Stalking the poor man was fun. What? It was. He never knew who was following him, but he did know I was there.

My eyes, as bad as they are, were constantly watching him. Unless of course I couldn't see him and then I was listening to everything he said, did, didn't do. I knew him better than both of them. They thought they knew him, didn't they?

But they didn't. He truly is nothing like they think. Oh they thought they knew what he liked. Thought he liked the dangerous stuff.

I swore I'd never tell anyone this, but you're not really anyone are you?

He doesn't like Firewhisky or any of them silly other strong drinks. He utterly despises butterbeer or those sugary drinks of the Muggles. I know what he likes.

I bet you're wondering. In fact, I know you are because you don't technically exist. I don't either, but I'm not who you think I am.

I'm quite lucky I've not been attacked, what with me following him everywhere.

And I do mean everywhere. Every meeting, every excursion I have followed him. I've seen the minor changes in his expression, things that cannot be blocked by his uncanny control of his emotions.

He has a problem with anger. He changes every emotion into anger and hate and channels them towards certain people. When in someone's presence that he normally focuses his anger on, he switches targets.

Though there's one person he would never dare to hate. She's dead though, but that doesn't stop him from hating dead people.

I don't hate dead people. I'm not sure I can feel hate at all, or any other emotion. I bet you're curious.

I could tell you all sorts of things that have been happening since I started stalking him. Don't you go skipping ahead here, I'm talking in this order and to have you skipping ahead – even though neither of us really exist – would only be confusing.

I'll tell you a secret! Only you've got to listen to me and not confuse me by skipping what else I'm saying.

I bet you wonder why I'm fol-stalking him. I like the word stalking better than following, sounds more devious.

I like being devious. He's devious too, playing his games and setting traps. There's no one who really knows him except me. No one truly trusts him. I don't trust him because he doesn't know who I am. Not that he'd know even if I introduced myself.

Not that I could introduce myself. I don't really exist. I think he'd be really confused if you introduced yourself and then introduced me because you don't exist either.

You'd have to tell him a few things about me. You'd have to know my name. I don't have a name because I don't exist.

I supposed I could make one up, but I'm not smart enough to be able to do that. I'll just borrow one.

I'll tell you my name and a few things about me that'll confuse everyone. Maybe things'll make sense to you!

My name is Dracula.

I'm one of the bats forgotten to be banished from one Halloween and charmed by those redheaded twins to follow Snape around.

I am a fruit bat, but I now have the same obsession with hot chocolate that Severus Snape does.