Blood Bound: A Vampire Tale
Disclaimer: Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing, nor is this done for any purpose except my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of anyone reading this. There is no attempt to make any profit.
I wish to extend a grateful thank you to my beta readers, Amanda and Prof Roz. Any mistakes left in this story are due to my last minute revisions.
A/N Conversations in italic print are telepathic in nature.
Chapter Ten
The Riddle House in Little Hangleton was three years more the worse for wear than when the Dark Lord used it last. The deserted house smelled of dust, mildew, and decay. Since the death of old Frank Bryce no one even made the pretense of keeping the old manor up. A few of its windows were broken and the lock on the doors would not deter someone determined to enter. The garden was overtaken with weeds and the walls were completely hidden by the ivy.
To Lord Voldemort it had one advantage; all of the Death Eaters knew where it was. Voldemort could call them to him there without worrying that one of them might betray one of his real hiding places. He had called such a meeting with his most trusted remaining servants. Something had slipped and he was furious.
His plans had called for the social collapse of the city of Manchester. With the Ministry of Magic focused on the situation there, his Death Eaters would have had more freedom to attack those that still opposed him. Old Scrimgeour would never be as ruthless as Barty Crouch, nevertheless he was far more competent than old Fudge and the Aurors under his command could be a nuisance. The destabilization of the Muggle government would have been a useful side effect.
Since the death of Dumbledore things had been going wrong. First, he had lost his mental connection with Harry Potter. He recognized that it was not Occlumency. The boy had just vanished and Voldemort could not admit to himself that he was afraid. He worried that Potter was possessed of some power that he knew nothing of. Still, as best he could determine, the Ministry was searching for the blasted boy, too. The prophecy weighed heavily on his mind. All his attempts to question the boy's friends had gone awry; especially after the partly successful attack on the mudblood. Bellatrix had paid for that mistake. He fully suspected the rumors of Potter's death were some kind of smoke screen; it might be one last trick of that meddlesome old fool, Albus Dumbledore. At least that operation had gone right. He might have underestimated young Draco; the boy hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore, but he had gotten the Death Eaters past the castle's defenses.
Second, the loss of six Death Eaters was a serious blow. His inner circle of reliable servants was shrinking, and still the blood traitor Weasley clan was unscathed. They were pure bloods after all; he expected that their defenses would be formidable, but not so difficult that six experienced wizards would not be able to cope. In any case, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Snape, and Fenrir were the last of those that had been with him from before. Lucius, Avery, Macnair, Mulciber, Nott, Doholov, and Crabbe were still in Azkaban after the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic. Jugson was useless to anyone and was in a locked room at St. Mungo's where the healers still struggled to deal with the effects of the time warp in the bell jar. The rest were dead.
Third, the poor showing of the new recruits to his Death Eaters irritated him; he had lost fourteen in the attack on the Weasleys' joke shop. The quick response by the Ministry was quite suspicious; he wondered if there was a traitor in their midst? Was it Wormtail, Snape, or another he had not considered?
The traitors would have to wait because his operation in Manchester had failed, and the dementors were coming to report.
The room grew noticeably colder as the dementor entered. It was huge, nearly eight feet tall. The Death Eaters instinctively drew back from the monster. Its voice was high and cold, almost like modulated static. "My Lord Voldemort, I have come to report that we no longer have sufficient numbers to overthrow the city as you ordered. As we approached we were attacked. Almost three-quarters of our numbers were destroyed."
"Destroyed? By what?" snarled Voldemort.
"Unknown. I did not encounter it, but it was reported to me that it must have been one of the silent ones."
"Silent ones?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow; this was a new excuse.
"In this Frequency and Rhythm most beings sustain and do not perceive," the dementor explained. "There are also many here that resonate, you are able to bend and twist the flows of power. You sustain and you perceive. There are some that do not sustain, neither do they perceive. I have not studied this; I know only that they are. The rarest of beings perceive, they sustain, but they do not resonate. It may now be that one of the silent ones resonates and perceives. If so, none of my kind has survived the encounter to report."
