Chapter 461: VampireProfessor
"Alright, children, time’s up—today’s done!" Professor Sprout clapped her hands, her voice bright and cheerful. "Clear up your tools… Molag, don’t forget the trowel you left under the potted plant… Pansy, be gentle with the geranium beside you… And don’t leave anything behind in the greenhouse—remember, assignments are due on time!"
Students, dusted head to toe in soil and smelling faintly of dragon dung, filed out one by one. Wade weaved past a few lingering classmates and approached Professor Sprout.
"Professor?"
"Yes, Wade?" Professor Sprout held her trowel, adjusting a few plants that hadn’t been properly transplanted. "Need help with something?"
"It’s like this, Professor," Wade said, glancing around to confirm the last two students had left the greenhouse. "Do you remember Haley?"
"Of course," Professor Sprout replied, pausing and frowning with quiet pity. "Such a sweet, sad little soul… You’re here about her?"
"Yes… well, not exactly me," Wade corrected. "Her sister wants to meet her. I asked Professor Dumbledore, and he said the child was placed under your care—arranged for adoption."
"Yes, it was me," Professor Sprout said, her face lighting up in sudden joy. She nearly gasped, then clamped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Merlin… You’re saying… she’s…?"
Wade gave a firm nod.
A wide, radiant smile spread across Professor Sprout’s face, as if it might burst right off her features. "Oh, thank Merlin! I’ve been so worried about her… And her… her little condition?"
"We’re working on it," Wade said. "Dumbledore contacted Mr. Newt Scamander, but he’s currently in India—something about rescuing a curled-winged demon in the Pulpenzi region. Anyway, once he returns, we’ll begin researching treatment options."
"If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to come to me!" Professor Sprout said, her eyes earnest and full of hope. "I’d be honored to assist. And honestly, I think the Ministry of Magic’s decision is utterly ridiculous—like someone hit their head on a Bouncing Bulb!"
Wade couldn’t help but chuckle. "I agree completely, Professor."
"Oh, right—the address!" Professor Sprout scribbled a note and pressed it into Wade’s hand. "You can bring the child there. But try not to show yourself. I doubt the Ministry’s been keeping a close eye on Haley—after all, they know how much she values this little sister."
"I understand, Professor," Wade said, glancing at the address. It was a small town near Kilmarnock. He hesitated, then asked, "Who adopted her…?"
"My distant cousin," Professor Sprout said, her eyes crinkling with warmth. "He’s a Muggle-born, his wife’s a Muggle—neither knows anything about magic. They’re both kind, wonderful people. They don’t have children of their own, and they’re absolutely thrilled to have Haley. Honestly… she’s such a sweet, loving girl. She deserves the best."
…
Sunlight streamed through a narrow window, catching the gleam of a copper chandelier and the grain of an oak table. Professor Troke stood at the front, holding a stack of books, lecturing his class.
"Vampires are ancient magical creatures, sustained by drinking the blood of other beings. Of course, they can consume ordinary food—but their dulled senses make it taste bland, and digestion is difficult."
Professor Troke’s voice was dry, flat, almost lifeless. "So most vampires prefer blood—or food made from it."
He paused, his horn-rimmed glasses twitching slightly. His body leaned back instinctively, as if trying to distance himself from the books in his hands. After a moment, he continued.
Wade glanced down at his Defensive Magic Against the Dark Arts textbook. The page featured a drawing of a vampire pierced through the heart by a wooden stake, mouth open in a silent scream.
He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the new professor. Glancing around, he noticed only he seemed to have noticed the subtle shift in Troke’s demeanor. The rest of the class was either asleep or on the verge of it.
Vampires and humans looked remarkably similar. Wade only recognized Professor Troke’s true nature because Dumbledore had taught him special insights. The other students remained utterly oblivious.
"Help…?" Michael slumped over his desk, voice weak. "Is Professor Troke catching the same curse as Binns? This is the first time he’s made Defensive Magic so boring. Buzzzzz… buzzzzz…"
Michael’s drowsy drone worked—Crabbe, a towering figure, suddenly slumped forward with a soft thud, landing face-first on the table. Professor Troke glanced over, unimpressed, and said nothing.
Michael yawned again, fighting to keep his eyes open long enough to jot down a few notes. Then he froze. The professor had been reading straight from the book—no variation, no flair.
He gave up entirely, quietly tugging the hood of the student in front—Goldstein—down over his head, adding a little height, then collapsed back onto the desk, fast asleep.
Wade pressed his fist to his lips, barely holding back a laugh. Even with his effort to stay composed, amusement crept into the corners of his eyes.
Goldstein, of course, felt nothing. He turned, glanced at Michael, then at Wade, and shook his head in silent exasperation—then simply straightened up, leaving the hood in place.
The monotony of reading from the textbook dragged on for most of the lesson. Finally, one student raised a hand.
Professor Troke tried to ignore him—but the student’s expression was too determined.
He sighed, set down the book, and asked, "Yes, McKee?"
"Professor!" Molag MacDoug from Ravenclaw spoke up. "We’ve already read all this in the textbooks. When will we get to practice?"
"Well…" Troke faltered. "The school doesn’t have any living vampires available for practical exercises…"
"The Chamber of Secrets?" Braith Zabini from Slytherin interjected. "I heard it’s been fully renovated already! Professor Abigail told us we’d be doing real, thrilling combat drills there this term!"
"Yeah, yeah!" Others chimed in. "We want to go to the Chamber of Secrets! Why can’t we go this year?"
Professor Troke actually knew the reason—but he wasn’t about to say it.
"Ah… the Chamber is currently closed for reasons related to a Ministry of Magic 'top-secret plan.' The details won’t be revealed until the Ministry decides it’s appropriate."
"What kind of plan, Professor?" the students pressed, ignoring his caution.
"I can’t say," Troke said firmly. "Not until the incident is fully resolved. No one is allowed to disclose anything."
But under the wave of pleading, protests, and puppy-dog eyes, he cracked.
"All I can tell you," he said, lowering his voice, "is that it’s something unprecedented. Something extraordinary. Prepare yourselves, children. You might just be the ones who earn a lifelong honor."
"Prepare for what, Professor?" a few girls whined, eyes wide with hope. "Please, just tell us a little more?"
"Well…" Troke hesitated. "If I were you, I’d start studying hard right now—especially in defensive magic. You’ll need it. Don’t wait until you fail to regret not trying."
The classroom fell silent.
Students stared at Professor Troke, skeptical and curious. Some suspected he was just making up excuses to push them into studying.
But after a few more rounds of questioning, they got nothing more.
Troke resumed teaching, and within minutes, the drowsiness returned.
When the bell finally rang, both students and professor exhaled in unison—relief flooding the room.
"Wade Gray?" Professor Troke stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on him. "If you have a moment, could you come by my office?"
(End of Chapter)
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