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 Fifteen
Night fell.
This evening, Harry's return to consciousness was sluggish. It was as though some powerful enchantment was fighting to keep him dead. Suddenly panicking, because he no longer felt the weight of Hermione's body, he struggled to sit up. At last, he managed to rise and open his eyes. He realized he was no longer in the Shrieking Shack, but in a small room made of stone. The room was lit by candles burning at his head and feet.
His hunger was raging within him; he had not fed since the night before last. His back protested when he sat up, and the sensation of having his joints filled with ground glass returned when he swung his legs over the side of the stone bier on which he had been lying. He was surprised to find that he was clad in a lightweight, white, linen robe.
"Hermione!" he called frantically as he looked around the room. Relief flooded him as he saw her lying next to him on a similar stone bier, dressed in a white robe as well. Her hands had been folded across her breast; she was barefoot, as he was, with candelabra at her feet and head. He stood and crossed to her.
"I'm awake, Harry. Where are we?" her thought whispered through his mind. "Is there anyone watching?"
Harry cast his awareness as far as he could. Again, he felt resistance, but there was no one around that he could detect.
"Not that I can feel."
Hermione grimaced as she sat up. She, too, noted that they were in a small stone chamber, and the sensation of enchantment in the air. "Hogwarts," she thought to Harry.
"Probably," he agreed. "The question is, how did we get here?"
"Someone must have found us in the Shrieking Shack, I wonder who, and why they didn't destroy us." As usual, Harry found her logic impeccable. She continued, "These are burial robes, I believe. Do you think that they know we're vampires?"
The candles went out, plunging the room into darkness, not that it was a problem for a vampire. There was a soft click and the door swung open slightly.
Harry quickly examined the room; there was nothing else here. All he and Hermione had were their amulets. Their wands, books, and clothes were gone.
They made their way to the door and Harry pulled it open. Outside the room a hallway extended to the right and left. The only light came from a single torch set in a bracket in the wall. As he and Hermione exited the room the torch went out and a few yards down the hall to their left a second torch guttered into flame.
Harry looked at his partner; she nodded in the direction of the lit torch. Together they moved down the hall. Torch after torch sprang to life as they approached and died as they passed. They followed the hall, made a couple of turns, and ended before a heavy, ironbound door.
Hermione prepared for battle by extending her talons and bringing her fangs erect. Her eyes blazed as they pushed open the door. Harry extended his talons and entered.
The room was large and dimly lit. There was a fireplace to the left, but the fire had burned low. The only other illumination came from four lamps hanging from chains.
Two-thirds of the way across the room the air shimmered. Evidently, someone had erected wards for self-defense. There appeared to be three people behind the barrier. One of them was sitting behind a large desk. There was another figure seated in a second chair, but the third was standing, his wand was drawn. They saw no furniture on the near side of the barrier.
"That's close enough." The feminine voice was firm, but not threatening. Hermione halted and cocked her head to one side as she listened. She knew that voice; it was Professor McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts and the head of the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry continued forward a couple of steps. He drew a breath and asked, "What do you want with us?" His tone was defiant. His eyes blazed red as he attempted to see whom he was dealing with. He recognized the figure with the wand as Professor Lupin and the seated figure as Arthur Weasley.
"Are you really Harry Potter, or are you just using his body?" demanded Lupin.
The red light in Harry's eyes died as he answered, "I'm what's left of the Harry you knew. I'm a vampire now, and it has taken my body, memory, and molded itself to my personality, but it is not me."
Not sensing an immediate threat, the vampire within him withdrew its power, like a bat furling its wings. Harry flexed his fingers and retracted his talons. Arthur Weasley's knuckles grew white as he gripped the arms of his chair. He now knew exactly how six Death Eaters died in his orchard.
McGonagall shuddered at the change, even though Harry suddenly looked more human. Hermione standing behind him with fangs and claws spoiled the effect. "Were you in the castle last night?" McGonagall asked as she struggled to keep her voice calm.
Harry nodded his assent.
"Then it was you and Miss Granger that modified those student's memories? Why?"
"It is important that Voldemort not find out that they were questioned about certain things. Professor Dumbledore left me a task and I am trying to complete it."
