Harry Potter: A Vampire's Curse

Written by abi2301

Chapter 04

v.01: 04/09/2005

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 04: A Life Regained For Someone Who's Dead Inside

Life had, over the next week, regained a semblance of normalcy for Harry Potter.

During daytime he worked as a bookshop employee, moving boxes around in the backyard and placing new novels or documentaries in the empty aisles. These workout sessions served indirectly to help him build up some body strength, which Priscilla deemed necessary to become a full-fledged vampire. As she was an individual fully in control in comparison to her new pupil, Harry didn't dare question her directives, feeling in fact quite grateful for the distraction. Since long gone from his mind were the Order and Hogwarts, Ron, Hermione and Voldemort. He had now a new life and enjoyed things as they were. In less than a few days he had caught quite an interest in literature as his mentor required from him basic knowledge as to what those books were talking about so that he could help the clients wandering in the establishment and find what they were looking for. Reading some books' covers had rendered him quite curious about what they were truly about and he was soon found leafing through some magazines or heavy encyclopedias, much to Lizzie's and Priscilla's delight. At supper- and dinnertime the trio could be seen discussing about recent writing trends in literature actuality.

Speaking of which...

Cohabitation with Lizzie and Priscilla eventually didn't prove to be a problem as the trio found a modus vivendi by which they abode seamlessly. After all, it wasn't as if any of the three had something against each other. Priscilla was someone very forthcoming and tolerant; when Harry needed some time along to put himself together she would grant him his much-awaited peace and quiet. Cheerful in nature but sporadically withdrawn, her mood could sometimes change like the seasons of the year. The reason of such a swinging behavior was still unknown to Harry but the recovering vampire paid no heed as he felt rather secure when in her company. His teacher eventually grew up to be like an older sister and to an extent, a confidante of sorts. Harry guessed that she had some secrets of her own but didn't want to intrude in her private business. After all, everyone held skeletons in his closet. And Priscilla couldn't logically be ready to spill her past to someone who was a stranger until very recently. He noticed that she sometimes froze in place at odd times, as if fading into thought, only to shake her head with a sad expression and resume her activities as if nothing had occurred in the meantime.

On the other hand, her younger sister, Lizzie, was very different as she was the true antithesis of the word 'quiet': always running hither and yon to play around or find something to occupy herself with, she brought to Harry's life the little spice it lacked. Of course, with the Dursleys, living with Dudley wasn't agreeable in the slightest - quite the opposite with Lizzie, who, at least didn't try to make Harry's existence any harder than it was. During daytime Harry and Priscilla were working fulltime at the library while Lizzie was attending school. When all of them came back from their respective locations for dinner they were often too tired to interact with each other - although Harry oft found the time to speak with his mentor's younger sister, slowly growing found of his companion. He felt it a bit awkward to play with her dolls in order to entertain his second roommate but still indulged her with such games. It was the least he could do to thank her for accepting him in her household.

Four times a week Harry and the older vampire would get out at night to search for fresh blood and sate their hungry stomachs. They could, as creatures of the night, spend quite a few days without biting anyone but feeding off each other so as to not harm anyone wasn't just enough to make their bottomless thirst abate.

During those long hours wandering off long, dark and deserted streets and waiting for an unsuspecting prey to come by, Harry would get to learn how to use his vampire skills as best as he could.

"Ya see, Harry, we're creatures o' tha' night. Most livin' beings develop either pelts or bodies that blend in with their environment. Look at tha' chameleon an' tha' Indian Stick Insect. 'Tis called camouflage. If ya want ta' look like a human bein' an' get 'way unnoticed durin' daytime, ya hafta wear beige or gray clothes. Neither flashy, nor extreme colors like pitch black. They don't draw attention ta yerself. Noncommittal. During nighttime, switch ta dark immediately unless ya want someone ta mistake ya for a Christmas Tree - 'balls' included," she added, grinning at Harry's colorful unease. "Mortals just use clothes ta become invisible. We, Nightstalkers, nonetheless, have better than that," she continued with a smirk, looking at a dubious-looking Harry. She scrunched her eyes in concentration for a moment and, suddenly, the outlines out of her body became more and more blurry, losing their shape before becoming a huge, swirling shadow that lazily hung in midair in front of a bewildered Harry. The mass of darkness swished around, floating gracelessly like a wisp of smoke and sticking itself over a nearby brick wall, behaving like a coating of sorts. From an onlooker's point of view, the 'artificial' shadow would just be an extension of the 'natural' one, cast by the nearby buildings. Harry stood gaping at the display before the black 'fog' finally coalesced into a grinning Priscilla.

