Wow, I haven't been on here in ages... ^^'' The last time I was here, I was still in high school! o_o
We've been reading Dracula in my English Lit. class and my friend and I started wondering who would win in battle: Voldemort or Dracula? The title is a weak attempt at a pun.
Disclaimer: Yeah. Not my characters. Spoilers for DH, though everyone's probably read it by now, and spoilers for Dracula.
Spilling Magical Blood
"Severus Snape wasn't-"
"'Scuse me!"
The various witches and wizards congregated in the Great Hall were caught off guard when a girl with a bright orange hat walked in, holding two books, one of which was considerably thicker. She smiled brightly as she walked up to Voldemort, who was just as bemused as the rest of them. She said to him, "Do you mind if I borrow you for like, an hour? I'll get you back in time for Harry to kill you." She ignored the angry look on Voldemort's face. "That is, if you survive. Your opponent is really strong, although he's gonna kick it tonight, too. But he's strong enough that if you were actually a nice person, I would be seriously afraid for your life." She nodded.
Voldemort had enough of this nonsense. "Lord Voldemort has no intention of dying today," he said coldly, turning his wand on the girl.
The girl merely raised her eyebrows. "I know that won't work for you the way you want it," she said dully. "Truth is, you're screwed either way."
Voldemort mouthed, Screwed?
The girl looked over at Harry and gave him a thumb's up. "I'll have him back to you soon. I'm not sure if he'll be alive or dead." She laughed at the look on Harry's face. "No worries!" She linked arms with a clearly uncomfortable Voldemort and led him out of the Great Hall.
"...How did she get in?"
---
Dracula slowly opened his eyes as the sun disappeared from the sky, feeling refreshed and- holy crap, he did not expect to wake up to two guys standing over him wielding such sharp objects!
"WAIT! Hold the phone!"
A girl with a bright orange hat and two books came running towards Dracula, Jonathan, and Quincey with an extremely pale man who didn't appear to have a nose being dragged after her. He was gripping on to a white stick.
Dracula sat up as his two would-be attackers looked from him to the girl and the man with no nose. "Excuse me, little miss, but who are you?" asked Quincey.
The girl shook her head. "No one of consequence," she said coolly. "But may I introduce you to Tom Riddle!" She pushed her captive forward. "Jonathan, Quincey, if you would be so kind as to not stab Dracula." She smiled as the two gentlemen stepped away. "Thank you very much." She then walked over to Dracula's box and pulled him up, leading him over to Voldemort.
Dracula held out his hand stiffly towards Voldemort. "Count Dracula," he said a little coldly.
Voldemort matched the tone as he shook Dracula's hand unsurely. "Lord Voldemort."
"Also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle!" chimed the girl, earning herself a glare from Voldemort. "Oh come off it, Tom. If you were going to kill me, you would've done it by now." She smiled triumphantly. "Now," she addressed both villains, "you're probably wondering why I dragged a dark wizard from England 1998 to Transylvania late 1800's to meet an evil vampire."
"The thought crossed my mind, yes," said Dracula.
The girl promptly sat down and opened the two books towards their ends. "Now, based on the events of The Deathly Hallows and Dracula, I think we can all agree that your deaths were pret-ty darn anticlimactic." She paused, ignoring the horrified stares that surrounded her. "Well, Voldemort's was a bit more dramatic, but seriously, I can't believe you were such a..." She coughed when Voldemort's grip on his wand tightened. "Anyways. Several colleagues and I were wondering who would win in a fight: Dracula-" she waved her hand at said vampire- "or Voldemort." She imitated her previous action at said wizard.
Voldemort and Dracula exchanged a look and started laughing. "Surely you can't be serious?" chuckled Dracula.
The girl was seriously (pun!) tempted to make a Sirius Black joke, but decided against it. "I seriously am quite serious," she said seriously. She had a feeling that somewhere out there, someone was abusing the words "serious" and "seriously."
Moving on.
She continued, "Look, you're both terrific at being evil. It would just be interesting to see who would win." She smiled innocently.
Voldemort said complacently, "There would be no contest- I would win."
Dracula laughed derisively. "You? I have lived for centuries feeding on the blood of young ladies-"
"Pedophile," muttered the girl.
Dracula didn't hear her comment. "I can control the elements, transform into a bat, a wolf, and I can most certainly defeat a miserable creature like yourself!"
Jonathan and Quincey, who were both too stunned and fascinated to leave, exchanged a look. "Ten pounds says the Count wins," said Jonathan almost immediately.
Quincey took Jonathan's hand and shook it. "It's a bet," he agreed.
While they were making their wagers, Voldemort and Dracula had started the necessary trash talking. "You can't even cross water!" spat Voldemort.
Dracula retorted, "You have no ability to love!" He waved his hand dismissively when the girl started to ask how he knew that.
Voldemort rolled his eyes. "I am the Heir of Slytherin while you are Muggle born!" He didn't seem to notice that nobody but the girl knew what he meant, but they knew he meant it to be insulting.
