Blood Corps

by Hidders

Voldemort lived to find immortality for himself, and when he couldn’t find it he was driven to open experimentation on those who've crossed him. An army of disposable warriors who had immense powers to protect him. Post-Hogwarts HBP H/D --Full Sum. Inside

'Blood Corps'

By: Hidders

: : Important-Stuff-That-Will-Only-Be-Posted-Once : :

Summary (at the moment): Voldemort lived to find immortality for himself, and when he couldn't find it he was driven to open experimentation on those who've crossed him. An army of disposable warriors who had immense powers to protect him. Mindless battle machines was the idea, except he forgot about the mindless part. What happens when your greatest defense becomes your greatest opposition?

Pairings: Eventually Harry/Draco. Talks of Ron/Hermione. Talks of Harry/Ginny. And whatever pops into my head.

Spoilers: up to HBP; some elements from DH can be found rather blatantly spread throughout this fic. If you haven't read DH then that's just great! Because you don't need to know ANYTHING from that book to know my story. You having not read DH means you will not know what is a spoiler, alteration, or what is all mine! Muahahaha... I hope even my little twists on the canon things amuses people who know better, at least.

Rating: PG-13/Teen (at the moment for language.) When the story is finished I'll be able to have a set rating.

Warnings: Post-Hogwarts, Vampires, blasphemy of Hitler, blasphemy of Osama and the incident of 9-11-01. Oh, and eventually men loving men! Character deaths eminent; they have to be done. I won't kill off any lead-characters though.

Disclaimer: I own everything you haven't read before... If it's new, it's mine... Not good enough!? Fine, Harry Potter and all it's fandom goodness is owned by J.K. Rowling & Warner Bros. AND she doesn't seem to be keen on sharing any time soon. So I thieved it away for the duration of my fic. I'm not up to posting this every chapter so I won't. I mean really, this is a fanfiction website! Why should we disclaim anything when it's already implied!?

Chapters Information: Maybe just a one-shot, maybe more. It really depends on inspiration and the length of the outcome.

Author's Note: The plot (Yes, I know, a plot!) will pretty much rule most of the story but please bear with the work-up. You might not have needed so much BG-information, but I didn't want to leave people guessing too much about what Harry and the gang did for seven years. Sorry for the OCCness. The books really don't give anyone a personality anyways. And as shown in book 5, characters can have drastic personality changes on the fly. (I mean Harry's quick anger - now that was canon OCC!) Plus it's been years, boys can grow up. If my facts about something in the books (1-6) are wrong please tell me so I can fix it. I hate reading fics that had the wrong information placed. I'm sorta testing the waters with this, my first novella fic. This is my obligatory creature fic. Everything is currently un-beta-ed. But I know how to use spell checker, and I read through my work more times than necessary.

Anywho, on with the show...

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It was damn near midnight on a still October day. Clouds covered the waning moon, casting ethereally transparent shadows on rooftops and sidewalks. Leaves that survived early autumn rustled with the ravenous wind, holding on for dear life. No one would be out this time of night in such a quiet neighborhood, only night stalking predators. A feline wailed and multiple owls hooted in symphony to prove this point.

Hard wooden heels clicked authoritatively on equally hard cement. Slow, steady steps. The sound reverberated off buildings and faded into tree lines. Darkness encased the man and shadows followed him. Smoke rings curled out of the edges of his lips with each breath taken. Bitter night air was blocked out from the readjustment of the man's coat collar.

This man had never been seen in such a self-styled, suburbanize valley. He was suited for more traditional towns, towns the reeked in higher standards. Places where every word, every movement, had meaning. Simple habits became a religion. You prayed to your elders, worshipped a cup of tea, and exult in the differences of others.

He probably wouldn't have been caught dead in a place like this otherwise. But his means ruled out his values.

He wasn't there for himself. Others recognized him as their leader, vowing to stand by what he decided was best for the group. He ordered, they executed. The positioned was earned with every command that guided the group to victory. And every direction away from destructive danger. No unnecessary risks.

To say he was good at his job was not enough.

Even if all members of the group was fashioned to be expendable.

His footsteps lead him to a path that paved the way to the only house with a light still on in a room on the second floor. Crushed rubble cracked even more under his weight. Wind momentarily picked up speed to cast piles of dead leaves into a whirlwind.

Planks beneath his feet ached and groaned in protest of his presence instilled on them. No sound escaped the aged walls of the house. Even so, someone was in there and he wasn't leaving until that person talked to him.

After a moment of organizing his thoughts together, the man grabbed the lion headed knocker. And he knocked.

A clatter in the house followed the scraping sound of a chair. Seconds later he could hear the startled movement the knock caused upstairs abruptly stop, as if unsure of the knocks' authenticity. So he knocked again, this time with undeniable force. The clatter, the scrape, and the pounding of bare feet.

Moments later locks were being pulled aside and whispered words caused a discreet shockwave of magic in the surrounding air. He must have cleared the ward because the visibly solid barrier standing in front of him opened. He was faced with a man only slightly taller than him and with a much wider build. This other man was molded in a thin, but obvious, layer of muscle. Unlike the man outside, while being deathly thin, his strength laid hidden.

Despite it being so late the man was still in his day clothes. Un-pressed cotton shirt under a polyester suit jacket, tucked into matching polyester suit pants, topped with a dully striped tie. The whole outfit screamed cheap, Muggle crap. But the feet were bare, giving illusion of comfort.

The taller man reeled at the force of the door being blown open farther by the rampant wind. When he stabled his limbs and had taken a good look at his guest, he was speechless with recognition in his eyes. It was only a minute of silence for the man to get past the initial shock. Soon distrust and dislike was laced into the surprise.