"Blimey, how did you do that?" he asked, eager to learn that new trick. "Hold yar horses, Harry!" she admonished, feeling it her duty to quell his enthusiasm. Vampires were hunters, not party poopers. "Took me ages ta' manage a technique like that. Since ya're younger than I was when I was turned in, it'll be harder for ya but ya'll be more used ta that technique in tha' end," she corrected, seeing his eyes lose their merriness as she pointed out a few things.

"It'd be also something fantastic if one were to spy on somebody else through the Shadowcloak without being found out, heh?" Harry asked, still beaming at the prospect of using the Shadowblending Technique to wander around without having anyone recognize him. Endless possibilities started jogging a marathon in his head, all more ludicrous or useful than the other.

"If ya dare play peepin' tom on meh, I'll drain ya of yar blood!" Priscilla growled, slapping him on the back of his head - though Harry could sense her concealed playfulness.

"Drat! Found out!" Harry playfully yelped, before bolting out laughing over his shoulder at his teacher.

In response, Priscilla chased after him through Little Disraeli Avenue that night.

Nevertheless, so were some of the tricks Harry learnt at night.

And Priscilla's easygoing attitude was an input highly appreciated by the runaway teenager who still remained depressed because of his predicament and the recent loss of his godfather. There was still a tinge of pain in his heart, reminding him of how low he had sunk and how hopeless he had become. Those thoughts often brought the young wizard to lose his earlier bright mood and brood for hours, huddled on his bed or staring out of the window. Priscilla would then notice his absence and come in to cheer her pupil up. Harry found himself obliged to response favorably to her cooing, as a silent thanks to her intense support. She was so benevolent towards him that he couldn't bring himself to destroy the whole atmosphere she had strived to establish in her household. Harry himself couldn't have asked for more as it sheltered him from his former nightmares. He did in fact probe the confines of his mind to find an excuse to return back to his friends but found none that could satisfy his desperate will to run away and forget all he had had to suffer. Each night he would snatch a sheet of paper and jot down his reasons to stay back or go away. Each time he would reach a moot point that couldn't tip the balance of his will in either direction. That, of course, didn't please him but he felt that abandoning Priscilla so suddenly and giving up her offer to train him would be a disaster he would regret till the end of times.

That last argument was always the same one that concluded his daily dilemmas.

So he remained in the Dane-Potter household for his and his roommates' sakes.

And...in two weeks' span, Harry's former life had nearly completely disappeared, swept under the rug of fading memories. The Prophecy, Voldemort, everything...he was so intent on shutting himself off the wizarding world that he didn't even deign (or more exactly forced himself to) think back about his erstwhile comrades, feeling more like mastering his vampiric abilities. He finally came to enjoy those hunting nights with Priscilla, as they asked individuals about how late it was or about some miscellaneous piece of information...before happily snapping their teeth at their prey's jugular.

"Tha' trick is not ta sink yar canines upta yar gums, otherwise ya'll turn yar victims inta vampires. If ya keep yar teeth half-plunged an' easy ta withdraw yar prey won't be infected," explained Priscilla as she dropped a middle-aged man on a park's bench, watching his slumbering form collapsing into a quite comical position, eliciting a chuckle from both creatures of the night. "Our teeth - or at least their upper section, near tha' gums, are covered with a special spit that numbs tha' guy or chick ya're bitin'. Sort of an anesthesia serum - knocks them out while actin' as an anticoagulation agent. Helps keep tha' wound open, ya see. Our gums, however, are dampened with a chemical substance that holds tha' vampirism virus. And...err...well, logically every guy ya'd bite regardless of how deep ya do it would become a vamp but that's not tha' case. It really depends on how deep ya bite them. Don' ask meh why, I ain't got tha' answer. People say there's magic involved but nobody's ever proved it ta this day."

Harry wiped his mouth with his stained hanky and nodded. "Pity this one had to drink so much beer," Harry grumbled, retching somewhat. "I can't get that Heineken flavor out of my mouth now," he slurred, trying to spit on the grass and get rid of the taste. "Erkh...gross..."

Priscilla only laughed in response at his predicament.

If they weren't looking for innocent people to half-drain of their blood, they were sometimes lounging inside pubs and bustling discotheques, spending the night talking about trivial matters, selecting the ideal prey in the dancing throngs and chatting in between about their lives. If not, their discussions were aimed at how to use your body in close combat or how to walk unseen either by daytime or nighttime. Vampires were masters of discretion. Priscilla had once told him, don't fear tha' night but what hunts in tha' night. Vampires don't stay out in tha' open. They hide themselves very efficiently an' when they don't, they just traipse along with tha' nearby crowds, waitin' for tha' moment ta bite left an' right an' there ya go. Stomach's full. Harry earnestly took the lesson to heart, vowing fervently to better himself and live up to his teacher's expectations. This was, he deemed, much better than Hogwarts, which didn't offer any courses that taught people all while entertaining them.

