Readers: I you want this series to continue, please review. I like writing this fic, but I do not think other's read this fic because of the lack of reviews (I even did the thing I didn't like and reloaded it (it has no reviews before reload but). So, does anyone like this fic at all?

Part 1

The old man at the counter stared as they came out of restricted area. Not too much at Hermione, but what she brought with her: Harry in all his rot. The old woman patient who was flirting with him looked up and shrieked "Monster" as she ran back to her room. Maybe she should of tried harder to find some cover for Harry before they came up here. Maybe not: the old man would not have such a comical disgusted look on his face if Harry looked human.

Maybe she should have left Harry down there to riot more until he came to his senses and said yes instead of that no of his. No, no one should be left like that in that horrid place, least of all Harry Potter. He'd been through so much already, and maybe even years in that place... That was not right, that place, Harry in that place. This was right, saving Harry from that place. And maybe the other people, though not the vampire. Vampire's deserved to live their un-living in the worst possible place for their actions during the War.

Hermione, the vampire may have been here during that time. How can you condemn a man for something his species did? Hermione, where are you?

Shut up, she yelled at the voices in her head. Vampires are monsters. They deserve what they get.

Hermione, where are you? Harry is a monster right now.

She looked over at Harry. True, he looked like a monster. However, he was not a monster on the inside. His sole was pure and strong, and totally un- monsterish at all! The rags and total-need-of-a-shower were not Harry; they were nothing. Harry was the light of the light. He was the hero of the good wizards and witches of the world.

Where is Hermione? Hermione, He was that man, that famous Harry Potter. What is he now?

Hermione gulped. Maybe Harry was not Harry Potter now. Maybe he still was. Maybe the vampire was innocent and maybe even good. Maybe Harry was evil and the vampire good.

Why had Harry said no to the cry, if he was still Harry Potter? What happened during the last battle that made Harry hide here of all places? What happened to Harry Potter?

Hermione, he has his reasons, but you have your need. Convince him to become Harry Potter again.

She nodded to the voice. The voice, her kidding voice, had always been right these past few years. It helped her figure things out, helped her keep together after the War's end, and helped her now, as she brought Harry out of the hell house and into the light of day under the eyes of the perverted man.

The old man smiled grimly and possible something worse as he grabbed his arm that had suddenly hurt like nothing else on earth. He didn't notice the pain; he noticed what the pain meant.

His master was back. The rightful heirs to the world would gain their places, and he would gain it with them.

The patients in their rooms noticed something unusual that day. The usual mad laughter that haunted their dreams, that was there, but a dark cloud took over their minds and body as they lost control.

It would be reported a week later in the newspaper as the Mass Suicide of the Madhouse. Under the article, sometimes, there would be a wanted poster for a mysterious old man who everyone thought worked at the madhouse, but never did. No one knew his name. No one had every asked his name, in their memory. But as any wizard knows, memory spells are quite easy.

The mad search for the "old man" was started on urging of the Minister of Wizardry.



Part 2

The sun was shinning as usual. The streets were screaming, not as usual. Well, it was not every day a perfectly respectable looking woman stepped outside of the crazy house with a thing made of rags and riot. Men, women, children, all ran or horrid respectably away from them. One kid wouldn't shut up his screaming of "He's going to eat us, dada!" as his father polled him away with the rest of the crowd. A woman without her shopping bags (they had been "left" on the payment with her little girl) went into a store. When she came out, with a new package clutched to her chest, she stepped toward them and through the shopping bag to Harry. Pity was her eyes as she looked at the poor man.

Hermione looked at Harry. His eyes were shifted downwards, but no emotion tried showing on his face. His emotions, his pain, were locked in him to all but some to find if they did not look into his eyes. His eyes were shame, and hurt, and self-loathing.

Harry opened the bag and pulled out a pink poncho. He started chuckling, almost like a mad man. He ripped open the package and hid himself in the bright pink plastic as he laughed.

Hermione called him, said his name over and over, more worried as she talked. What had happened to him? What was wrong with him?

Why don't you ask, Hermione?

Hermione nodded to the voice and did what it suggested. "Harry, what is wrong?"

"I'm free. That is what is wrong. I am free. I am free..."

With that, he fell down, his eyes dead, and went into seizers. He fainted, like a dead man.

"Harry, what happened to you?" Hermione stroked his hair as she waited for the Ministry car she summoned to come. "Harry, where are you?"

"Here, finally..." A whisper she did not hear.



Part 3

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Not a hospital heart monitor, though this room was very like a hospital room being that it was a school medical room. No, this was not a collage type place either or some place students learned in. This was an elaborate nurse's office for an elaborate school. Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft.

No student was in that room at this time, though two former students who knew the room far too well were there. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.

Hermione was listening to the Beep, Beep, Beep, of her watch as the seconds turned into milliseconds and so on, as time came to stand still to the time Harry Potter should wake as the potion Madam Pomfrey gave him wore off.

The time came. The time passed. Harry slept. Madam Pomfrey came to check with no answer to the sleep, only a shrug and "get some sleep" for Hermione.

Beep. Beep. Beep

The heart monitor beeped as the life of the boy, almost man, in the white hospital bed somehow sustained. He looked so very pale, even against the slightly red bandages the covered the wounds that seemed to make up his body. His lips were blue; the doctors said he wasn't losing too much more blood, but still, his lips were blue. His eyes were open, like a dead man's, and starred into space with no life. Glossy green grapes with some eternal black wound in the middle. The heart monitor said he was alive; he could not.

In libraries everywhere, wizards and witches looked for the counter spell to this curse that kept magic from helping him. After a week, hope was thin as everyone prayed the muggle doctors could help him live.

BeepBeepBeep.

The heart monitor's beeps raced each other as the dead looking man moved in his seemingly death. Dead green turned to life as the eyes again reflected the soul inside him. Panic. Fear. Hatred. Something more. All in the eyes of Harry Potter.

Bee--

The cords entrapping Harry snapped.

"Harry! You're up!"

Hermione and the other, glad at their friend's life again.

"I must go. I must get free of..."

Harry struggled away from his friend's arms and out of the room.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The watch beeped on back in Madam's Pomfrey's medical wing. The present came again to waking eyes.

Hermione was up from her nap on the seat next to her bed.

Harry was up, grabbing at his arms in a panic.

"Harry, you're all right!" Hermione hugged her friend. She had missed him these past years.

"Hermione, where's... where's... where is He."

"Ron? He is not here. He is busy with other stuff but he will be back."

"No, I know that. I mean Him. Where is he? I cannot see him."

"Who? Sirus and Lupin promised to visit as soon as they could. Dumblemore is--"

"Dead, I know. I mean Him. Where is Voldemore? I cannot see him."

Harry looked up into Hermione's eyes. His eyes did not have the black wound in them. They had a white wound now.

Harry was blind?

No. Harry's eyes caught sight of reality and present, and so returned to their usual colour.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The time bomb was set.



Please excuse the misspelling of names. Do not excuse common words misspelled.

Fox. Please, does anyone like this story?