"You're supposed to be dead," he mumbled, narrowing his eyes, hoping they had become faulty. A couple of blinks told him they were not.

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The war had been in full swing for nearly seven years…

About a month after Albus Dumbledore's funeral, six major Muggle cities were believed to have been bombed by terrorists. All investigations showed no use of an explosive device, there would have been some evidence left if there were. When the Aurors went in, they found faint traces of dark magic. On the day of what would have been the start of Harry's seventh year, six Wizarding communities were attacked. Diagon Alley was the only one saved from total destruction. Hogsmeade was turned into smoldering rubble that was impervious to water and most other liquids. The second oldest Wizarding town in England was lost. The oldest, Knockturn Alley, wasn't even touched when the raid on Diagon Alley happened. That winter Hogwarts was closed, indefinitely. What ever hope witches and wizards had was shaken.

Harry Potter and his friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, remained at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place that year. The charms Dumbledore had place on the house were gone. All that was left was the charms set by the various Blacks that resided in the house over the centuries. Harry became the Secret-Keeper of his own home, bearing the responsibilities himself. In search for the lost Horcruxes, the trio alienated from everyone after the Delacour-Weasley wedding. Luck was never with them in their search and all three of them were too full of pride to admit they were in serious need of help. They were only children, thinking they could take on such a task alone. Just because they felt they could trust no one else to do it.

Even after believing to have found the mysterious R.A.B., they had never retrieved Slytherin's locket. Regulus Arcturus Black, Sirius Black's younger brother. To say they felt stupid would be an understatement. They had spent a month tearing the house apart in search for the locket they once held in their hands, the locket that would not open. When asked, Kreacher told Harry he had passed all heirlooms of the Black family to the youngest of the Black sisters the night of Sirius' death. If the locket was saved from Mundungus' greedy paws, it should have been sent to Narissa Malfoy. That would mean it was safe, for Voldemort and from Harry.

There was no documentation on Hufflepuff's cup outside a few small passages in books confirming its existence. And it was only Dumbledore's speculation that the snake, Nagini, was a Horcrux. The Horcruxes could have been almost anything. All Harry could stand on was the solid belief that Gryffindor's sword was not one, since Tom Riddle never touched the sword. Hermione's brilliant brain didn't seem to help them much. What stones they had ever overturned had always become an empty lead.

After two years of solid research Harry had a breakthrough of sorts. As long as the three had lived in Grimmauld, they had never thought there would have been books on the founders right under their noses. It had been on Sirius' personal bookcase, placed among his textbooks from the first few years of Hogwarts, before he had moved out. The book was a compilation of much older and rarer books relating to the founders. Once or twice it had mentioned the favored belongings of the four. Godric Gryffindor, his dwarf made sword and pretentious crown. Salazar Slytherin, his precious locket and ancestral ring. Rowena Ravenclaw, her encrusted comb and silver bookmark. And Helga Hufflepuff, her golden cup and beloved music box. They finally knew what to look for.

But the search never got easier.

Shockingly enough, it was Ron who found their first Horcrux. He had said they should check out the childhood home of Dumbledore, the man had stated several Christmases ago that he'd not been home since before the 1900's. Dumbledore was Tom Marvolo Riddle's salvation, even if neither men would have admitted it. Voldemort would have held him in fear and respect. Where a greater place to guard a piece of your soul than Albus' abandoned home. Dumbledore had no remaining suspicion after the duel with Grindelwald, and soon after he became Hogwarts' Headmaster.

The old house was clearly condemned, with dust and debris everywhere. It was hard to look through a house that was ready to topple over. But they tried. Harry had warned them before every hunt what to look out for and what to expect. He didn't think Voldemort would be a broken record every Horcrux and have Inferi guarding… whichever one was there. Or he had hoped.

But Ron, in all his bravado and stupidity, reached for the piece of gold shown bare when his foot broke through the first step in the staircase. He had pulled out Helga Hufflepuff's cup with his unprotected hands. Like the ring, the cup was cursed. Before they knew what was happening, Ron's living body began to decompose with necrosis. Harry and Hermione Apparated him as fast as possible to St. Mungo's Hospital. It was too late. Over fifty percent of Ron's body was already dead, it went from his hands straight to his brain and heart, he died in an instant.

Ron and Hermione had gotten engaged on her nineteenth birthday. They wanted to save their wedding for after the war, when the Dark Lord no longer breathed down their necks. Harry didn't even think Mrs. Weasley knew of the engagement. The last time the three had conversation with their family was the first Christmas in Grimmauld. The closing of Hogwarts reinforced the urgency of finding the Horcruxes, there was no time for family and friends. Harry and Hermione both regret that now.

Ron's funeral was an eye-opener. To remain focused on the task, the three gave up their subscriptions to The Daily Prophet. They barely knew of the state their homeland was in. Most Muggle-born families had been attacked at least once and forced to move around the country. Blood traitors were hunted and displayed in the few remaining Wizarding communities as a warning to the others. There was only so much the Order could do to neutralize the attacks, seeing as even the members and their families were being tracked down. But for some reason very few families refuse to leave and take refuge in another country until the war blew over. But Harry understood, this was their home.

Harry had thought Dumbledore was the end of the Order of the Phoenix. It wasn't until the wake after the funeral that Harry realized there was still an active Order. Amazingly, it was lead by the always rational, Remus Lupin. It was full of familiar faces both new and old. Quite a few of Harry's old classmates were now wearing the Order's sleeve proudly. Neville and Seamus were there also. Neville stood by a group of Aurors talking about the latest raids in Wiltshire. Seamus sat subdued in a chair in a corner and that was nothing like how Harry knew him. He was supposed to be the loud one that kept everyone's spirits up. When Harry talked to him, the man had told him that Dean had also died earlier that week. The third hit on the Thomas family was the one that got them, they didn't see it coming since the second attempt was not even two weeks before.

