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 Thirteen
The moment of realization stretched into eternity. If he had been alive his heart would have been beating fast and hard, he might have perspired and he would have been filled with nervous energy. Now there was nothing, Harry stood as still as one of the gravestones in the churchyard. He closed his eyes and willed the turmoil of his thoughts to cease as he began to consider the task at hand.
After a few moments, he opened his eyes again; it calmed him to watch the stars and moon. The sky was filled with small, scudding clouds that raced over the gibbous moon. Hermione, standing nearby, offered her own support in the form of her quiet presence.
"Let's go to the cemetery," he thought at last. As he began to close silently on the collection of headstones that marked his goal, he wished that he might summon a night mist, but that was a power of the vampires in fiction. Slowly, he made his way among the shadows and Hermione followed.
The churchyard was large with many, whitewashed graves. It took a while as they searched the tombstones for the names of Harry's parents. Occasionally they were forced to remain still as a constable checked the churchyard; the police were afraid that someone on this Halloween might be up to mischief.
As they searched Harry noted a pair of graves that were somewhat apart from the regularity of the other tombs. He beckoned and Hermione followed him. There were no obvious markings on the headstones that even a vampire could see; yet there was a hint of magic around them. The moonlight shone brightly on the white marble surface of the stone; suddenly the names "James Potter" and "Lily Potter" appeared, glowing in pale silver. Harry knelt beside his parent's graves.
Hermione stood back, giving him a moment in the presence of his parent's graves, as he had given to her when they visited the cemetery in London. Harry raised his eyes to her and she went and knelt beside him, instinctively her arm wrapped itself around him. As they watched, a mist began arising from the earth between the graves. Harry was surprised, yet he sensed no danger nor did he feel any alarm.
The mist coalesced into the seated form of Albus Dumbledore, and the familiar voice of his former headmaster spoke to him, "Hello, Harry, you have come to your parent's graveside at last. I do not know at what time in your life that you are making this visit, so let me introduce myself. I am Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"I knew your parents, Harry; they were two of the finest people I have had the privilege of knowing. Now, in the months since they were murdered, we feel their loss even more. The evil wizard that murdered them has disappeared, hopefully forever, but they would have helped us build a better world. You are growing up away from the life that your parents knew. I truly hope that your life is a full one, and I look forward to having you study with us, if you have not already begun doing so."
"I have left this in order to help you to locate your parent's house. The Fidelius Charm is still in effect, so no one that is with you will see the house, or rather, what is left of it. Sirius Black is your parent's Secret-Keeper, unless you see him in Azkaban and get him to tell those with you where the house is located, they never will. I doubt Sirius will be of much help to you, he may even be dead by the time you hear this. Health and sanity do not usually long abide behind the walls of the prison. You were part of the original secret, so you will be able to see the house. Fortunately, you may guide anyone with you through the door. Once inside they will be able to see the house. You must do this anytime you come to visit unless Sirius lets more people in on the secret. I will tell you now that there is not much left beyond the living room and kitchen. If you go there, I sincerely hope you find what you are seeking."
"To find the house, exit the churchyard and turn right. Go down to the corner and turn left. At the second street, turn back to the right and follow the lane past the town limit. Keep following the lane for about a quarter of a mile. The house was on the right side of the lane. The path to the front door begins between the two holly trees."
The misty form of the headmaster began to dissolve; within a minute it was gone. Harry rose to his feet and turned to the gate of the cemetery. Hermione rose as well. She grabbed Harry's sleeve as she noticed the mist begin to take shape once more.
