Harry Potter: A Vampire's Curse

Written by abi2301

Chapter 02

v.01: 05/04/2005

Official disclaimer:

The Harry Potter movies and novel series are the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Inc. and Scholastic Books, Inc. All rights are reserved. 'Harry Potter: A Vampire's Curse' is a purely fictional series based upon the original HP and written for entertainment purpose only. No money is made out of it and no law infringement was intended in its writing.

Chapter 02: On The Road Again

He had to get out.

That was the first of his decisions. His main goal.

Still covered in his own blood and wearing his ripped clothes, Harry ran back at four, Privet Drive, finding with great relief that the house was plunged in darkness. A quick glance across the lawn showed him that the Dursleys weren't even there as their minivan was nowhere in sight. He vaguely remembered his porky-looking uncle grumbling about their spending a night at Aunt Marge's but did not dwell on the matter. In fact he had definitively kicked his relatives out of his mind a while ago and had barely acknowledged them during the holidays as he retreated to his own inner world of pain where only dwelt pictures of him, his parents and Sirius. Stumbling at the porch, he fumbled with his keys and opened the door, before rushing towards his room. As soon as he got there he started throwing his possessions inside his faithful trunk, not caring in which state or order they landed. He opened Hedwig's cage and got the snowy white owl out, carrying the bird towards the opened windowsill, much to the avian's disgruntled hoots at how she was being handled - by her master, no less.

"Hedwig - listen to me," Harry said, panting. "We've got to leave this place. Forever. I don't know where to go but I cannot carry you all the way. I'm setting you free for this night. As soon as I've found somewhere to live in, join me, okay?" he asked his companion, seeing the hurt in her beady eyes but feeling powerless towards that. Hedwig softly hooted in agreement and took off, disappearing into the night. Harry sighed in resignation before discarding his ruined clothes, changing to new, more fitting ones that he had bought in Diagon Alley before fifth year's start. He grabbed a small towel, splashed his face with water from the faucet and rubbed the now caked blood out of his face and shoulders. He took out his wand and glanced around, feeling reluctant to use magic before his birthday, the date he would finally be authorized to perform spells without alerting the whole Ministry. "Oh, to hell with it!" he muttered, casting a Shrinking Charm on his trunk and pocketing the sugar cube-sized object in his trousers. Disrespect towards the decree against underage magic was the least of his concerns. He took a last look at his room then turned away, scrambling down the stairs and running out of his house like a madman, feeling desperation clawing at the edges of his mind. He felt numb, as if in a dream. He wasn't the one being hurt; it was somebody else - as he was just a spectator. As he arrived outdoors, he didn't realize something that should have logically occurred: the ministry owl notifying him of his infringement of the law never came.

He ran into the night, not feeling the cold wind whip over his ears and the scenery fly by. Few passersby noticed him as he sprinted away, setting as much distance between him and four, Privet Drive. He didn't want the Order to locate him and cart him away to St Mungo's or confine him in a cell for his so-called safety. Vampires were ostracized in the wizarding world. They were even more frowned upon than werewolves as they were permanently dangerous and could use their powers to harm people. Individuals suffering from lycanthropy were only capable of harming human beings at the full moon but vampires could do that at all times, even in daylight.

And he was now one of them.

One of the Accursed.

The Living Dead, as wizards and witches called them.

The small clusters of peaceful, rich residences finally left place to congregations of shops and other boutiques. As he saw more human activity in the surroundings, Harry changed his run to a reasonable pace, not trying to draw attention to himself. Instead of being surrounded by darkness he now found himself in a more lighted environment, bustling with night-partying people or individuals who like to linger downtown till sunrise. Harry,having been raised by the Dursleys, had never been in such places and felt like a fish out of water. He gazed at some couples that were gathering around blaring discotheques, laughing out loud and talking casually about their private lives. The young, lost wizard sensed millions of perceptions assailing his mind as he attempted desperately to take the feelings in and deal with them. Once again he felt like vomiting but he refrained himself from losing the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk. He glanced around, trying to get his bearings and leant against a lamppost, watching people walk by, not noticing him and his deathly pale complexion, oblivious to the creature they were passing by.

"Bloody hell - where am I going to go, now?"

