Professor Vampire.

Chapter 191: A letter from the Ministry of Justice prohibiting the abuse of the Division of Magic

Upon hearing Dracula's catching Dracula off guard words, Bellatrix's frenzied expression froze on her face.

"What did you ... you say?" She opened her mouth in bewilderment, revealing a row of somewhat uneven teeth.

"In case you don't know, Voldemort actually came to this island once some time ago for the purpose of picking up your most loyal Death Eaters." Dracula laughed softly and took two steps diagonally forward to stand in the center of the entire floor.

"Just last year, on All Hallows' Eve, he set up two goals: one, to completely restore himself in a special way; and the other, to break through Azkaban and get you guys out."

Dracula spared a glance at the Death Eaters in the room, who were gradually becoming dumbfounded, and then continued down the line, "Perhaps you're now wondering why I know Voldemort's goals so well?"

Some of the Death Eaters nodded curiously.

"That's because ... both of his goals were destroyed by me ah." Dracula hooked up the corner of his mouth and gave them a rather playful smile.

"You!" Alekto Karo shouted out through gritted teeth.

"How dare you?!" Amicus Caro lunged menacingly at the cell's grating, trying to reach his hand out to grab Dracula's shirt, but couldn't reach an inch of his coat no matter what.

The Death Eaters stared at Dracula with a jaundiced, hateful expression, each one seeming as if they wanted to rush up and blast him hard with a drilling spell.

Bella clutched the metal pillars of the grille with a deadly grip, and squeezed out some strength from somewhere, and used her head to bang heavily on these hard, rust-covered iron bars, as if she didn't feel anything even if her head was broken and bloodied.

While banging, she also cursed madly, "I kill you ... I must kill you ..."

"You just clearly said that you are here to save us out, and you also said that you want to use this matter as a credit to win a position beside the Dark Lord Lord ..." the Death Eater who was a bit older said with his eyes lifeless.

He looked blankly at Dracula with a pained expression, as if he hadn't recovered from the wonderful dream he had just had.

"When did I say those words?" Dracula looked at him inexplicably, "If I remember correctly, all these things were clearly made up in your own heads, right?"

The aged Death Eater froze, carefully recalling everything Dracula had just said with his memory, which had been pretty much dulled by his years in Azkaban.

It dawned on him that Dracula really never seemed to say exactly what kind of attitude he had towards the Dark Lord -

Dracula had only very objectively described once again the state of the Dark Lord who was not completely dead nowadays, talked about the actions he had done in the past, and also stated that he still had not given up on these loyal Death Eaters imprisoned within Azkaban ...

Even Dracula himself said something as obvious as "I am not the rescuer he sent to free you".

However, the Death Eaters, who had been locked up in Azkaban and tortured by the Dementors for too long, created a kind of fantasy for themselves, making up a big drama that someone was coming to rescue them, and even believed it in their own hearts.

When the truth of the matter and their fantasies have such a huge discrepancy, the first thing they think of is not to analyze the coping strategies and methods, but to indulge in their own dream.

Among them, the elderly Death Eater was the most important.

He was originally a pure-blooded aristocrat who had been in a high position for many years, and had grown up with a golden key since he was a child, and had never experienced any setbacks since he was a child, and did not have much willpower to speak of.

This time, when he entered Azkaban, it was not his intention to do so. He is not like other diehard death eaters who would rather die than give in, only because he was caught because he ran slowly ...

These ten years of prison life had long since smoothed out the edges of this aging Death Eater, making him not want to let go of the slightest opportunity to be able to get out of here and out of prison, but the cruelty of reality had slapped him hard in the face.

"Seriously, originally I wanted to get more part of the news about Sirius Black out of your mouths ...," Dracula shrugged slightly as he looked at the emotional Death Eaters, "but I didn't expect that either. Even though you guys are so close to him, you actually still can't tell how he escaped from prison."