Harry watched as the form changed. Dumbledore was standing now; his expression was one of concern rather than relaxed as it was before. "Harry, a further word, if you please. As you can guess, I cast that spell several years ago. Now, you have lost your godfather at the hands of Voldemort's servants, and we know that it is Peter Pettigrew that betrayed your parents. What I said before is still relevant, but now you must be prepared for the Death Eaters to be watching the area. If they attack you, get inside as quickly as you can, for they will not be able to see you there. Now, I know that you, too, are a fine wizard. Your parents would be proud of what you have become. I hope that the stalwart Mr. Weasley and the indomitable Miss Granger are there with you at this time. You will doubtless be searching for the Horcruxes; I wish you the best of luck. Remember to let those who love you support you all that they can. I know you do not wish to put them in danger, but we are stronger together than apart. That is Tom's greatest weakness; he can trust no one else. Farewell, Harry. Our acquaintance has brought a great sense of pleasure to me and I count it a great honor to have known you."
The mist lingered for a few moments until a gust of wind blew it away.
Harry stared at the spot for several minutes. Hearing Dumbledore's voice again tore open an old wound in his heart. He closed his eyes and saw the broken body falling from the tower once again. Hermione saw the memory in Harry's mind and reached once again to touch his arm. "Thank you," was all he thought.
"I wonder if he knew he would have passed on before we saw that," Hermione wondered. To that Harry had no answer.
It was ten o'clock when they left the churchyard and made their way through the town. The young children had cleared the streets and the vampires could detect several gatherings in the houses and pub. The streets were deserted.
They made their way down the lane. The clouds caused the night to darken at intervals, but the moonlight seemed unusually bright at times. Harry's thoughts were shrouded once more and Hermione wondered if it would comfort him to hold his hand, in the end she decided to leave him to his own thoughts.
Harry wasn't sure of his thoughts. All he was sure of was that he was coming back to the place where everything had started and made him what he was today. He remembered the green flash. Thanks to the dementors, he had heard his mother's begging Voldemort not to kill him. He was not sure he wanted anything more.
The holly trees were there as Dumbledore described and the path between them lead around a stand of oak trees that made the house difficult to see from the lane. Harry led the way to the trees. There, behind a wildly overgrown hedge, lay the remains of his parent's hideaway.
"What do you see?" he asked.
"Just a hedge, but it looks like something that has been touched by magic."
"Stay close," Harry said as he slipped his arm around Hermione's shoulders. Harry pushed the door open, surprised that it was not locked. Hermione was surprised to have a room appear around her as she stepped into the remains of the house.
The place was a ruin covered in dust and cobwebs. The sitting room at the front of the house had been ravaged by the passage of time and the fact that all of the glass was gone from the windows. There were a few wooden chairs that were serviceable but the cushions of the sofa were rotten with mildew. Down a short hallway, rooms opened to the right and left. The bedrooms were on the right side. It was that side that had sustained the most damage. Most of the outer wall was gone and the roof had collapsed leaving a small space just inside the doors. The kitchen was on the left. To Hermione it looked a lot like the kitchen at the Burrow.
They split up. Harry started examining what was left of the bedrooms. Hermione returned to the sitting room. She found an old desk in the corner and began searching through it.
Harry realized his parents had slept in the front bedroom. The plaster was falling off of the walls and the paint was so faded that there was no way to tell what the original color might have been. The bed was in much the same shape as the sofa. A once-handsome armoire was crushed by the fall of the roof. The weather and countless small animals had attacked the clothing within. Especially poignant was his mother's crushed hope chest.
Harry entered what had once been his nursery, not that there was much left. His crib was against wall; the mattress had fallen to pieces. Harry supposed Hagrid had wrapped him up in the bedding when he had taken him from this very room sixteen years before. As he examined the walls he wondered what had caused all the devastation. He remembered the way the "Avada Kedavra" curse had damaged the security desk and the Statue of Magical Brethren at the Ministry of Magic, he supposed that was explanation enough. There was no way to tell how many times Voldemort had used the terrible curse here. He stood silently wracking his brain trying to remember anything else about this house.
Hermione softly entered the room. "Did you find anything, Harry?" she asked. Harry shook his head looking stricken. "What is it? What's wrong?" she continued.
"There is nothing here. I don't have any memories of this place." She could feel his disappointment.
"It was a long time ago and you were very young, Harry. I don't have any memories of my early childhood."