Arthur and Minerva exchanged glances. Suddenly, Lupin pointed his wand at Hermione as he shouted, "Get out of my mind!" Hermione flinched as though she had been slapped.
Harry reacted instantly; he leaped in front of Hermione, crying, "No!" His eyes blazed with red light. As swiftly as a fencer's riposte, he focused his will upon Lupin. His thought was unaffected by the wards, which protected only against magic, and burned like a laser through Lupin's Occlumency defenses. In a moment, Lupins's wand clattered to the floor. Both McGonagall and Weasley leaped to their feet, drawing their wands as well.
For long moments the adversaries looked at one another through the wards. McGonagall could not help but think that Kingsley was right; perhaps Harry and Hermione should be destroyed, but now it was night and the time that they could easily have been killed was past.
Hermione stepped from behind Harry. Her eyes were still red, but she, too, had retracted her fangs and talons. "Please," she began, her voice quiet. "I'm sorry, Professor Lupin. Most mortal's minds are so open. Unless you fight it, their thoughts just seems to catch you and draw you in, but with your defenses up, it made your mind feel smooth. I just found it soothing, I didn't mean to intrude."
Lupin considered what she said, given what Harry had just done to his defenses; he had little doubt that she could have done the same thing. He struggled to contain his beast now that he had suffered an attack. In the end, he managed to nod his acceptance of her apology.
Once again McGonagall tried to talk to the vampires, "Mr. Potter, what did Professor Dumbledore ask you to do? Can you tell us?"
"He told me not to tell anyone. If word gets out about what I am doing the task will be much harder, if not impossible. The final goal is the destruction of Voldemort, but to attack him now won't do any good. He'll just come back like he did this time. Ask Dumbledore's portrait, he might tell you."
"Believe me, I will, Mr. Potter. Did you find the information you were seeking?"
"No, Professor."
"I'm sorry that so much effort was wasted." She conferred with Arthur and Remus. Harry smiled slightly; he could hear every word of their whispered conversation.
She turned from her exchange and spoke to her former students. Harry thought it best not to let her know that he knew what she was going to say. "The wards allowed you entrance because we didn't think to remove you from the rolls. It was never considered that two students might be counted among the undead; after you leave tonight that will change."
"I will not allow the students to be in any more danger than they already face. Did you take blood from any of them?" She continued after Harry shook his head. "Do you deny that you are dangerous?" Harry felt the sting of guilt as he momentarily relived that night in the Weasley's orchard. He bowed his head in acceptance of her statement.
"We will return your belongings and allow you to leave, but if you ever return here we will destroy you, whatever the cost. Do you understand?" Her tone brooked no debate. "Do you have any questions?"
"How did you find us, and how did you bring us here?" Harry queried.
"I found you," answered Lupin. "I was in the woods outside the Shrieking Shack the night you left there. When we heard that there were intruders at Hogwarts, I came back and retraced your route. I didn't encounter you, so after the sun rose I searched the house. As to the method of transport, it was very cliché." He nodded at the rear of the room. There were two oblong coffins stacked there that had gone unnoticed during their discussion. "I also provided the robes; I couldn't very well transport you the way I found you."
If it had not been so long since they had fed, Harry and Hermione might have blushed. "Thank you, Professor Lupin, we'll remember your kindness," said Hermione.
"Harry," McGonagall continued, "I must protect the students. If you will promise not to return here, the Order will give you what assistance we can. You are not alone in your struggle against … our common enemy." Even Professor McGonagall had not conquered her fear of Voldemort's name.
It was with a great deal of sadness that Harry and Hermione prepared to depart Hogwarts. It had been like his first home. As they turned to go, the door opened and a house-elf entered carrying their clothing which had been laundered and neatly folded.
The little elf was still wearing his tea-cozy, however his ears were drooping and there were lines in his face that had not been there before. It appeared that he, too, had been grieved by Harry's disappearance. Harry gave a genuine smile at the sight of Dobby. "Hi, Dobby," he said. He knelt down and reached out to take the clothes from the little elf.