It wasn't long before that he became unrecognizable as he adopted a whole new behavior that he estimated ideal to throw eventual search parties from the Order off his tracks. He was already different from what he formerly looked like and was grateful for his previously unwelcome physical mutation. His physiognomy and physiology were no longer that of his former self. The omniscience he experienced through his heightened senses, his ability to be in control his state imparted him were something he had unknowingly longed for during his entire stay at Hogwarts. His former restlessness sometimes reminded him of that song he had heard Priscilla singing, Crawling in the Dark. Now he wasn't doing that anymore. He was holding the reins of his life in his own hands. He was for once happy. Delighted all the way up to Heaven's seventh floor by his new environment.

The two Dane sisters had also a hand in livening his early grumpy mood up - not only fishing him out of the pond of despair he was swimming in. They even went as far as to tease him when he was brooding or too lost in his thoughts over something obviously quite unpleasant. Harry, for instance, blushed a quite deep brick red when Priscilla started singing 'Like a virgin, touch for the very first time...' in Madonna style after getting out of the shower, much to Lizzie's unbridled mirth. The embarrassed teenager never got out of his bedroom that evening as he couldn't dare face the two mischievous sisters. Other than that, all their harmless taunts and acts were meant for the best. Their purpose: to raise Harry from his lonely pit of despair and change him completely, from top to bottom.

Even his choice of clothing became affected by the lively vampire teacher and the young girl.

But it didn't come...harmlessly...so to speak.

"Are you sure Pink Floyd is not too out of date?" he asked, eyeing suspiciously the long, bright blue, sleeveless t-shirt she was presenting him. They were at that moment in a cheap store in London, looking for new clothes as Harry desperately needed a new wardrobe. Priscilla had been appalled by the items the Dursleys had given Harry and had been adamant on leading an emergency shopping spree, dragging a reluctant teenager behind her - all that in front of a giggling Lizzie and bemused by-passers.

"Got somethin' 'gainst them?" she asked, grinning playfully. The tellers kept looking at them with knowing smiles, indeed familiar with the unease male people had when partaking in women-led shopping sessions. Obviously Harry was going to discover how hard it was to take a woman's mind off choosing items on sale.

"No. Just asking..." he answered, not feeling like being teased any further. Priscilla immediately dove back into the sea of clothes and reemerged with a new set of t-shirts and polo shirts. "Unless ya want tha' green Spice Girls blouse, o' course!" she quipped, cheerfully handing him the said item.

"Err...I think I'll pass, thank you," he nervously answered, an icy sweat-drop forming on his temple. He'd be damned if someone ever caught him in such attire. Damn - that must be God's curse to men for having women near them - shopping and chatting! No wonder girls live longer than boys...

"I think I got the right jeans for you, Harry, it's soooo cute!" ecstatically squealed Lizzie from the back of the shop. A relieved Harry whipped towards the young girl, trying to escape from Priscilla's relentless teasing. Lizzie's not like that, thank God. She's really a lifesaver when she wants to be one! he thought, gratitude swelling from his un-stiffening figure. His hopeful smile, however, dropped at an astronomic speed when he saw the tight-fitting, pink pair of slacks being clutched by Lizzie's hands. "And look! There's Bambi on the backside!" she chirped excitedly.

Priscilla was at that moment positively rolling on the floor, choking on her own laughter while Harry was desperately trying to find a hole in which he could hide for the rest of his life.

"I'm going to faint..." he mumbled, sensing the urge to ingurgitate a LOT of beer and forget the whole afternoon by contracting a massive hangover.

"Oh. Do you want the yellow Tom and Jerry with blue flowers instead, then?"

True, true...living with two women was no easy task.

Very agreeable in the long term, albeit quite tiring.

But so very worth the trouble.

During daytime, Priscilla's and Harry's job in the Booklets And Papers took most of their attention, though the older vampire, when the customers' flow started to dwindle at midday or in 'transition' hours, indulged Harry with a few of her anecdotes about the vampire nation and some hunting stories, all more vivid than the other. All her recollections were an invaluable source of experience for him, he who was still struggling with the concept of grabbing one's neck by the jaws and siphoning the blood out - it sometimes made things easier if not less disagreeable. For him, those non-ex cathedra teaching sessions were like going at Hogwarts but with fun as a plus - no Blast-Ended Skrewts or Pogrebins to worry about in Care of Magical Creatures classes, no Malfoy to look out for, no Snape to breath down his shoulder with slander hanging off his lips in Potions...utter paradise.

Deep within himself, he felt like a new Christopher Columbus discovering a yet unseen terra incognita and tasting its marvels.

And what Priscilla had told him a week earlier was slowly becoming a truth.

...In the long run...being a vampire wasn't all that bad, once you learnt how to cope with it.