She reached out to caress his face as she tried to offer comfort. As her fingers touched the side of his head she felt something strange. There was an indentation in his skull running along the side of his head over his ear. It was not very noticeable, but once one was aware of its existence it was evident. "What happened here?"
Harry followed the track of Hermione's fingers. He thought for a moment, "Something else I don't remember." He cast his thoughts back to the summer. Suddenly a spasm of pain crossed his face. Hermione looked concerned, but the moment passed. "I remember pain, but nothing else. I remember you leaving Privet Drive, but I don't remember anything else until I woke up in a culvert. That is my first memory as a vampire."
Hermione put aside that discussion for a later date. She had never inquired how Harry had become a vampire, but now was not the time. "I found something you might be interested in, come see." She led Harry back to the desk she had been looking through.
Most of the books in the desk were weather worn; in the main they dealt with household accounts and schedules, but the notebook she handed him was in pretty good condition. Harry looked through the pages. He recognized that the book contained some very involved notes on transfiguration. Suddenly, he realized that these were his father's notes on becoming an animagus. He smiled at the first tangible evidence of his father's prowess as a wizard. His look of gratitude was all Hermione needed.
"This isn't what I was hoping for," he thought. Hermione said nothing. "I guess I was hoping to find some instructions, some indication of what to do, but there's nothing here. I believe the next place to go is Borgin and Burke's in Knockturn Alley." Harry placed the notebook in his backpack and together they Apparated to their initial lair in London.
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After dark, Knockturn Alley lost much of the dismal shabbiness that was evident by daylight. By night, it just looked as dark as the arts it supported. The furtive activity actually increased in the hours of darkness when its denizens were wont to prowl anyway. Still, even the most powerful among them shied away from the ominous presence that moved among them on this evening. No one was sure what it was, for no vampire had ever come here in living memory.
Most wizards, even the dark ones, had little to do with vampires. Public opinion swung between two poles: those wizards, who wanted them exterminated or the crackpots, like Eldred Worple who considered them to be misunderstood brothers. No one knew that the Ministry regarded Sanguini with dark suspicion; for even the most powerful Legilimens was unable to penetrate his closed mind. Most there wondered what his motives for befriending Worple really were.
The vampires just regarded the wizards as dangerous and melted into the night whenever they sensed one coming.
As the early evening passed, the sense of danger faded and the street became quiet. It was after midnight when two hooded and cloaked figures moved on Borgin and Burke's. A business fueled by greed never truly closed, and even in the dead of night the proprietor, Mr. Borgin, responded to a heavy knock on his door. Indeed, some of his best acquisitions came long after regular business hours. Nor was he surprised that his latest customers wished to disguise their identities. Dressed in his cap, nightshirt, and a heavy bathrobe that had seen better days, he bowed his customers into his shop.
Harry thought Borgin's business must have suffered since he was here last. There were not as many items displayed for sale. Harry knew where the necklace and the Hand of Glory had gone. He noted with anger that the Vanishing Cabinet was still here. He wondered what had become of its twin in the Room of Requirement. It was a reasonable assumption that business was bad because many of the Death Eaters that were part of the richest of wizarding society were now in Azkaban. Under the pressure of the civil revolt fomented by Voldemort, many were forsaking their usual way of life resulting in the downturn of Borgin's business.
"How may I be of service, Master?" unsure of whom he was talking to Borgin adopted his most obsequious tone of voice. Hermione remembered his oily manner from the time she came into the store a bit over a year ago.
Harry pulled back the hood of his cloak and snared the man's mind. "We have need of information." He pointed toward the back and obediently Borgin led the way.
In a dingy office behind the sales room they found a map of England. The map was full of pins, each with a number attached to a small tag. The numbers corresponded to a series of entries in an old ledger. The entries described various magical items that the firm of Borgin and Burke's was interested in acquiring.
"We want to know, Borgin, how many items do you know of that can be traced to the founders of Hogwarts. We know about Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. Are there any others?" demanded Harry.
