Dark Deals: The Vampire Who Owns Hogwarts

Read 15 chapters ahead on Patreon: https://patreon.com/rez540 

-----

As Dracula loomed closer, Ronan seized his chance. In one swift motion, he drew a finely crafted dagger from his waist and drove it toward Dracula's heart with all his strength.

But Dracula merely glanced at the blade. With a subtle flick of his pale fingers, he intercepted it mid-air.

The dagger—designed with the utmost care by the centaurs, its durability unmatched—shattered upon impact. Fine cracks snaked across its surface like a spider's web before it splintered into fragments. Only the hilt remained, trembling uselessly in Ronan's grasp.

Horror etched itself onto Ronan's face. Instinctively, he backed away, his hooves digging into the snow as he tried to retreat beyond Dracula's reach.

Dracula moved like a shadow—silent, swift, and inevitable. With a single step, he closed the distance, his hand lashing out to clamp tightly around Ronan's neck.

Before Ronan could react, enormous black wings unfurled from Dracula's back, their edges framed by sharp, bone-like spines. The wings spread wide, casting a dark, menacing shadow over the snow-covered ground.

The first gust of wind came as the wings flapped once, sending a chill rippling through the air. It lifted both Dracula and Ronan from the ground, leaving Ronan gasping for breath as Dracula's grip tightened around his neck.

With a sneer, Dracula bared his gleaming fangs—twin daggers of bone—and gazed at Ronan with crimson eyes that burned like molten fire.

"So," Ronan croaked, his voice a hoarse rasp. "You… you're a vampire after all…"

Dracula's expression barely shifted, though the corner of his lips curled faintly in amusement. Snowflakes swirled around them, whipped into a vortex by the powerful wind. The whirlwind distorted the morning mist and obscured the desperate panic etched across Ronan's face, shielding the scene from the distant centaurs and Hagrid.

Dracula surged forward, dragging Ronan effortlessly through the dense forest. Massive trees crumbled under the force of their flight, splintering like twigs and crashing to the earth with deafening cracks.

At last, Dracula came to a halt in a clearing. He threw Ronan to the ground like a broken doll, the centaur landing heavily in the snow.

"I've tolerated your kind for far too long," Dracula said, descending slowly to the ground. His eyes, cold as winter itself, locked onto Ronan. "Your arrogance has always amused me. You scorn those you deem beneath you—vampires, humans, beasts—and yet you grovel under the shadow of wizards. What gives you the right to feel so superior?"

Ronan coughed violently, clutching his bruised neck. A line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to speak. "You… you'll face retribution… for this," he rasped, his words defiant despite his broken body.

Dracula crouched beside him, folding his wings neatly behind his back. "Retribution? For what? The weak face consequences, centaur. The strong do not." His voice was calm, almost conversational.

"Didn't you notice?" Dracula continued. "During our flight, I shielded you with several spells—purely so your fragile body wouldn't shatter before I made my point. Pathetic."

Ronan's eyes widened, flickering with recognition as an ancient legend rose from the depths of his memory. It spoke of a time, over a century ago, when vampires clashed with centaurs and merfolk.

In 1811, the wizarding world redefined the terms "beast" and "being," categorizing vampires, centaurs, and merfolk alike. However, centaurs and merfolk, disdainful of sharing the label of "being" with vampires, had rejected the classification outright, choosing instead to be labeled as "beasts."

But the consequences of their pride came swiftly. A single vampire, a figure of unimaginable power, invaded their lands, teaching both races the folly of arrogance. The centaur and merfolk leaders had been cursed, their bodies and minds altered irrevocably, leaving their tribes with a chilling choice: accept their tainted leaders or abandon them entirely.

Ronan gasped, his chest heaving. "You… you're him… Count Dracula."

Dracula's lips curled into a cold smile. "It seems my story hasn't faded with time. How delightful."

The centaur's body trembled, his strength fading, but his defiance burned on. "We… we'll never… associate with your kind. Never!"

His hooves scraped against the snow as he tried to rise, but the effort was futile. He collapsed, blood staining the white ground beneath him.

Before Dracula could reply, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the forest. A crowd of centaurs emerged, their bows drawn and trembling in their hands. Among them were elders, topless warriors, and even female centaurs—all united in their fear and resolve.

"Release him, monster!" bellowed Bain, his dark skin gleaming with sweat as he stepped forward. His voice trembled, though he tried to mask it. "If you harm Ronan, we'll stop at nothing to destroy you!"

Dracula's laughter echoed across the clearing, sharp and cold. "Do you intend to repeat the foolishness from the centuries past? Are you truly so eager to lead your entire clan to ruin?"

Before Bain could reply, Ronan managed to lift his head, his voice desperate. "Bain! Take the others and leave! Don't… don't repeat our mistakes…"

Bain hesitated, torn between loyalty and fear. But before he could decide, a massive figure pushed through the centaur ranks, panting heavily.

"Haven't you centaurs learned to listen?" the figure bellowed angrily. "I told you already—this is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts! He had nothing to do with the unicorn's death. This is all just a misunderstanding!"

----

----