Even with the Death Eater numbers starting out so low, they had an incredible ability to mobilize. The Ministry of Magic's lack of experience was taken out on the dying innocent. Aurors were made for raiding and Muggle safety, they weren't prepare for a war. The Ministry grew comfortable in the fact that a baby scared off a highly powerful Dark Lord and they didn't think there would be another war for generations. Did they think another baby would fix the problem again? Harry wasn't about to let them try and find out.

With no end in sight for finding the other four Horcruxes, Harry and Hermione knew they needed to take immediate action to allow them more time. If they could just give the public more training to, at the very least, help them get out of harm's way should they be found in a tough position, then it would have been worth the setback.

Somehow along the way, Harry became Remus' second for the Order. Not long after, the hunt for the Horcruxes were forgotten. Only to be remembered when either of the two had free time, which was rare. Four years of training with witches and wizards brought them to the stalemate they were in now.

Harry finally had some of that precious research time when there was a noise coming from downstairs. It had sounded like the door was being knock but it stopped after he dropped his quill. It might have just been the wind. There was a storm brewing. Leaving it off as his mind playing tricks, he immediately pulled up his chair and set back to work. The second knock was unmistakable.

The quill fell again and the chair screeched across the floor as he stood. It was late and only the people closest to him would know he would still be awake. Perhaps Hermione, who was also using what given free time she had to researching, found a new lead. Or Remus came to inform him of another attack on the Minister of Magic. Maybe something happened to the Weasleys!

Fear induced panic increased his footsteps. In his rush he stubbed his toe on the staircase and almost fell onto the table in the foyer. Locks were pushed, pulled, and twisted away from their resting place. Acute paranoia was perfectly normal these days, so six or seven locks meant nothing. A little wave of his wand announced an unknown magical signature, but it was an non-aggressive visitor. Harry placed his wand back in his jacket.

His intention was just to get a peek at the person before opening the door, but nature had other plans. A gale forced the door back, causing him to stumble back in the process. Split-second later he had righted himself and had taken in the face of his guest. Harry's heart felt like it decide to become the drummer for a rock band, and the world seemed to have also decide to spin west instead of east. Just when you thought you knew that life only moved forward, a face from the past comes and bites you in the ass.

"You're supposed to be dead," he mumbled through his lips.

Harry glared and his lips thinned out, it was almost like old times. He could feel dormant hate flare up, along with age diluted anger. It didn't help matters that the man stood with perfect poise and had a look about him that was strictly business. Maybe this was the way Harry was to die. He could see the headline now: Harry Potter, Struck Down In The Night.

Well, he wasn't going to let that happen. The door slammed shut in the man's face. Hey, he might just go away. A man could hope. Nope, the third round of consistent knocking told him to keep dreaming. He opened the door again, if only to prolong the headache that was surely coming.

If the man had looked any different than he did now, Harry would have probably kicked his ass. But there was something looming just behind the man's back. It wasn't anything he could see, it was just a feeling he got. The man was dressed in a black, high collared trench coat that flared at the knees, his pants were black and his boots were black. This certainly would not have been the man's style seven years ago.

None of this was what unnerved Harry. At first it didn't really click, but now he was well aware of it. This… man… looked like a boy. The oldest he could have been would be eighteen. Something wasn't right about that.

Fine, he'd talk to this asshole and get some answers along the way.

Harry growled, "What the hell do you want!?" The man clicked his heels and he stood a little prouder.

"Blood Corps' Captain and Primo Squadron Leader, Draco Malfoy. I'm here to help you end this war, Harry Potter."

"Help?" Harry scoffed and reached for his wand. "You're lucky I don't just kill you now!"

Malfoy smirked, "I'd like to see you try."

"Don't tempt me." Curiosity tugged on his brain. "What was that Captain-Leader stuff you spewed?"

"I'm Captain of the Blood Corps… Surely you know of us. Voldemort's experimental army? No?" His brow furrowed.

Harry had no idea what the hell the guy was talking about. The Order had no information on a secret group of people doing Tommy's bidding. He would have been the second to know of something like that. Perhaps Malfoy was a touch confused about who and what he was. He's seen people go insane from just being in the Dark Lord's presence.

The blond started laughing at Harry's bemused look, "I knew we were good, but I never thought we were that good!" They stared at each other for a long time, Harry was the first to look away. "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" He asked, toeing the doorframe.

Malfoy might kill him. But then again, he might not. Harry really didn't know the man that stood before him. He probably never had a clue what type of guy he was when they were kids. Being Slytherin and all.

"I want your Wizard's Oath that you're not here to kill me." He thanked his lucky stars for knowing about the many oaths in the Wizarding world.

"I'll do you one better." He stepped back and looked into Harry's eyes, "I, Draconis Lucius Malfoy, swear by my Wizard's Oath that I will not harm Harry James Potter. Nor will I allow any harm I could prevent to come to him while in my presence."

Harry blinked. Did Draco Malfoy just swear to protect Harry Potter? Was it possible that he fell asleep at the desk and his mind is just playing some fucked up fantasy game with him?

"Good enough," he said as he gestured the man in. Malfoy took his sweet time in crossing the threshold, making Harry agitated. "Well, come on then! I don't have all bleeding night."