Dobby started when he heard Harry's voice and looked up at the people before him. A look of recognition passed over his face and the clothes tumbled to the floor. Harry had expected a joyful greeting from his friend, but instead Dobby's huge eyes grew even larger and a look of terror took over his expression.
He began to tremble as he slowly backed away from the vampires. "Not Harry Potter, not Harry Potter," he covered his eyes as he continued to chant. It was impossible to determine whether it was a lament over Harry's fate or the recognition of the vampires within.
Harry crept forward, "Dobby, it's me, Harry. I'm not going to hurt you." Hermione, Arthur, and Minerva cringed at the pain in Harry's voice. As he moved forward the elf appeared to become ill as they watched.
Dobby gave a loud, keening wail, and began crying "Monsters, monsters in the castle!" He blindly began to crawl, desperate to get away from the vampire before him. Seeing his friend was trying to escape Harry stopped. Dobby crawled until the corner stopped him; he curled into a little ball, alternating between screaming and weeping hysterically.
Harry tried to shove the vampire as deeply as possible within himself as he tried, once again, to talk to the inconsolable house-elf. He was creeping forward once more as he begged Dobby to look at him. As he drew closer Dobby was violently sick. Hermione stepped in to drag Harry away from him.
As she pulled him away from Dobby, the others could see the blood streaming down his face. When she lifted him to his feet, the blood began to spatter on the front of his robe; the patterns blooming like roses of blood.
Hermione flung her arms around Harry and she held him close. "Harry, he's not human. We must affect Dobby differently; you make him ill if you get too near." Harry did not respond to her voice. She could feel the despair re-awaken in him. He managed to hide it most of the time, but she now knew that he felt as much an outcast as she did. He just hid it in his sense of mission. The task that Dumbledore had given him gave him something to do beside brood about the death of all his former relationships
The humans watched as Harry dealt with another trial. Hermione had seen him this way once before. He sank through her hug and fell to his knees on the floor. He had stopped breathing, so he made no noise. Bowing to the ground he shuddered as he wept, one taloned fist beating on the floor.
Dobby managed to lift his terror stricken eyes to Headmistress McGonagall. She signaled him that he could go. The house-elf snapped his long fingers and vanished with a crack. The headmistress hoped that he could find some consolation among his own kind and resolved to check on him later.
Arthur tried to go to Harry. He was nearly in tears himself, but Lupin held him back. "No, Arthur" The Weasley patriarch turned angrily on Lupin. "I know he's in pain and you want to help, but Arthur, Harry's not himself. He could kill you without meaning to. This is Hermione's place now."
Hermione waited a few minutes before gently lifting Harry to his feet once more. She wiped his tears away with the sleeve of her robe. He looked at her; his face was a study in misery. He stood silently as she gathered their clothes. She paid the humans no further attention as she led Harry from the room. The door closed with a soft, but heavy boom.
Their leaving left a heavy pall in the room. The humans were silent at the scene that they just witnessed. It was true that Harry and Hermione were extremely dangerous. Their powers as vampires were formidable and the fact that they were a team was an unprecedented development.
Yet, even the werewolf pitied them. They were totally helpless during the day. They had all seen what their bodies had been like when Lupin brought them in; it was almost like an instinct to lay them out as if for a funeral. If they had not known the truth, a funeral would have been logical. With the setting of the sun everything changed, they were re-animated by the otherworldly things within them, and there was no defense against the powers they wielded; but at what cost? There was no denying the look of misery on Harry's face as he tried to deal with another severed friendship. The most monstrous truth about the whole situation was that somewhere in that dead body, the soul of Harry Potter was trapped. It appeared he was experiencing the whole range of human emotion with no outlet. He was carrying on the fight that had been thrust upon him by the will of a madman because he felt a duty to do so, and, now, he was fighting without anything like a reward, no hope of a normal life when it was all over.
"I can't conceive of what it must be like for them. It almost seems a stake through the heart would be an act of mercy," McGonagall said finally. "Harry has something to do, something to strive for, how do the other vampires cope?"
"Evidently, they don't," answered Arthur. He told them about the probable fate of Harry's sire.