The Dark Lord was irritated; he was in no mood for riddles. The dementors were useful tools, their innate abilities to intimidate and terrify were considerable. He had used them, but he had never taken the time to understand them. The Death Eaters cringed; they had seen Voldemort in this mood before. Bellatrix moved uneasily as she licked her lips; if she moved too quickly the cuts the whip had left would still bleed. The Dark Lord had been of the opinion that a few scars would remind her to be more considerate of the consequences of her actions. It was obvious that he was still in the mood to administer lessons.
Voldemort drew his wand, pointed it at the dementor, and yelled, "Crucio!" He had never tried this spell on a dementor; there had never been any need. The dementor floated impassively as Voldemort cursed it; indeed the air in the room grew colder as the monster fed on the energy from the curse. The noise it made sounded like the hiss of rain on a thin, metal roof.
"My instrumentality is not as yours is, my Lord. This harmonic will not hurt me. However, if you continue, I will defend myself."
Voldemort's rage redoubled the power of his curse, but to no apparent effect. The dementor turned its head; Snape cried out and collapsed as the dementor swiftly and painfully drew the emotional energy from his mind. When Snape hit the floor, Voldemort lifted the curse.
The dementor bowed, "My Lord, we will serve you as we have done. Why do you wish to injure those who only desire to remain faithful? It is true that our capacity is diminished, but we wish to carry out your commands as we are able."
The Dark Lord was in no mood to be reasonable. He leveled his wand and commanded, "Avada Kedavra!" This time the dementor emitted a most satisfying shriek as it was pushed backward against the wall.
For long moments the dementor was silent. When it spoke again its voice was weak, "So be it. We will serve you no longer. Beware the shadows, for you are now our enemies. I perceive you wish to destroy me. I am not as you are. My being and instrumentality are not separate as yours are, and these harmonics cannot kill me."
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort hissed. The dementor shrieked again and slowly sank to the floor.
The Dark Lord grinned at his fallen foe, "You may not die from my spell, but we will see if you can starve." He magically sealed the room's windows and doors as the Death Eaters carried Snape's unconscious body out of the room.
They gathered outside, "Take Snape to his home and have Wormtail tend him. Check here each day to see how long it takes for a dementor to die of starvation." With that each of the Death Eaters Apparated back to their hiding places.
After an hour or so the dementor slowly rose from the floor. It scanned the cage Voldemort had set up for it. He had sealed the windows, doors, floor, and ceiling, yet there was one hole in the flows of power the dementor could detect. The fireplace in the room had a large chimney. Even though it was blind in the human sense it could perceive the difference between metal and brick. The years of neglect had taken their toll on the metal in the damper and it did not require much effort for the dementor to wrench the damper from its place in the chimney flue.
The dementor dissolved the robe it had generated for itself. Its inwards were primarily liquid, the tentacles and back provided its only musculature, so it could squeeze through amazingly small spaces much like an octopus. The dementor began the slow process of squeezing its bulk up the chimney. It took several hours, but the dementor escaped the cage. Voldemort was quick to condemn others for a fault he also possessed; he did not pause to consider the consequences of his actions.
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The city of Sheffield had been a center for heavy industry for over a century. It was famous for its silver plate, steel, and cutlery. Harry and Hermione had hunted its streets for several days; the university students had provided a ready source of blood for Harry. Hermione still preferred petty criminals. Together they had mastered the Disillusionment Charm for themselves and for doors, for Harry it was a great victory, as it pulled Hermione out of her shell. They occasionally communicated with each other about the hunt for the Horcruxes and the dementors. Of the latter it appeared they had made a mistake. They had not found a single one since Manchester.
Though Hermione had improved, she still could be very moody. Tonight she was sulking on the roof of the ancient cathedral, looking at the stars and calculating how long she would have to endure her existence as a vampire. She did not know Harry had the crossbow bolt hidden in his backpack. He was not in the mood to try to talk to her tonight, though he longed for someone to break the loneliness he was feeling. Loneliness was his major emotion these nights; even the mastery of a new spell did not bring the joy it used to. He felt his emotions were losing their edge, just as his body had lost much of its sense of touch. It was almost like he was wearing a glove over his emotions.
Harry decided to Apparate to Diagon Alley. He wished he could contact Ron, but he approved of the way Hermione had said goodbye and felt it better that Ron would grieve and move on. Nevertheless, he still missed all the Weasleys.