Harry lead him up to the study and placed himself in a velvet chair by the burning fireplace. Malfoy followed by example and had taken the chair opposite. Another silence dragged out by awkwardness.

Getting annoyed, Harry snapped. "Why are you here? Speak up already!"

"As I said downstairs, I'm here to help you win the war," he tore his eyes from the grate. My people and I have the necessary means to insure that outcome."

"Your people? Who's your people?"

Malfoy sighed, "Blood Corps, of course! Duh, Captain, keep up Potter."

His answers were shorter than Harry would have liked. Time for a change in questioning. It looked like he'd have to start from the dumbest question and work up, if he was to get any useful information out of the man.

"Okay, I'll bite. Who, and what, exactly, are the Blood Corps?"

"Now you've got it. How about I tell you a story, Potter? It's quite a long one, actually.

"For my sixteenth birthday I was bestowed a mission from my lord. I was to have the honor of being the one to kill Albus Dumbledore. Personally, I thought it was a crummy belated gift. Though, it could have been worse; at least he didn't offer me the Dark Mark. He didn't have to, to get my cooperation.

"Father was in prison, as you know, and Mother had been on edge since I returned home. She wouldn't speak to me. Usually I could hardly shut her up. I figured that she was still very upset with my father's imprisonment, so I gave her some space. During one afternoon, we were having our tea. Mother had spilt some across the table and onto her lap. We never have warm tea, it must be hot when served. The elves knew that, there was no mistake. Even so, Mother never made a sound when her mouth opened in a silent scream. Do you understand, Potter?"

Harry thought about what point Malfoy was trying to make, but it didn't make any sense to him. He shook his head, ignorantly.

"She couldn't speak, Potter. She had absolutely no voice. The healer said there wasn't anything physically wrong with her. He thought it might have been caused by trauma. He said there were many cases like this after the war, not a one ever recovered. When he started asking questions, I had him removed from the house. I didn't like the idea of my mother being put in that position, so I pretended like nothing happened."

Harry couldn't imagine how lost he'd feel if that happened to his own mother. He always wanted her and his father there, and he never questioned how life would have been if given the chance. Fantasies about picnics and trips to the beach, nothing remotely practical to the age they lived in. He wanted it so much. But not at the expense of his mother. Harry would have rather she stayed dead than be brought back into the world to face any kind of pain.

"Late one night, I was awoken but voices coming from my father's study. Neither my mother nor I would be stupid enough to enter that room without Father there. I checked it out, of course. Voldemort was there, with the remaining inner circle. The door was wide open and for the first time in weeks I heard my mother's voice. But she only spoke to Voldemort. When I asked her what was going on, her voice seized up. Dolohov grabbed me by the neck and forced me to kneel before the Dark Lord.

"Voldemort said I that if I killed Dumbledore, then I'd stand beside him as his left hand man. Do you know what that would mean? If anything happened to the Dark Lord, the Malfoys would have full control over the Death Eaters. It would have been the ultimate position in the upcoming war. If you'd won, we would have the choice to continue to fight you or force our entire side to cease fire.

"I'm a Slytherin, we're raised to be able to weight the pros and cons of a cause. Father found more pros in the dark side thirty years ago, and I seen more in the light early on. But my father had already made the family's choice when he had taken the Dark Mark. As a family, we had to stand together.

"I told them that my father wanted me to focus on my education. He said that if I didn't take the task then my father wouldn't be in any spot to worry about my education. That was not an empty threat. There were still plenty of Death Eaters in Azkaban that would have been more than happy to get into Voldemort's good graces.

"Now I was in a tight spot. Did I take my chances with defying the greatest dark wizard? Or did I suck it up and do what I could to protect my parents? What was I supposed to do?" He asked Harry with such sad sincerity.

Harry would have told him that he would have died before he'd take another's life when he was still in school. Killing was never justified, but some times it just had to be done. Harry would have never understood that if he hadn't been in a similar situation before. It came with the territory of being involved with a war.

"You did the right thing," Harry said as he rose towards the liquor cabinet. He poured them both of his favorite firewhiskey. "I wouldn't have said so years ago, but things are a lot different nowadays." He handed Malfoy a glass and resumed his seat.

"Ogdens, haven't had this in years," he spoke around the cup, savoring the burn of the liquid. "My people and I don't take well to liquor these days, but a glass won't harm none."

"You still haven't explained the whole 'your people' thing."

"I'm not there yet, I told you this was a long story." They settled back into the plush chairs as Malfoy continued with his tale.

"We both know what choice I had taken. I had set quickly into my planning, trying to find the most inconspicuous course of action. I remembered Montague's disappearance with the Vanishing Cabinet. I was sure that the final destination of the cabinet had nothing to do with a toilet, and my reading proved it. Borgin and Burkes held the unbroken cabinet, so I bought it before school started.

"I spent nearly all my waking hours not occupied with classes in the room your little army club met up in. As time went on I started to think I'd never get the cabinet fixed. You'll never know how hard it is to create a magical item is until you have to fix it. Much respect to the magical inventors of the world. Anyway, I wasn't sure if I would ever reach my deadline.

"That's were the wine and necklace came in. I was just stalling for time. It might have worked, had you bloody Gryffindors not interfered."

"You nearly killed Ron with that damned mead. And I still have no idea what you did to Katie. Did you expect your attempts to go straight to Dumbledore's welcoming hands?" Harry all but snarled.

"Had it gone to Dumbledore, do you think he would have been dumb enough to fall for such lame attempts? No, I was counting that he'd receive them first and know immediately what they were. I was hoping for an office visit where I could plead my case. We could have probably arranged a fake death. But it wasn't until after that night that I found out about Severus' Unbreakable Oath. I never knew he was on your side, either. We've really fucked up.