"The question then becomes what do we do? He wants to fight You-Know-Who, but what happens if he wins? What if he becomes a worse threat what we're dealing with now? Do we kill him while we have the chance? Do we wait to see if he wins and then kill him? How long will he be anything like human?" Lupin began to pace as he wrestled with the dilemma facing the Order.
At last he slammed his fist on McGonagall's desk, "It just seems like such a bastardly thing to do to kill him after he saves us! I don't think I could do it, could you?"
Weasley and McGonagall just shook their heads. Lupin gave into his anguish. He put his head down on his arms and cried.
McGonagall tugged on Arthur's sleeve and they left Lupin to his grief. As they made their way towards her office she said, "I'll call Tonks to come for him when he's had a chance to calm down. He was one of James' best friends, to have to deal with Harry being a vampire, I just can't imagine…"
As they reached the Great Hall, Arthur turned to leave. "I need to get home to Molly. I'll be in touch." As he left he pondered the question of just how close he might have come to losing Ron to the same fate as Hermione.
McGonagall entered her office. Dumbledore's portrait asked, "What's wrong, Minerva, you seem extraordinarily troubled this evening?" Several other portraits expressed the same concern.
"It's about Harry Potter, Albus."
"What kind of trouble is he in now? Fighting with the Slytherins again? Still crossing swords with Scrimgeour about what I was doing last year?"
"No, he's not even in school this year."
Hearing this Dumbledore's portrait appeared concerned, "Where did he go? What is he doing?"
"What ever task you set him to do," McGonagall replied much more crossly than she meant. "He never told anyone what it was. He didn't tell me this evening, either. What ever it is, he's out there trying to do it, only now it is so much more difficult, because now he's a vampire."
Even the portraits were stunned by her news. "Some vampire turned him last summer, just before his birthday. Hermione Granger is a vampire, too. What is he trying to do, Albus?"
"He is trying to defeat Voldemort. A task which Voldemort himself gifted Harry to do. It is complicated. We must be secret, because of Tom Riddle's attempts to become immortal. I can only say that the task must be done in stages, or the Dark Lord's strategy will succeed. If Riddle gets wind of what Harry is doing he will just go to ground and you will never be rid of him."
"Although, since Harry is a vampire, Voldemort will not be rid of him either," Dumbledore observed. "It might give a new understanding of the prophecy." He explained about the prophecy Trelawney had made. "It gives an interesting twist on the 'power he knows not' phrase does it not?"
McGonagall sighed and buried her face in her hands. "Help him all you can, Minerva. Undead or not, he is the best hope of defeating Voldemort that we have."
"I've seen some of his powers in action, Albus. I'm frightened by him." She recounted the whole episode ending with the discussion she, Remus, and Arthur had after the vampires had left.
"You need have no fear about Harry Potter, Minerva. There is too much love in his soul to pose a danger to anyone but our enemies."
"I don't understand, Albus."
"Consider what you have told me about his actions. He is wounded by the realization of a lost friendship with a house-elf; if he did not love would there be such pain? He can no longer participate in our world, yet he fights to save it. Is that not love in its highest and most selfless degree? His search is love in action. We consider vampires to be soulless, cruel, and self-indulgent. Look up the story of Vlad Dracula in the history files; Harry is nothing like he was, even though they are both vampire-wizards. It is that love that threatens Voldemort the most. He has no understanding; he believes that love is a feeling. He sees it as something that he can use to manipulate others. Therefore, he views it as a weakness. He has never realized that love is more an act of the will than it is a flutter of the heart. Their will is the foundation of the love that holds Mr. Potter and Miss Granger together. Tell Remus that if he can overcome his natural hostility to Harry he has nothing to fear." With that Dumbledore's portrait fell silent.
After a few minutes of reflection McGonagall rose and made a call to Tonks. She escorted her to the room where Remus was brooding about what to do about Harry. She told them both about what Dumbledore said about love.
She took her leave of them and made her way to the chamber where they had taken Harry and Hermione. The vampires had gathered their belongings which had been left there for them, packed their clothes, and had left through the door at the end of the passage. The torches had been set to guide them out.
She found the blood spattered, white robes neatly folded and left on the biers. She stared at the stains left by vampire tears, she held them to her breast, and wept as a mother might weep for a lost child.
End Part Two<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>