Borgin's face twisted in pain; it appeared that there was something inside of him that was fighting Harry's control. Harry stopped pressing and Borgin relaxed somewhat. Harry looked at Hermione.
"Perhaps he's under the influence of some kind of memory charm."
"What are we going to do?" asked Harry.
"Release him and let's see what he does," Hermione suggested as she moved away from Borgin.
Harry withdrew his power from the shopkeeper. Harry and Hermione hid as the man shook off the hypnotic influence. In a few moments Borgin sat down, took up his quill, and began to write. His hands trembled as if he was in great fear. Harry read his surface thoughts and found them clouded and confused. The memory charm was very powerful and the one who cast it had taken great pains to conceal himself. Harry recognized the effect of a modified memory from Dumbledore's Penseive. Borgin rose and began to seal the note that he had written. Harry once more used his vampiric influence to stop him. As he stood there, Hermione took the note from his hand; Harry commanded, "Sit down, Borgin."
Hermione examined the note. It was of little help. All it said was, "Someone has inquired about the items you possess." She shook her head as she realized that someone was very good at covering his tracks, and "that someone" was probably Voldemort.
Leaving Borgin where he was Hermione began to examine the entries in the ledger.
Hermione read swiftly through the old book. She appeared to be getting no useful information. As she scanned the last of the entries, Harry began to question Borgin, "Where is Burke?"
"Dead. He disappeared about seventeen or eighteen years ago. He left with a client to recover a valuable heirloom, but he never came back." Borgin said in a monotone.
"Who was the client?"
"Regulus Black, he said he knew where Slytherin's locket was. Caracticus was mad for it. He had sold it to a collector once and he wanted the chance to sell it again."
"Did Burke have any personal papers?" asked Hermione.
"In there." Borgin pointed to an old chest. The lock did not respond to the vampire's attempts to use magic to open it. At last, Harry just tore the lock and hasp from the front of the worn, old chest. When they opened the box, a dart shot from under the lid. Fortunately, Hermione suspected something of the sort might happen. Because of her vampire reflexes she was able to catch the dart just short of Harry's shoulder. He nodded his thanks.
Despite the decrepit appearance of the old box the contents were arranged in a neat and logical manner. Hermione located a similar ledger to the one she had been examining; it had been hidden under a false bottom. It did not take long before she found a discrepancy. There was one number more in Burke's ledger than in the one Borgin used. It took some time to find it, but at last she found a note about a signet ring belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw. It was a large, golden ring embossed with an eagle.
"This might be it, Harry." She smiled as she pointed out the entry. "I guess Voldemort found out about the ring and made Borgin forget about it. He also wanted to know if anyone else was trying to track these items so he made Borgin alert him. I also guess that neither Borgin nor Burke trusted him and Voldemort didn't know that they kept duplicate records."
Harry focused his thought on the hapless storekeeper, "You've fulfilled your task, the letter has been sent. You will forget that we were here. Be at peace."
They left the store and Apparated back to their lair.
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In the nights after their return from Knockturn Alley, Harry took to sitting on the roof of the old factory building. He was trying to remember his lessons with Dumbledore. He knew now that three of the Horcruxes were destroyed. Those were the diary, the ring, and the locket. He knew that Voldemort retained one-seventh of his soul, Nagini probably had another, and Hufflepuff's cup had been used to make the sixth. Then there was the mystery one; it seemed that Ravenclaw had had a ring, too. Perhaps it was time to consider where the Horcruxes might be.
Voldemort liked trophies; perhaps he marked a place of special significance by hiding a Horcrux there. He wondered what the cave represented to Voldemort, aside from its difficulty to get to. The memories of the woman at the orphanage indicated that the two orphans that Tom had taken there had never been quite right again. The cave had been very well defended. Dumbledore had run afoul of the curses Voldemort used to defend his Horcruxes; in the end he was killed by them. Harry now supposed that the ring had taken Dumbledore's hand and the potion was a slow poison too. He was probably dying when he had asked Snape for help, but the Death Eater turned Potions Master finished the job the potion had started.