In the distance, he saw a small, modern-looking fountain, conveniently away from the agitation; he strode over to that spot, longing for some peace and quiet. He bent over the rim of the landmark and relished the feeling of water droplets dropping on his bare neck. "That's better," he muttered. "Nothing like a cold shower to wake oneself up." But the nightmare's still going on, he concluded grimly. Try as he might, he couldn't shake off the dreadful dream off his head. Nah, definitively reality. That was when he saw his reflection in the pool. The first thing he noticed was that he was wearing no glasses. "Huh? What the -" He ran his fingers through his face, finding neither metallic frame nor round, numerously fixed pieces of glass. I must have lost them in the fight, he realized with astonishment. He then surprised himself by the roughness he felt as he palpated his jaw. "Since when are my cheeks no longer round but that angular?" he asked himself, staring at his image in the water. His cheekbones were more defined and their adulthood was even more accentuated by the now shoulder-length hair that framed his pale face. "WHAT?" he nearly screamed, discovering his new haircut. His hair was still very messy in the front and a bit on the sides but less spiky and longer on the back. Definitely a new look, he decided. Will make things easier. Bet Ron and Hermione wouldn't recognize me at all, he thought, softly beaming at the memory of his friends, who would now be deathly afraid of what he had become. Especially Hermione who knew more about dark creatures than himself since she spent long hours peering over books and manuscripts and filling her brains with miscellaneous facts. As his reminiscences lasted longer, his smile faltered, leaving place to a pained grimace.

As he peered over the fountain's stony rim again Harry saw his own reflection dimming, fading to naught. The image was soon replaced by the ripple of the water, showing nothing but a black, star-filled night. "Black hell!" Harry shouted.

That's it, Harry thought nearly despairingly. I'm a vampire.

Exhausted by the night's turn of events, he collapsed onto a nearby bench, holding his hands on his temples, trying to wake up from the nightmare he thought he was falling in.

After calming and tidying himself a little, he went back to the streets, mingling with the young men and women celebrating another night of fun and release, enjoying the buzzing atmosphere of the district. Harry couldn't help but envy their place and nonchalance. I'd give my Firebolt to be in their place - no fucking madman behind my arse and no fangs in my mouth. Just my bloody life and me. He stumbled upon a loose piece of pavement and cursed his clumsiness. The accident, however, jarred him from his daze, making him aware of his surroundings. He looked to his left and saw a brightly lit pub, full with teenagers downing soft drinks by entire bottles. He even espied someone that looked like his age and impulsively decided to go in. "It's not like I've got something to lose..." he mumbled under his breath, shrugging helplessly. "At least it will get my mind off that - that -" he struggled with his words and shook his head, before finally opening the door and being caught in a big blast of sounds and sensations. He smelled the sweat of dancing bodies, of cigarettes' smoke lingering in the atmosphere, the smell of alcohol-tinged breaths and many different drinks. He heard thrumming footsteps coming from the dancing place as people swayed to the entrancing, thumping rhythm of hardcore techno.

Shaking his head against the deluge of perceptions, he made his way through the crowd and towards the bar, fishing in his pocket to find some money. He had fortunately had the foresight to change some Galleons into Muggle money for his holidays, as he knew he would have to rely on himself only during that period. Things had gone hectic during that twenty-day period as he was literally quarantined to four, Privet Drive by the Order. Each time he wanted to wander a little bit too far away from his 'house' a member of the secret organization would pop up and ask him to go back to the 'security zone' as they put it. That behavior had rendered him rather disgruntled and resentful towards his so-called protectors. He found himself a vacant spot at the bar and ushered for an employee to take his order. Taking out a few coins out of his pocket, he asked for a Bacardi Breezer. Time for me to get drunk for the first time. I bloody need it, he grumbled inwardly. Even if I'll ultimately need a dozen two-liter bottles to be pissed. The barkeeper nodded and took a bottle of the said beverage, popping the lid off and handing it to a brooding Harry.

The runaway wizard accepted his drink with a muffled thanks and downed his first gulp hoping that the liquid would, one way or another, cleanse him of his worry and wash away his troubles. It only served to dull his mind a little as the 'small' amount of alcohol rushed inside his veins and hit his brains. He coughed a little then took his second shot, under the amused look of the barkeeper whose stare cynically meant 'lightweight!'

"First-timer, eh?" he inquired good-naturedly.

"You could say that," responded Harry, slamming his glass on the shiny bar, before sitting himself at a newly vacated stool. "It's not like I ever had a good drink - never had the chance to get myself in neverland." The man gave him a sympathetic, noncommittal smile then returned to his chores, swamped under the never-ending orders. Where do I go from now, Harry asked himself, wondering where he indeed could head. He couldn't drop by Grimmauld Place, or at least not now. He still had to accept his new state and deal with his unease - without mentioning that he still had to come to grips with Sirius' untimely departure. As he drowned in his growing despair, Harry felt a slight tinge at the edge of his consciousness, a soft pull that ripped him off his wandering thoughts. Hmmm? Then the smell came - a sweet, dulcet one that brought along a strange sense of recognition within his subconscious, like a deep memory finally coming out of the shadows. Something, or rather, someone, was right behind him. He slowly spun around, dreading the worse and was greeted by the sight of a tall, pale and blond-haired woman, dressed in a long leather coat and wearing dark clothes. But her Goth attire wasn't what spiked his interest or his concern. Her physique was rather...familiar but he couldn't get his finger on the truth.

