Professor Vampire.

Chapter 78: Dracula can't do it without an assistant coach.

"What's wrong, Ron?"

A little witch with messy hair walked over, holding a large stack of parchment in her arms—all first-year Defense Against the Dark Arts assignments.

"Hermione, can I copy... no, 'borrow' your Transfiguration essay? I don't think I can finish mine today..." Ron looked at her with pleading eyes.

"That's not right. I remember you had already written half of it?" Hermione leaned in and looked at Ron's Transfiguration essay.

The parchment in front of Ron was covered in chicken crumbs, with saliva mixing the still-wet ink into a black mess.

"Ew—gross, Ron!" The little witch averted her gaze in disgust, then cradled the Defense Against the Dark Arts assignments in her left arm and took out her wand with her right.

"Tergeo!"

The spell worked remarkably well, sweeping away the crumbs and saliva from the parchment.

However, the black ink stains left behind could not be cleaned.

If Ron dared to submit this to the strict Professor McGonagall, he wouldn't know how he got into trouble...

"Hermione, look, my essay is unusable." Ron said guiltily, "It's already late. If you don't lend me your essay, I won't be able to finish mine."

"If I don't finish my homework, I can't hand it in. If I don't hand it in, Professor McGonagall will deduct points. If I get points deducted, Gryffindor's chances of winning the House Cup will decrease... You see, your essay is crucial to whether we can win the House Cup!"

Ron said a long string of words, thinking he made a lot of sense, and confidently looked up at Hermione standing beside him.

"No way!" Hermione heavily slapped the stack of parchment she was holding onto the table, puffed out her chest proudly, revealing the demon wing badge pinned there. "I'm a teaching assistant now. I need to set an example for the other first-year students. I can't let a bad student like you take shortcuts!"

Ron's face immediately fell.

"Harry, say something fair." He turned to Harry, who was sitting nearby and watching the scene. "Don't you think Hermione should lend us her essay for the sake of Gryffindor's House Cup endeavor?"

"It's not like I have to borrow Hermione's essay..." Harry seemed to be in a good mood, smiling as he put a diary into his bag. "I've already finished my essay. Do you want to 'borrow' it, Ron?"

"What?!" Ron was shocked and stood up abruptly.

His exclamation was so loud that the little witches in the common room all gave him a look.

Harry quickly gave an apologetic look to the surrounding students and then pressed Ron back into his seat.

"Ron, why are you making such a fuss?" he asked discontentedly, "Can't I finish my essay myself?"

"No, mate, this isn't right." Ron calmed down a bit but still whispered to Harry incredulously, "I didn't even go to eat; I've been writing my Transfiguration essay and just finished half. But you ran from the eighth floor to the Great Hall on the first floor to eat, then walked back up, which took at least an hour, right? And you still managed to finish your essay? This isn't like you!"

Two black lines immediately appeared on Harry's face.

"Just tell me if you want to see it or not!" he said angrily.

"Of course! Only a fool wouldn't!" Ron snatched the parchment from Harry's hand, "If Hermione won't lend me her essay, I'll use yours to get by."

Ignoring Harry's angry look, he started copying Harry's Transfiguration essay, using his unique "borrowing" technique, such as changing the order of paragraphs, altering wording, and switching between active and passive voice...

However, after "borrowing" a third of the essay, Ron suddenly realized something was wrong.

"Harry, did you really write this yourself?" He tapped Harry's arm, eyes wide and unwilling to look away from Harry's essay. "Are you sure you didn't copy from Hermione? No, I think even Hermione didn't write this well!"

"Yes... yes, I wrote it myself."

Harry's eyes glanced unnaturally at his bag.

He hadn't told anyone that his bag contained a magical diary. This diary could answer any of his questions and solve any problems in his studies or life...

...

After appointing a teaching assistant to grade assignments, not much time had passed before Dracula faced a new problem—

He also had to be responsible for setting the final exam papers...

In the headmaster's office on the eighth floor of Hogwarts' main tower.

Dracula lay bored on the sofa, holding a brand new Sorting Hat, tossing it high into the air and catching it again, passing the time.

At first, the Sorting Hat yelled in dizziness, but later it either fainted or gave up struggling, being thrown up and down silently.

"Professor Dracula, you've been lying here all afternoon." Dumbledore finally couldn't bear it, looking up from his desk at Dracula on the sofa through his glasses. "With the time you've spent daydreaming, your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam papers would have been done."

That's right, Dracula came to the headmaster's office this time to shirk responsibility.

The final exams were approaching, and he wanted to pass the task of setting the exam papers to someone else so he could enjoy watching the little witches scratch their heads during the exams.

"I'd rather daydream here than set exam papers..." Dracula casually tossed the Sorting Hat back onto its stool, his eyes wandering as he stared at the ceiling of the headmaster's office. "It needs to match the learning progress, have a certain difficulty, and differentiate the grades... It's such a troublesome thing, whoever wants to do it can do it!"

"Doesn't Professor Snape want to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Let him set the exam papers for me."

"Professor Dracula, Severus wants to be a teaching professor, not to set exam papers for you." Dumbledore said. "I think you can refer to last year's paper format and make the papers based on the content taught this academic year."

"Why can't I just use last year's papers?" Dracula said lazily.

"Old exam questions are easily found by the students, and many have already done those practice questions." Dumbledore shrugged. "That would be unfair to those who haven't."

Dracula sighed and heavily slammed his head against the sofa's armrest. The solid gold armrest cracked on the spot.

"No, I must find another assistant! I can't do this without one!"