Professor Vampire.

Chapter 95: Professor Dracula has a book out?

Here is the translated text:

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**Xiaohui Jin District, No. 4 Nvzhen Road**

Harry was picked up by the three Weasley brothers, Fred, George, and Ron, in a flying car.

Listening to Uncle Vernon's angry shouting from the window, he happily rolled down the car window and let the evening breeze tousle his hair.

Harry couldn't believe it—he was free!

"See you next summer!"

Harry stuck his head out the window and shouted to Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Cousin Dudley, who were standing blankly at the window.

The Weasley brothers laughed heartily, and Harry leaned back in his seat, unable to stop smiling.

"Harry, can you tell us what happened this holiday?" Ron eagerly asked once the car had completely taken to the night sky, "You didn't reply to a single letter, and I was really worried. At first, I thought it was Errol having trouble..."

"Who's Errol?" Harry asked.

"Our family owl," Ron explained, "He's getting old and has collapsed from delivering letters before. So I wanted to use Hermes—"

"And who is Hermes?"

"The owl that Mum and Dad bought for Percy when he became a prefect," Fred, who was driving, said while looking back. Harry was worried he might crash if he wasn't careful.

"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," Ron said, "Said he needed him himself."

"Percy has been particularly weird this summer," George complained, frowning, "He's had Hermes deliver loads of letters and always locks himself in his room... I don't understand, does a prefect's badge need that many cleanings... You're heading too far west, Fred."

He pointed to a compass on the dashboard.

Fred adjusted the steering wheel.

"So, did you take the car out without Dad knowing?" Harry asked, having already guessed the answer.

"Oh, he doesn't know," Ron said, "He's working late tonight. Hopefully, we can sneak the car into the garage without Mum finding out. Otherwise, Dad will be really mad at us..."

Harry mentally observed a moment of silence for Mr. Weasley.

Suddenly, Ron seemed to realize something, turning and staring wide-eyed at Harry.

"...Wait, were you just changing the subject?" he asked.

"Uh, I wasn't..." Harry, embarrassed by the revelation, turned his head to look at the large moon outside.

"You were changing the subject!" Ron insisted, "Come on, tell us what you did during the holiday!"

Harry instinctively didn't want to tell them about the diary, so he hesitated and left out Tom's involvement.

"I got back at the Dursleys for locking Hedwig up by ruining one of Uncle Vernon's big deals..." he mumbled, "Then I was completely locked in my room, only getting two meals a day and only two chances to go to the bathroom..."

"They're horrible!" Fred said angrily, shaking his fists.

His actions startled George, who quickly reached out to straighten the empty steering wheel.

"Hedwig being locked up makes sense if you didn't send us any letters. But why couldn't Errol find you?" Ron asked thoughtfully.

"What? He couldn't find me?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes, at first I thought Errol was just old and confused. It wasn't until Hermione wrote to tell me that her owl couldn't find you either that Fred and George realized something was wrong," Ron said, "That's why we decided to sneak over to see if something was wrong with you."

"That's right, the owl not finding you is probably due to a spell called the Concealment Charm," George said from the passenger seat, "Fred and I studied this charm before to keep Mum's yelling letters from finding us, but we didn't succeed."

He looked extremely regretful.

"It's a rather advanced charm that wizards use if they don't want to be found or disturbed by owls. But if it's been covering a Muggle community for a whole month, that's very unusual!" Fred said.

"Anyway, Fred and George are right!" Ron said happily, "If they hadn't realized something was wrong, I might not have found out until school started that you were locked up."

Harry's face also broke into a happy smile.

The flying car sped along, and as the four young wizards approached their destination, a faint red glow appeared on the eastern horizon.

The sunrise gradually turned the clear, cloudless sky into a rose-like color, signaling that a beautiful day was about to begin.

Ottery St. Catchpole Village, they had arrived—

Fred skillfully landed the car beside a dilapidated garage, clearly indicating it was not the first time he had piloted Mr. Weasley's flying car.

The garage was surrounded by a small yard. The yard seemed to have once been a large pigsty built from stones, which had been expanded into several floors of haphazardly stacked rooms.

No professional architect would design a house like this; such a crooked house could never appear in the Muggle world. After all, even the Leaning Tower of Pisa couldn't violate physics so severely, nor could it deviate so greatly from human aesthetics!

