The Leader

Chapter 4

More Information And Actions

Harry stood back, satisfied that the man was healing; as dark as he was, he didn't like others being in pain. It's why he always made sure any opposing coven or beings were killed swiftly. He had told Lupin he wasn't like Voldemort and it was true, he used his reputation here to prevent them from usurping him, yes. There was no need to cause them pain; they were doing everything he asked after all. Voldemort seemed pretty insane from what information he had gathered over the years. It didn't surprise him that his followers weren't so eager to continue serving him, if he was honest. He could barely believe Pomfrey had let Snape out; she hadn't let him out until she was sure he'd recovered.

Staring down at the wizard, Harry once again wondered why the hell he had sworn a vow of loyalty to him. He didn't for a second think Rick was mistaken, not only was Rick five hundred years old, but he'd never been wrong according to his father. They had been friends for nearing two hundred years before Harry was turned by him. He missed him; his father had been his reason for doing this, and it had been Malaki's dream of gathering the covens together and giving them a purpose instead of fighting amongst themselves. Harry shook off his thoughts, not wanting to think about his father, not now.

Moving off to the side, he picked up the folder and took a seat, focusing this time on the information about Severus Snape. Most of the information was his trial transcripts, unfortunately; small pieces of information on where he stayed―Spinners End, a purely Muggle area and for those that weren't very well off. Why he would retain the property he didn't know, he surely made enough brewing to buy himself a decent home. He arched an eyebrow as he read on― and he was the last remaining direct heir of the Prince Estate. Now he was doubly curiously as to why he remained in a hovel. Hmm, he was a Slytherin, but that didn't surprise him, since he was the head of Slytherin. Youngest potions Master, highest results; calculating the years, he realized the wizard had started at Hogwarts not long after graduating. Professor McGonagall had done the same, as well as Professor Sprout; Flitwick was the only one who had made a career for himself before teaching at Hogwarts. Teaching, as everyone knew, was the last step of a long, not always but mostly successful, career. Admittedly Transfiguration was as probably the best it could be, there were hardly any new creations in that subject; potions, though, was at its baby stages. So much is happening in that community, new discovers made every day, some by this man despite teaching students all the time.

None of it really explained the wizard. Harry rubbed at his chin thoughtfully; too bad he'd sent Lupin away, he might have been good to get information from. What had he said? Ah yes, that he and his mum had been best friends. The question remained, had he wanted more? Or had they just actually been fond friends? If that was the case, why had he treated him like shit? Other than the fact he was supposed to be a Death Eater, he supposed. His mind drifted back to the time he first saw them in the mirror of Erised. He had been weak back then, desperate for love from anyone, not realizing he was being played. Dumbledore... it made Harry's lip curled viciously, he truly loathed the man with every iota of his being. Malaki had made him see that yes, his parents were gone, yes his mother had sacrificed herself for him, but it didn't mean he had to be exactly like them. We were our own person, everyone had a choice between dark and light, and it didn't make you inherently evil. Dark was just a type of magic you were drawn to, and it was only termed as such just because the Ministry believed people shouldn't practise it. They had simplified everything, good, evil, light, dark, wrong, right, in a bid to manipulate the magical population. A long time ago it had merely been magic, all of it, and each type of magic was cherished as the information and miracle it was before idiots came along. Harry smirked wryly; his father had a way with words that could make him believe it so completely.

His head snapped up when the wards shimmered, letting him know someone was in the manor. No doubt it was Brecon back; Lupin was hardly going to visit twice in one day, and if he did he was secretly a masochist. The wizard knew he could barely tolerate him, even a year ago, perhaps that's why it had turned out the way it had. He had never come across a friend of his parents before; added to the fact he was a werewolf, he had decided to try and recruit him. That was before he realized just how disgustingly loyal he was to Dumbledore. He didn't understand how such a bright man could be so blinded; even asking him why he was the only werewolf ever let in hadn't caused a smidgen of doubt. It mattered little, one man didn't matter, although he had a feeling the wizard wasn't going anywhere any time soon and would continue to bother him. Regretfully he couldn't turn him away; even if he was just one man, he had offered him a place and couldn't rescind the offer no matter how pissed off he was at the werewolf.