It was when the woman reached the bar and turned towards him that the illumination came.

Her pale complexion. The coldness he felt around her.

She was a vampire.

A vampire.

Harry almost choked on his Bacardi, making the stranger smile with mild amusement. She patted him on his back, making the teenager nearly choke again at her friendly gesture. "Tryin' ta talk an' drink atta same time, fang-boy?" she smirked, seeing the alarm spread through Harry's features as she unsubtly acknowledged his state. "Oh, come on, what's tha' problem?" she drawled, seeing the fear within her interlocutor and surprised at his actions. "Wait," she said, looking at him closer, making Harry squirm under the unwanted scrutiny. She examined him for a moment before comprehension dawned on her. Her blonde eyebrows rose towards her hairline as she realized his real predicament. "Ya - ya've just been turned, haven't ya?" she questioned, her demeanor now less 'aggressive'. Harry nodded weakly, still weary of the heavenly but still potentially dangerous in front of him.

"Yeah. One hour ago..." he muttered, looking away.

"I see," she answered, nodding gravely. "I understand why ya looked so queasy. Ya aren't able ta cope with tha' changes, are ya?"

Once again, Harry acquiesced, feeling relieved at her behavior. He feared being the subject of a second attack in less than two hours and knew that vampires were exceedingly strong and fast when it came to fighting or hunting. Being in a pub comforted him somewhat as he knew she wouldn't do any foolhardy stunt in such a crowded area without wreaking havoc and mayhem around. Like wizards and witches, those beings of the night preferred secrecy and discretion to a blatant, unhidden life. "Y...yeah," he stuttered.

"Ah. Where's ya sire?" she asked him, while paying the bartender for a shot of Vodka. Harry turned to face her, not quite getting the hang of her question. "Sire?"

"Yeah - tha' one who turned ya," she specified, gulping down the transparent drink without any sign of choking. "Tha' one who took ya as a childe, ya know?"

"Childe?" Harry asked uncertainly, not familiar with the term. As his puzzled look deepened, the female vampire became more and more appalled at what she was hearing.

"Yeah - ya're a childe - ya've been turned in by a...a...well, one of us, ya see? Yar sire. Don't tell me yar sire left ya alone with no trainin'!" she questioned, looking increasingly worried by the minute and startling Harry by her vehemence. "No one was there to help me," he resentfully answered, looking down at his glass. "That guy who bit me...I don't know what happened to him. One second he was there sucking the shit out of my neck and the next one he was imitating a fire hose on the sidewalk."

"Oh," commented the vampire, mouth agape. A dozen seconds passed before her jaw snapped shut with an audible 'click' and she returned to her drink, frowning deeply. After a moment, she finally spoke up, much to Harry's relief. "D'ya know that we...people of tha' night, are obliged ta take care of those we turn in, right?"

"No, I didn't, errr...miss...?"

The vampire jumped a bit before extending a long, pale hand, a contrite expression plastered on her face. "Sorry. I'm Priscilla. Priscilla Carisse Dane," she introduced herself, as Harry wearily shook her limb, a little bit more comfortable with her than before. Well...here goes nothing... "Harry. Harry Potter," he reciprocated, bracing himself for the familiar...

"What? Ya're THA' Harry Potter? Tha' real one?" she blabbered, her accent deepening dramatically.

Bingo. Just as I thought.

Six hundred and ninety-seven. Three more and I'll have seven hundred, Harry tiredly thought, ignorant of how he could still find irony within himself in such moments. He pushed raven-colored bangs of hair out of his forehead, unmasking the familiar, bolt-shaped scar. Priscilla gaped at him for a whole minute before shaking her head. "Oooh...that's rich...Harry Bloody Potter, savior of tha' wand-wavers...now a people of tha' dark," she said, wincing in anticipation. "Wait till yar world learns that - they gonna go flip-flop 'round their houses, trousers on their heads, bet ya," she joked, eliciting a wry smile from her companion. Her grin slowly turned into a full-blown laugh, drawing the attention from a couple bystanders towards her antics. She kept on giggling for a few minutes next to a grumpy-looking Harry, before she raised a hand to wipe the tears out of her eyes. "Ah - serves them right. With all that they've been doin' during those centuries. Need a real shock ta get their minds straight, I tell ya," she declared, piping her mirth down as she took in his downcast expression. "Sorry if I offended ya - but I was laughing at yar...world, yar community, I mean. It's not like we, Nightstalkers, hold them dear if ya get ma' point," she clarified apologetically, eliciting from her interlocutor a weary, inquisitive frown.

