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Dumbledore's gaze lingered on the basilisk, its emerald eyes reflecting a complexity of thought. His lips curled into a small smile as he turned toward Dracula, an unspoken understanding between them.
"Since it is Slytherin's pet, let it be settled by those closest to him," he said, his tone carrying a serene authority. "I don't believe it is within my purview to decide the fate of a treasure passed down from founder to future generations."
Dracula's chuckle broke the moment of stillness, a low sound that seemed to emerge from the depths of his being. He shook his head slightly, the weight of his words sharp as they cut through the quiet.
"Salazar has been dead for many years," he remarked, a hint of cynicism threading his voice. "There's no need for such reverence anymore. His property is now mine, and I intend to use it as I see fit. Perhaps even against the very descendants he so proudly left behind."
With that, Dracula reached out, his fingers grazing the basilisk's massive green forehead. The creature, large and powerful, lowered its head in response, obediently accepting its master's touch.
"How about we make a home for you in the Albanian forest?" Dracula continued, his voice softer now, as if considering a more personal request. "There, you can help me find something—Ravenclaw's diadem. I'm sure you'll recognize it, for it's the one I wore most often."
The basilisk blinked, its enormous eyes narrowing with understanding. Its ancient mind, honed through centuries of evolution and Slytherin's teachings, grasped Dracula's words without hesitation. It closed its eyes and gave a small nod, its long tail flicking in agreement.
Dumbledore, still watching, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Did Professor Dracula learn of the diadem from Voldemort himself?" he asked, a trace of curiosity lacing his words.
At the mention of Voldemort, Dracula's face darkened, as if a shadow passed over him. His eyes, usually so steady and calculating, flickered with a flash of irritation.
Voldemort's temptation—the trade of the secret to eternal life for a fleeting escape—had shaken something deep within Dracula. The cruel manipulation had touched a raw nerve, the sting of it still fresh in his mind. His anger simmered beneath the surface, cold and potent. The revelation had been a bitter reminder, a twisting of his own fate. And yet, it had caused him to forget Helena's request about the diadem—only for a moment, but it had been enough.
He exhaled slowly, pushing the bitterness aside. The basilisk needed to be sent away, and that was the task at hand. There was no room for further distractions.
"Professor Dracula, since you've decided to send the basilisk to Albania, there is something I must inform you of." Dumbledore's voice brought Dracula back to the present, his words steady yet tinged with concern. "In the past decade, Newt Scamander discovered something unusual in one of Albania's forests."
Dracula's interest piqued immediately, his brow furrowing as Dumbledore continued.
"Several years ago, Newt, working as a special magical zoologist, was invited by the Ministry of Magic in Albania to investigate a strange phenomenon. In one particular forest, many animals lost their vitality inexplicably. Their bodies showed no signs of injury, but their forms .... it had withered away..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off, as if pondering the gravity of the situation.
Dracula's eyes sharpened. "Isn't this the same event that occurred in the Forbidden Forest recently?" His voice had taken on an edge, an underlying understanding of the dark forces at play. "This sounds like black magic—something that drains the life force of living creatures in the form of a sacrificial ritual, replenishing something that was lost."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "You're right. After Voldemort's return through Quirrell, Newt sent me a letter detailing the deaths of the animals. But strangely, the phenomenon ceased abruptly."
Dracula's lips curled into a grim smile. "That means, after Voldemort's failed attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone and his subsequent defeat at my hands, he retreated back to the Albanian forest. A place he knows well, one where he has spent years of hiding."
"Exactly." Dumbledore's eyes met Dracula's, filled with unspoken understanding. "It's possible that Voldemort has returned to that very place, to regroup and recover. The Albanian forest might hold the answers we seek."
A dark smile tugged at the corner of Dracula's mouth as he processed the information. "In that case, I'll take on one more task." His eyes turned to the basilisk, who stood still, awaiting his next command. "I need you to help me find any traces of Voldemort. The descendant of Slytherin who once controlled you. I'm sure he'll seek you out in time, just as he did before."
Without hesitation, the basilisk nodded once more, its mind firmly aligned with its master's will.
Dumbledore, who had been listening carefully, tilted his head. "Professor Dracula, I recall you once mentioned that you don't speak Parseltongue. So, how do you plan to communicate with the basilisk and obtain the information you seek?"
Dracula's eyes flickered with amusement as he turned to face the headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore, are wizards' methods of acquiring information really limited to mere speech? Such a primitive approach." He chuckled softly, his gaze intensifying. "Don't you think Legilimency might be a more efficient alternative? A method that doesn't require words at all?"
Dumbledore's eyes twitched at the mention of Legilimency. The art of reading minds—a dangerous and delicate magic that required direct eye contact to be effective. He knew well that few beings possessed the power to delve into another's mind so effortlessly. Only someone like Dracula, with his vast power and ancient knowledge, could risk such a feat with a creature as formidable as the basilisk.
The realization made Dumbledore's heart beat a little faster. He sighed quietly, resigned to the fact that Dracula's methods were as unconventional as they were effective.
With that, Dracula finished his instructions to the basilisk, giving the creature one last, gentle pat on the head before stepping back to consider his next move.
Dumbledore, ever the helpful ally, offered his assistance. "Professor Dracula, if you need help transporting the basilisk, Fox could teleport it outside Hogwarts. Alternatively, I can arrange a team of experts to transport magical creatures to Albania. We could also use a Portkey, a method I'm quite skilled at crafting."
Dracula gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. "It's not that complicated.," he replied. "I was simply contemplating how I might fit this great beast into the moon."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in confusion, but before he could ask further, Dracula grabbed the basilisk by the tail and, with a flick of his wrist, Disapparated from the room.
In the blink of an eye, Dracula and the basilisk were suspended hundreds of meters above Hogwarts. The basilisk, clearly disoriented by the sudden shift, twisted and struggled in the air, its massive form shaking as it adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation.
"Don't move," Dracula warned coldly, his grip firm as he held the basilisk aloft with nothing but the strength of his magic. "If you do, I'll drop you."
The basilisk stilled immediately, its vast body suspended in the air like a colossal serpent caught in the grip of an invisible force.
Dracula gave a satisfied nod, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the sky. A dark, foreboding moon slowly emerged, casting a chilling light over the scene.
"This is better," Dracula muttered to himself, eyes gleaming as he turned his attention to the land below. The basilisk, now under his complete control, followed his commands without question.
The moonlight fell upon them both—two moons in the sky tonight, their shadows merging over the land of Hogwarts, a prelude to a much darker journey ahead.
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