"I sometimes prefer roamin' 'round dark alleys - I usually end up with better preys, surprisingly. Otherwise they're pissed, have bad ideas in mind or are too excited for me ta have a bite without havin' them go off tha' handle. Usually when they begin ta squirm ya can easily lose yar teeth's hold on them an' ya could risk rippin' their jugular out so ya should watch out."

"Oh - figures," he deadpanned, absently dropping a pile of National Geographic magazines on a display shelf, before extracting the old edition and carrying them back to the back room for disposal.

"So I bite them an' knock them out...I use tha' Shadowcloak ta swoop down on them an' wrap myself 'round them, ya know, like a suit. Then I bite them on tha' neck from behind," she explained, looking at the clock overhead to keep tracks with time. People would soon come back from lunch and take a stroll around, meaning that customers would be coming back soon.

"Okay," acquiesced Harry, rummaging through a box full of the latest edition of Vanity Fair. "You try to paralyze them first, don't you?"

"Yeah, but ya must take care not ta choke them or squeeze tha' hell outta their lungs or ya'll end up with a corpse in yar arms. But that's not yar only concern - for example, I once had a chick who had makeup all over her face like she was a building having its front covered in plaster - ya wouldn't believe tha' picture. She looked more like a beaten woman with black eyes than a true, feminine girl, with all the mascara she painted on herself an' she had put so much layers of skincare cream that I gagged tha' second I bit her. I finally let her on tha' road, passed out, an' rushed back home ta have a puke in tha' restroom. Never did eat or drink that night after tha' encounter," she muttered, shaking her head and involuntarily shivering at the memory.

Harry's cringe conveyed his agreement in the matter.

Apart from such interludes, Harry could actually be seen walking around the Booklets and Papers bookshop wearing ACDC or Metallica t-shirts - often black in color - and enjoying a blaring tune from Marilyn Manson or Limp Bizkit, relishing the release it provided him with. All his bottled emotions were finally unleashed through the raging music he listened to all day long and the adrenaline rushes the roaring voices and screaming guitars those songs elicited from his recovering soul. Of course, Priscilla's influence could be glimpsed underneath his evolution as the young wizard slowly but surely adopted his mentor's tastes and way of life. In less than two weeks, Harry was already showing premature signs of Goth fashion. Like wearing a cross over a hard rock shirt and a black band over his arm to hold up pencils as he skimmed through boxes of new books to jot down numbers and tags, for example... That change was a welcome addition to Harry who had become fed up of Uncle Vernon's collection of Rule Britannia CDs by the Westminster Abbey's Official Choir (which the corpulent Grunnings employee used to hum or 'sing' ('howl', more exactly) around when he was in a good mood)...in other words, it was another way to liberate himself from his former demons.

All that lasted until one fateful day.

---

"Harry! Would ya please get tha' beef slices outta tha' freezer?" came the muffled voice of Priscilla. Harry got out of his room while putting on a navy blue sweater picturing the Korn band and headed for the kitchen, softly whistling to himself a tune from Radiohead. He winked at Lizzie who was at the table working on her homework and stopped by to mess her hair up. She swatted his hand out with a small smile and a mock-indignant "Harry!" before he went towards the freezer, retrieving the food from its place and setting the package on the radiator to unfreeze the piece of meat. That task done, he bent down towards the fridge and fished inside to...

"What? No more coke or soda? Bummer!" he grumbled, feeling discontent at the idea of spending the week without some fresh drink at home. "I drank the remaining can yesterday," Lizzie piped up, earning a small glare from Harry. "Sorry."

"'S okay, I'm going to get some tomorrow, no need to make a fuss out of it," replied Harry in a dismissive tone. "It's not like I'm going to die of thirst tonight. I can do without it but I just find it nice to come back home and have a soft drink with ice cubes ready for you as an unofficial payment for your work," he said, smiling at the young, blonde girl who beamed in response. "No problems with your work?" he asked, feeling entitled to help her in her education as repayment for the Dane Family's hospitality and benevolence. "No," answered Lizzie with a frown. "But I have trouble dividing those numbers, here...they're too high!" she complained. Harry had an indulgent smile and leant forward, taking her pencil and writing down on a spare sheet of paper some numbers. He then started to explain her some tricks he came up with in his mathematics class in Muggle school, unaware of Priscilla's fond gaze coming from the doorway. The slightly older vampire smiled in an affectionate way - the two were really getting along and he was having a good influence on her younger sister.

They were like siblings.

Family.

"I got it!" Lizzie squealed excitedly, making Harry grin in satisfaction. "So, ya two, everythin' alright?" Priscilla asked from her position. The two other vampires turned around and nodded. "There's just a couple of things missing in the fridge but I'll drop tomorrow by the shops in Baulkhead Road and get them," explained Harry. "We need some milk as well as tomato juice, coke and onions. For starters," he stated, eyeing the half-empty larder.

