A/N:In my opinion, a rather boring chapter…but necessary. So, yeah. You're forewarned. .
Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter, nor to I make any profit from this. JK is really the only one who can say that she does…
Chapter Five
Ron gazed out at the lake with unseeing eyes.
Anger was still clouding his thoughts, his heart pounded in indignation and rage, making him see red and hear nothing but his own furious heartbeat.
How could Harry betray them like this? How could he disregard years of friendship so easily? What in the name of all the Gods could make Harry turn to those two murderers – and not to mention Death Eaters – instead of him and Hermione, Harry's best friends?!
Ron scowled at the water's still surface. It was still the early hours of the morning, and the air was crisp, the grass coated in a layer of dew. Though it was the first day of classes, the students and teachers were yet to wake up to the new day.
But they, unlike Ron and Hermione, did not have any immediate troubles to keep them awake, did not have best friends who disappear suddenly and reappear just as unexpectedly, not only as a different species, as a vampire, but also return with nothing but betrayal in their hearts.
Hermione bit her lip for a lack of anything helpful to do, or say. She was restless, unsure of herself and what was happening around her. She hated the feeling, and the knowledge that she had just walked out on Harry when he needed her most made her stomach churn with unrepressed guilt.
Harry had told them his secret – had confessed to why he had disappeared, why he had deceived them. He had trusted them to understand and, hopefully, forgive him - and what had they done? Freaked out, called him a disloyal friend. Hermione hadn't been sure whether she should fear the new Harry, be in awe of the new Harry or accept the new Harry.
But, she thought suddenly, that's the problem, isn't it? She was thinking of him as a different Harry, someone who wasn't the Harry that she had known since First Year. Even though Harry was different, he was the same – just, adjusted.
Sighing, Hermione looked over at Ron, whose scowl hadn't abated. He was just as angry and hurt as he had been ten minutes earlier in the Common Room.
He could only see that his friend, his best friend, hadn't been able to talk to him, but had instead gone to Ron's two least favourite people at Hogwarts, people he believed to have committed the murder of their late Headmaster. Snape and Malfoy – they had all been enemies since day one, and yet Harry had gone to them, talked to them in the strictest confidence.
Placing a hand on his slumped shoulder, Hermione smiled shakily at Ron.
"Seeing as we're not going to Professor McGonagall's office after all, and breakfast isn't for another hour and a half, why don't we go to the library?"
Ron looked at her with sad eyes, and Hermione was downtrodden to see complacency in that gaze where Ron would usually have had amusement, and she missed how he would usually have scoffed at being in the library so early in the school year – even before classes had started.
"Sure," he nodded, and Hermione touched his cheek briefly in a soft caress. They both felt the melancholy fall over them like a thick veil they couldn't shrug off.
Draco yawned and sat up in his bed.
After Harry had left so suddenly Draco had gone up to his bed, where he had been much more comfortable and fallen asleep within moments of his head hitting the familiar pillow.
But now that he was awake, thoughts of Harry came flooding back in a rush, and Draco's eyes closed as the memory took over his consciousness.
What had come over them? Everything he had felt, everything Harry had said and done had seemed so – so not like him, and yet perfectly natural.
Draco shivered as he remembered the feel of Harry's fangs sinking into his skin, Harry drinking his blood…
Was it normal, that it had felt so good? Was it okay that Draco had liked the sensation so much that he wanted Harry to do it again?
Draco's eyes narrowed in speculation. It was obvious that Harry had become a vampire - Draco had come to that conclusion easily. But what did it mean for everyone else? Draco didn't know a lot about vampires. They were secretive creatures, and there wasn't a lot of text written about them. Most of it is just legend, fictitious.
All Draco had to go on were his instincts. Not that they were helping him at the moment – they loved the way Harry acted, the effect Harry had on his body. Draco's mind, however, was telling him that there had to be a reason, and if he's acting so oddly towards Draco, perhaps he's the same with others? What if he attacked other students?
Draco frowned in thought as he buttoned up his shirt. Should he tell someone about this? It would be the right thing to do, and he was Head Boy, it was his responsibility. And, Draco realised, Harry would have to back off if the teachers knew, he couldn't act so boldly around Draco then.
