Dracula, in his infinite wisdom, finally procured the final exam papers.
Naturally, he had not created them himself. They were, in fact, set by a senior professor with decades of experience teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, a wizard with a wealth of knowledge in the field.
That wizard's name was Albus Dumbledore.
Long before he was known for his mastery of Transfiguration, Dumbledore had begun his Hogwarts career in the early 20th century as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It was only after becoming Head of Gryffindor some twenty years later that he switched subjects. Compared to the revolving door of professors who had held the post for a single, cursed year, Dumbledore's expertise was unparalleled.
The arrangement had not come cheap. In the Headmaster's office, Dracula had engaged in a lengthy negotiation with Dumbledore, a battle of wits and wills. In the end, a deal was struck: Dracula would agree to a seven-year renewal of Hogwarts' lease in exchange for the Headmaster personally setting the exam questions.
Time marched on, and June arrived with a vengeance.
The Scottish summer descended upon the castle with a suffocating heat. The lush green grounds outside were baked by the relentless sun, transforming them into a pale, straw-colored imitation of an African savanna. The marble floors within the castle became hot enough to walk on, and students tiptoed across them, half-convinced their shoe soles would melt and stick to the stone. The Black Lake steamed under the oppressive heat, faint wisps of vapor rising from its surface only to be instantly sizzled away by the sunlight. The air was thick, sultry, and still.
Dracula despised this kind of weather. He had sequestered himself in the cool darkness of his office, refusing to venture out. With the first week of June came the dreaded exam week, and he had no intention of moving. He only hoped his troublesome students could manage to pick up their papers, complete them, and hand them in without disturbing his peace.
His sanctum of cool tranquility, however, was soon to be invaded.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound echoed from his office door. "Come in," Dracula called out, and with a lazy snap of his fingers, the door creaked open.
Two red-haired figures snuck inside. George poked his head back out, scanning the corridor to ensure they hadn't been followed before shutting the door with a soft click of relief. Dracula, now thoroughly accustomed to the twins' antics, simply leaned back in his plush armchair, watching them with mild disinterest.
"Whoa, Professor, it's freezing in here!" Fred exclaimed, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.
"What kind of spell did you use, Professor?" George asked, stepping forward boldly. "If there's a simple cooling charm, you have to teach us!"
Dracula had no intention of explaining that the chill was a natural extension of his own vampiric nature. He merely glanced at them, a lazy glint in his eye. "Cast a Freezing Charm on each other," he replied dryly. "I guarantee you'll cool down immediately."
The twins' faces fell.
"We may have tried that," Fred admitted, glancing at his brother. "The results were... mixed. George here ended up as a human ice sculpture. It took him hours to thaw out."
"You've got a lot of nerve bringing that up!" George yelped, slapping Fred on the back of the head. "You were the one who used me as a guinea pig! And then you were too scared to take me to the hospital wing!"
"Look on the bright side, brother," Fred said with a weak smile. "You stayed cool for a whole day, didn't you?"
"Cool? I nearly froze to death!"
Seeing that a brawl was imminent, Dracula decided to intervene. "This is my office. If you wish to fight, do it outside." He fixed them with a cold glare that instantly silenced them. "The exam begins in two hours. Instead of studying, you come here to disturb my rest."
His voice dropped, laced with a subtle threat. "If you do not state your business immediately, I will be more than happy to demonstrate the Freezing Charm for you myself. So you can both... cool down."
Fred and George gulped and scurried over to his desk.
"Professor," Fred began in a conspiratorial whisper. "About the exam questions... do you have the answers? You know, seeing as we're so close now, we thought maybe you could be a little... accommodating?"
"That's right, Professor," George echoed eagerly. "Even if you can't give us the answers, a little hint about what's on the test would be brilliant!"
Dracula stared at them, a genuine sense of astonishment breaking through his boredom. He rubbed his temples, a headache beginning to form. Even after all this time, the twins could still surprise him with their sheer audacity. Did students really just ask their professor for the exam answers? Perhaps he had been too approachable.
"You want the answers, do you?" Dracula's lips curled into a sly smile as he raised an eyebrow.
The twins, misinterpreting this as a sign of hope, began nodding so vigorously their heads threatened to come off.
"Very well. No problem," Dracula said, his smile widening into a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can get them from the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore wrote the exam."
The joyous expressions on Fred and George's faces froze solid. Marching into Dumbledore's office and asking for the exam answers was a one-way ticket to expulsion, no questions asked.
Just then, another knock sounded at the door.
Dracula, thoroughly amused by the twins' crestfallen faces, chuckled and opened the door. Another familiar face appeared. He wore the yellow-trimmed robes of Hufflepuff, and though his features still held a youthful softness, he was already strikingly handsome.
At the sight of the newcomer, the twins' stiff expressions came roaring back to life.
"Cedric! You too?" Fred accused, his voice filled with mock heartache. "I never would have taken you for this type!"
George turned to Dracula, his face a mask of righteous indignation. "Professor, you see? Cedric is here for the same reason! How can a person like that be your teaching assistant? If he gets to do it, then so should I!"
Cedric stared at them, utterly bewildered, with absolutely no idea what they were talking about.
Dracula, his patience wearing thin, cut through their ridiculous accusations with a sigh. He looked at Cedric, one of the few students he genuinely admired. "Tell me, Diggory," he said. "What can I do for you?"
"Of course, Professor," Cedric said politely. "I was reviewing for the exam and had a question. I was hoping you could clarify it for me."
"What?" Fred and George gasped in unison. "You didn't come to ask for the answers?!"
Cedric could only stare back at them, completely baffled. "???"
(End of Chapter)
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