So the only answer was that this house was magically pieced together...

The four of them quietly got out of the car, and Harry saw four or five chimneys sticking out from the crooked red roof. A sign leaning against the house read "The Burrow."

"It's not much, Harry," Ron said anxiously, "I know it's... well... a bit shabby, but I promise the house won't suddenly collapse while you're sleeping!"

"No way!" Harry shook his head, excitedly saying, "On the contrary, it's fantastic!"

After escaping from the prison of Number Four Privet Drive, he felt like anything was paradise! Moreover, the Weasley's "Burrow" perfectly matched his imagination of the magical world's strange and wonderful places.

The Weasley brothers were pleased with Harry's evaluation.

They decided to sneak upstairs and surprise Mrs. Weasley when she called them for breakfast.

However, the next moment, Ron's introduction got stuck in his throat, his face turning green, eyes fixed on the direction of the house.

Fred and George sensed something was wrong and turned to see where Ron was looking.

Mrs. Weasley was walking briskly from the yard, scaring the chickens and roosters into a frenzy.

Harry was amazed that Mrs. Weasley, such a plump, kind-looking woman, could look so fierce, like a snarling tigress!

"This is bad," Fred said.

"Not just bad, it's a disaster," George added.

Mrs. Weasley stopped in front of them, hands on her hips, scrutinizing the guilty faces of Fred, George, and Ron.

The atmosphere made Harry feel guilty as well, and he lowered his head silently.

Mrs. Weasley was wearing a floral apron with a wand tucked into the pocket.

"Alright, you three," she said.

"Good morning, Mum," George said, blinking and using his most charming tone.

"Do you know how worried I've been?" Mrs. Weasley said in a chillingly low voice, ignoring him.

"Sorry, Mum, but we had to..."

Though Mrs. Weasley's three sons were taller than her, they all trembled and couldn't reply when her anger erupted.

"The beds are empty! No note! And the car is gone... It might have been in an accident; I'm going crazy!" she scolded loudly, "Have you ever thought about it? Out of all my children, you three are the most troublesome! Wait until your father gets home to deal with you, Bill, Charlie, and Percy never did anything like this..."

Mrs. Weasley seemed to scold them for an hour, while Harry stood beside them, trembling.

During the scolding, seeing that their mother had entered a trance-like state, Fred subtly elbowed George in the side.

"George, you're 14 now, and you're not cute at all," he whispered, "Pleading won't work, Mum doesn't buy that. The only one who can save us now is Harry."

George immediately understood, elbowing Harry's left arm, startling him.

"Harry, our lives are in your hands!" he whispered, "It's your turn now, Harry, say hello to Mum and get her to notice you."

"Seeing you as a guest, Mum will be very happy. She'll soon forget about us sneaking out with the car..."

Harry's lips moved.

Looking at Mrs. Weasley, who was like an angry tigress, he hesitated, unsure if interrupting her scolding would make her angrier or if his presence would really help.

In short, he was feeling a bit scared.

"Come on, Harry, distract Mum as soon as possible, and she'll let us off the hook sooner," George's voice came again.

Harry gritted his teeth and finally made up his mind.

After all, it was the Weasley brothers who had rescued him from that prison, so what's the big deal about taking a scolding for them!

Thus, he bravely stepped forward.

"Uh... Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said weakly.

His voice immediately caught Mrs. Weasley's attention.

"Ah, it's so nice to see you, dear Harry," she said, her voice somewhat hoarse after shouting, but now warm and friendly, "Come in and have some breakfast!"

It seemed she had forgotten about scolding the Weasley boys and turned with a kind smile to go inside.

Harry glanced nervously at Ron and the others, who all gave him thumbs up, and Fred and George's expressions clearly seemed to say—

"Nice job!"

---

Life at the Burrow is worlds apart from life at Privet Drive.

The Dursleys like everything to be orderly, while the Weasleys' home is filled with magic and surprises—

The mirror on the kitchen fireplace mantel startled Harry.

The first time he looked into the mirror, it suddenly shouted, "Tuck your shirt into your trousers, you slob!"

There are also a few ghoul-like creatures living in the attic of the Burrow. Whenever they feel the house is too quiet, they howl loudly and bang on pipes.

Additionally, there are always small explosions coming from Fred and George's bedroom, which the Weasleys consider perfectly normal... Harry couldn't help but think of the grand plans Fred and George had whispered about at last year's Christmas party—they wanted to make fireworks that could engulf the entire Hogwarts Castle!