Harry grabbed his hooded cloak and headed for a quiet park just south of the abandoned shop where they had set up their lair. He appeared between the buildings where he had stashed his Firebolt the night he and Hermione had broken up the raid on Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He crept down the alley to where he could see the gaudy joke shop. Again, he felt that if the twins were okay, that the world could be normal.
A new sign had been added to the store. It was in the blackboard style he had first seen at the World Cup. The handwriting endlessly wrote out the specials and the Owl order address. Curiosity gained the better of his caution as he moved to a point where he could read the sign.
Suddenly, a new message appeared on the blackboard. "Harry or Hermione, please come in, we have some important things that we need to tell you." The message began to repeat itself and Harry was torn as to what he should do. Memories of the attack on Hermione convinced him that perhaps he should make contact. Of all the wizards that he knew, he trusted Fred and George the most. Their rebellion against unreasonable authority was what he most admired about them.
As he approached the door, it opened by itself. He stepped into the dark shop and the door shut behind him. He began to make his way toward the counter when a voice spoke out of the darkness, "That's close enough. Is that you, Hermione, or is it Harry?"
Rather than answer the question Harry dropped the hood of his cloak. Two wands flared at opposite ends of the counter. Harry flinched at the sudden light, shielding his sensitive eyes.
"Sorry," the twins said as one, Fred extinguished his wand and George shielded his light. Harry fished the dark glasses out of his pocket with such speed that from George's perspective they appeared out of nowhere.
The moment of silence stretched into minutes. Harry felt the emotions of the twins; they were deeply grieved that he was, in truth, a vampire. They were afraid of him, but were also experiencing some kind of awe at being in his presence.
He drew a breath and said, "Don't worry; I'm not going to hurt you." He bared his fangs in a wicked grin. Sensing their fear, he just could not resist. He moved to the counter with all the speed at his command. Before the twins could begin to react, he was there. "If I were, you'd already be dead."
George, who was closest to Harry, recoiled in shock, "Merlin's beard! Harry, don't do that!"
Harry retracted his fangs; he tried to smile normally and failed, "I'm sorry, too. How did you know that I was here?"
"That's one of the things we needed to tell you," said Fred as he walked over. "Dad talked to a vampire hunter, he said that your body produces ammonia now. We set up a ward that detects the ammonia in your clothes; it also set off an alarm in the store. You and Hermione need to keep your clothes as clean as possible, or the Ministry vampire hunters will be able to detect you."
Harry immediately remembered the blue glow. He had noticed it but Hermione had told him that she had not.
"Another thing," began George, "are you feeding from criminals or gangs? If you are, the vampire hunters check the police records for changes in the crime rates. Then they target those areas."
"I don't, but Hermione does. She even made a couple of them confess to the police. No wonder they found us in Manchester," Harry replied.
"Dad wants you to know that Kingsley Shacklebolt is trying to destroy you and Hermione. He's sure that given time you will be a bigger threat than You-Know-Who. In all probability, the vampire hunters will be working with the Aurors now. Keep a low profile." Fred informed Harry.
Harry was sobered by the information. He had liked the Auror and the fact that he was now an enemy was just something else that he had lost since becoming a vampire.
After a few moments George asked, "Was it you, or Hermione, that gave Ron that dream?"
"Hermione," replied Harry sadly, "I never would have thought of anything like that."
"Tell her we appreciate what she did for him. He is taking all of this pretty hard. The dream really helped."
Harry nodded his promise. "How did the Ministry show up so fast that night the Death Eaters attacked?"
"Dad put two and two together. He knew they attacked the Grangers and those bodies you dumped in the village sent another subtle message; we were the only ones left who might know what happened to you. How did you know?" asked Fred.
"I came to see if you were all right. I saw Malfoy in the shop across the street the night before the wedding. I guess they would have attacked sooner if they would have known that you were going to be closed."
"Well," continued George, "it was a wrench to close for a couple of days. But Mum has been in a right state since you disappeared and the Grangers and your aunt were murdered. It was just a part of our familial duty."
"Aunt Petunia is dead?" Harry was shocked; she was after all his last remaining blood relative. The twins told him about the burglary at Number Four. As they explained what had happened, Harry thought about how her murder made him feel. Somehow, the grief did not touch him as deeply as he thought it should have, even though she was never very kind to him. He was more concerned about the family that did show him kindness.
