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 Nine
The Firebolt flew swiftly northwest slipping through the scudding, medium-altitude clouds. Hermione was seated behind Harry, with her head resting on his shoulder. He could see flashes of her thoughts, she was thinking about the park, and the mausoleum where her parents rested. He could sense her longing to be truly dead. Harry was experiencing pangs of anger and hurt when he realized she was not enjoying the beauty of the countryside below, but was concentrating on death. He shoved his feelings deep and concentrated on keeping a steady course.
Being undead made the flight far more comfortable than when he had flown from Little Whinging to London. He could feel only a little of the cold, and experienced none the stiffness that came from maintaining the same position for long periods of time.
At last, Harry did not need the compass; the lights of the third largest city in Britain guided him. As they flew north of the urban area, he recognized the ship channel that linked Manchester with Liverpool. He dropped swiftly down and angled back toward the docks. As they approached the city he noted the closed factories of Manchester's once thriving textile industry, the slums north of them, and the now deserted docks of the port. Despite the changing economy the city still succeeded; he remembered from school that this area had been inhabited since before the Romans had come to Britain.
It did not take long to find a place to hide from the daylight. They found an old, windowless structure with a high fence that looked like it had had something to do with electrical power at one time. It was growing late before they found an area with some people. Harry did not find it difficult to find a straggler from a group of university students who were partying late. By the time he had fed, he found Hermione had preyed upon another would-be mugger. The man woke the next day with an intense desire to confess his crimes to the police.
As they awaited the dawn Harry retreated to the top of one of the old factories in the area. He expanded his awareness of the life force around him. There was a sense of fear and nameless dread pervading the area. He could not sense the dementors directly, but he could feel the hopelessness they produced in the nearby neighborhoods. It was too close to dawn to go hunting for them, but tomorrow would be another story.
Hermione woke the next evening to find Harry with an open textbook practicing magic. It was not hard for her to pick up that he was practicing a variation of the Disillusionment Charm. "Why?" she inquired.
"I'm trying to find a way to hide a door by making it look like a part of the wall. It should be useful in the future."
"How much of a future are you planning, Harry?" She appeared to be only vaguely interested in his answer, but it was the first question she had asked since they had left the graveyard.
He shook his head, "My sire was at least six hundred years old, Hermione. This is the first time I have been away from someplace that isn't connected with Little Whinging, or Hogwarts. When I'm done with Voldemort, I'd like to see some of the world, even if I can only see it at night. You've been to France, skiing, and I don't know where else." There was a bitterness creeping into his thoughts, "I want to see something besides war and death before…" Harry looked at Hermione with a strange expression on his face. "I almost said before I die." Hermione was silent as Harry stood up, "Let's go, I can feel the fear, the dementors are here."
Outside the air was thick with fog. The dementors drew energy and heat from the world around them; as the air grew cooler, a dense mist formed around the waterways of the city. They mounted the Firebolt and flew out over the metropolis. Here, close by the docks, the fog was heaviest. The streetlights appeared as orange-yellow globes suspended in the mist. Harry guided the broom along the streets. The vampires could sense the people hidden in their homes and apartments. It did not take long before they found their first dementor. It was gliding slowly along the narrow, damp street of one of the poorer areas of Manchester. Harry drew his wand and slashed with a non-verbal "Sectumsempra!" The dementor vented a psychic shriek as it spun in sluggish circles, slowly sinking to the pavement.
Hidden by the fog, Harry and Hermione quartered the area at low altitude, dodging buildings as they loomed suddenly out of the mist. In the course of a few hours they found seven of the disgusting creatures roaming the slums. Harry refined his technique. The Sectumsempera Spell was the most effective weapon against the dementors. It worked best if he could target the area between the dementors "shoulders"; perhaps that was where the creature's brain was located. In any case, they died without making a sound if he could cut them there.
As they worked their way toward the center of the city the fog diminished in thickness. Harry had to be more careful to keep from being spotted. Evidently, there were not as many dementors in this area and a few people were about the streets. The vampires landed in the large city park as the hunt became less for dementors and more for food. Harry ambushed a young couple kissing in a clump of bushes. He drank from each of them and Hermione fed from him. While Harry had been hunting, Hermione had found a newspaper. She folded it and slipped it into one of her many pockets. After leaving the park, the hunters moved into the southern part of the city.