A few seconds later, using his vampire speed instead of Apparating, he was in front of Brecon, giving him a right scare. Since he was a wizard, he was unfortunately unable to see vampires coming or able to smell them, come to that. He had, if possible, a larger folder in his hand; it looked as though he'd been successful then; good.

"How did it go?" asked Harry gesturing to Brecon to sit down before he took a seat himself, more out of habit to make others comfortable than feeling the need to actually sit down.

"Better than I expected; she thought I was doing a book about history," said Brecon smirking wryly. Since she herself had written one, she'd been all too eager to contribute. Added to the spell he'd woven on his cloak, to exude confidence, loyalty and trust, she'd been talking to him as if she'd known him forever, not just five minutes. A few words of praise and how he'd read her book a dozen times and she was a fish on his hook. "I also found Brian Wulfric, a close personal friend of Percival Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore's father; he didn't have much to add." Plus the fact the man was basically on his death bed, nearing one hundred and eight nine years old. It had taken him ten minutes to get out a single sentence; he'd been bored to tears and all too grateful to get out of there.

According to the information from Brian Wulfric, Percival Dumbledore had attacked those Muggle boys in retaliation when they attacked his daughter. Also that Ariana Dumbledore had never been the same after the attack, mentally and magically unstable. He understood now why the father had chosen not to speak up; such an illness back in the day would probably have been met with disgrace and disgust. If they didn't understand it, then it wasn't normal even in the magical world, unfortunately. Nowadays though, it was more treatable, with mind healers; some of them were surely accomplished Occlumens. It was an admittedly rare and ancient art; the vampires and werewolves had natural shields preventing their minds from being read in passing, or with someone looking into their eyes. However, it didn't protect them from someone actually using the spell, and so it was that Harry made sure his mind was impenetrable from any measure of control or influence. His father, Rick, and of course Snape, Dumbledore, and Voldemort were the only ones he'd stumbled upon who knew Legilimency. Of course back then he hadn't understood what was happening, when Voldemort and Dumbledore had invaded his privacy. Only when he recognised the signs when he was reading about it had it dawned upon him. He knew Snape was one since his mind was completely closed off; he hadn't been able to glimpse anything from his impenetrable mind. To last so long as a spy it wasn't surprising really, he must have been very good to even dupe Voldemort.

"Just how did you get him to reveal this information?" asked Harry smirking, cocking his head to the side and observing Brecon curiously. He must have been conniving as hell; there had to be a reason this information hadn't gotten out ... then again, the old generation knew a thing or two about loyalty. Percival Dumbledore had kept it a secret and died for it in Azkaban, it had probably been out of respect that Brian Wulfric had kept it a secret. They had been close enough for Percival to name his son after him.

"Actually, he was on level twelve pain relievers, I don't think he knew who he was talking to," admitted Brecon. He hadn't really employed any tricks to get the man talking, unfortunately. Mould-On-The-Wall, he still lived where Dumbledore had as a child, though not for long since this information indicated the mother moved them all to Godric's Hollow where the fact she had three children wasn't known. They'd assumed that she only had two boys, Albus and Aberforth, and had found out the truth upon their sudden and mysterious deaths.

"Interesting," mused Harry, flipping through the pages, able to see and process them at a rapid pace. He finished the information he had gotten from the older man and went on to Bathilda Bagshot. He didn't have to wonder why she was familiar, since it was written right next to her name. Magical historian, author of History of Magic, a book he'd read his first year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She hadn't just written History of Magic, but six additional others, he had only read two; they were slightly dull compared to other authors he'd read. A particular statement caught his eye, and he felt sympathy for Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore.

'Kendra Dumbledore slammed the door in my face when I went around to welcome her with a batch of homemade Cauldron Cakes. The first year they were there I only ever saw the two boys. Wouldn't have known there was a daughter if I hadn't been picking Plangentines by moonlight the winter after they moved in, and saw Kendra leading Ariana out into the back garden. Walked her round the lawn once, keeping a firm grip on her, then took her back inside. Didn't know what to make of it.'