"Does anyone else know that I'm a …," he could not bring himself to say the word. For the first time he felt some of Hermione's shame.
"A vampire?" finished Fred. "The only ones who suspect are Shacklebolt, Dad, Lupin, Tonks, and McGonagall. The only ones who know for sure are us. Believe me, the only one who will know for sure after tonight is Dad, though he'll tell the Order."
"How did you find out?"
"It wasn't too hard to figure out after I saw Hermione that night. She gave me quite a shock. What did you want that Death Eater for?"
"I wanted to question him about where Voldemort is hiding."
"You're going after … You-Know-Who?" whispered George. He and his twin showed the same expression of shocked surprise.
"He's been after me since I was a baby. Don't you think he deserves some of his own back? You won't tell anyone, will you? I need to take him by surprise if I can."
"Harry," Fred said with an overly dramatic expression of pain on his face, "you grieve us. Haven't we proved we can keep a secret?"
Harry gave the twins a real grin, the first one he was able to muster that night. "Yeah, I suppose you can."
"You can come here if you need anything, Harry. Hermione can too. We owe you both more than we can ever repay." George held out his hand.
Harry appreciated the way they tried not to flinch from the touch of his undead flesh, but he could see it in their minds just the same. As he left the store he realized that not every hand was raised against him. For the time being, that felt really good.
He arrived back in Sheffield a few minutes later and he headed straight for the cathedral. He located Hermione sitting on the roof, and within moments he had joined her. Without a word she tapped him on the head with her wand, hiding him with the Disillusionment Charm.
"Fred and George said to tell you thank you for giving Ron that dream, it has really helped."
"You went back to London?" she asked.
"Yes, I didn't want to disturb you. Hermione, Fred and George don't care that we're vampires. They wouldn't be really comfortable around us, but they said they'd help if we need anything. They warned me that the Auror's are hunting us and the vampire hunters will be joining them. We'll have to begin taking a few precautions."
"Like what?" It seemed, for the time being, that she was interested in what Harry had to say.
Harry explained what the twins told him about how the hunters found their prey. She knew that she would have to adjust her feeding habits. They decided to change their hunting areas in order to minimize her effects on the criminal population.
She also began planning on how to do their washing. Harry was delighted; he had not seen her so engaged by anything since they left Manchester. For Hermione's part, having a goal made her feel somewhat better. Harry hoped that if she felt more useful, Hermione would feel happier.
"I wish I could get into the library, we might find a charm to block the detection spells the vampire hunters use.
"You mean the library at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, is there another one?" Hermione inquired.
"There might be a few useful books at Number Twelve."
"We could look there if you want to." Harry gathered that she was as reluctant as he was to return to the gloomy old house.
Contact with the twins had spurred his adventurous nature. He remembered what Ginny had said about anything being possible if you had enough nerve. "Why don't we Apperate to Hogsmeade tomorrow evening? I guess the school will be open this year, since Fred and George are advertising their Skiving Snack Boxes. We might be able to get in if there is no one there."
The following evening, as soon as the sun had set, they Apparated to the only wizarding village in the United Kingdom. It nearly proved to be a disastrous mistake. Hogsmeade was evidently a bit further west than Sheffield; the disk of the sun had not quite sunk below the horizon. They were saved from serious burns because they appeared in the shadow of the Hogshead Tavern. The sunlight stole their powers and very nearly their consciousness. It took several minutes for them to recover from the dazzling light of the setting sun. Fortunately, no one came to investigate why they had nearly collapsed.
It was a sharp lesson that they immediately took to heart. They would have to consider the time at their destination if they Apparated. It was possible for them to Apparate to their own destruction if they appeared in the sunlight.
Once it began to grow dark the duo headed for Hogwarts. Even from a distance Harry could see the energy of the wards. A dome of faint light covered the castle. As they drew closer to the boundary, the defenses appeared as ghostly flames that flared to a height of fifty feet. Hermione responded to the sight by taking hold of Harry's arm.
Harry was spared the decision of whether to touch the flames or not. They were halted by an invisible barrier a few yards from the flames. Hogwarts was shut against them.
