Professor Vampire.

Chapter 16: Waiting For Godot

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"Speak up, what do you want to do?" Dracula fixed his gaze intently on Nicolas Flamel's eyes. "I don't believe that tempting a mere Voldemort requires the use of the actual Philosopher's Stone."

Dracula indeed had no interest in the Philosopher's Stone; he wouldn't even bother picking it up if it were thrown in front of him.

However, if the world's only Philosopher's Stone were threatened, he would exert all his effort to protect it, because it was Nicolas' very lifeline!

"Relax, Albus will certainly be able to protect the Philosopher's Stone," Nicolas said with a smile. "I'm not worried at all once it's in his hands."

"Besides, I've also prepared plenty of Elixir of Life. Even if something does happen to the Philosopher's Stone, I have ample time to sort out what needs to be dealt with."

Hearing this, Dracula furrowed his brows deeply.

"If you trust Dumbledore so much, why prepare extra Elixir of Life?" he asked.

Flamel's words faltered, and his gaze drifted away from Dracula's scrutiny as he pretended to admire the play, turning his eyes toward the stage.

Dracula also looked at the spacious stage of the opera house.

The stage was sparsely decorated, featuring just a rural path and a tree, with the lighting resembling a dim, dusky evening.

Under the tree in the countryside, two old beggars looked incredibly bored and disinterested, seemingly losing all zest for life. One of them proceeded to untie his belt and hang it on a branch, preparing to hang himself.

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"So, have you actually prepared for the possibility of never retrieving the Philosopher's Stone?" Dracula asked quietly, watching the two old beggars who were so bored they considered hanging themselves.

Nicolas sighed deeply.

"As long as the Philosopher's Stone exists in this world, it will always be coveted. This time it's Voldemort, and Albus is here to oppose him. But who knows what stronger villains might appear next time? And whether there will be anyone like Albus to protect the Stone?"

"Brad, you should understand how I feel. A long life is so monotonous. And I am truly old. Just like this play, it tells us that life is an endless, hopeless wait. The world is absurd, and people suffer."

Dracula's words of comfort were momentarily stuck in his throat. He understood the tedium of a prolonged life, otherwise, he wouldn't have made seeking amusement his lifelong pursuit.

"If you and Peregrine were gone, I would have no more friends left in this world," Dracula said slowly after a long silence.

"You will find better friends," Nicolas smiled. "I don't have the inherent advantages of a vampire; my muscles and limbs are no longer healthy. Besides, I've done what I should and shouldn't have done in this long life, and I have no regrets."

Dracula remained silent, distractedly watching the comical performance of the beggars on stage.

The beggar who had just untied his belt to hang himself had his neck suspended from the tree. But the old, fragile belt couldn't bear his weight and broke.

The old beggar failed to die.

The audience below laughed at the opportune moment.

Seeing this, Dracula also chuckled softly.

"Old man, dying isn't so easy," he said, turning to Nicolas. "If I say I'm willing to help you protect the Philosopher's Stone, then at least half of the excuses you've used before become invalid!"

"As for the monotony of life, there's no need to worry. In a few years, the magical world will certainly be in chaos, and interesting people and events will be found."

Dracula thought of the scenes he saw in the Mirror of Erised and unconsciously smiled at the corner of his mouth.

"Also, don't you really want to see the 21st century, that view spanning a millennium?"

Nicolas stared at him blankly, then laughed.

"This play is indeed quite fitting," he said happily, his wrinkles stretching into a smile.

On stage, the beggar picked up his trousers and said to his companion, "Shall we go?"

"Let's go."

The curtain slowly fell, and the audience erupted into enthusiastic applause.

Dracula and Nicolas clapped together.

"What's the name of this play?" Dracula asked.

"'Waiting for Godot'," Nicolas replied. "Now that I think about it, if you look at the play from another perspective, life is not just an endless, hopeless wait. It can be understood as—if there is hope, there is still motivation to move forward."

"That's right. The position of Dark Arts professor you recommended to me has quite a lot of potential," Dracula said with a smile.

"Then shouldn't you hurry back to Hogwarts and do your job properly, Professor Dracula?" Nicolas teased.

Dracula nodded lightly, transforming into a dark moon and dissipating into the shadows along with a group of bat silhouettes.

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The next moment, Dracula appeared on the window sill of the Dark Arts classroom.

He leaned against the edge of the window, casually sitting on the sill. A gentle breeze blew, causing his black-red cloak and silver hair to sway lightly.

At this moment, Quirrell was still stumbling through his lesson.

Some of the young witches and wizards in the classroom were drowsy, some were absorbed in their own games, and others were thinking of ways to prank Quirrell.

In the entire class, it seemed that only Hermione Granger was still attentively listening, occasionally taking notes.

Ron had long since slumped over his desk, caught between sleep and wakefulness. Harry, meanwhile, was daydreaming, his gaze wandering over the classroom and the view outside the window.

At that moment, he glanced outside and accidentally saw the silver-haired figure lounging on the windowsill.

"Professor Dracula!" Harry exclaimed in surprise.

The other young witches and wizards, hearing Harry's call, immediately woke up and looked toward the window.

Dracula, seeing this, smiled lightly and waved to Harry. He then walked towards Quirrell at the podium.

"Professor Dracula, w-why have you suddenly returned?" Quirrell stammered.

"I was just coming back to see how you were doing with the lesson," Dracula said. "But I didn't expect you to turn the class into this. Wasn't the lesson plan well-prepared?"

Quirrell, trembling, stuttered without being able to get a single word out.

"Never mind." Dracula shook his head in resignation and casually threw Quirrell out of the classroom. "Go clean your troll, make sure it's free of any odor, and then hand it over to Dumbledore to be placed under the trapdoor."

After instructing Quirrell, Dracula adjusted his smile for the young witches and wizards and said cheerfully,

"Students, I apologize for having Quirrell as your substitute teacher." He said, "From now on, I will give you a real Dark Arts lesson!"