Draco smirked at his reflection, and ran his brush through his hair once more.
Harry shouldn't have messed with Draco Malfoy. Even if he is a vampire, and he's hell-bent on, well, claiming him, Draco wasn't going to let that happen like some sort of willing victim. Draco Malfoy had something to say about Harry Potter's attitude, and his unwavering disregard for authority.
Draco Malfoy had to come up with a plan.
Harry contemplated the scene that lay before his eyes. It had been many months since he had last experienced what it was to be in a crowd, and Harry thought that it had changed somehow.
He could smell everything, now. What the students had had for breakfast, the mint of toothpaste from brushing teeth – hair, newly washed that morning, or even the night before. Already it was almost overwhelming Harry with all the scents that he was smelling, and then not moments later Harry realised that he could also feel faint resonations of what each individual was feeling, lingering thoughts that the students had had as they walked, apprehension of the first day of school, and always that undertone of fear – that, Harry knew what that was.
Understanding that if he were to touch any of the students, even accidentally, he would feel much more than their lingering emotions and thoughts, Harry stayed out of sight, amongst the shadows. It was strong enough this far away from them all, to be closer would surely cripple Harry with far too much weight all at once.
Harry made a mental note to explore these senses further, to learn how to dampen them. He had toyed with the abilities a little in the last days of the holidays, but hadn't enough knowledge or grasped enough of his power to do any real training at the time.
The amount of students in the hall thinned and Harry chanced slithering along the walls, still out of sight. He, too, was heading towards first period, having picked his timetable up from McGonagall after the other students had received theirs.
He had Charms first, so Harry quickly made his way towards the classroom. If anyone had looked hard enough at the shadows, they would have sworn they saw one move very, very quickly. Of course, it could have just been their imagination.
Harry made it to Charms before the other students, and sat down in the back row amongst yet more shadows. It was instinctual, this need to be in shadow, and Harry reasoned it was his new vampire self that demanded as little sunlight as possible.
Having moved quicker than the other students, Harry had managed to be a few minutes early, and he took the few moments of quiet to think.
But all too soon the sound of rapidly approaching feet echoed down the corridor and Harry sunk a little further into shadow, hoping to hide himself from people for as long as possible.
He could still feel the remnants of the students from the hall earlier, and these last tatters of emotion and thought hung about Harry, making him wary of human contact.
The first students filed into the room, a few Ravenclaws Harry recognised by sight only. They sat at the front of the classroom, and Harry watched them silently. They were excited about the new school year, optimistic about their future, wanting to get into the new theory and practical work as soon as possible. But Harry saw more than those obvious feelings and thoughts. The deeper ones hung over the students like a thundercloud, and Harry almost felt like recoiling from it.
Next were Neville, Seamus and Dean. Following them was the rest of the class, each filing in at once. None noticed Harry until the last moment, and Professor Flitwick entered the room before anyone could do more than gasp in surprise.
"Harry?" Parvati and Lavender had been two of the last to enter the classroom, and they slid into the empty seats beside Harry. "Is that you, Harry?"
Harry smiled at them, careful to keep his fangs hidden. Their eyes widened in fear, shocked at how sinister that smile was.
"What happened to you, Harry? Where have you been, we didn't see you at the Welcoming Feast, or breakfast!" Lavender asked him softly, trying to hide their conversation from the teacher, even though everyone else in the class was straining their ears to listen.
Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, sitting two rows in front of him. They hadn't looked towards him, and he felt hurt that they were ignoring him completely.
"I got side-tracked." Harry told them quietly. "Nothing to worry about, though. I was just late, is all."
Parvati and Lavender looked at Harry suspiciously, and Harry sighed, to think that of all people to get to him first, it had to be them. No doubt they were already dreaming up theories on what could have hindered his arrival at the Castle. Harry shuddered to think of the gossip.
Professor Flitwick intervened, then, and though they were still curious and puzzled, Parvati and Lavender turned their attention back to the lesson. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have their attention diverted.