"In that case, there's not much use for you guys, so you might as well have some fun for me before you leave." He said with a pleasant smile.

"If you do that, the Dark Lord Lord will definitely not let you go after he regains his strength!" Rudolph Lestrange hissed angrily.

"As a matter of fact, no matter what I do, he won't let me go ... or rather, I won't let him go either." Dracula said casually, "Besides, in the near future is don't expect your Lord Dark Lord to come over and save you, but he self-immolated himself to the point of no powder left in front of me."

"How can that be?!" Someone shouted.

"How is it impossible?" A playful smile reappeared on Dracula's face, "Suddenly I remembered that I only said that I destroyed two of Voldemort's targets, but I didn't say how I did it. Do you guys want to hear about it?"

Without waiting for the Death Eaters to speak, he went on, "Actually, ah, both of Voldemort's goals were completely under my control, and I knew from start to finish what he was planning to do and what he was going to accomplish ..."

"Even the materials he needed to resurrect himself were specially sent to him by me in order to give him a surprise!"

Dracula finished telling Voldemort's misery in a colorful manner, very clearly depicting the traps Voldemort had been caught in, the disasters he had experienced, and the misery he had felt when he was bullied by Dracula.

The expressions of the Death Eaters in the seventh floor of Azkaban became more and more horrific, and the curses became louder and louder, so noisy that Dracula just couldn't observe the empty cell left by Sirius Black in peace anymore.

So he simply didn't bother to look for any more clues and directly turned his head to the Dementor who had been following him:

"These people seem to be cursing with a lot of energy. So it looks like they've all got nowhere to vent their energy, and they're quite full of stamina."

"Tell you what, why don't you go get your companions and have them come to the top floor of Azkaban for a good patronizing round! Remember to help me 'entertain' these energetic fellows."

With that said, Dracula gave these Death Eaters an intriguing smile and disappeared into thin air with a soft snap of his fingers.

The only thing left in the prison was the Dementor, who was filled with nothing but ecstasy, and after Dracula left, its dogged behavior immediately retracted and resumed the eerie and terrifying evil style from before.

This dementor was both happy that it had escaped the clutches of that dreadful existence; on the other hand, it was because according to Dracula's instructions, it could let go of feeding on the wizards at the highest level of Azkaban.

It was hard to salvage any tasty positive emotions from the rabid Death Eaters of this tier, but it was good for a snack to fill the gap between the teeth.

Wailing and screams filled the seventh floor of Azkaban's prison for the next little while.

...

On the other hand, Harry wasn't in too wonderful of a mood.

He sat paralyzed against a low wall on Magnolia Crescent, which was a few blocks away from Desiree's house.

Exhausted and out of breath from dragging his trunk, Harry sat there without a word, full of anger that still hadn't subsided, his heart still beating fiercely.

Only a short time ago, that Aunt Maggie, who had come to Desiree's house as a guest, had been so difficult and mean to him, abusing and humiliating him, and even his parents ...

Harry couldn't take it anymore and didn't even control, or didn't even want to control, the magic that was surging through him and inflated Aunt Maggie into a balloon!

Then he ran away from home, alone, pulling his suitcase, with Hedwig the owl's cage under his armpit, to the dark, quiet streets.

But after sitting alone on this dark street for ten minutes, a new feeling suddenly hit him.

It was panic!

Anyway, it seemed like he had never been in a worse situation than the one he was in now - he was quite alone stranded in the Muggle world with no future and no place to go.

Worst of all, he had just used magic, which meant that he was almost certainly going to be expelled from Hogwarts School!

Harry had seriously broken the Decree Restricting the Use of Magic by Minors, and he now had a strong suspicion that it wouldn't be long before a representative of the Ministry of Magic suddenly phantom-shifted over to where he was currently sitting to punish him and order him to be expelled from Hogwarts.

Harry's whole body shuddered at the thought, glancing left and right toward Magnolia Crescent.