"Dumbledore was dead, but the Dark Lord wasn't satisfied. I was supposed to be the one to kill him. The Carrows told him Snape came in and saved my cowardly ass. I failed him, I had to be punished since I was no use to him."

Malfoy paused in his story, swirling his empty glass around. Harry took it as a sign of a refill and complied.

"Nothing with alcohol. Unless you have a Butterbeer. We can handle those."

Harry sighed, "I think you should just skip the prologue and get to the Blood Corps already." He returned with a Butterbeer and his own refill.

"Thanks," he drew a long gulp from the bottle. "No need, I'm already there.

"The man known as Tom Riddle was highly fascinated with the lore Muggles had of the Wizarding world. Tales of fairies, giants, unicorns, vampires, and werewolves. You name it. As a kid, he must have read nearly every book he could have gotten his greedy little hands on. He really loved the story of Merlin and Arthur. He spent years after his graduation reading books on becoming immortal. Philosopher Stones and vampires was all he got. Everything else you had to be born into.

"The stuff of fantasies were all his searching was. No one knew how to make the Stone, Dumbledore sure in hell wasn't talking. And none of the vampires wanted anything to do with him after his mistake of insulting 'half-blooded freaks and their pets'. He was Muggle-raised, what could you expect?

"He decided to place immortality on the backburner and make a name for himself. Enter Lord Voldemort. We pretty much know where his charisma went. Enter loyal Death Eaters. I'm not sure if anything significant known happen between this time and his alleged death in '81. But poof, Voldemort's dead and you became a hero."

"Go me," Harry mumbled blandly.

"Yes, go you. You're really the bottom-line on why Voldemort could not reach immortality after his return."

"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted. "Voldemort created his last Horcrux the night he killed my parents, wouldn't the Horcruxes have made him immortal?"

"We're off topic, but no. I'll explain that after I get the corps in. Where was I? Oh yes, his return. Voldemort was just a wandering spirit, no tangible body. He hides and eventually comes back a parasite, feeding off the blood of unicorns. Heh, he really ruined his life when he did that.

"Those who drink the blood of a unicorn suffer a-"

"Half-life." Malfoy blinked at him. "I've heard about the cursed life punishment. He wasn't human after that, was he?"

"No, he was a subhuman monster after that. And he lost his one chance at the Stone. When he received his new body fourth year, his first priority was a visit to the first vampire colony he could find. They accepted him because he used his new face with a false name. Finally, he'd have his immortality. To him, the price he would have to pay back would be nil to living forever. A week later, no effects to the blood exchange. Two weeks later, his sire was found dead in a local eatery, along with his two dinner guests."

"His blood was impure enough to kill a vampire?" Harry asked, somewhat thrilled he had cottoned on so quickly.

"Exactly. It was so trashed that it killed whomever it was passed on to, explaining the dinner guests' mysterious deaths. Total immunity to further impurity. It still makes me laugh to know how many people are following someone who's not even human anymore. Pure pride, indeed.

"This brings us back to my punishment for my failure. Voldemort just started a program using an experimental serum his most intelligent followers have been developing since the summer before fifth year. I didn't exactly get much of a choice, so I became their guinea pig.

"There were thirteen of us in the first trials. Magical numbering for luck," he gave a skeptical laugh. "We had six weeks of daily injections. If we weren't asleep then it meant the drugs they kept pumping into our veins was running low, we'd be put back to sleep quickly. When we awoke for the final injection there was only ten beds occupied. Three people didn't survive the tests.

'I only knew one other people there, and he wasn't there when I woke up. Blaise was always sick when we were kids, something about a weak heart and thin blood. Of course he wouldn't live through the shit they had going through our blood. They didn't explain what happened to the other three and we were told not to ask."

"Blaise… Zabini?" Harry vaguely remembered a boy of that name.

"Yes. The Zabinis were known for being neutral in times of war. Their mistake was knowing only Death Eaters. They had no where to hide, and Blaise paid for it.

"They brought us down to the catacombs of Malfoy Manor. I assumed they chose my home knowing no one would be able to get out of the labyrinth alive, other than myself. But if I had any thoughts about running I only needed to think of my mother.

"They set up some of the dungeon halls and rooms for testing. One tested our strength. Another, our speed. And another, our mental capacity. And so on. How much of an image could we remember after just a glance. I could run faster than the Hogwarts Express. And I could lift six times my own weight without strain. But what bothered me was my lack of appetite. None of us ever hungered, never thirst. It was inhuman to forego these needs.

"A couple days later we all became agitated, hard to work with. Then this little blonde bint took a bite out of one of the observers, it was like a wild animal attack. We smelt that blood, and we all wanted it. They had to lock us up mid-session. They came back an hour later with juice pouches for us. And I'll tell you now, Potter. That was the sweetest juice I've ever tasted."

"Blood," he grimaced. "They fed you blood. Pouches… Muggle hospitals have blood banks that keep their blood in packs that look like a juice pouch. So you're vampires?"

"Not really. Hybrids. All the pros and limited cons. Close to what Voldemort himself wanted to be."

"So you're immortal. He must be pissed," he laughed.

"No, we're not immortal. As far as the tests show, we have a normal wizard's lifespan. We just don't look like it. For every five years, I visibly age one. When I'm one-hundred, I'll still look pretty damn good."

"You're one of the first to have the fountain of youth running through your veins. I'm kinda jealous."

"What? Is that another Muggle myth? Never mind, moving on. They fed us and hallelujah, we were healed. Testing was over and they split us up. Half stayed down in the catacombs and the others got out. Guess what group I was in."