"Oh, come on, d'ya really think we would snog them senseless with all tha' hunts they led in tha' past to eradicate us?" she asked, her mood switching to a testy tone. Harry held up a hand, trying to calm her sudden anger. "Keep it down, I didn't want to anger you, but I don't have a straight mind right now. I still need to take everything in - it's so...so..."

"Confusing," she proposed flatly.

"Yeah."

"Typical," she commented, flipping her long hair behind her shoulders in a graceful shrug.

"'Suppose so," begrudgingly admitted Harry, absently staring at the dance room where people were still moving to the sporadic beat of house music.

"Looks like yar life's now completely fucked from beginning to end," she deadpanned.

"'Like my life has been everything BUT happy," Harry groused resentfully, making Priscilla smirk cynically.

"Do ya think ya're tha' only one in tha' shitter, fang-boy?" she asked, taking a sip of her Bloody Mary and looking at the young wizard from the corner of her eye. Harry blinked in surprise and stared back. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ya assume ya're tha' only guy who ever hadta cope with problems. What about tha' others in tha' world who hafta pour their blood on tha' floor an' burn their lives just ta get something ta EAT? What 'bout those? And tha' people who hafta lose their strength an' health in God-knows-what just ta be able ta LIVE?" she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Harry bowed his head, ashamed by her verbal correction. "Sorry - I was selfish. Once again."

"As long as ya recognize yar faults an' make amends for them, fine by me. But ya really hafta work on that," she said, before shrugging dismissively and giving the bartender a tip.

"At the moment, it's the least of my concerns. I got other things to do first," Harry sighed, feeling a headache pointing at the horizon and raising its ugly head in glee.

"Mmmh," mused Priscilla, looking at him with a thoughtful expression. "Tell me - ya homeless, aren't ya? Ya don't look like ya got somewhere ta live..." she pondered, examining his posture. "How do you know that?" Harry stammered, perplexed at her knowledge of his status. The vampire waved him off, dismissing the comment. "I can tell - ya look like ya don't know in which direction tha' north is. Ya keep looking around ya, like ya're lost. I guess that's a part of it - but I just deemed ya ran from ya friends an' family, right? Lotsa people of our kind do that after they've been turned in," she explained, rising from her seat. "Fancy a walk?"

Harry considered her proposition for a moment then gave in. "Oh, why not, after all. What have I left to lose?" he sighed, dropping some money for the bartender. He hopped off his stool and followed his new companion outside, feeling relieved when the noise coming from the pub was immediately muffled by the closing door, tuning down the onslaught of sound waves.

Priscilla looked him over, taking in his uncomfortable state. "Ya really look like hell, fang-boy. Not surprising. I didn't look any better after I got tha' bite." Harry absently nodded, not noticing the vampire's eyes grow distant for a scant second, as if lost in memories.

"Who would?" Harry asked rhetorically, still looking for a hypothetical way out of his predicament. Vampirism wasn't treatable and therefore reversible. Once you were one, you remained in that state till the ends of time, unless someone had either the obsession or the leniency to kill you and put an end to the curse.

"The dead, maybe. But let's not fret on that. Come wi'me, we got a few things ta' talk about," she announced, taking him towards Little Disraeli Avenue, mingling with the night-living throngs. Both of them drew queer looks from male and female individuals, making Harry squirm in unease. Hate it when they're looking at me like that. They remember me of those girls who wanted me for the Ball in fourth year, he thought, shuddering at the memory. Next thing I don't need is a score of rutting girls pouncing on me or eyeing me like I'm a pack of meat. Even if they find me gorgeous. For a moment they walked in silence before Priscilla broke the uneasy tension. "What are ya going ta do now that ya're one of us?"

Harry mulled that thought over but found no answer within him. "Dunno. I think I'm going to find myself a place to live in, but it's not like I got any money to afford myself a cozy flat or even a wooden cabin in a backyard," he said, stifling a dry laugh. Priscilla narrowed her eyes, deep in concentration. "What 'bout ya friends?"

That sentence made Harry stop in his tracks and Priscilla look back in confusion. "They're the reason why I left."

