Professor Vampire.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5 Quirinus Chilo

On a bright, sunny day, however, one room in the Leaky Cauldron had thick curtains drawn, blocking out all light.

A letter stamped with the Hogwarts seal was ripped in half, crumpled and scattered on the table by the window.

Quirrell, whom Harry had just mentioned, was now writhing in pain on the floor, continuously screaming. A purple turban lay beside him, exposing his bald head.

Where Quirrell's occipital region should have been, there was a hideously terrifying face. The face was chalk-white, with glowing red eyes and two long, snake-like nostrils beneath.

At that moment, the grotesque face on the back of Quirrell's head was angrily roaring and cursing:

"Damn Dumbledore, how dare he go back on his word to me! And that new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor he hired, daring to steal my position, I will make him suffer beyond imagination!!"

This hideous face was none other than Voldemort, the most feared dark wizard in the magical world!

Yet at this moment, he was not as independent and powerful as before but rather extremely weak, existing merely as a fragment of a soul residing in Quirrell's body.

When Quirrell received the letter from Dumbledore informing him that a more suitable candidate had been found for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, Voldemort, residing at the back of his head, was enraged beyond measure.

Voldemort had wanted to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for decades.

After being rejected twice, he had even cursed the position, ensuring that no one could hold the job for more than a year.

Moreover, this position was not just a matter of personal obsession but a crucial part of his plan to steal the Philosopher's Stone. If Quirrell lost this position, his plans and preparations would all be for nothing.

"It's all your fault for not getting the Philosopher's Stone at Gringotts, otherwise, we wouldn't be so passive!"

Voldemort's power, parasitic in Quirrell, surged wildly, causing Quirrell immense pain.

"Master, we can find him and kill him!" he cried out in agony. "I will get this done and not disappoint you again!"

At that moment, there was a sudden "knock knock knock" sound from outside the door.

The noise in the room ceased instantly.

Quirrell took a deep breath, fumbled to pick up his wand, and waved it lightly to lift the silencing charm.

He then put on a feeble demeanor and said to the door, "N... no, don't... don't come... disturb me..."

The knocking paused.

However, Voldemort's grotesque face suddenly changed color, whispering quickly to Quirrell:

"Put on the turban quickly, he's already broken through the door's defensive spells!"

Quirrell's face changed, and he frantically wrapped the fallen turban around his head.

"Bang!"

The next moment, the door to the Leaky Cauldron room was forcefully pushed open and slammed against the wall.

A tall man with silver hair and wine-red eyes walked in, eyeing the turban-clad wizard with ill intent.

"I heard the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts is staying in this room, so I came to visit..." Before he could finish, Dracula frowned, "Where is that overpowering garlic smell coming from?"

He then waved his hand dismissively, pulling open the tightly drawn curtains and windows, letting in a gust of wind.

Quirrell instinctively held onto his turban, fearing it might be blown away.

"W... what are you doing here?" he stammered, "This is... private property, you can't... do this."

Dracula ignored his protest and waited until the garlic smell had dissipated before turning his attention to the odd turbaned man.

"You must be Quirinus Quirrell, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Y... yes, who are you?" Quirrell trembled.

Looking at the timid wizard before him, Dracula's expression darkened, and he sneered:

"Quite a coincidence, I am also the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts!"

Quirrell's eyes widened in shock.

He didn't expect that the very person who had taken his position would come knocking at his door just as he was about to find and eliminate him!

"So, you're the bastard who stole my position!" Quirrell suddenly stopped stammering and trembling, and instead, he spoke with hatred, as if he wanted to vent all the pain Voldemort had caused him on this man.

"Didn't expect you would walk into your own trap."

He slowly raised his wand.

However, at that moment, Voldemort's urgent and panicked voice echoed in Quirrell's mind:

"Don't act! Run! Quickly!!"

Quirrell had never heard Voldemort so anxious and was immediately drenched in cold sweat.

He made a decisive turn and prepared to Disapparate.

On the other side, Dracula, arms crossed, was ready to see what surprises this would-be usurper, Professor Quirrell, might offer.

Seeing the standard Disapparation preparation, he paused for a moment, then shook his head with amusement and raised his hand to grasp. As Dracula moved, Quirrell, halfway into the Disapparation space, was forcefully yanked back into the Leaky Cauldron room, crashing onto the table by the window.

With a "crash," the table split in two.

Quirrell screamed in pain, clutching his back.

Dracula took a couple of steps forward, stood over Quirrell, and looked down at him.

"So, you're saying that I stole your position?" he asked with a light chuckle.

Quirrell didn't answer.

His expression changed from panic to a dazed look, then a sinister feeling emerged in his eyes.

"You're truly useless!"

'Quirrell' said coldly.

In the next moment, a cloud of black mist erupted from Quirrell's body, enveloping him completely.

Dracula furrowed his brow and raised his hand again to grasp.

However, this time, Quirrell seemed to turn entirely into mist, unreachable and intangible, leaving Dracula grasping at thin air.

While Dracula was puzzled, the black mist dissipated from every crevice in the bar room and vanished quietly.

Dracula raised an eyebrow and prepared to force the black mist back into the room.

"Tsk, so troublesome," he muttered, seeing the dispersed mist, and impatiently lowered his hand. "Well, letting him live a few more days won't hurt."

With a casual snap of his fingers, without uttering any incantations, the room in the Leaky Cauldron rapidly restored to its original state.

He then glanced at the bright sunlight outside, sneered inwardly, and exited the room through the main door.