"Oh, right," said his teacher, slapping a hand over her forehead. "Forgot 'bout that, sorry...'seems like we're gonna have bread an' butter tonight for dinner, guys...but I think there's some soup left in tha' refrigerator," she said, peering inside the small contraption and withdrawing a bowl containing some frozen pea soup. "Yah - will do for this evening. By tha' way, no trainin' t'night, Harry. I'm too knackered ta budge my arse over tha' town. I'm gonna turn in early today - tomorrow, tha' truck with tha' monthly arrivals will be comin' so ya better take a rest too. Lotsa things ta move 'round before midday, so..." she informed the young wizard. Harry nodded, slightly disappointed by the change of plans but reluctantly acknowledging his own tiredness.

Dinner went smoothly and Harry soon bid goodnight to his two roommates, retreating to his safe haven for another long night. Hopefully, this time he wouldn't get any nightmares. Oddly they weren't about Voldemort anymore but visions of a darkened forest withering in fire, its trees tumbling in burning masses towards an incandescent ground. Then came the scream, which usually woke him up from the now-dreaded dream. Try as he might, he couldn't find any meaning that made any sense behind his visions. It indeed filled his mind with a deep feeling of foreboding but it left no clue as to what it pointed. Harry discarded his clothes, slipped inside his pajamas and dropped under his sheets, sighing heavily before reaching for his folded trousers.

"Wonder how much I have left," he muttered, looking for his battered wallet - another hand-me-down from Uncle Vernon that he had saved at the last minute from the garbage can. His relatives had scoffed at his request, overtly mocking his lack of money but he had in turn surprised them by showing some bank notes exchanged for some Galleons at the Gringotts bank. The Dursleys had shut up afterwards but Harry hadn't wanted to show off because they could easily ask him to pay for his care during those last sixteen years and THAT was an insult he didn't want to take. His adoptive family was very well capable of such an ignominy but he didn't want to test his luck. Shoving back those dark memories in the recesses of his mind, he fished through the pockets, his frown increasing as he saw that most slots in the wallet were now empty.

"Bugger!" he grumbled. "Broke." He flopped backwards on the mattress, his head hitting the soft pillow. "I'll have to return to Diagon Alley to change some money soon and I'll -" He stopped abruptly as he reminded himself of the wizarding world. "Shit."

The wizarding world.

The community that had taken his parents and friends away from him, as well as caused his whole life to stream down the gutter. He remembered the time he met Rubeus Hagrid, his first true friend...or when he had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, only to be submerged by overenthusiastic people who told him they were deeply honored to meet the savior of their kind. It was at that fateful moment that everything had started crumbling down. That he had gained a nemesis and started a set of never-ending adventures that had nearly cost his life... Although he was grateful for the positive changes, his arrival in the wizarding world - such as his meeting Ron and Hermione and finally discovering his parents' past - he knew he couldn't go back through Time and set things right. Despite the Ministry's official statement about Voldemort's new arising, he couldn't afford himself to be once again slandered and held as an attention-seeking lunatic whose mind bordered on insanity. Him being a vampire would aggravate matters greatly.

Hermione and Ron were his friends but how would they react at the news? They would be horrified at first, but after?

Harry didn't want to know. Rejection would be the last blow to his towering mountain of inner injuries.

Not to mention that he wouldn't be able to look in his friends' eyes the moment they would learn of his predicament.

Suffice it to say, he went through a rather troubled night and found a very little amount of sleep.

And his new nightmares bore mute testimony to his growing disquiet.

---

"Where ya goin', did ya say?" Priscilla asked, raising a displeased eyebrow. Harry sighed and replied at her stiffening figure, "Diagon Alley - yeah, it's the wizarding world. I'm just going to the bank and withdraw some money from there. I will have, from time to time, to drop some of my earnings in the vault, too, but I need some bank notes and coins in my wallet to make eventual purchases, you know?"

Priscilla frowned at his decision - her growing scowl undoubtedly the consequence of her dislike towards the wizarding world. She knew Harry was a wizard but she wasn't comfortable with the idea of seeing him returning to that community that shamelessly eschewed people they judged different or even remotely dangerous and sentenced to absolute ostracism without a second glance. Vampires, berserkers (people who could turn into bears at night), goblins, house-elves and werewolves were shunned away by that rotten society and could only find some dignity among themselves, in tight, secluded communities. Not in an environment where holier-than-thou strangers named themselves superior to everyone else and took steps to ensure they did hold a dominion over those 'lesser breeds'. Umbridge was a good example of those corrupted individuals who tolerated no other species than her own. Mankind.

