face darkened.
'Oh? Someone is pretending to be me?' His voice grew cold, and the temperature in the shop seemed to drop.
'No one will take this interesting job from me.'
He waved to Ollivander and Harry, then strode out towards the Leaky Cauldron.
The three left in the shop watched him go, only relaxing once he had vanished.
'Where did Dumbledore find such a terrifying professor?' Hagrid muttered, rubbing his face.
Ollivander, now recovered, turned to Harry and resumed his speech. 'I knew I'd see you soon, Harry Potter, no problem. Your eyes are just like your mother's. It feels like only yesterday she came here for her first wand…'
But Harry was no longer listening. His mind was filled with excitement for the coming Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons.
Compared to the stammering Professor Quirrell with his odd turban, the powerful and handsome Professor Dracula seemed far more reliable.
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