Then he read further down and froze completely: she knew his mum; she'd known him when he was a baby. That was rather disturbing, of course nothing more disturbing than the fact she was the Great-Aunt of Grindelwald and had introduced him to Dumbledore. It was fascinating information, but it didn't tell him everything he wanted to know; for a man constantly in the limelight, nothing really personal was known about the old fool. How was it that nobody knew just how manipulative he was? How the fuck did he get away with the shit he did?

"I copied these, sir." said Brecon, handing over the photographs reluctantly, not sure how he would react to it.

Harry accepted them, flipping through them, the first few were Dumbledore and Grindelwald young…the others however, were him as a child― his first birthday by the looks of things, and his parents on their wedding day. He had pictures of him and his parents; Hagrid had given him a few, but none with special occasions. He'd often wondered about visiting Godric's Hollow, but decided to let the past lie. His parents were gone; there was no point in reliving it.

"Thank you, Brecon. You may go, Rick has been asking after you, by the way," stated Harry, nodding his head curtly, his face impassive.

"Good evening, sir," said Brecon Apparating out of Potter manor.

Sighing in exasperation, he pinched the bridge of his nose; why of all people had it been Dumbledore who stumbled upon his territory? Oh yes, because he was a nosy bastard who had to know absolutely everything. Shuffling all the information into one bundle he headed for the stairs again, entering his own bedroom where Snape currently slept. He didn't use it to sleep, just to meditate in at least twice a week; he kept all his belongings here and clothes as well. Placing the information in his drawer, he added the other information he had lying around on everyone at Hogwarts in as well. Not that Snape would be able to snoop about his home; not only was he stuck to the bed, he had a spell on him that would alert him the moment he started to awaken. He didn't trust anyone, especially in his home.

His fingers brushed against a small square object, Harry removed it; it was like a miniature trunk with the initials HJP on it. He'd never used it since he was eleven; everything, even his cloak and photo album had been kept in there and shrunk, as well as the holly wand he'd bought from Ollivander's before starting Hogwarts. Shrugging his memories off, he put it back and closed the drawer silently before turning and leaving the room. Not even once did he look back, he'd done enough reminiscing today.

"Dobby?" called Harry, sitting himself in his little office; it had been one before he moved in. His father had told him about his inheritance. He'd been an idiot to believe that all he had was the trust vault, perhaps that was the reason someone like Hagrid had taken him ― to prevent him from figuring it out. Hagrid was a big idiot, harping on about how bad Slytherins were and how great and mighty Albus Dumbledore was. He was in no way smart enough to collect children from Muggle homes and show them the magical world. Not only did he stand out like a sore thumb, but he knew nothing about the Muggle world. He'd been suckered in, desperate for approval, his own fault really. It wasn't his fault admittedly, Hagrid was a simpleton, but he had given him Hedwig and pictures of his parents. For that alone he hadn't even contemplated getting revenge. Unfortunately Draco Malfoy had been right; there were just certain people you shouldn't associate with.

"Yes, Master Harry?" answered Dobby, staring adoringly up at his Master. To him he was the best Master one could have, he didn't force Dobby to punish himself, he got nice clothes and praised for his work. He was a great albeit dark wizard, not like his evil previous Master.

"I will have some dinner please," stated Harry, looking at the clock before turning to face the Elf again. "Afterwards, in precisely six hours, give Master Snape another dreamless sleeping potion. I am leaving and want him asleep, do you understand?" He wasn't Dobby's Master, but he was a Potions Master and that position demanded respect; most wizards and witches got themselves mediocre jobs. To become a Master, it required determination, dedication and smarts towards a certain craft. Even if he didn't care for the wizard at all, it was the least he deserved; his father had also taught him that. Of course, he wasn't around to see what he had become, to see his dreams realized.

"Give Master Snape a potion in six hours, yes, sir," said Dobby nodding vigorously.

"It's the purple one on the nightstand," stated Harry as an afterthought, not wanting Dobby to give him the wrong one, but considering he'd brought all the potions he'd requested ― it wouldn't be a problem.

"Yes, sir," said Dobby before disappearing, heating up some blood before pouring it into a goblet for his Master. It wasn't unusual for his Master to have company, but it being Severus Snape, of all people, was curious for him. He knew Master Snape; he'd seen him with Lucius Malfoy often. He didn't know whether to say anything or not, but knowing his Master Harry... he would probably already be aware of it. Although he didn't think Master Snape was a willing guest, he'd been injured and unconscious when brought here. Only time would really tell, thought Dobby as he picked up the warm goblet heated to human temperature before he popped to his Master once more.

