HP: Vampire Professor

Dumbledore's sharp intake of breath drew Dracula's gaze to the small, ornate faucet. The serpent, carved with exquisite detail, seemed to mock them from its perch on the tarnished brass.

"The snake motif is Salazar's style, through and through," Dracula mused, a slow, contemptuous smile spreading across his face. "To think he would secretly modify the castle's plumbing, building a hidden chamber not marked on the deeds. How wonderfully Slytherin." He let out a low chuckle. "I never took Salazar for the type to skulk in a girls' bathroom. And Voldemort, it seems, is a true heir in every sense."

The truth was, even as one of Salazar's few confidants, Dracula had never known the Chamber's precise location. In its original design, the entrance was a concealed trapdoor leading to a series of warded passages. But in the eighteenth century, Hogwarts expanded. Plans were drawn for a new girls' lavatory, its plumbing set to intersect the ancient entryway.

The Chamber's secrecy was threatened until a student named Corvinus Gaunt—a direct and talented descendant of Slytherin—ingeniously rerouted the entrance, linking it through the castle's new pipes to the single, serpent-marked tap in the girls' lavatory that now stood before them.

"The legend of the Chamber of Secrets has been whispered in these halls for centuries," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "It seems there was truth to it after all. The story goes that Salazar built it before he left the school, and only his true heir could open it." He stroked his beard, his brow furrowed. "It was said to house a monster that, when unleashed, would 'purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.'"

"Nonsense," Dracula scoffed. "Salazar was arrogant, not genocidal. He and Godric may have had their disagreements, but he would never have targeted innocent students. If he left a monster behind, it was as an inheritance, a tool for his descendants."

"Are you saying Headmaster Slytherin didn't create it for revenge, Uncle Dracula?" Helena asked, her ghostly form drifting closer. "I always believed he built the Chamber in a rage to eliminate the Muggle-born students my mother and the other founders insisted on admitting."

"Based on my understanding of the man, I'm more inclined to believe he built it to protect Hogwarts," Dracula countered, a glint in his eye. He looked at Helena. "You remember his philosophy, do you not?"

Helena nodded. "He believed that accepting Muggle-borns would eventually expose the wizarding world and endanger the castle."

"Precisely," Dracula continued, his voice taking on a thoughtful cadence. "So, before leaving, he creates a secret chamber containing a beast powerful enough to defend Hogwarts from any external threat. A final failsafe, to be unleashed only by his heir when the castle was in mortal peril. That fits his character far better than petty vengeance."

A look of profound understanding washed over Dumbledore's face. "What a touching story," he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with emotion. "A great founder, despite his falling out with his friends, still sought to protect their shared legacy. It seems the magical world has greatly misunderstood Salazar Slytherin!"

Dracula watched his performance, a wry smile on his lips. "Dumbledore," he said, gently poking the headmaster's arm. "Perhaps rein in the sentiment for a moment. I haven't finished."

Dumbledore looked at him, confused.

"The magical world's misunderstanding," Dracula leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "is not as great as you think. Salazar was not quite so noble."

He paused for effect. "Oh, the Chamber was for his heir, most certainly. But I imagine Salazar envisioned a scenario where, with foreign enemies at the gate, his descendant would unleash the monster, save the day, and in the ensuing chaos, conveniently ensure that Slytherin house came out on top. A bit of self-interest mixed in with the heroics."

Dumbledore's emotional bubble popped. The grand, noble image of Salazar vanished. "Well," he sighed, recovering quickly. "I suppose it is good enough that he didn't plan to actively harm the students."

"As I recall, the man had little imagination," Dracula said, casually fiddling with the serpent tap. "He used Parseltongue as a password for everything, convinced of its infallibility." With a sudden snap, the brass handle came off in his hand. "If this is his heir's inheritance, it stands to reason the entrance opens only to the serpent's tongue."

"That explains it," Dumbledore said, a look of realization dawning. "Tom Riddle is a descendant of Slytherin. His mother was Merope Gaunt."

"No wonder," Dracula sighed, tossing the broken tap onto the floor. "A pity Salazar's heir chose to use his legacy for mischief rather than protection."

At that moment, Moaning Myrtle finally resurfaced from her toilet, having evidently grown bored. She drifted over, her curiosity piqued by their intense focus on the sinks.

"I died right here!" she announced suddenly, a strange pride in her voice.

"Oh?" Dracula leaned against the basin, his interest captured once more. "Do you remember how?"

"It was dreadful!" she said with dramatic relish. "Olive Hornby had been teasing me about my glasses. I came in here to cry and heard someone come in. It was a boy's voice! He was speaking some funny, hissing language to the sink. So I opened the stall to tell him to get out, to go to his own lavatory, and then—" Myrtle puffed out her chest, her face radiant with the memory of her own demise. "Then I died!"

"Your story hasn't changed from the one you told Headmaster Dippet fifty years ago, Myrtle," Dumbledore said gently. "What we need to know is how you died. What did the boy do?"

Myrtle's voice dropped to a mysterious whisper, and she floated uncomfortably close to Dracula's face. "I don't know, exactly. I just remember seeing a pair of huge, horrible, yellow eyes. My whole body felt like it was being squeezed... and then I was floating." She suddenly became cheerful again. "But being dead isn't so bad! I came back as a ghost and got my revenge on Olive Hornby. Oh, she was sorry she ever mocked my glasses!"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Myrtle's account confirms it. Tom didn't kill her directly. The monster in the Chamber did, under his control." He turned to Dracula. "The question is, can you open this entrance?"

"Of course."

Dracula eagerly rolled up his sleeve, raising his hand toward the broken tap. A sphere of swirling, impossibly deep darkness began to form in his palm. It pulsed like a black hole, drawing in the very light and magic of the room, its aura growing more powerful and terrifying with each passing second.

Dumbledore had assumed Dracula would use the castle's deed, leveraging his authority as lord of the land. It wasn't until he saw the terrifying vortex of destructive magic that he understood.

"You mean to blast it open?!" A look of sheer panic crossed Dumbledore's face. He threw himself in front of Dracula. "Professor, don't be rash! Stop!"

"How else do you propose we get in?" Dracula asked, his wine-red eyes glowing with excited anticipation. "I do not speak Parseltongue."

"You will shatter the castle's ancient enchantments!" Dumbledore's face was grim as he drew his own wand. "This is only Voldemort, weakened and pathetic! It is not worth risking the safety of Hogwarts!"

He leveled the tip of his wand directly at Dracula.

***

(End of Chapter)

[Check Out My Patreon For More Chapters On All

Of My Fanfics!!] [www. [email protected]/meowthtl]

[+300 Power Stones = +1 Bonus Chapter]

[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[Thank You For Your Support!]