As Harry thought he came to the conclusion that one of the Horcruxes was at the orphanage. It would have been special because it was there he learned he was a wizard. Trying to find the orphanage in London was going to be hard. Then he remembered the way Voldemort boasted of how he beat death when he was hiding in Albania. Harry supposed a Horcrux might be there, but how long was it going to take to search a whole country? He thought he would go down and get Hermione's counsel.
Hermione had been pouring over James' notebook. As Harry entered the old storage room Hermione smiled at him, "Harry, what would you think of becoming an animagus?"
Harry forgot what he was going say about the Horcruxes. "Why?"
"It might provide you with some survival advantages, Vlad Dracula was probably one. At least that's what the story says." Harry was delighted; it sounded like the old Hermione was back.
"How long would you be willing to work on it? I promised to lay you to rest after we finished Voldemort." Harry tried to suppress the pain that thought brought to him.
"We could be done in a couple of weeks, give or take a few days." Hermione grinned.
"I thought you said that it took years. At least that's what you said during the Triwizard Tournament."
"That's what I thought based on what I knew at the time. It took years for Sirius and your father to work out the problems. The notebook saves us the research. The potion involved is the one that Polyjuice Potion is derived from. It is even more complex than that because it has to remain in your body for life; in addition, your father's potion had to take into account the final changes of puberty, so the potion for adults is not as complex. You're dead, Harry. Your body doesn't change at all so it will be much simpler."
"There's more to it than the potion, isn't there?" He knew that from what he had scanned the first night.
"The potion traps the energy from the transfiguration spell that enables the transformation, but once that is done the process is mental. It doesn't even require a wand after that. The incantation isn't that difficult; remember Malfoy, the incredible, bouncing ferret? Same spell. You remember Professor McGonagall, she turned into a cat without a wand," she reminded him.
"I like it," thought Harry, grinning at the memory, "but where are we going to get a lab and potion ingredients?"
"I'd bet we could use Fred and George's, you could even offer them the notebook. It could bring your father the recognition he deserves. This notebook is a real breakthrough in transfiguration. They will be researching this for years. The Weasley's could benefit from marketing some of these things after the war is over."
Late the next evening, Fred and George were standing puffy-eyed and tousled as the vampires entered their shop. Anyone passing by would have wondered why wizards were entertaining Muggles at such a late hour. The vampires were wearing their casual clothing rather than their cloaks.
Hermione, in her excitement, tried to talk, but nothing came out; she had forgotten to breathe. In the meantime George asked, "Harry, what happened to your glasses?"
Harry drew a breath and answered, "I don't know. Anyway, I don't need them now. We came because we have a favor to ask of you."
George bowed, "Anything…"
Hermione, at last, began to explain her idea as Fred and George looked over the notebook. The twins were clearly impressed by it. It did not take them long to recognize the value of what they had seen.
The next night they began. Harry provided Fred with the key to his vault. While the goblins were suspicious of whom he might have received it from, they were honor bound to grant him access. Fred also knew that the Ministry would never know from the goblins that the vault had been accessed or that Harry Potter might still be around.
The potion required many expensive ingredients, fortunately, even though they were costly, they were not particularly rare. While the twins brewed the complex potion, Harry and Hermione practiced the incantations that would complete the process. They found it the most challenging transfiguration spell they had ever done; Hermione thought Harry was almost desperate in his determination to learn it also. It took nearly a fortnight for Hermione to master it, and Harry was only a step behind her all the way. The dawn was approaching the day after Harry finally mastered the incantation; Hermione lay down on the desktop in their lair waiting for the dawn to steal her consciousness. Just before the sound of a bonfire raced over the old factory she wondered why Harry was working so hard on the incantation, it was not like he was going to cast it on himself.