"The 'Heir of Slytherin'? What is that, some skin disease?" asked Jonathan, only to be ignored (of course).
Dracula paused in thought. "You. Have. No. Nose."
Voldemort was obviously offended. "You, sir, are unkind."
The girl laughed out loud at the silliness. "Dracula wins the trash talk!" she cheered, taking the victor's hand and raising it in the air. She quickly let go when Dracula started eyeing her suspiciously. "So..." She moved closer to Voldemort, smiling nervously. "Let's get inside the castle for the main event, shall we?"
---
"DING DING DING! In THIS corner is the one and only COUNT DRACULA! With the powers of an animagus-"
Jonathan interrupted the girl at the strange-sounding term. "A what?"
"With the powers of a shape shifter and the strength of a crap-load of men, the Count has a great chance tonight!" The girl darted across the room over to Voldemort, who was annoyed because Harry Potter had probably left Hogwarts by now and Voldemort was so close to finally killing the boy! The girl did not notice Voldemort's annoyance as she continued to cheer, "And in THIS corner is none other than tall, dark, and evil himself- LORD VOLDEMORT! Although he split his soul to the point where he once spontaneously combusted- oh come on, it's just a joke- he does have a magic stick of DEATH (also known as the Elder Wand) which certainly makes him a very worthy adversary!"
Dracula smirked. "You exploded?" he asked.
Voldemort gritted his teeth. "I got better," he said tensely.
The girl took off her bright orange hat, looking very excited. "Let the duel begin!" On "begin," she threw her hat up in the air.
Voldemort automatically thrust his wand at Dracula and shouted dramatically, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
A streak of green light hit Dracula right in the chest, but it did not have the desired effect. "What was that supposed to do?" asked the Count.
Voldemort stared in shock for a moment before answering the question: "You're supposed to be dead!"
Dracula scoffed. "I'm already dead, you fool." He stepped forward. "You, on the other hand-" He lunged at Voldemort, who reacted very quickly.
"STUPEFY!" Voldemort couldn't help but smile when Dracula hit the floor. "CRUCIO!" He laughed evilly at the sound of the Count's agonized wails.
"Who's winning?" asked Quincey as he walked in the room, a glass of wine in each hand.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
"Looks like Noseless," answered Jonathan, taking one of the glasses. "Thank you very much."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
"Welcome."
"AAAAAAGH!" Dracula lay still on the floor for several moments, trying to recover.
The girl's eyes were widened. "Could it be that Voldemort has won the advantage? Oh dear, he's going in to gloat." She sounded very disappointed.
Voldemort looked down at the sore Dracula with a smirk. "Well, well, well. That hardly seemed to be a fair fight, didn't it?" he said mockingly. "I told you I would win. For see, I have magical blood in me, which naturally makes me much stronger than you, and thus superior. Don't take it personally; I just happen to be superior over, well, everybody."
"Ehem." The girl stepped forward. "You're forgetting that I dragged you here in the first place. So... that would make me stronger, wouldn't it?" She had a mischievous gleam in her eye.
Voldemort was not amused. "No," he said curtly. "It doesn't. As I already stated, I have the magical blood of Salazar Slytherin running in my veins-"
There were too many blood references in that sentence for Dracula, because right after Voldemort said "veins," Dracula pulled him down and bit down on Voldemort's neck, eagerly drinking the magical blood.
The girl pointed at the two and shouted to Jonathan and Quincey, "Gentlemen, GET THEM!"
Jonathan and Quincey grinned.
---
"Geez, he is heavy." The girl dragged Voldemort's body into the middle of the Great Hall, which wasn't nearly as full as when the girl left. As she let Voldemort's body fall, she wrinkled her nose at Ron and Hermione in the corner. "Ew. Man, I shipped them and everything, but that is sickening."
Harry might have agreed if he hadn't just witnessed his worst enemy's body being dragged towards him. "I was supposed to do him in," he said blankly.
The girl shrugged. "Well, you originally did," she said, giving Harry the thick book. "Second to last chapter. You're really a talker, y'know." She patted Harry on the shoulder. "Good job, Harry 'Emo-Kid' Potter." With that, she walked away.
"...Emo-Kid?"
End.
I actually liked Voldemort's death. It was ironic, and irony's beautiful. My friend was disappointed with it, and we were both disappointed by Dracula's death, so yeah.
Yes, Dracula has the ability to love. Note excerpt from chapter three:
---
The fair girl, with a laugh of ribald coquetry, turned to answer him. "You yourself never loved. You never love!" On this the other women joined, and such a mirthless, hard, soulless laughter rang through the room that it almost made me faint to hear. It seemed like the pleasure of fiends.
Then the Count turned, after looking at my face attentively, and said in a soft whisper, "Yes, I too can love. You yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?"
---
Just trying to be funny. Nothing more, nothing less. :)