All he knew was that casting spells outside of school was not allowed and that there would be extremely severe punitive measures, but it wasn't clear exactly what kind of punishment awaited him.

Would he be arrested into Azkaban? Or simply banished from the wizarding world?

"If only Hermione were around, she'd surely know what kind of punishment I'd get." Harry thought about his friends and became even more depressed.

Harry was certain that Ron and Hermione would have thought of ways to help him, whether he was a criminal who had violated the decrees of the wizarding world or not.

Coincidentally, though, both of them were abroad right now - Hermione's family was vacationing in France; and Weasley, who had won the Grand Prize for the Daily Prophet in his home, had gone to Egypt for a vacation, and Ron had sent a newspaper with their pictures on it!

Not only that, but these days Harry only had Hedwig's cage with him, and Hedwig had just been sent by him to send a reply to Ron's letter, and wasn't around in time for him to get in touch with his two friends.

Harry felt in his pockets and realized that he was utterly destitute to say the least, without a single coin common to the Muggle world on him.

There was a little bit of Gold Galleon from the wizarding world left in the money pouch at the bottom of his coat box, so he might be able to exchange it for some money for emergencies. But gold of unknown origin was usually not accepted by gold stores, not to mention the fact that he was still only a thirteen year old child.

The rest of the possessions left to him by his parents were in the underground vault of the Gurinko Magic Bank, which might still have something usable in it, but right now he couldn't even find a way to get to London by car.

Unless ...

Harry looked down at his wand, the hollywood, phoenix-feathered wand still in his grasp.

'If I've already been expelled, a little more magic shouldn't hurt, right?' Harry became heartbroken at the thought of the fact that he could be expelled.

He had the Invisibility Cloak that his father had left him - what if he cast the Light as a Feather spell on the suitcase to make it light, then strapped it to his flying broomstick, and then flew to London in the Invisibility Cloak himself?

If he did that, he could take the rest of his money and belongings out of the underground vaults and set out on a journey of wanderlust ...

But that was also a very scary prospect, he couldn't keep sitting on a low wall like that all night, or he'd have to explain to the Muggle police why he was out on the street in the middle of the night with a trunk, spell book and a flying broom.

Ruminating, Harry opened the trunk again and rattled the contents aside; it was the Invisibility Cloak he was looking for - but before he could find it, he suddenly straightened up and looked in all directions once more.

Harry had a sudden odd sensation of pins and needles on his neck that made him feel like someone was watching him.

He looked back and forth down the dark street many times, but found no sign of any other person on the street, nor did any lights show in the neatly organized houses.

Thinking that he had been under a delusion, Harry bent down once more to look into the cloak-box.

The next moment, however, he stood up straight once more almost instantly while gripping his wand in his right hand.

Instead of hearing something, he felt something -

Someone or something was standing behind him in the small space between the fence and the garage!

Harry squinted into the dark alleyway. As soon as the thing moved, he would know if it was nothing more than a lost cat or ... something else spooky.

"Fluorescent flicker," Harry whispered softly.

Under the incantation of the wand lighting spell, the tip of his wand released a ray of light that illuminated the darkened street.

He held his wand high above his head, the gravel covered wall number two reflected a glistening bright light, the garage door reflected a shimmering light, and between the two, Harry could clearly see, a very large, big black dog with big, sparkling eyes!

Harry was startled and stepped backward menacingly.

His leg hit the coat box and tripped, and his body lost its center of gravity and fell over backwards.

Just as Harry's body was about to hit the ground hard, he suddenly felt something tugging at his clothes, and then he was gently tugged by them and was on the ground again.

"You have a letter from the Ministry of Magic's Division for the Prohibition of Abuse of Magic." A nice female voice came from behind him.

Harry looked back to see a young witch with pink hair and bubblegum blowing out of her mouth handing over an envelope.

She was also holding a wand in her hand, and it seemed that this pink-haired witch was the one who had just yanked him up just in time when he was about to plant himself on the ground.