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Chapter 25: Voldemort is going to find another way out.

The troll, with its thick skin, was immensely irritated by their harassment, but had no effective way to deal with it. Every time it swung its large club towards the young wizards' heads, it would be immobilized in an instant by Dracula.

It didn't understand why this was happening, but it instinctively lost its desire to attack, gradually reducing the pressure on Harry and the others.

Professor McGonagall, who had been in a panic, arrived as quickly as possible but was greeted by this bizarre scene. She couldn't help but turn to Dumbledore and say:

"Albus, I don't think Professor Dracula's teaching methods are suitable for these poor children!"

"Perhaps Professor Dracula has his own teaching methods." Dumbledore coughed lightly, awkwardly brushing off McGonagall's comment.

What could Dumbledore do? He was at a loss as well! Should he really fire the owner of Hogwarts over a minor issue with teaching methods? Did Hogwarts want to continue running or not?

At that moment, Dracula noticed the troll's fatigue. For the sake of this poor teaching prop, he told Harry and the others to stop.

"That's enough for now. Remember to handle danger the way I taught you," he said to the three of them.

The trio nodded hastily and then rushed behind Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore, as if fearing Dracula might assign them another dangerous task.

Dracula shook his head with a smile, then turned to look at the hurriedly arriving Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape. Besides the three headmasters and house heads, the teaching assistant Quirrell was also trailing behind them with a gloomy expression, lost in thought.

"What exactly are you playing at?" Professor McGonagall asked Harry and the others sternly, her voice cold and angry. "You're lucky Professor Dracula found you in time, or you might have been killed! Why didn't you stay in your dormitory?"

Snape shot a piercing glance at Harry, particularly scrutinizing his eyes for any damage. Seeing no injury, he let out a relieved breath and then grumbled with annoyance.

Hermione, initially intending to take all the blame herself, was about to speak when her eyes widened in horror.

"Miss Granger, are you also going to play tricks like those troublemakers?" Professor McGonagall, misinterpreting Hermione's expression as a distraction tactic like the Weasley twins, said angrily.

However, Harry and Ron also suddenly showed signs of alarm.

"Professor, watch out!" Harry shouted.

Professor McGonagall turned around just in time to see a giant wooden club descending towards Dracula.

Even a troll, despite its low intelligence, realized through instinct that Dracula was the one causing it to be manipulated by the young wizards. It decided to eliminate him first, then deal with the others.

The club came down heavily, and everyone thought Dracula would meet the same fate as many past Defense Against the Dark Arts professors.

But in the next moment, Dracula casually raised his hand and caught the club firmly.

The troll strained, pressing its feet into the bathroom floor and creating an indentation, but it couldn't pull its club out of Dracula's seemingly slender, pale fingers.

Dracula glanced at it indifferently and then suddenly let go.

The troll, unable to control its strength, yanked the club out forcefully, only to have it come crashing down on its own head.

The troll collapsed in a faint.

Dracula then turned his nonchalant gaze towards Harry, who had issued the warning, and asked with a light chuckle:

"Is something the matter, Mr. Potter?"

"No... no, Professor."

Harry swallowed hard and shook his head repeatedly.

Witnessing Dracula catching the troll's club barehanded left not only the three young wizards but also Professors McGonagall and Snape stunned.

"It's late, you should all go back to rest," Dracula said softly, ignoring their expressions.

As he walked forward, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, carefully wiped his hands, and then burned it to ashes.

Passing by Quirrell, Dracula gave him a meaningful look before disappearing into the shadow not illuminated by the moonlight.

That night, in the narrow office of the teaching assistant.

Quirrell, having removed his ever-present purple turban, was kneeling and trembling on the floor.

On the back of his head, Voldemort's snarling face was angrily shouting, venting his frustration and rage.

"Useless! You're completely useless! You couldn't even detect Dracula's mark on your shoulder!" Voldemort roared furiously. "If I hadn't noticed his mark on you in time, were you going to foolishly rush into the restricted corridor on the fourth floor?!"

"M-Master, I truly didn't sense anything unusual on my body..." Quirrell weakly responded.

"Even if you didn't sense it, didn't Dracula's unusual pat on your shoulder make you realize something was off?" Voldemort demanded. "Your clumsy acting has become glaringly obvious. Even Severus has noticed something wrong with you."

"Damn it, why did I have to possess you and not Severus!"

Voldemort was now utterly exasperated, lamenting that Quirrell wasn't as competent as Snape.

But he couldn't reveal his identity to Snape now.

On one hand, in his weakened state, possessing Quirrell, it wasn't just about losing face before his former subordinate; it would severely damage his authority and could even lead to rebellion.

On the other hand, Voldemort had been in hiding for eleven years. During this time, Snape had gained Dumbledore's trust, and Voldemort couldn't be sure if he was still as loyal as before.

So, he could only pin his hopes on the disappointing Quirrell.

"No, it's not safe for me to stay with Quirrell anymore," Voldemort muttered to himself. "Moreover, his life force is almost depleted. I must find another way out!"