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Harry snuck out of his room and made his way to Dudley's. The raucous laughter coming from downstairs told him that no one would be coming upstairs any time soon. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the horrible smelling room and made his way to the drawer in which Dudley kept his chains and bands. Rummaging through it, he found the cross, Dudley had worn when he had been going through his goth phase and exited the room as quickly as possible.
Once inside the safety of his room, he turned the cross over between his fingers and wondered if it would even work in the event that the body really turned out to be a vampire. He slid it over his neck and tucked it under his shirt. Now all he needed was garlic and a wooden stake. He internally scoffed at himself. Where the hell was he going to get a wooden stake and why the hell was he being so superstitious? He shook his head and laid back on the bed as he waited for the guests to leave and his uncle to drink himself into oblivion.
He woke up with a sharp inhale and realized that he had dozed off while he had been waiting. He looked at the time and realized that it was a little after midnight. The silence of the house was enough indication for him to know that he could leave now. He checked to make sure that the cross was still present around his neck. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and ran his fingers through his messy raven black locks. He looked paler than usual and the dark circles underneath his eyes were testament to the fact that he hadn't slept a wink in the last two nights. He rethought his decision. He could just go back to sleep and put this matter behind him…forget that he'd ever gone inside that Manor…forget that he had ever seen that body… He bit back the hysterical chuckle that threatened to escape from his lips. As if he could forget…as if his bloody curiosity would let him rest… He pulled on his jacket and steeling himself exited the room.
An hour later, he was standing in the cold wine cellar and shifting his weight from foot to foot as he shuffled nervously and struggled to summon up the strength to pass through that door. He drew in a deep breath, pushed open the door and stepped into the bitterly cold and incredibly dark room. It took him all the will he possessed to put one foot in front of the other and approach the coffin. His body was covered in Goosebumps and he was drenched in a cold sweat. His hand was trembling uncontrollably, causing the torchlight to flicker. He pushed himself further and squeezed his eyes shut as he came within viewing distance.
It's just a body…It's just a body…He's not a vampire… He will not wake up and attack you…Damn it. He kept himself rooted to the spot and couldn't convince himself to open his eyes. He was not a coward. He wasn't a coward. He just had to open his eyes and take a look. His teeth chattered as the cold seeped into his bones and he wanted to wrap his arms around himself to keep himself warm but he had to hold the torch. He wanted to get out of this place but for that he needed to take a look first.
Just one look and he could leave…just one proper look and he could get back to the meagre warmth of his blanket and sleep. He was about to open his eyes but backed out at the last minute and took several staggering steps back. He cursed himself internally and stamped his feet on the stone floor in frustration. This was getting absurd.
He had no idea how long he just stood there but finally when his brain decided that enough was enough, he exhaled, closed his eyes and took a few steps forward again. He balled his hands into fists and willed himself to open his eyes but they absolutely refused to budge. Fears and doubts clouded his mind. He could die down here. He hadn't even lived properly yet,
"Damn it!"
He realized he'd said it out loud when his voice reverberated around the chamber or crypt or vault or whatever the hell it was and clamped a hand over his mouth.
He opened his eyes gradually and was absolutely transfixed by the sight in front of him. The guy didn't actually appear dead. Long black hair framed his face, standing out in stark contrast to the velvety red interior of the coffin. There wasn't the slightest hint of stubble along his jaw and it looked like he'd been shaved recently. High cheek bones and an aquiline nose gave him an almost aristocratic appearance. The cheeks had the warmth of life through all their pallor. The lips were as red as ever.
There wasn't a speck of dust on him which intrigued him. The black robes he wore were impeccable and flawless. It looked like he was simply sleeping, as if he might open his eyes at any moment. He pushed that idea away and looked closer. But there was no sign of movement, no pulse, no breath, no beating of the heart. He bent over him, and tried to find any sign of life, but in vain. He was tempted to pull his lips back and check for fangs but that would be pushing his luck. He took a step back from the coffin and tried to understand what the man was. He wasn't dead. There was something alive about him. Something that called to him at a deeper level and that bothered him. He looked at the man again and it grew fairly evident that his mind wasn't going to let him get any peace any time soon.