Dark Deals: The Vampire Who Owns Hogwarts

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With Lucius Malfoy's unshakable support and Dracula's undisputed approval, the Hogwarts School Board morphed into something entirely new.

Gone was the old twelve-member system, replaced by a more streamlined seven-member board. The remaining five positions—always subject to change—hung like a shadow over the assembly, ready to be filled at a moment's notice.

At the helm stood Dracula, holder of the ancient title to Hogwarts' land, now serving as the chairman of this newly-formed board. With his newfound power, he held veto rights and supreme authority over all board resolutions. His influence extended even further—he could appoint and dismiss members at will, shaping the future of Hogwarts with the mere flick of a wrist.

The school board, once a tangled web of power struggles and hidden agendas, now stood as a well-oiled machine—at least on the surface.

In addition to Yaxley and four other pure-blood family members, Lucius Malfoy, ever the opportunist, quickly aligned himself with Dracula's growing power. The Malfoy fortune—an overwhelming force in its own right—single-handedly funded half of Hogwarts' operations, neatly closing the financial gap left by the expulsion of five former board members.

The remaining six members—those who had not dared to oppose Dracula—were no mere pawns. They were respected figures in the wizarding world. Among them were Griselda Marchbanks of the Wizarding Examination Authority and Armando Dippet, the former headmaster of Hogwarts. These were people whose names carried weight in the corridors of magic and academia.

But Dracula had no intention of clashing with such venerable figures. He acknowledged their presence with a quiet wave, approving the final decisions before making his exit in the most dramatic fashion: by leaping out of the window of the boardroom.

Ms. Marchban, nearly two centuries old, watched in stunned silence as Dracula disappeared through the window. She glanced at Dumbledore, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Albus," she sighed, "the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Hogwarts has chosen this year is truly... remarkable."

"Who can argue?" Dumbledore replied with a faint shrug, a resigned smile tugging at his lips. Professor Dracula's unconventional ways might never change, he thought.

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As Christmas Eve drew nearer, the anticipation among the students grew noticeably.

The Hogwarts Great Hall shimmered with festive cheer. Professors worked tirelessly to decorate, draping the walls with holly and mistletoe. Towering Christmas trees adorned the room, their branches heavy with twinkling lights and sparkling icicles, casting an enchanting glow over the space.

"Hey, Hagrid, can you help me hang this gift?" Professor Flitwick, standing on tiptoe, reached up to pat Hagrid's vast belly as he handed him a bundle of presents.

Without hesitation, the giant Hagrid bent down, took the gift, and placed it at the top of the tallest tree.

"Oh, Thank you so much, Hagrid!" Flitwick beamed up at him.

"Good evening, Hagrid!" Two young wizards, bundled in red scarves, entered the hall. Their eyes immediately landed on the giant groundskeeper.

One of them, adjusting his round glasses, noticed a smaller figure beside Hagrid. It was none other than Professor Flitwick, casting a stream of golden bubbles from his wand, which floated upward and hung delicately from the tree's branches.

"Ah, Professor Flitwick, it's you!" the young wizard called out with a smile.

"Good evening, Harry, Ron!" Flitwick greeted them warmly, his cheerfulness unwavering.

Hagrid paused his work, waving with both hands as if to engulf the boys in his greeting.

"Professor, are you decorating the hall?" Ron asked, his eyes wide as he watched the golden bubbles drift around them.

"Yes, after all, it's Christmas tomorrow," Flitwick said, his voice warm. "We want to make sure the students who stay behind have the same joy and comfort they would feel at home."

Harry, deeply moved, gave Ron a small, thoughtful smile. This place truly is a family, he thought, his heart swelling with a new sense of belonging.

"Ron," Harry said, a spark of excitement in his eyes, "let's head to the library later."

"Library?" Ron groaned, clearly not thrilled. "How are we going to figure anything out if Hermione isn't here?"

"Well, we're not studying," Harry replied with a grin. "Remember what Hagrid said about Nicolas Flamel? We're going to find out who he is."

"What?" Hagrid, overhearing their conversation, turned pale, his eyes wide with alarm. "Listen to me, all of you—this is none of your business! Drop it. Whatever that three-headed dog is guarding—forget about it."

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Since the moment Harry survived the mysterious assassination attempt during his first Quidditch match, questions had lingered in the trio's minds. Who had plotted against him?

Hermione's first suspicion had fallen on Snape, believing him to be the culprit. But what she didn't know was that Snape had actually been casting a counter-curse to protect Harry. Unfortunately, her accidental interference had disrupted Snape's efforts, nearly causing a far worse fate.

Snape's unexpected act of saving Harry had only marginally improved Harry's view of him, but it was far from enough to erase the long-standing distrust he held. In Harry's eyes, Snape remained as enigmatic and untrustworthy as ever.

As if to fuel this suspicion, Harry had stumbled upon something strange after the Halloween feast. He had caught a glimpse of a bite wound on Snape's leg, unmistakably the result of an encounter with the fearsome three-headed dog that guarded the mysterious secret hidden in the restricted corridor on the fourth floor.

The pieces of the puzzle seemed to be falling into place, but there was still so much Harry didn't understand. And so, after the Quidditch match that had left him shaken, Harry and his friends, unable to make sense of the growing mysteries, sought out Hagrid's counsel. They needed answers—answers only Hagrid, with his peculiar wisdom, could provide.

However, Hagrid was completely unaware of just how much the trio had uncovered. He had no idea how they learned about the three-headed dog and he didn't want them to get any closer to the dangerous secret Dumbledore had entrusted him with. And so he felt an overwhelming urge to stop them before they ventured too far.

"Listen to me!" Hagrid's voice trembled with urgency. "You three are digging into things that don't concern you. It's dangerous—deadly dangerous. Forget about that three-headed dog. Forget about what it's guarding. You don't need to know. It's connected to Professor Dumbledore and… Nicolas Flamel..."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. The name struck a chord. "Aha!" he exclaimed, his eyes alight with excitement. "So it's all about someone called Nicolas Flamel, right?"

"..."

Hagrid fell silent. The air seemed to thicken with the weight of the revelation, leaving only the hum of the cold wind to fill the space between them.

This was what led to the conversation between Harry and Hagrid on Christmas Eve.

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