Thus, when the other professors heard the commotion and rushed to the scene, they were met with a rather peculiar sight: 3 Gryffindor students were desperately trying every method they could think of to attack the troll's small, cocoa bean-like head. Hermione was faring slightly better, as she knew a fair few simple spells. Harry and Ron, on the other hand, could only resort to levitation charms and other spells that looked distinctly unprofessional in their execution.
The troll—thick-skinned and tough as old boots—was clearly annoyed by the harassment from the students, but seemed utterly incapable of dealing with it. Whenever the club in its hand was about to smash down on a student's head, Dracula would freeze it in place for a crucial moment.
The troll didn't understand why, but it instinctively lost its desire to attack, gradually reducing the pressure on Harry and his friends.
Professor McGonagall, who had been extremely anxious, arrived as quickly as possible, only to witness this bizarre scene. She couldn't help but turn to Dumbledore beside her, her voice tight with concern. 'Albus, I really don't think Professor Dracula's teaching methods are suitable for these poor children!'
'Perhaps Professor Dracula has his own… unique teaching methods,' Dumbledore said with a light cough, trying to brush off McGonagall's worries.
What else could Dumbledore do? He was rather desperate himself. Could he really fire Hogwarts' biggest landlord over a few minor—albeit unorthodox—issues with teaching methods? Did Hogwarts even want to continue operating if he did?
At this moment, Dracula saw that the troll was exhausted. Thinking of this poor, battered teaching tool, he told Harry and his friends to stop.
'That's enough for today. Remember to deal with danger in the way I taught you in the future,' he told them, his tone surprisingly calm.
The 3 little ones nodded eagerly, then scurried behind Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. They seemed distinctly afraid that Dracula would arrange another "exciting" practical assignment for them.
Dracula shook his head with amusement. He turned to look at Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape, who had also rushed over. In addition to the 3 Headmasters and Heads of House, the teaching assistant Quirrell also followed behind the professors with a gloomy expression, seemingly lost in thought.
'What on earth were you playing at?' Professor McGonagall said, her face stern as she turned to Harry and his friends. Her voice was filled with an icy anger. 'You're lucky that Professor Dracula discovered you in time—otherwise, you would have been killed by it! Why couldn't you just stay in the dormitory like you were told?!'
Snape cast a piercing glance at Harry, his eyes specifically checking for any damage. He breathed a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief when he saw that Harry's eyes were unharmed, then followed it with a disdainful snort.
Hermione wanted to take all the responsibility alone and was about to speak when she suddenly opened her eyes wide in horror.
'Miss Granger, are you also going to play tricks like those pranksters?' Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione's horrified expression. She thought Hermione was about to try and divert attention, much like the Weasley twins often did, and said angrily.
However, Harry and Ron also showed horrified expressions.
'Professor, watch out!' Harry shouted.
Professor McGonagall turned her head—just in time to see a huge club smashing down towards Dracula with immense force.
Even though the troll had no intelligence to speak of, after being tricked for so long, it had gradually realised—through its limited, brutish instincts—that Dracula was the culprit. He was the one who had caused it to be manipulated by those 3 young wizards!
So, it decided to kill this annoying person first, and then take care of the other annoying little wizards.
The club fell heavily. Everyone present was caught off guard, thinking that Professor Dracula would inevitably repeat the unfortunate fate of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professors of the past few decades.
In the next moment, Dracula lightly raised his hand.
He steadily caught the club. In his hand.
The troll's face turned a furious red. The floor of the bathroom under its feet caved in under the strain, but it could not pull its club out of that seemingly slender and pale hand.
Dracula glanced at it casually and then—suddenly—released his hand.
The troll, unable to stop its momentum in time, lurched forward. The club, still in its grip, swung wildly and smashed heavily onto its own forehead.
Then, the troll fainted. Cleanly.
Afterward, Dracula casually looked at Harry, who had just issued the warning. He asked with a chuckle, 'Is something the matter, Mr Potter?'
'N-nothing… nothing, Professor,' Harry swallowed and shook his head repeatedly, his eyes wide.
Seeing Dracula catch the troll's club with his bare hands, not only the 3 young wizards but even Professor McGonagall and Snape showed expressions of utter astonishment.
'It is late. You should all go back and rest,' Dracula said softly, paying no attention to their shocked faces.
As he walked forward, he took a handkerchief from his pocket, carefully wiped his hands, and then—with a flicker of dark flame—burned it to ashes.
As he passed Quirrell, Dracula gave him a long, meaningful look, then brushed past him and disappeared into the shadows where there was no moonlight.
Night had fallen in the narrow teaching assistant's office.
Having taken off the purple turban that he never seemed to be without, Quirrell knelt on the ground, trembling all over.
On the skin on the back of his head, Voldemort's hideous face roared incessantly, venting the pure anger and boundless frustration in his parasitic heart.
'You're useless! You are just utterly useless! You could not even see through Dracula's subtle defences against you!' Voldemort shouted fiercely. 'If I had not discovered the mark he left on your shoulder in time, would you have foolishly rushed to the forbidden area on the 4th floor?!'
'M-Master, I really did not notice anything unusual about my body…' Quirrell said weakly, his voice barely a whisper.
'Even if you did not notice it, did you not realise that something was deeply wrong when Dracula patted you on the shoulder so… unusually?' Voldemort questioned, his voice dripping with contempt. 'Your clumsy performance has already given you away. Now even Severus has noticed that something is amiss with you.'
'Damn it! Why did I have to possess you instead of Severus?!'
Voldemort was now simply beyond disappointed; he was consumed with regret that Quirrell was not Snape.
However, he could not reveal his true identity in front of Snape—his formerly staunch Death Eater.
On the one hand, because in his current weak state, possessing Quirrell, it was not just a matter of losing face in front of his former subordinates. It would also seriously damage his prestige and possibly cause his subordinates to rebel or question his power.
On the other hand, Voldemort had been dormant for 11 years. And Snape had, during this time, gained Dumbledore's trust. Voldemort could not be certain whether Snape was still as loyal as he had once been.
So, he could only place his hopes—however slim—on this very disappointing Quirrell.
'No… it is no longer safe for me to stay in Quirrell's body,' Voldemort said, more to himself than to the trembling wreck before him. 'Besides, his life force is not enough. I must find another way out!'
***********
✨ 300 gems = 1 bonus chapter
✨ 500 gems = another bonus chapter
Get access to advanced chapters at my P@treon.
p@treon.com/meowthtl