"Your dinner, Master Harry," said Dobby, placing it on the desk, bowing low before disappearing once more. His Master liked his privacy.

Harry leaned back; if there were a time he wished he was able to sleep, this would be one of them. It had been one hell of a day, and it wasn't even over yet. He was awash with so much information, yet he had glaring holes in it, pieces of the puzzle missing. The biggest puzzle was lying recovering in his bloody bed. He was drawn to the wizard's magic, at least that's what it felt like. He didn't delude himself in thinking it was anything to do with the Vow, but it would have made things simpler. If it had been the vow, surely it would have affected him at the age of eleven? Unless it had been made afterwards. Taking the goblet, he sipped the blood, relaxing and enjoying his meal, savouring it; trying to stop himself thinking. Unfortunately with a vampire brain, it just wasn't even the slightest bit possible.

Part of him just wanted to wake Snape up and get his answers; he wasn't a patient vampire. He wasn't in any shape to answer any questions though, and the Veritaserum would just make him sicker. If he came to it though, he would be using the truth potion, he wasn't about to let anything stand in his way. He'd read everything about vampires; he considered himself a self-taught expert, but he'd never read anything about being drawn to someone's magic. It was why his first thought had been the vow, but it seemed a little far-fetched to him. Finishing the dregs of his goblet he put it back down and stood up, grabbed his pensive before Apparating.

"Good, you are all still here," said Harry, entering the warehouse, which was fuller than usual. Probably because of all the activity in London, with the light wizards and witches trying to find him. He would love to read their minds and see what they thought of him, or what he would be like. It would give him a great deal of amusement, none more so than actually revealing who and what he was. It wasn't time for that yet; he had another three covens―at least, that was Rick's estimate― before he could say he had all the groups of magical wizards in his own coven. The only two missing were actually Rick and Brecon, but that didn't surprise him.

"What can we do?" asked Alan standing up; ready to do whatever Harry wanted.

"I want a wizard found, alive and unharmed…" said Harry, his eyes glinting viciously. "But he will not remain that way for long."

"Dumbledore?" guessed Alan.

Just then Rick and Brecon Apparated back into the warehouse, surprised to see their leader there; they'd suspected he'd be away from the warehouse for the next few days. Dealing with Snape and all, and finding out what he could from the dark yet on the light side wizard. Rick didn't know who Snape was trying to kid, himself or Dumbledore, he was as dark as they came; his power was awesome, he wouldn't mind a slice of it ― let's put it that way. Rick listened intently, as well as the others to what he was saying. Anything they missed, Rick and Brecon were sure they would be brought up to speed quickly.

"Peter Pettigrew," sneered Harry, a blood-thirsty grin on his face. Oh, that stupid rat would regret the day he joined the Dark Lord and was inevitably the reason he'd been labelled the boy who bloody lived. He had betrayed him, in a way, and that was intolerable. If there was anything he hated the worst in the world, it was betrayal and traitors.

"Isn't he dead?" asked Brecon cautiously. He was the one getting all the information for Harry; he also read the newspapers and passed on the useful and true information. He was very good at remembering things, it's probably why he'd been tasked with finding information, and of course because he could get anywhere he liked without arousing suspicion.

"He is, isn't he? Along with thirteen Muggles over seventeen years ago," said Wyatt.

"No, it turns out he was my parents' secret keeper; he betrayed me and if it's the last thing I do I will make him rue the day he became a traitorous little bastard," hissed Harry, baring his teeth in an animalistic manner. "I will be taking this task upon myself, but should any of you see him, then feel free to grab him."

"Too bad we don't have his scent, it would have made it easier," said Rick. Each person, whether creature, wizard, or animal had a unique scent, and being a vampire they would be able to remember it should they smell it.