"What?" Her eyebrows rose a bit, both in confusion and mild annoyance.

Harry took a deep breath in and looked skywards, gazing somberly at the full moon. "They - well, they're wizards. You know?" he asked uncertainly, feeling relieved by her nod of acquiescence. "Wizards are horribly prejudiced even if you're a Muggleborn - I mean, if your parents were magical. I realized a few months ago, after I discovered that one of my teachers was a werewolf, that a wizard's education does not, in fact, enforce respect of magical creatures. In fact, it does the opposite. We're unconsciously taught to fear them by learning what they are and what they can do. I still remember in our Care of the Magical Creature and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes having to read grisly tales about kappas shredding innocent bystanders to bits and werewolves eviscerating innocent people. After discovering things like that you do not exactly want to acquaint yourself with people who are shunned away by the wizarding society. Those lessons instill fear in us. Not respect and acceptance."

"Ya're afraid of rejection, aren't ya?" Priscilla gently asked, taking a step towards the downcast wizard, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I can understand. My friends and I...drifted apart tha' day they learnt about my...illness. They sticked by me for tha' first few months but after that...well, it became clear that they were very uneasy near me an' wanted ta sever ties with me but were reluctant ta' do so...by pity, mostly. So instead of having them leave me I abandoned them," she confessed. "Seems we are in tha' same boat, heh?" she asked Harry with a sort of wry smile.

"Yeah."

"About yours - are they really THAT bad?"

"No," Harry admitted. "At least Hermione isn't. But Ron, well, he was rather uneasy about giants and half-giants. When he learnt about another of my teachers being one," he said, drawing a strange look - which bordered on amazement mixed with respect - from his companion. "He went rather...queer. I guess it's because he's a pureblood and was raised that way. But vampires are HATED by my...former world. I can only guess what his reaction would be...and that's only for him. I don't want my other companions to send me away to St Mungo's or something like that. So I had to run away."

Priscilla opened her mouth but Harry cut her off. "Don't get me wrong. I'll deal with this vampirism thing. But I can't deal with my friends. Not now. Not here. I don't want them to look at me with pity in their eyes. That'd be the last thing I'd want right now," he uttered painfully.

"I see - so ta' sum everything up: ya left ya home, ya friends, ya world and ya actually haven't got a goddamned clue where ta' go. What's more ta' say, ya aren't trained ta yar full extent. Yar powers are still bound together. If ya don't learnt to unleash them ya'll feel like a champagne bottle being swung 'round without having its cork removed. Ya'll finally break down 'cause ya feel very uneasy. Like ya've got something that wants ta' burst out of ya but can't release it."

"Oh."

Priscilla put a pale hand on her chin and thought for a minute or two, before resetting her gaze on Harry. "Come wi'me."

Sure, why not, after - huh? What was that?

"Huh?"

"Ya're coming with me," Priscilla declared, crossing her arms and frowning in a 'contradict me and you'll be eating your balls' way.

"What for?" Harry asked, starting to panic.

"I'm going ta' train ya an' that's final!" she half-snarled at his slow mind.

"Wait a minute -" he started.

"I won't take 'no' for an answer. Ya're going ta' live with me," she hammered, pushing a finger on his chest to emphasize her point.

Harry shut up, his self-preservation instinct kicking up and advising him not to add anything else.

Bloody hell. Looks like this night's completely totaled.

To be continued...

A/N:

OC introduced - check. Harry out of his world - check. New home - check. Order confused - no check, not yet. What's left? Ah, that's for the next chappie, I think. Any suggestions for later ones? Mind ya, I'll take serious ones, 'kay? Pairing things, no. Flames, no (look at my profile page for my reasons). Oh, as for why the vampire burst into flames, well, that'll be explained in later chapters. Let's just say he had a bad reaction to something. The clever ones will easily guess what I'm talking about. Oh, another thing. My previous fics showed the series through multiple points of view. I'll try to stick just to Harry's standpoint this time. It will leave some details out but I just want to try. If it goes to hell, well, why should I bother using that style in the future? We'll see.

Otherwise, Ch. 02 got out quite easily. Well, nearly. Hopefully the flame won't extinguish itself. Surprisingly I find this series easier to write than HP-ASIT. Maybe because I'm sticking more to canon and not wandering in original features and data. Ah, well. Got something to ask me personally? Drop me an e-mail. And...oh, Skittles-07, you're lucky: not slash. But browse through my favorites' page and search for the 'Moonlit Nights' by AngelicDemon 16. Not slash either :-) Thanks for those who reviewed. And...

Read 'n' review!

C ya l8terz!