Truth be told, she was none too happy with the prospect.

"But don't worry," Harry assured her, pulling out his wand and twirling it in front of him. "I'll put a Glamour charm on myself." To emphasize his point he waved the said item in front of his face, changing his hair from raven black to blond and his eye color from deep green to blue. With another flick of his hand, he put an illusion on his own scar, hiding it from view. Suffice it to say, Priscilla and Lizzie seemed quite impressed by the display of magic - obviously not used to such sights. Harry could even hear his teacher mumbling about unfairness when it came to performing camouflage magic. Harry remembered that she had been a Muggle before she had been turned and only held her knowledge of the wizarding world from discussions with fellow vampires. Once again, Harry failed to notice that no Ministry owls came through the window with an official letter on its leg - his new life, which was now completely of any magic or anything pertaining to the wizarding world, had completely blotted his attention off the rules for Hogwarts students. In fact, he was too preoccupied by NOT being identified by wizards or witches that he overlooked the risks of having his spells being tracked by higher-ups.

Reluctantly, Priscilla agreed to let him go, giving him a small tip to pay his fare for the journey towards Diagon Alley. "Right, but if ya come back in morsels don' bother askin' me ta fix ya body 'cause I won't," she deadpanned, a clear warning in her voice. "An' I don't care one whit whether ya're dead or not - ya WILL come back, be it on one foot or yar naked kidneys, understood?"

"Understood."

The taxi Harry had hailed brought him to King's Cross' surroundings, since he didn't have enough money to go further, and he covered the remaining distance by foot, taking his time to enjoy the oblivious throngs that walked along the streets and calm himself up. As a vampire trainee he had to practice self-control on a daily basis for many reasons. He was a predator, a hunter, and those people had to be patient when looking for a prey otherwise they would spend the evening with an empty stomach. Harry discovered that the lessons Priscilla gave him shared likenesses with Occlumency, the science that enabled one to shield his mind from outside mental attacks. He supposed that by now he should be strong enough to repel even Snape's attempts to break in his thoughts but he still didn't dare to find out. That life was beyond him now.

Buried.

D. E. A. D.

He quickly arrived in front of the Leaky Cauldron inn and got inside, giving Tom, the bartender, a noncommittal nod that was kindly returned. For once in his lifetime, nobody turned around to look at him because of his new appearance. Harry noted with satisfaction that the Glamour charm he had cast on himself worked to perfection. Only a few individuals, waiting for something to jar them out of their boredom, spared him a simple glance before returning to their drunken stupor. He went immediately to the back of the building and found himself facing the end of an alley: a nude wall of bricks. Determinedly, Harry tapped the wall in certain points with his wand and witnessed the mass of stone moving apart, giving him access to the nexus point of wizarding market: Diagon Alley. As he walked through the bustling street he noticing that all bystanders wore serious looks and were sometimes fidgeting around, like people not knowing what to do or where to go. Lost.

Shooting glances around, Harry blinked repeatedly as he took in the Alley's state. Eeylops Owl Emporium was deserted, the cauldron shop looked like it hadn't seen any customers in ages and Flourish and Blotts lacked its usual animation. Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions was surprising closed - a fact that greatly surprised Harry - and Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor housed no clients but a rather gloomy Mr. Fortescue, no doubt disgruntled at the eerie disappearance of life. Bringing himself closer to the majestic Gringotts Bank, Harry glanced around in worry at the sudden changes in the Alley and finally saw an edition from the Daily Prophet lying near a sidewalk's gutter. Leaning forward to get a better look, he beheld the bold headlines: Death Eater Attack in Southampton: Twenty Victims and Rising. Harry realized that every since Voldemort came back to life and made his presence known the mood of the wizarding world must have sunk greatly and people had started developing signs of paranoia, remembering the horrors of the previous war.

Mystifyingly he had never heard of such tragedies through the Muggle radio or television. Either at the Dursleys or at the Danes.

Shaking his head in perplexed worry, he made his way towards Gringotts and was on the point to enter the prestigious bank when his heart stopped, spotting two of his Hogwarts professors, Filius Flitwick and Minerva McGonagall, leaving the establishment with grim looks. He passed them by, trying to keep his composure intact when he hear the two individuals speak in hushed but concerned tones, "Terrible, my dear," Flitwick squeaked. "The po - police - I mean, what the Muggles call their Auror Department - found at least one liter of blood on the pavement - how grisly! And even by using Mr. Potter's blood we haven't been able to retrace him through the Locatus Potion. Even the documents at the ministry have become blank!"

"It is indeed horrible," sadly concurred McGonagall with a strangled voice - quite a shock for Harry who always remembered her as a stern woman. "I can't believe that James and Lily's child is dead - normally the ministry's papers should still show his vital statistics but they are completely blank! And now that the wizarding world has heard of it - I can't fathom the hopelessness we are in, Filius. Even Albus is completely clueless as to what happened."