Fourteen days after they started working on the process, the potion stood ready. Hermione was watching with great interest as Harry prepared to drink the potion. According to the instructions the potion was measured for Harry's body mass. "Here I go," he thought to Hermione. The twins just smiled, they could tell when Harry was speaking telepathically to Hermione. There was a particular softness in his expression when he was doing so.
Harry drained the cup. He stood there momentarily as Hermione prepared to cast the incantation. Suddenly, Harry bent over and was violently sick. His friends stood back watching in consternation as Harry's body rejected the foreign liquid. While the twins were shouting "Scourgify" Hermione quickly went to Harry, "Are you all right? What happened?"
"I guess we vampires can't tolerate anything except blood," he thought weakly. It took nearly half an hour for Harry to regain his strength.
Hermione fussed over Harry as the twins looked over the potion ingredients. At last Hermione cut her wrist and offered it to Harry; he gratefully took some of her blood. She felt a faint sensation of warmth and noted that Harry had closed her cut. After feeding he looked noticeably better.
"Hermione," began George, "why don't we infuse the potion into blood. It shouldn't interact with the other ingredients, and then Harry might tolerate it better. The only drawback is that the process will take a few hours."
Tight-lipped, Hermione agreed; she had come too far to admit failure. Once again she cut her wrist and allowed the blood to flow. "We need to go, Harry," she said as Harry closed the wound once more.
"You go; I'll be along in a few minutes." Hermione Apparated away, and Harry, as good as his word, followed soon after.
The next evening they tried again. This time, Harry was able to hold down the potion. Hermione cast the transfiguration spell. "Well, Harry, that should do it, can you try to transform?"
They all stood by waiting to see what kind of animal Harry would become. Swiftly, Harry began his metamorphosis. "Wicked!" the twins cried out together. Harry shrunk down as his fingers elongated into wings, and almost in the twinkling of an eye, he became a bat that began flying swiftly about the room. With her vampire hearing, Hermione heard Harry echo-locating the objects in the room. He had lost none of his skill as a flyer just because he had changed form. After a few minutes of flight he dropped neatly onto her shoulder.
Hermione tried to contain her disappointment. She had hoped his natural nobility would translate into something more majestic, something more like the stag his father became. The bat swiftly clambered down her arm; instinctively she cradled him in her hands, and began stroking his soft fur with her thumb. She lifted him and looked into his eyes; she could almost see Harry looking back at her. She smiled.
"How do I look?" he inquired.
"Just like any other vampire bat. A little larger than most, I believe." She didn't tell him she could still feel the strange indentation in his skull. It was there even in his animagus form.
Harry squirmed in her hand and dropped into flight, swooping just off the floor. He hovered at about knee level and transformed again, this time into a large grey wolf. Even Hermione stepped back at the fierce look in his yellow eyes.
The twins looked at each other in amazement, "He's got two animagus forms; that's unheard of."
"I figured that if Dracula could do it, I'd try," Harry said as he reverted to his human form.
"Here, Hermione, I want you to become an animagus, too," he said as he handed her a goblet of the potion.
"But, Harry. I wanted you to have it; I want you to have every advantage. I'm not going to be…"
"I know, Hermione, but while you are here, I need you to be able to keep up with me. Please."
Hermione hesitated for a few minutes. She considered that he was asking her, even though he could command.
He offered the goblet to her again, "Please, Hermione," he was near begging. He was also talking.
"I didn't think that I gave them that much blood." She thought.
"You didn't; the blood is mine. I wanted you to be as safe as possible for as long as necessary."
Shyly, she took and drained the goblet. Harry performed the incantation. In a moment Hermione had transformed into a wolf. Harry dropped to his knees beside her, scratching behind her ears. She marveled at the sensation. In animal form her body was more sensitive that of her human vampire form.
They discussed it for a while, but came up with no satisfactory reason why vampires were limited in the animal forms that they could take, but it was astounding that they each had two forms, and that was an amazing advantage indeed.
An hour later two bats flew into the night.