"I'm going to see what I can do about that," said Harry, perhaps even something in Godric's Hollow would do. Now whereas dogs could only pick up scents for three to four weeks, that's if the conditions were right, vampires had the ability to detect scents of everything; even years after anyone had been near. It was more like a finger print, a ghostly scent more than anything, nothing overwhelming. If it came to it he would ask Lupin for help, no doubt he wanted the rat bastard caught more than him. Black was probably in hiding, preventing himself from being found. Although why they didn't just use the pensive memories to get him proven innocent he didn't know. Light wizards, they were stupid, and evidently didn't have the connections needed.

"Since he's 'dead' he obviously cannot wander around without being spotted ― all it would take is finding out where the Dark Lord Voldemort was currently taking up resident and finding him there," suggested Wyatt, his messy blonde hair hiding baby blue eyes, set in an adorable dimpled face. Added with his short stature, everyone thought he was 'cute'. Of course he wasn't as friendly as he looked, as everyone who messed with him quickly found out. He was a half-vampire; he'd gained it as an inheritance ninety-six years ago, and hadn't aged since. He still looked like the seventeen-year-old he had been upon being woken up on his majority in agony as he turned. Not being a full vampire, he was able to eat, but he preferred blood and hadn't touched food for a long time.

"You would think that, wouldn't you? There was no way the Dark Lord would put up with someone as vulnerable to exposure. Regretfully the bloody traitor does have abilities that will make him harder to find, although Wyatt's suggestion is probably true," stated Harry sitting down, observing all of them.

"What abilities?" asked Rick, flicking back his ginger hair irritably.

"He's an Animagus, a rat to be specific," replied Harry.

"That is handy," acknowledged Brecon reluctantly; rats could fit anywhere, into the smallest of holes, and the information he could collect for the enemy was rather daunting to say the least. "Should we get Bill to put a ward up stopping Animagi from coming in?" It would mean of course that they couldn't use their own while here, but it was a small price to pay for their privacy.

"I would be alerted, Animagus or not, if anyone tried to step over the threshold of the wards," stated Harry waving the suggestion away. He should know, he'd put them up, and they worked to their fullest capacity. Not only had he put them up, he had changed them slightly, making them his own. If they continued to try, it would stick them to the area, literally trapping them until someone found them. That was just one of his lesser wards; to go through them all would take a while. Although he had to remember to put the ward he'd taken down back up. He hadn't wanted Dumbledore to know the full extent of the wards, knowing very well he'd get through them anyway. If he came back, and he re-added the wards…he'd be in for one hell of a surprise. Brecon, Alan, Rick, Wyatt and Dale all had to some extent control of the wards; they would be able to sense if anything was going on. They couldn't change them, tear them down or alter them. He trusted them completely, but he never left himself open to being vulnerable, always aware that he could be betrayed.

He placed the pensive down on the stable surface; it had taken him a year to acquire this beauty. It had helped a great deal during learning occlumency; not wanting others to see his most embarrassing memories, he'd placed them in there. Of course they were back in his mind now, safely ensconced behind his mind shields, but the pensive did still have its uses, especially when sharing memories amongst the group. Tipping in the memories he'd gotten from Lupin, they all immersed themselves in the memory for all of twenty seconds. Catching glimpses of what Peter Pettigrew looked like as a man and animal.

"He is absolutely repulsive," said Wyatt, grimacing in disgust; how the thing had the guts to betray someone was anyone's guess.

"He's more rat than man," agreed Rick. "Considering he's probably spent more time in his rat form I suppose it makes sense."

"It does," agreed Harry coolly.

"Are you going to look for him?" enquired Rick.

Harry nodded curtly.

"May I accompany you, sir?" asked Rick. He was bored and felt like doing something... anything. It happened when you were a vampire as old as him. The same old routine irritated the hell out of him; after a few days, maybe a week, he liked to spice things up.

"Very well," replied Harry in agreement. He doubted very much he would find anything tonight, but he was just doing a basic search. With a bit of luck Snape might let him know where the Dark Lord's hideout was, and how to locate the little rat.

Oh, he had no idea just how happy Severus Snape would be to provide him with that information even if he wouldn't willingly want to talk about anything else. Even if it meant the freeing of his arch nemesis Sirius Black. And Sirius Black was his arch nemesis; he was higher up than James Potter, which was saying something in the grand scheme of things.

Edited by Jordre thanks! :)