As the pair flew southward the fog thickened once again. They found several more dementors as they drew closer to the moors. It was hard to dodge, steer, look for dementors, and strike, so Harry and Hermione switched places. Hermione would not fly as fast as Harry, but they found it a more equitable division of the workload. Dawn was burning on the horizon before they decided to stop. Hermione landed and they Apparated back to the old power station. It was far faster than trying to find their way in the dense vapor.
The next evening Hermione read the newspaper while Harry was practicing the Disillusionment Charm. She was disturbed by the stories in the paper. The Muggles knew something was wrong, but had no idea what. Suicides were epidemic, and there were an increasing number of people being found in a catatonic state. Many were on the verge of leaving and there was a general feeling of near panic. The civil government was on the verge of breaking down. There were appeals to the populace to try to maintain calm.
The fog was not as dense around the docks on the second night of the hunt. There were a few people out this evening. Harry watched from the Firebolt as Hermione hunted for blood. She found and attacked a burglar trying to break into the back of a small shop. She left him in a conspicuous place and under a hypnotic suggestion to confess when he was found by the police.
Harry was far less finicky; he drank from a man waiting for the train. The mist seemed heavier toward the east side of the urban area. The level of fear proved to be an accurate measure for locating the prowling dementors. In the course of the night they killed fifteen of the monsters.
Harry noticed several of the dementors were deformed, one or the other of the arm shaped tentacles were missing the "fingers." The last one he killed before they returned to their lair afforded a brief time of examination. The monster's left tentacle was nearly two feet longer than its right, and came to a single point. Hermione ripped the robe open to expose the appendage. The creature was evaporating, but there was evidence of a small growth with five little nubs protruding from the top of the "shoulder".
Hermione stared in horror. "Harry, these things are reproducing. They just bud off from one another, almost like bacteria."
"Then those four, back in London. Do you think that they were … mating?" Harry's thought was incredulous.
"I don't know, but I read that worms do that, exchange genetic material by lying side-by-side."
Once again they Apparated back to the docks. The hunt had taken on a new sense of urgency for Harry, but when they arrived back at their lair Hermione sank back into her lethargy.
The third night came without mist. Evidently the dementors had withdrawn from the immediate area. Hermione stayed at the lair as Harry took the Firebolt and flew south over the moors. He circumnavigated the city, finding no trace of the dementors. When he returned Hermione was staring into space, evidently waiting for Harry to tell her what to do. Harry had fed, and allowed Hermione to take enough blood to ward off the hunger.
When they rose the next evening, Harry finally realized that Hermione had stopped brushing her hair, even though she still carried the brush. Her hair was matted and plastered to her head. Even though they had tried to clean the place a little, her cloak and clothing had collected a great deal of dust, and her face and hands were smudged with dirt and grease. He was also beginning to notice an odd odor coming from their clothes.
On this, the fourth night of their hunt, they encountered their first wizards in Manchester. It was very early in the morning when they came across four robed figures just south of the park. Harry flew close enough to scan their thoughts. They were Aurors, named Satchell, Boulton, Carbury, and Fiske. Harry had Hermione follow them by remaining out of their sight above the nearby buildings. Even at that distance Harry could feel their nervous fear.
Suddenly, a dementor appeared, gliding out from between two buildings. The Aurors tried to use the Patronus Charm to drive it away, but the presence of so many dementors in the city was already drawing the happiness from them. As the dementor bore relentlessly down upon them, Harry could sense that it was calling for others, in much the same way as they "screamed" when he cut them.
The Aurors were desperately crying, "Expecto Patronum," over and over again. From the other side of the park Harry could see more black-robed figures moving into the battle. The wizards began retreating to the west. Unfortunately, there were more dementors coming from that direction, too. The Aurors were surrounded.
Harry remembered what it felt like to be attacked like that, the sensation of drowning in your own worst memories. As the dementor came closer, the wizards began to collapse. First Carbury, who appeared to be the youngest, staggered and fell. Boulton and Satchell grabbed his arms and tried to Apparate. The proximity to so many dementors ruined their concentration and they failed. Fiske tried to burn the dementors using the "Incindeo" incantation, but their thick hide defeated the flames. Fiske collapsed next and the dementor closed in on him, lowering its hood.
Harry could wait no longer, Hermione kicked off and steered the Firebolt down toward the embattled Aurors. "Sectumsempera," he commanded, but he was too far away. The spell seemed to have a range of about one hundred feet. As they drew closer, he tried again. This time the spell sliced through the dementor's "neck"; the horrible head of the thing hit the pavement with an odd squelching noise.