All throughout the class, however, Harry felt the curiosity of his classmates, the bubbling questions waiting to be voiced. Though no one talked as they wrote notes down, all to do with this year's theory and what was to be learnt, no one's mind was truly focused on the task with Harry so blatantly in the room. The yet to be expressed confusion, and the wariness of the new aura around him each of the students felt nearly sent Harry insane. Too many people were feeling the same thing, and this overwhelming presence threatened to overcome Harry's control.
It was harder than he had anticipated. Harry was far more acute than he had given himself credit for, and he was beginning to second-guess himself. It had never occurred to him that simply sitting in class would cause him so much discomfort. That the bitterness between himself, Ron and Hermione would be so painful, and the knowledge that he couldn't confide in them only gave Harry more reason to despise his new powers. Was there no relief to be had? He couldn't imagine going through this everyday, all day. There had to be a way to weaken it, to leave Harry with some semblance of peace, even if his powers were diminished. Anything was better than this torture.
The bell went, signalling the end of the lesson. Harry was snapped from his reverie, but before he could so much as find relief in the end of silent speculation, he was surrounded by the class – even the Slytherins – and a bombardment of questions rained down on him.
Harry's mind blossomed in pain, and he faught to ignore it, knowing that he couldn't reveal that he had returned as anything but what he had been before the summer.
Ron and Hermione left the room, and Harry tried to ignore the twinge of hurt when they didn't even spare a glance his way.
His temples throbbing slightly, Harry breathed in the cool air of the night with no small amount of contentment. He much preferred this quiet, peaceful time. The students and teachers were all asleep, and with their slumber went their worries, thoughts and emotions. Harry wasn't hindered by them at night, and for this he was thankful.
The trees of the Forbidden Forest were dark, foreboding shadows at night, and their leaves seemed to whisper ominously as a breeze rustled through them. Harry was unafraid, however. The night was his domain, and with night came his true potential, Harry's real self and a more confident surety in who he was. During the day, he hardly knew because of all the imprints left by others, all the feelings he absorbed unintentionally, and he hardly knew what he really felt during those times. At night everything faded away to memory, and Harry was left with nothing but his own feelings, his own troubles, his own worries and his own thoughts.
Though he was not by any means an untroubled and worriless individual, Harry knew that he had the ability to understand himself at night – he could really explore his boundaries then, when he wasn't battling other demons that weren't his own.
His feet making no noise as he walked, Harry smiled as his headache faded away.
"At last," he breathed in relief. All day it had been with him, and Harry despaired to think what it would be to experience that every day – every hour.
Harry sat down abruptly, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest – still within seeing distance of the Castle. Taking a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes and opened himself to his senses.
The sensation of doing this was still odd to Harry, but he couldn't help but realise how natural it was, too. Almost like slipping further into himself.
The last tatters of today's emotions were almost gone from Harry's mind, and Harry let himself drift through the sounds and scents of the night. He could identify so much around him, and still perceive all the dreams emanating from the Castle. It all drifted about his head like a hazy cloud, and Harry floated through it all, letting himself be swept away with the currents of the world around him.
After minutes of swimming through that friendly haze, Harry felt something else wind through it, drawing him out of his doze-like state. This new emanation wasn't friendly, or a dream – nor was it from the Castle or the Forest beside him. It was different…it sounded different, too, hollow.
Harry frowned, still deep within the recesses of his mind. What was it? It felt…malignant. Evil.
Hesitantly, Harry reached out for it. Instead of recoiling like Harry had expected it to, it rushed to meet him, eager. Harry was wary of it, unsure of its intent. What was it?
Harry met the presence, and felt the cruelty and malice flow through him, making his blood boil and his instincts threaten to take over. Harry's grasp slackened on the presence, and it seemed that it almost cooed in satisfaction.
As quickly as the anger and hate had flooded through his body and overcome him, it left Harry just as quickly, and he was left confused and afraid. Frowning, he searched for the presence again. But it wasn't to be found.
Harry was unsure. The presence had overtaken him, however briefly. He hadn't been able to control it, and it had given him emotions he hadn't felt himself. If it wasn't Harry's own feelings, then it was someone else's.
It was an echo of someone's cruelty, someone's evil – and someone else's satisfaction at something done well, and right.
Harry felt a cold sweat break on his brow, another foreboding enshrouding him.
"Voldemort," Harry whispered so softly that even the trees couldn't hear his speech.