Harry didn't.

"Fine, I got out. The ones we left behind never left the manor. Care to guess what happened to them?"

Harry bit the bait this time. "They got poked, prodded, and probed. Like the aliens."

"Aliens? Illegal or domestic? Just kidding. Yeah, they were pushed beyond our limits while we were trained in stealth combat. The training was a complete waste of time and resources. What did they think we were? Vampires are natural hunters with heightened senses. Not even a bug stood a chance against our ears."

Harry mumbled something in a low voice.

"Loud and clear. Voldemort saw our potential as mindless warriors who would do anything for their next fix of blood. While they tried to put us through our paces, they had already started a second generation with even more subjects on a different strand of serum. Something more condensed, so they could inject more at one time. This is how the Blood Corps was created. Us original five became squadron leaders. Primo, Secundus, Tertius, Quartus, and Quintus. The second batch were split between the groups and we were responsible for training them according to the group's expertise.

"My squad, Primo, was a jack of all trades. We were responsible for ensuring the completion of the missions given to all the squads by assisting or just standing by. We would also take on the more difficult tasks. Assassinations, tracking, the seedy stuff. We were very good at it."

"Assassinations? Like who?"

"Fudge and Scrimgeour were us. I can't say I felt any remorse then, any more than I do now."

Harry scoffed. "Nor I. Scrimgeour wanted me to be his poster boy. Smile and tell the world 'everything will be alright'. He was worst than Fudge. Instead of ignoring the return of the Dark Lord, he used any means to exploit it to increase his votes in the next election. I was relieved really. They said the cause of death was undetermined. I commend your work."

"Thank you. For being my first kill ever, I must say it was a job well done. The five of us first generation grew close. No missions were a secret from us. But that might be because we couldn't say something without one of the others hearing. It had taken a while to realize that the voice in our heads were not always our own."

"You became telepathic!?" Harry, who knew next to nothing about vampires, found this as fascinating as the rest of Draco's story. Half of it seemed to be too grand to be believable, but there was nothing Malfoy could gain from lying to Harry at this point.

"Yes, but only towards each other. It had to do with how they split the vampire's blood for our serum. Normally, bitten vampires have their sire, or host, we had only an unknown mixture. It was so shot to hell that not even Muggle or magic would be able to discover to whom the blood once belonged to. The DNA was altered and severed. There was no connection between us and the owner of the blood. When the second generation was given to us, we found out the vampire must have been left to live because we could communicate with our charges.

"We've kept it a secret from Voldemort and the others, and they just assumed we had an uncanny way of knowing what the others were doing or thinking. Like a connection of twins. We'd never give that secret up. It was the only way we could arrange this meeting. We'd be taken out if anyone had caught us talking about going to the illustrious Harry Potter."

"So, they could be listening to us right now?"

"Yes, some are listening every now and then. Only Micky and Jay seem to be listening intently."

"Who's Micky and Jay?"

"Micky is a first generation who's team is responsible for the personal safety of the Dark Lord. Her team couldn't get away, so she's listening to everything. The moment I say it's safe to leave Voldemort's side, she and the others will come to stand beside you, as your guards. I'm not here for the hell of it, Potter. I said I was here for my people and I am. Jay is a tenth generation I received last month. He's kind of like that camera boy, Creevey. Hufflepuff in loyalty."

"You're already at ten generations? That seems a little extensive. What does that make now, over a hundred hybrids?"

"I wish. The generations after the first was instilled with a security measure. One year of service is all they get before they die. While my life is stilted, those who work under us work like dogs, just to die months later. There's no escape once you are injected. I've pretty much perfected my training regimen by the fifth group.

"You, of all people, should understand how close people can get when they work together for so long. I've had to watch over fifty of my closest friends die. I am their teacher, Potter. Their mentor, brother, friend, and sometimes I am even their father. I know what fate is given to each and every one of them, but I still let them in and allow their death to affect me. I should have a heart of steel by now. Hell, I'm no longer the coward I once was. Instead I've become soft in other places. Why is that?"

It was true, the man that sat beside him was nothing like the spoiled child Harry knew him to have been. Harry didn't see him as much more than a messenger with a story that was long overdue. Now that it was told, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He could choose to forget it and continue with the plans and movements that the Order have had years to memorize. Or he could choose to accept what Draco Malfoy came there to tell and offer him. It wasn't like he could pass up any help after seven years of empty guesses. Like Malfoy, he wasn't the only person he had to think about. People naturally followed Harry and listened to his opinions. If he said to trust the so called 'Blood Corps', then people would.

"Maybe a part of you knows you might be the only proof that they once lived. Your members must have all seriously pissed off Voldemort to be brought to that fate. I can't see him leaving family members untouched."

"True, I guess. Most of them are Muggle-born, half-blood, or blood traitors. As you said, they pissed him off directly or indirectly. He's rather prejudice against his own, don't you think? The Mudblooded and poor."

Harry nearly choked on his tongue, he didn't think any of the Death Eaters knew about the impurity of their Lord. Or if they did, they should have been smart enough to not slander the leader to wayward ears. Well, no one said Death Eaters were smart, that's why there's an inner circle consisting of the thinking bodies.

"Honestly Potter, you read like a book. Just ask."

"Ask what?" Harry wondered if he really was like an open book to this person who he hadn't seen in years. If he was, that'd be pretty pathetic.