'I hope they don't actually manage to do it,' Harry worried about the safety of Hogwarts Castle.

But none of these things were the most unusual aspect of the Weasley home.

To Harry, the most unusual thing about the Weasley household was not the talking mirror, the banging ghouls, or the constantly exploding twins' bedroom... but the fact that everyone here seemed to genuinely like him!

Mrs. Weasley kindly mended the old socks with holes that Dudley couldn't wear; she insisted that Harry eat several helpings at every meal, muttering that he was too thin and needed to eat more since he was growing; Mr. Weasley enjoyed having Harry sit next to him at meals and continuously asked him about Muggle life, inquiring about plugs and post offices...

About a week after arriving at the Burrow, on a sunny morning, Harry received a letter from Hogwarts.

"School letter," Mr. Weasley announced, holding several letters sent by Hogwarts' common owl.

Harry and Ron each received a yellow parchment envelope with green writing.

"Harry, Dumbledore already knows you're here," he remarked with some awe. "That man, nothing escapes him."

Mr. Weasley handed the letters to the respective recipients, looking pleased.

For a moment, no one spoke as they read their letters.

Harry's letter informed him that he would still take the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross Station on September 1st, returning to Hogwarts Castle.

Included was a list of new books needed for second year—

"Standard Spells (Year 2)" by Miranda Goshawk

"Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration" by Emeric Switch

"Magical Plants and Fungi" by Phyllida Spore

...

Except for Miranda Goshawk's "Standard Spells," which had advanced from Level 1 to Level 2, the other books were largely the same as the first-year list, with no additional purchases required.

But Harry's eyes widened when he saw the last line.

The final item on the list was—

"Errors Picked from 'Dark Arts: A Self-Defense Guide'" by Brad Dracula

The name of this book didn't seem like a serious textbook at all, but rather a book that critiqued another author's work, which were generally the least liked.

But the issue wasn't there.

"Professor Dracula wrote a book?" Harry looked bewildered at Ron, who was sitting beside him.

"Really? Someone as lazy as Professor Dracula actually wrote a book?" Ron's expression of confusion was no less than Harry's. "He's so lazy that he wouldn't even grade assignments, and it seems like he didn't even write the final exam."

Hearing Ron's words, Mr. Weasley looked up from his newspaper, frowning.

"So you've encountered another unreliable Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" he said. "Honestly, Hogwarts hasn't hired a reliable Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in decades!"

"No, Dad, Professor Dracula is the most reliable Defense Against the Dark Arts professor I've seen in my five years!" Percy, having finished reading his letter, interjected. "He mentioned in class that there are some issues with 'Dark Arts: A Self-Defense Guide,' and this new book might be to help correct those issues."

"Wait, you're saying... Professor Dracula is staying on for a second year?!" Mr. Weasley's mouth fell open, and the newspaper dropped onto his lap.

Seeing the children in the living room nodding in unison, Mr. Weasley was astonished.

"Hiss—" he drew in a sharp breath. "A professor who stays on for a second year is quite terrifying. I've never seen a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who lasted this long!"

"It's actually not that surprising," Mrs. Weasley, who was clearing the table, gave Mr. Weasley a look and said, "I met Professor Dracula at a tea party hosted by Lockhart at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. He looked like an exceptionally powerful wizard! More importantly, he was very handsome!"

Mrs. Weasley's eyes sparkled with stars.

"It's such a pity that I was deceived by that fraud Lockhart for so many years," she said wistfully. "If Professor Dracula hadn't captured Lockhart at that tea party, and if Dumbledore hadn't exposed his memory-stealing crimes, I wouldn't have known that Lockhart was such a despicable person!"

"And don't you remember? Professor Dracula also asked us to deliver something—the crystal ball we took to Brown Castle when we visited Charlie in Romania!"

Mr. Weasley slapped his thigh in realization.

"So that means Professor Dracula must be incredibly powerful!" he said to Ron. "If that's the case, isn't it a good thing that he wrote a book?"

"Well, it is good... but it just doesn't seem like writing a book fits with a professor's style," Ron shrugged.

At that moment, Fred and George walked over side by side.

"Actually... we know why Professor Dracula wrote the book."

They said, holding their heads high with a mysterious air.