Seeing Dracula at such close range, Ronan reacted with the desperate speed of a cornered animal. A dagger appeared in his hand, drawn from his waist in a silver blur as he lunged, aiming for Dracula's heart.
Dracula's eyes flickered, but his movements were deceptively casual. He extended his left hand, his fingers moving with an impossible swiftness, and simply flicked the descending blade.
The sturdy dagger, a masterpiece of centaur craftsmanship, met Dracula's slender, pale fingers. It was like wood striking steel. First, spiderweb cracks crazed the surface of the blade, and then it shattered inch by inch, the sound sharp and brittle in the cold air, leaving Ronan clutching nothing but an empty hilt.
Ronan's shock was absolute. His instincts screamed at him to scramble back, to put distance between himself and this impossible creature.
But Dracula simply took a single step forward, a blur of motion that closed the distance in an instant. A cold, unyielding hand clamped firmly around Ronan's neck.
The next moment, a pair of dark, vast wings, supported by several sharp, bone-like spars, unfurled from Dracula's back, casting a wide, monstrous shadow on the snow. The wings flapped once, a powerful downbeat that stirred up a freezing gale. The wind dragged both Dracula and Ronan off the ground together. Suspended in the air, Dracula clutched Ronan's neck, a grim sneer pulling at his lips. His two sharp fangs were exposed without reservation, his wine-red eyes glowing like fresh blood in the gloom.
'It turns out… it turns out you are a vampire… I was not wrong at all…' Ronan choked out, his voice a difficult, strangled rasp, far too weak for any third person to hear.
The snowflakes on the ground were whipped into a swirling vortex by the gale, shredding the morning mist in the forest. It created a shroud of white that obscured Dracula's terrible visage and Ronan's panicked struggles, blinding Hagrid and the other centaurs to the scene unfolding within.
From within the whirlwind, the sickening sound of snapping timber echoed as Dracula flew forward, dragging Ronan with him, treating the ancient trees of the Forbidden Forest as nothing more than brittle obstacles. Several thick trunks shattered one after another, crashing heavily to the ground with deafening roars.
It was not until he reached a secluded clearing, far from prying eyes, that Dracula finally stopped. He threw Ronan to the ground as one might discard a piece of trash.
'I have been unhappy with you for a long time, you centaurs.' Dracula slowly descended from the air, landing softly next to Ronan. He looked down at him, his eyes full of a chilling coldness. 'I have never understood the minds of centaurs. You live under the protection of wizards, yet you are so consumed by pride, thinking you can transcend everything.'
'Cough cough cough… You will be punished!' Ronan covered his cyan-purple neck and coughed violently, a line of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
'I will not. Only the weak suffer retribution.' Dracula put away the dark wings on his back and squatted down. 'Did you not notice? During the flight just now, I placed several shields on you, precisely because I was worried your weak body would perish too easily.'
'Your bodies are not strong enough, your magic is not proficient enough. So who gives you your arrogance? The stars in the sky? You see clearly now—the person who is trampling you underfoot is precisely the vampire that your tribe has always looked down upon. And the Forbidden Forest that your tribe relies on for survival? It is my private territory, and has been for thousands of years.'
Ronan's eyes widened, and a legend that had been circulating in his clan for more than a hundred years appeared in his mind—
In 1811, the then Minister for Magic, Grogan Stump, had set a new definition of "being," and the wizarding society reached a consensus to define "beast" together. Humans—that is, wizards and Muggles—were classified into this category, along with goblins, vampires, hags, giants, house-elves, Veela, and werewolves in human form.
However, because centaurs and merpeople were unwilling to share the term "human" with vampires and hags, they had refused to accept being classified as "beings" and voluntarily had themselves classified as "beasts."
These two tribes, who considered themselves so noble, had soon paid the price.
Legend had it that after the meeting that had defined "being" and "beast," a powerful vampire had been extremely disgusted with this self-righteous behaviour. He had broken into the territory of the centaurs and merpeople alone. He had not cared at all that the two tribes were besieging him with all their strength. He had easily broken through all the encirclements and had quietly come to the side of the two tribe chiefs. Even the merpeople, hiding in the deep lake water, had not escaped that disaster.
No one knew exactly what had happened, but after that, the chiefs of the two tribes, in addition to the characteristics of merpeople and centaurs, had also acquired the habits of another creature—sucking blood, fearing sunlight, and hating garlic…
The vampire lord, with his actions, had seemed to be posing a silent, terrible question to them: if their clan leader became a vampire that they despised, would these two tribes silently accept it, or would they completely abandon their leader?
'Ahem, you… are you Count Dracula?!' Ronan asked, his voice filled with dawning horror.
'It seems that after more than a hundred years, my story has not been completely forgotten,' Dracula said with a chuckle.
'Ahem, so what? We centaurs will never associate with evil, half-dead existences like you, even if we die!'
Ronan's brown-red horse body lay on the snow, his four hooves struggling feebly, but he could not stand up. He looked utterly miserable. But he was still coughing up blood while weakly but firmly saying that he would not associate with vampires. He was ready to repeat the mistake of the centaur chief who had committed suicide under the stars all those years ago.
At this moment, the thundering of hooves on frozen earth echoed from the distance. Soon, more centaurs poured into the clearing, surrounding them. This group included not only male warriors of the centaur tribe but also many bare-chested female centaurs and elderly centaurs.
They all held the bows and arrows of different lengths tightly in their hands, nervously nocking their arrows and pointing them at Dracula. Their knuckles were so hard that they looked a little white, as if these backward crossbows could give them a sense of security in the face of this ancient terror.
'Did everyone move out?' Dracula crossed his arms and looked at the scene in front of him with a half-smile.
'Foul creature, let Ronan go!' the dark-skinned Bane stepped forward and shouted loudly. 'If he makes any mistake, we will use all our clan's strength to purify you!'
'Heh. Are you still the same as before? Do you really want to wipe out your entire clan?' Dracula curled his lips and said nonchalantly.
'Bane, leave me alone! Get out of here quickly!' Ronan suddenly used one hand to barely prop up the human half of his body and shouted loudly to Bane. Ronan, who was lying on the ground, had now learned Dracula's identity. He was extremely anxious and did not want his tribe to experience another failure like the one more than a hundred years ago.
Bane looked at him doubtfully. Before he could say anything else, a huge figure panted and followed him, forcing his way through the crowd of centaurs and coming to Bane's side.
'Bane, you centaurs can not understand human language at all?!' Hagrid said irritably. 'I told you! This is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts! He has nothing to do with the unicorn being killed! It is all a misunderstanding!'
***********
✨ 300 gems = 1 bonus chapter
✨ 500 gems = another bonus chapter
Get access to advanced chapters at my P@treon.
[email protected]/meowthtl