Malfoy huffed, "Gryffindors, dense bunch. No, Voldemort's faithful followers do not know that they are following a Mudblood. And don't look at me like that," he said as Harry glared at his crude use of words. "I don't use that word for anyone but Voldie these days. I told you, one of the squads are with Voldemort at nearly all times. He likes to talk about himself, so of course he'd whine about being left in a crappy orphanage. Blah-blah-blah, rich Muggle daddy didn't want me, Potter child won't die; drove Lucy bonkers 'til the day she died." He paused, as if reminiscing about the one called Lucy. "But he'd go into a rage if he thought one of us ratted him out."

"That's one hell of a story, Malfoy." The hybrid smirked at Harry. "But you can't expect me to just believe anything you tell me. You were an enemy then and a stranger now. I'm sorry but it seems that you wasted both of our time."

Malfoy's eyes glazed over a bit, "I think you should duck and cover. Now."

He snapped to his feet just as Harry's study window shattered. Harry quickly covered his head to shield the falling pieces of glass but it was a needless move. Malfoy's body blocked the fragmented flow. Chancing a glance Harry saw that just on the other side of the man was another young man. The boy stood tall, tan hair flying wildly in the wind as he approached them. Harry's first instinct was to hex the intruder but it seemed the intruder had other ideas.

"Who the hell do you think you are!?" The boy roared over the cracking glass beneath his feet. "Harry fucking Potter, too good for the likes of us, is he!?"

Harry slowly stood, confused. He was having one hell of a night; first Malfoy, and now this kid! Malfoy turned towards the little vandal, keeping his body between the other two occupants of the room. Curious, Harry watched Malfoy walk up to the boy and place a restraining hand on the other's chest.

"Jay, calm down," he said in a firm yet soothing voice.

"Great," Harry threw his hands up. "They know each other! Now this is where you both assassinate me. Right?" Predictably, he was ignored.

"I'm not going to calm down!" Jay went into a screeching fit. "You came all the way out to this fucking place after we finally get the others to agree to help this fucker, and what does the bastard do!? He fucking doubts us!"

Harry wondered if he was ever that annoying,

"Watch your language," Malfoy said in a cold tone not unlike one of his father's.

Jay had the grace to look abashed. "I'm sorry, Draco. It won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't," the blond barked back. "I thought we rid you of that nasty habit."

As Harry watched Malfoy berate his underling, he figured this was a case where Draco was taking the place of one's father. Even if Malfoy wasn't more than a few years older than Jay. Soon Malfoy was close enough to embrace the boy, which he didn't, but instead grabbed the front of the other's shirt and pulled him close. The movement caused Harry, who was five feet away, to blush at its intimacy. It wasn't anything like you're thinking; no, it was a closeness of family. A familiar comfort of understanding in a tight proximity.

"Now, you are going to apologize to Mr. Potter," Malfoy said sternly. "And when you are forgiven, you will fix that window on your way out."

"But-" Jay seemed frustrated at being admonished and tried to get heard.

"No buts."

The tan boy scowled in evident dislike of the situation. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter."

Harry was surprised at being addressed so readily. "That's alright, as long as the window gets fixed," he blinked. Was it really alright? The guy just broke through his window without provocation. At least, not direct provocation.

"Fix the window and leave through the front door like a normal human being."

"We're not normal," Jay grumbled and waved his hand towards the empty hole in the wall. The glass retracted back to its original place with the silent spell. Then he started to leave out the study door and stomped his way down the stairs.

"We'll talk about this later," Malfoy said, so softly Harry thought he was talking to himself. But when the stomping doubled in strength and Harry worried about the flexibility of his wooden steps, he knew that the whole telepathic thing held truth.

"Cute kid," he commented as he settled back into the warmth of the cushioned chair.

Malfoy followed suit. "Yeah… I'm really sorry about that. That wasn't suppose to happen."

Harry's eyes flickered surprise at the humbled Draco Malfoy before him. "It's quite alright. At least now I know there's some proven truth of your story."

"Thanks," he scoffed. "I gain nothing from lying to you, Potter. There's no possible way the Dark Lord could win a war against the Wizarding world, let alone the Muggle world. I hate to think what would happen should we ever be discovered. We are severely outnumbered, and the Muggles are ruled by religion. It doesn't help one bit that most religions say that magic is the work of this so-called Devil. Imagine, six billion people against our six million. That's worldwide, Potter!"

Harry shuddered. It wasn't the first time he's thought of the scared wrath of the Muggle kind. How could he not, with the way Voldemort goes about things. All destructive and flashy. It would be another witch hunt. And this time the Muggles might have a chance of wiping wizard kind out. Every time Voldemort had his little temper tantrums about things not going his way Harry was worried about how the Ministry of Magic will clear things up. Sure, the Minister of Magic rubbed elbows with the Prime Minister these dark days, but that won't stop a mass riot fueled by fear. Hell, it wouldn't shock him if the Prime Minister walked the frontline if it came to that. The Muggle always seemed to be wound like a spring at the meetings Harry seen him in.

No, Voldemort would not be helping wizards and witches should their kind get discovered any time soon.

"Okay, I hear what you're saying, but what exactly are you expecting of me?"

"I'm not expecting anything. I'm just asking for you to accept our services and help."

"What about your family?" From Harry's knowledge Malfoy was content in being whatever his parents wanted him to be. The child Harry knew him to have been was starved for his father's praise and would have done nothing to displease him. Was this Malfoy different?

"My family?" He laughed cruelly, "I honestly can say that the family you are thinking of are not my family. The Blood Corps has been my family ever since. My mother," his voice became scornful, "is laving it up with her wealthy friends, wherever that may be. I haven't heard news of her in years, so it's possible she's already dead. As for Lucius, he's already dead. Died on assignment. It was to be expected, it was a suicide mission. Azkaban had driven him mad, there was no reasoning with him.