"Indeed, my dear, indeed, indeed, indeed," agreed the diminutive wizard, focusing all his attention on descending the steps without falling.

The pair went down the stairs, leaving a speechless Harry behind and staring in front of him with wide eyes. They think I'm dead, he realized with a slight tone of remorse. No wonder why they look so...so devoid of life... He shook his head and pushed the golden doors, entering in the bank's main hall. He located a vacant counter and strode up to the Goblin behind it. In less than two minutes, he had discretely withdrawn from his account three hundred pounds' worth of Galleons and asked for the transaction to remain secret (though to do so he had to follow the Goblin in a closed room to take off the Glamour charm and confirm that he indeed was Harry Potter and not a key-thief). That done, he vacated the building, hoping to return to the Dane household...his home. As he sped down the stairs with a worried frown on his face, he was ripped from his thoughts by a loud bang that echoed through the Alley, startling all present onlookers. Loud screams soon arose from the crowd.

Harry spun on his heels and blanched at what he saw - a vision of nightmare that he thought he would never see again: thirty Death Eaters rushing down the street, casting spells left and right, obviously intent on wreaking as much havoc as they could muster. Killing and Blasting Curses flew by, setting the air alive with deadly magic. Panes of glass broke into myriads of flying shrapnel and smoke appeared nearly everywhere as fires were started in devastated shops. The worst was the shrill, dark laugh of the Dark Lord's minions - a sound that sent the young vampire's blood boiling.

In a daze, Harry saw a dozen Aurors Apparating but he didn't pay them any heed. He withdrew his wand from his robes and started sending curses to the nearest Death Eaters, dropping two of them in less than three seconds. As he rolled aside to avoid a Throat-Constricting Spell, he saw from the corner of his eye some Order members sprinting towards the scene and throwing hexes here and there. Chaos reached its apex as spells rebounded on magically-conjured shields, forcing both camps to lose their formations and spread wide, losing their previous coordination.

Knowing that Stunning people wouldn't prevent them from being revived by fellow Death Eaters, Harry switched to Blasting Curses, even taking his time to Transfigure some of his opponents into inanimate objects before setting them afire with a flick of his wand. The battle raged on as more and more people dropped in, setting the turmoil to its highest level yet. Explosions rocked the street as Aurors joined efforts to send a volley in the Death Eaters' direction, only to succeed in adding more destruction to the increasing devastation.

And Harry sensed them. He felt the fighters' hearts beating like mad, as well as the stench of their sweat and the cacophony of their angry shouts and incantations. He could feel where his opponents and tactical allies were standing even if they were behind his back... It was pure omniscience and with it came omnipotence. People said that knowledge was power and imparted with such awareness Harry couldn't but feel a wave of power flow through him. He shot several curses in rapid succession at where he knew a couple Death Eaters would be and was rewarded by some loud screams of pain. Running through the battlefield at an inhuman speed by using his increased vampiric abilities, Harry jumped into the mass of frenzy, even knocking out a dark-robed man with a vicious swing of his fist, successfully breaking his jaw and sending him into unconsciousness. He whipped around clockwise and began hexing everything he deemed dangerous, dropping individuals one by one while skipping around to escape incoming Avada Kedavras.

The world around him faded as the scent of blood reached his nose. Time had no longer something to do within his mind; all seemed to come to a crawl; every individual's actions were decreasing in speed - insomuch that Harry could easily predict what they would do next and take measures to prevent eventual damage to his own being. He jumped on the nearest Death Eater he saw and slashed at his throat with his elongating nails. Blood spurted away in showers, the display sending chills of elation to run down Harry's spine as the sweet, entrancing smell collided with his nostrils. He was in his element.

And then the coldness came...

Crawling...withering...

The voices he didn't want to remember, rising from the recesses of his memory...his mother begging someone to spare her son...a flash of light...a rushing sound and some cries in the background. He felt his darkest memories resurfacing like a tormenting gale and his strength slipping out of his control as his mind lost all its will to live. Harry spun around, already knowing what was coming. As he turned his head towards the source of his numbness - which was already affecting the Aurors as he saw them staggering and other individuals already falling to their knees - he saw one of his life's banes: high-hooded, black-robed, scaly-skinned Dementors, filling the air with their rattling breath and rotting smell.

The stank of decay made his being burn with hate as it reminded him so much of the death he had strived to push away.

Harry felt his happiness flowing out of his brains despite his Occlumency training and sensed his anger skyrocketing at the sight of those scourges of the afterlife. He pointed his wand towards the shadowy silhouettes and thought clearly about Priscilla holding Lizzie in her arms, as they went shopping with him in London. "EXPECTO PATRONUM," he bellowed, just before the tip of his wand was lit aglow and an enormous, silvery stag burst from the stick of holly, charging towards the Dark Lord's newest allies.