Unwilling to admit defeat, Harry wanted to try the secret tunnel from Honeydukes. Hermione suggested that they try to get on the grounds from the Shrieking Shack. She thought it possible that the wards would alert the castle and they might escape more easily from the grounds than the castle.
The trip to the Shrieking Shack was accomplished without incident. The door yielded to Harry's spell and they slipped inside. The tunnel entrance was still open and they easily navigated the passage to the roots of the Whomping Willow. Evidently the wards stopped at ground level, this gave Harry hope that the tunnel from Honeydukes would be useable as well.
Harry touched the knot that froze the tree; he and Hermione stepped out onto the grounds. Nothing happened as they walked toward the greenhouses. There were no apparent alarms as they made their way to one of the side entrances. Neither of them was surprised to find that the doors were all locked and it would take more than the "Alohamora" spell to open them.
Harry, unwilling to admit defeat when they had come so close, wracked his brain for a way to get into the castle. Meanwhile Hermione spread her vampire senses as far over the grounds as she could. Hagrid's hut was empty and so were Professor Sprout's quarters near the greenhouses. From the outside, it was difficult to detect anyone deep inside the castle, but she felt safe in assuming there was no one near the wall.
After thinking a while, Harry realized that he could try the entrance associated with the worst memory of his life, the Astronomy tower. As Quidditch Captain he knew the passwords to get into the broom storage shed. A short time later they were flying to the tower. Harry kept close to the walls to minimize the chances of anyone seeing them and he touched down on the tallest of the castle's towers. "Alohamora," he commanded, the lock opened and they stepped carefully onto the spiral staircase leading down into the castle. Hermione disillusioned them to help hide them from the portraits in the halls.
The interior of Hogwarts was silent and still, as if it was still in mourning for Professor Dumbledore. At the bottom of the tower they scanned the vast interior of the school. To the limit of their senses, the school was deserted.
The path to the library was familiar, yet they moved cautiously. The last thing they wanted to encounter was Peeves or one of the house ghosts. Fortunately, they had no need of light, their vampire eyes could see in the darkness of the halls. As they moved toward the library Harry sensed the presence of the Bloody Baron. The ghost registered as a cold spot in his mind. The Baron was not moving, and Harry guessed that he was down in the Slytherin common room.
Once they were in the library, Hermione went to the charms section and began scanning the titles. After a few minutes, she pulled several volumes took them to a table. With the light of her wand she began going through the books. Harry did his best to help, but between them they could not find anything that would be directly helpful for defeating the vampire hunter's detection spells.
As the hours passed Hermione began taking notes. Once she turned her attention to writing down what she had learned, Harry began keeping watch. He was finally able to sense all of the house ghosts; the only one he could not find was Moaning Myrtle. He could not help but wonder what had become of her, especially since she had developed something of a crush on Draco Malfoy the previous year.
At last Harry had to put a stop to Hermione's research; he needed to maintain a safety margin for returning to Sheffield. Reluctantly she returned the books to the shelves and gathered her writing materials. "If you don't have enough information we can come back some other time," he suggested
"Let me work with what I have and then we'll decide. In the meantime we might check the books at Number Twelve."
Together they left the library, slipped silently through the halls to the tower, and flew to return the broom to the shed. As they made their way back toward the Whomping Willow, Fang began to bark at them. Harry quickly noted that while they had been in the library Hagrid had returned home.
They began to run; with their vampire reflexes and speed, they did not find it difficult to get past the branches and into the tunnel. Once inside Harry tried to sense if Hagrid was alarmed by Fang's barking. As far as he could tell, the half-giant was unconcerned. Hermione tugged on the hem of his cloak and they made their way back to the Shrieking Shack.
Harry noticed that Hermione had a small smile on her face as they left the little house. She noticed that he was staring at her. "That was almost like old times, Harry. It feels nice to be in familiar surroundings." Harry nodded his agreement. Side by side they walked back to the village, enjoying the feeling of the moonlight on their faces.
They were so involved with the moment that neither noticed the shadow come out of the woods. The dark figure followed them to the village. It kept its distance, noting that when they reached the Hogshead Tavern they Apparated away. The lonely figure waited for the dawn, sitting in the woods near the Shrieking Shack, and at the rising of the sun it too Apparated away on business of its own.