"He succeeded in his task, the American Muggles were itching to fight anyway. You know how they can't stand to not be at war with anyone."

"Wait, which war?"

"The current one, of course."

"But that was because of some terrorist attack. And that Osama guy." Malfoy gave an amused snort that made Harry glare at him.

"Muggles will believe anything you tell them," he commented as he cleaned his perfect nails. "I hadn't expected the Light to be so trusting in what the Muggles think happened. No, there is no Osama. Just as there was no Hitler. The Dark creates a character to draw attention away from, otherwise suspicious, attacks. A game of 'Confuse the Muggles', if you will. These characters never really existed. Hitler was Grindelwald's character when he decided to try to take power. Muggles looked towards Germany, which blinded them to what was happening behind them.

"And Grindelwald was good. He was very good. Not all Wizarding children know who he was but everyone, Muggle and Wizard alike, know of Hitler. Only us trained in the Dark Arts know Hitler was a ruse. Do you understand?"

Harry, obviously thinking, made an affirmative sound. "A distraction? We were played then, and now. I feel so stupid," he groaned.

"As you are." Malfoy shot the familiar barb at the other's intelligence.

Harry growled, "You're such an ass."

"I know." He picked at the label of his Butterbeer bottle. "I'm sure the irony is not lost on you if I were to say that Voldemort's idea to take over the world came from seeing Hitler nearly succeed with Germany. Am I right?"

Harry noticed the lull in conversation. "Huh? I'm sorry, I'm rather tired."

Malfoy pouted, "Is that an insult?"

"Only if you want it to be. Could we speed this up?"

"Fine, the fiction that was Hitler was half Jewish. A complete hypocrite like Voldemort. It's why Voldemort thought he could actually take over the world. He believed in the whole Nazi thing. As for my father, he was the 'hands behind the wheel', so to speak, for the attack in America." He finished off his drink.

"That's dumb," Harry yawned. "Why didn't he Apparate out of there, or use the Imperius? Why stay and die?"

"I don't know. I assumed it's what was asked of him. He was so damn faithful to Voldemort that he would have done anything for him. But to kill off such a valuable asset? With my father dead, Voldemort lost most of his funding."

"What of your mother? She's a supporter, whether or not by choice. She'd probably give up the money just to keep him happy," Harry said, trying not to nod off.

"Had she the ability, I'm sure she'd be smart enough to use the money to go into hiding. But she's without Malfoy money. Even though she's a woman of Malfoy, she's still only married into the family. And by custom, an outsider. Many a pureblood family have been wiped out because of some greedy Black Widow, or Widower. My ancestors had taken precautions. In event of a Malfoy's death the vaults would be frozen until the true blood heir was old enough to take over. If there is no heir, then that's the end. The vaults will remain frozen until someone of Malfoy blood comes and claims them."

"But you're the heir of Malfoy!" Harry stood and started to pace in a manner that made it seem that he gave a damn. Though in reality, his ass was just numb. And he was afraid of falling asleep in front of a self-proclaimed, blood sucker. "Right?"

"If I was alive," he also stood to lean against the warm mantel. "You said it yourself; I'm suppose to be dead."

"Then claim your money, grab your people, and go."

"Are you denying our help, Potter?"

"I didn't say that. I just don't understand why you want to help the Light."

Malfoy sighed, "You must be tired if you can't remember that."

"Yeah, I am." As if on cue, Harry yawned again. "Could we, perhaps, talk about this tomorrow? I have a meeting in the morning."

Malfoy nodded, "Of course. I'll take my leave then." He straightened his coat and extended his hand towards Harry. "We'll contact you when you're available."

Harry paused in the hand shake, "What do you mean 'you'll contact me'? Shouldn't I call on you when I'm free?"

Malfoy gave his prized smile, "No need. I'll just have someone watch you from a distance. We'll know when you're free." His eyes lingered on their still clasped hands.

"You're going to have someone spying on me!? Oh, hell no. I don't think so, Malfoy. I know, why don't you just come to the meeting tomorrow? You can talk to my leader." He chose his words carefully, letting Malfoy know that he was not the leader of Light. Even though he really was.

Malfoy's eyes unfocused for a moment, now a clear sign to Harry that he was communicating to the other Blood Corps members. The silver eyes snapped back to Harry's so quickly he became startled. "Alright," the slender hand tightened on Harry's own. "I'll meet with your 'leader'."

"Great. Do you want… Do you have somewhere to stay?" Malfoy just stayed silent, letting Harry get to the question he wanted to ask first. "I mean, I'm sure you could find somewhere to go. But would you… like to stay here? I have plenty of room."

Malfoy grinned. "That would be convenient."

"Oh, do you have a problem with daylight?" He asked as he pulled the boy, or who looked like a boy, out of the room by the hand.

"Like killer sunburn?" Malfoy asked and laughed when Harry looked confused. "If I ever forget you are raised by Muggles, you'll be sure to remind me."

"Okay, I get it. Death by sunlight; Muggle misconception." He said while smiling to himself at the stupidity he'd shown when believing Muggle beliefs where wizards rule.

TBC...

AN: I've hit a lapse in my writing of this so I decided to just post what I have and see what people think. I have a small idea of where this will go but feel free to sway me with plot bunnies.

Q: I am looking for a nickname that would be appropriate for Harry. One that a godson would give his fatherly godfather. I've tossed around 'Parry' for a minute since it's like Papa Harry. And also 'Happy', which is like Harry Papa, only cuter. But I don't know...

Please, please, please, leave some feedback on the story or the nickname. I'd like to hear anything you have to say.