Boulton and Satchell did not notice. As the Firebolt swept over where they stood, they collapsed as well. Hermione managed to stop the broom and Harry slid off. A small number of dementors were approaching from the east; Harry cut them down. The dementors stopped, sensing the destruction of their fellows. Slowly they turned and began to flee. The closest dementors were to the south, Harry ran down the street. He overtook them within a couple of blocks and annihilated them. Unfortunately, by the time Hermione caught up with him, the pack of dementors to the west had dispersed.
The vampire duo quartered the area, but only found four more of Voldemort's nightmare minions. Harry and Hermione returned to the scene of the battle. The Aurors were still unconscious. Hermione sent a stream of red sparks into the air as a distress signal. They quickly retreated to an alleyway and in a minute or so a number of Aurors Apparated to the rescue. When all the wizards were safe, the vampires slipped away undetected.
The apparent helplessness of the wizards in the face of massed dementors was a disturbing surprise to Harry. It did little good to wonder if Goblins or Centaurs would have fared better in the battle; the wizards had burned those bridges long ago.
The fact that the Ministry had tried to intervene was not lost on the dementors. The next night was free of the fog and the feeling of dread had diminished. Harry and Hermione slipped out of their lair to hunt. It was becoming a matter of procedure for Harry to feed first. He would then follow Hermione as she hunted, following her on the Firebolt.
Hermione fed from another mugger, and they flew to the top of one of the tall office buildings in the downtown section of Manchester. Hermione took Harry's arm and pointed out over the moors south of the city. There on the horizon a line of thick, white mist was forming.
"Are you ready?" Harry asked.
Hermione nodded that she was. They mounted the Firebolt and Hermione guided the broom in a high arc over the town, out of sight of anyone who might be looking up. As they flew Harry could sense the presence of a number of wizards in the city center, evidently the Ministry was expecting a major attack.
The speeding Firebolt left the city behind as the hunters flew out over the moors. Ahead of them Harry could make out the robed forms of several hundred dementors advancing on Manchester. Hermione landed on a small rise in front of the monstrous army. Harry slipped down the small hillside as he prepared his assault. From his past experience he knew that the Sectumsempra Spell had a limited range, so he moved in close before attacking.
As soon as he judged that he was in range, he began slashing the dementors. Even though they were incredibly alien, the dementors were not unintelligent. Realizing that they were under attack, they turned and began to bear down on Harry. As he cut each one, it maintained its position in the line, shielding those coming behind it for as long as possible. Slowly, they began to force Harry backwards, bending their line in an attempt to surround him.
Harry tried to change his tactics, he realized what the dementors were up to and that they had the numbers to do it. Focusing his concentration he attempted to summon his Patronus. To his dismay, none of his memories made him happy enough for the spell to work. He didn't have time to dwell upon what was happening to his emotions. The dementors were beginning to work their way around him.
He began to retreat more quickly. The faster the dementors moved in their attempt to surround him, the more of them he was able to attack. Yet, it did not seem to be enough; there were always more of the monsters moving in to take the place of their fallen comrades.
From her position on the hill, Hermione recognized what was happening. Harry was fighting bravely, but he was simply being overwhelmed. Suddenly she realized that she had to do something. "Harry! I'm coming!" she called. She kicked off from the hilltop, the Firebolt wobbled uncertainly as she fought to control the broom. Harry saw her fly from the hill, gain control, and swoop directly toward him. She was flying faster than she had ever done before. A kind of joy invaded his consciousness; Hermione had broken out of the listlessness that had gripped her since the beginning of the trip to Manchester, at that point he was glad he had not Apperated like he started to.
"Expecto Patronum!" he cried. The silver-white stag burst from his wand. It charged the advancing dementors and scattered their advance. Wheeling around, it ran down the monsters that were trying to flank him, buying Hermione time to reach his position. He climbed up behind her and they renewed the attack from above.
The dementors usually glided over the ground, but that did not mean that they were incapable of flying. As Hermione guided the Firebolt over the crowd of dementors many of them began to rise in ungainly flight in a desperate attempt to stop Harry's attack. Hermione dodged them with relative ease. Harry found that the flying dementors died more quickly than those closer to the ground.