The animal buried his antlers in the bodies made of shadow and pain and started tearing them apart, ripping through the Dementors' ranks like a dart. The creatures cartwheeled in midair as they saw the new entity mauling their peers and began scattering. Prongs, the Patronus, spun around and started chasing the remaining guardians of Azkaban away, shredding their limbs apart with so much force and violence that certain onlookers cringed as they imagined the effects of such an assault.

It soon became certain to the henchmen of the Dark Lord that that battle was lost to them and by staying longer they would be reducing their numbers. In a way, they preferred to incur their master's wrath than face death or worse at the hands of the Ministry. One of the cloaked individuals shot a set of green sparks in the air, signaling an immediate retreat to his brothers-in-arms.

As the cracking sound of Death Eaters Apparating out reached his ears, Harry stood to his full height, striding towards his Patronus to greet the reincarnation of his father. "Prongs..." he murmured, looking at the deep eyes of the stag that bent down for Harry to pat his muzzle. Harry raised a tentative hand and just as his fingers entered in contact with the animal's skin, the brightly white stag suddenly transformed into a wide-winged, pitch black, lizard-like thestral.

The metamorphosis nearly sent Harry reeling back in shock but the apparition suddenly disappeared noiselessly, leaving him there to wonder what the hell had just happened. Breathing deeply, he glanced at the corpse-cluttered ground and looked at the damage the Alley had incurred, sighing about Mankind's love for self-destruction. He walked away, towards the Aurors who were looking at him half with gratitude, half with amazement. And a tad of weariness towards that foreign individual who had so brazenly hacked his way through the Dark Lord's ranks with yet unmatched efficiency. Harry closed his eyes for a minute, trying to drop his adrenaline amount before opening them, gazing directly at the Ministry employees. And...

His heart once again missed a beat. Standing, mouth agape, among the Aurors were Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, staring at him as if they had seen Jesus descending on Earth for Mankind's final Ascension to Heaven. Harry's insides went deathly cold as he took in his situation, gulping nervously his suddenly pasty saliva down his dried throat. He should have known his Patronus could have been recognized by Order members like Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks but he hadn't thought of such risks. And he now was here, frozen in place, staring, wide-eyed, at his former teachers, inwardly screaming bloody murder for his carelessness. A small, strangled whimper made him look sideways. What now - where - who? Ramses II asking for a kiss? Julius Caesar in a tutu? Fudge screaming 'I'm the Pumpkin Queen'?

What he eventually saw nearly made him faint.

For, ten meters away from him, huddled in a corner, pale-faced and clutching her wand, knelt Hermione Granger.

Harry's Transfigured face lost its blood when his eyes fell on his erstwhile friend that he had abandoned during summer for a new world.

"Harry?" she asked, disbelief and hope piercing through her tone.

The young wizard didn't wait to give an answer. Instead he did the first thing that passed through his mind.

He ran away, followed by the cries of a few Order members.

To be continued...

A/N:

Author looks on with wide eyes and gulps

Did I just write that? scratches head Yeah, I did. Wow, I outdid myself. Wonder how. So OOC of me...

Was Goth!Harry too much? I know I'm sticking too much to that stereotype of vampires wearing leather coats and Ray-Bans but I couldn't resist. They are people of the night. Dark colors should be natural or logical for them to wear. As for the rock bands thing, I thought it would be quite a good excuse to justify their fashion. Why did I choose a Harry-loves-hard-rock feature? Uhm, well, I'm speaking from experience. I'm no hard-rocker or a bloke who listens to heavy metal 24/7 (like that'd happen anyway:-) ) but I found certain songs quite...cathartic, really. I felt like releasing some pent-up energy or frustration bottling up inside me. Now, of course, I do listen to classical music and slows, believe me. And no, I don't even have Limp Bizkit, Linkin Park or Marilyn Manson CDs in my house. Just making things up for the fic.

And, well, for Harry, changing that much is a way for him to exorcize his inner demons, to relinquish everything that had been plaguing him. Yeah, he's running away from his past, but it's not like he's not enjoying it. Far from it. :-) Was the living-with-Priscilla thing rushed? Let me know. I just didn't want to spend too much time over that like I did in HP-ASIT or in NGE TBI so I cut everything short with some previews of what happened in the meantime. Ah, yes, before I forgot, Quizer: your comment was sound and it will be answered in a half-dozen chaps. The answer is simple - to the point that it sounds lame, and like a pathetic, unsubtle excuse.

Drill, drill, drill: read and review. Next chap.: when Sadism mates with Necessity...

Until better times,

ABI2301