Since the vampires were immune to the dementor's psychic attack, there was little the monsters could do except scatter. The crowd of dementors began to break up scattering to the south, east, and west. Because of the limited range of the Sectumsempra spell, many were beginning to escape, until Harry's Patronus began to herd some of them together. After an hour or so they gave up the chase. Harry felt elated, he had destroyed a large number of the dementors, and he lost count after three hundred.
At last they could catch no more of the fleeing dementors; Hermione turned the Firebolt towards Manchester. It was about one o'clock when they arrived at the old power station. They dismounted and Harry gently reached out to hug Hermione to him, "Thanks for rescuing me."
"I couldn't let them get you; I remember how that dementor tried to throw you into that fire escape. They would have torn you to pieces. I promised to help you, but I haven't been doing much," she thought sadly.
Together they passed into the powerhouse.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Earlier that evening the Aurors were stationed in the center of the city. Most of the populace was gathered indoors. Even though the dementors had withdrawn from the urban area, the nearness of so many still cast a pall over most of the citizens.
Tonks was questioning Boulton about what had happened the night before.
"I don't know what happened, Tonks, the last thing I remember is trying to Apparate away from the dementors. I guess Satchell sent the distress signal, I didn't think of it."
Tonks looked at him strangely, "Satchell said that you were the one to call for help, he didn't think of it either."
Boulton frowned, "I know that I didn't, but if Satchell says he didn't then I don't know who could have. I guess he didn't remember doing it because of the dementors, Fiske and Carbury were both unconscious by then."
"Well," continued Tonks, "the one of you who did send the distress signal is up for a citation. Kingsley will want to do a Prior Incantato to determine who did it, since none of you remembers."
The Aurors returned to the southern part of the conurbation each determined to do his duty in the face of the expected invasion. Kingsley turned up around ten o'clock to oversee the operation.
Kingsley, Littleton, and Tonks gathered on the top of one of the large office buildings scattered around the old city. "Earlier we could see a mist forming south of the city, for a time it appeared to be drawing closer, but now it appears to be dispersing," reported Tonks.
Kingsley nodded absentmindedly. "Anything else?"
"A couple of posts reported seeing a flash out on the moors. It was magical in origin, but we didn't have anyone stationed out that far. Were there reinforcements that we didn't know about?"
The tall, black Auror shook his head. "No, it is hard enough to fight these dementors when we are all together. It wouldn't be safe to place someone that far out."
Tonks Apperated back to her post. Shackelbolt and Littleton remained on the top of the building. A couple of hours passed without the feeling of dread growing any stronger. In fact, the sensation of fear was noticeably less. All throughout the city, the Aurors had been steeling themselves to do their duty, but as time passed the expected attack was becoming a non-event.
"Something's happened out there. Get some people on brooms and see if you can find out what's going on," ordered Shacklebolt. A short while later a team of Aurors flew out over the moors. They found nothing to indicate the battle Harry had fought for them. He and Hermione were far to the west and heading back to their lair by the time the Aurors arrived at the hill from which Hermione watched Harry fight.
It was nearly two o'clock when Kingsley called off the operation. "I don't know what has happened, Littleton. Send everyone home, we'll debrief later today. Then I've got a meeting with Arthur Weasley tonight. Tomorrow, we will begin the anti-dementor patrols and see what turns up.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
The following evening Harry tried to sense what was happening. For the first time the feeling of fear that pervaded the city was gone. In the minds of the populace it was like waking up from a bad dream.
Harry crept out of the lair and made a survey of the streets around. The people were not traveling far, but at least they were not cowering indoors. It did not take Harry long to locate a lone human to feed from. He returned to find Hermione gathering their clothes. She used magic to clean the dirt and grease from their fighting clothes, but wanted to use more traditional methods for their regular Muggle outfits.
They set out on foot to scout the area. Within a few blocks they found a seedy apartment building. She used her vampire powers to secure a key from the night manager and opened a cheap flat. The first thing she did was take a shower while Harry found some coin operated washing machines and started their laundry.
It was nearing ten o'clock when Harry finished his shower. While the wash up did little for the way they felt, it did improve their overall appearance so that they would call less attention to themselves.
They returned to the lair with their things and Hermione set out to hunt. She set out for the business area east of the docks wearing her hooded cloak. There were usually some petty criminals in the area victimizing the shops. Harry followed her on the Firebolt. He cruised over the rooftops on the opposite side of the streets so he could watch her.
This evening pickings were proving to be slim. It was after midnight and they had detected no Muggles. Harry was about to ask Hermione if she wanted to move closer to the center of the city when he heard the soft, sharp crack of some wizard Apparating into the area. He went on high alert for threats and gained some altitude so that he could see more of the area. As he watched Hermione was momentarily enveloped in a blue glow.
Suddenly, he detected movement on a rooftop. A wizard was there, he appeared to be operating some kind of crank. It was obvious he was watching Hermione as she moved along the narrow, dark street. Harry drifted down toward the rooftop watching intently. The figure crept to the edge of the rooftop, knelt down, and shouldered something. The interloper was aiming a large, cross-shaped object directly at Hermione. Harry recognized what it was; it was a large crossbow, like the one Hagrid carried on his journeys into the Forbidden Forest.
Harry sensed the hunter's thoughts. The man was preparing to fire! "Hermione! Duck!" he commanded as the wizard's hand tightened on the lever that fired the bolt. The vampire within him empowered the thought to its child, Hermione immediately dropped to the pavement as the heavy quarrel sang through the air. It passed through where her heart would have been if she had remained standing, with a sharp crack it hit the sidewalk behind her and ricocheted off a brick wall.
Harry dropped from the broom just behind the vampire hunter. He grabbed the collar of the man's cloak and threw him backwards onto the roof of the building. The man's eyes went wide in terror as he took in Harry's glowing, red eyes. Harry could read his thought, "Great Hecate! There's two of 'em!" Harry swept in and dragged him up, just as Hermione Apparated to the rooftop.
"Don't hurt him, Harry! Just make him forget! Please, I'm not hurt." The vampire hunter, whose name was Rickel, was near fainting when he realized that the vampire he tried to shoot could use magic. It was as if his worst nightmare had just come true. Usually when he missed he could just Apparate to safety.
"Okay, Hermione, I won't kill him. Take his blood as punishment though; he deserves that much."
Hermione smiled as her fangs became erect. Rickel squealed in terror as she approached him. Harry turned him, forcing him to look into his eyes. The vampire trapped Rickel inside his own mind. He could not move, and he felt all the pain of Hermione feeding from his neck. When she was done she said, "Harry, don't let him go. I have an idea."
Hermione explained her idea to Harry and he agreed. "That's brilliant, Hermione. I wouldn't have thought of that." She entered Rickel's mind, planting thoughts like she had done with Ron. When she was done she Apparated back to the lair, Harry promised he would follow soon. He had noticed a ghost of a smile at his praise of her idea, it made what he had to do more difficult that it would have been otherwise.
Harry mounted his Firebolt and flew down to the street. He found the chip in the pavement from the crossbow quarrel; he followed its trajectory to the wall. There was also a gouge in the face of the brick. The task took about ten more minutes, but at last he found the heavy bolt. To his surprise it was made entirely of wood. Even though it had taken a chunk from the sidewalk and a brick wall it was practically undamaged. The four-sided head had been blunted on one edge and a chip was missing from just behind the point. Yet it was still very sharp. It was made from a greenish-brown wood, very heavy and, obviously, very hard. As he hefted it the wood seemed to make his hands prickle as if it were covered in very tiny thorns, rather like a nettle. He wrapped it in a piece of cloth he found in a nearby waste bin and hid it carefully in one of his pockets. He then Apparated to the lair.
Rickel woke the next morning wondering what he was doing on a rooftop. He tried to recall the events of the night before, but suddenly he was gripped by an extreme sense of fear. He hands were shaking and he was almost nauseated. He knew something had frightened him very badly. There were vague impressions of a hooded, black cloak. Then he remembered! There was a dementor in the area, he was hunting unsuccessfully for a vampire and this dementor had come at him out of the darkness. It was so close he could not do anything but try to shoot it with his crossbow. It was like a miracle! The bolt had killed the oncoming monster. He had to report this to the Ministry.
The next evening Harry proposed that they leave Manchester. The dementors were no longer affecting the city that they could discern. He thought it might make more sense to chase them through the smaller towns to the south. Bradford, Leeds, Sheffield, Nottingham, Birmingham, and Stoke-on-Trent seemed likely places to resume their hunt.
The idea that they had been discovered was also giving Hermione cause for disquiet. She agreed that shifting their hunting grounds would be a wise thing. She thought that the dementors might try to lose themselves in a large city and would be making for London eventually. To that end she suggested that they go to Sheffield first and decide where to go from there. Harry, grateful that she was showing an interest in what they were doing, readily agreed. They packed and flew out toward the east, heading for Sheffield.