Chapter 7
Harry glared at the goblet of blood before him; the human's way of letting him 'feed'. Harry continued to glare, before sighing angrily and finally gulping down the glass in a swift motion.
Harry had now been at Grimmauld Place for two weeks, and was still trying to come to terms with the memories he'd retrieved. A part of him missed Ron and Hermione, a part wanted nothing more than to return to Hogwarts; to go to class, relax in the common room, meet friends, and, of course, be grabbed and yanked into an abandoned classroom by a bossy blonde boy. The boy who had, Harry now realized, been what was haunting his dreams and banging on the door that had kept his old memories a secret.
"Fuck," muttered Harry.
This confliction was almost more than he could take. He missed Draco. He missed his surrogate family at Hogwarts, but in the front of his mind he knew how desperately he needed Angeline. He wasn't lonely for her company, no; Harry missed Angeline like humans missed water. He felt he was starving from her absence, like all the oxygen had left the room.
Harry's left hand was suddenly missing, and he wasn't so sure he could do without it.
For the first time in nearly a week, Harry wandered down from his bedroom on the second floor. He walked through the halls slowly, looking around at the walls, the paintings, taking in the deceased house elf heads that lined a wall; Harry had begun to find those rather amusing.
Harry continued walking until he came to a door that he remembered as Sirius's. He stared for a minute, then two, then three, before placing his hand on the door knob. He turned his hand and pushed the door open.
"Huh." Harry was a bit disappointed, to be honest. This was the room of his dead godfather, after all, but as he took in the pornographic posters of nearly nude women and the mess that had obviously been left undisturbed upon his death, Harry was reminded of a teenage boy. He was sure he had loved Sirius, that he'd looked up to him and all that yarn, but Harry felt disconnected from his old life. It was like, an old movie, one he had seen years ago; he was familiar with it, and fond of it, but it just wasn't real.
Harry yawned loudly as he left the room and headed down the stairs.
"Oh! Well, hello Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley, startled.
Harry's head shot up; he hadn't realized he had entered the kitchen. "Hello," replied Harry in a low voice. He took in the number of people there, ten or eleven. He knew most of them; they were the Order of the Phoenix's most trusted members.
"Uh, Harry?"
Harry was startled out of his stupor, they all looked nervously towards him; he realized he had been staring openly. Harry shook his head, frustrated. This was too much, he couldn't bare this. All of these people, people he knew, people he liked; he wanted to kill them and drain all the blood out of their bodies. Had it been two weeks ago, he'd have done it without a second thought, and zero remorse. Now, he'd be terribly upset. Well, he'd recover eventually of course; Harry couldn't deny that killing them all had been a theory he'd entertained. It would be simple and enjoyable on at least one level.
The memories flashed through his head. He couldn't do it.
Harry turned to walk out of the kitchen. Before he made it to the door a voice called him back, "Harry, we must discuss some important matters with you." Dumbledore, of course, "Please, sit."
Harry came towards the table, and look pointedly at a man sitting in the seat to the right of Dumbledore. The man looked confused, Harry raised an eyebrow, sneering; sighing, the man stood to find another seat. As Harry sat, Dumbledore excused some of the less elite members; it was now reduced to the same few that had been there the day of Harry's capture.
Harry tried not to breath, finding the smell of the warm human bodies too alluring to resist.
"Now, Harry, I'd like to ask you to return to Hogwarts." Dumbledore was kind and matter-of-fact, but Harry's head darted up and his eyes looked into Dumbledore' intently, "Now, I know, Harry, that you will have a hard transition on your hands, but you have handled living in Grimmauld Place very well, and we feel you are ready."
Harry laughed, low and throatily, "Dumbledore, you can't be serious."
"I assure you, my boy, I am."
Harry's eyes were wide, he shook his head, "I can barely take this," he gestured around him, at the other occupants of the room, "You can't imagine I won't kill anyone."
"Harry, you are stronger than you believe you are."
Harry guffawed, "No, sir, I am not. You think I can resist a thousand potent, fresh, young children! I am working very hard to just be in the same room as you, and your bloods nearly expired it's so old! I can't imagine… Dumbledore, I can't be expected not to touch them."
The humans seemed alarmed, Snape's eyes were narrowed to slits as he spoke, "Albus, I will not have students endangered for your faith in the boy."
Dumbledore nodded his head, eyes twinkling irritatingly, "Severus, Harry will not be able to harm the students, even he knows it. No one is in danger."
Harry's own eyes narrowed, scoffing, "They are all in danger. I can't help but kill them."
"Harry, you will know how to leave them be once you are near them. We will keep you well fed; you will not be a danger to the students."
Harry shook his head in disbelief, and said with finality, "Then it won't be my fault."
Most of the room seemed confused at his comment.
"What do you mean, Harry?" said Lupin, looking anxious.
"I can't be responsible for this. When you find some dead body lying across a staircase or- or in some fucking hallway, my conscience will be clear. This isn't going to be my fault!"
Harry looked panicked, breathing heavily, his eyes wild, "I-I just can't -not eat- them! It-it's unhealthy! It's un- fuckin' it's," he struggled for a moment, "it's unvampiric!"
Dumbledore blinked, and it was Tonks who replied, "Well, Harry, I'm sure you'll be, uh, you'll be just fine. You aren't betraying your race, or anything."
Harry balked.
"Am too!" Harry's voice was higher than usual, "That's exactly what I'm doing! This whole situation is a betrayal to my race! I'm in a house, hiding all night, sleeping all day, drinking blood from- from a bloody cup!"
Harry made another disgruntled noise before fleeing the kitchen and sprinting at a speed only a vampire could manage back to his own room.
"I'll kill them!" Harry's voice called through the house, before his door slammed.
"HALFBREEDS! MUDBLOODS!" screeched the portrait of Mrs. Black, "HALFBREEDS IN MY HOME! A DISGRACE! MUDBLOODS RUNNING FREE! EXTERMINATED! THEY SHOULD ALL BE DESTROYED!"
Lupin put his head in his hands, messaging his temples, before leaving the room and heading in the direction of the noise.
"YOU!" Mrs. Black's voice continued, "YOU ARE THE DOWNFALL OF WIZARD KIND! A MON-" she stopped abruptly, as Lupin pulled the curtains closed over her frame.
Footsteps echoed until Lupin reentered the still silent kitchen and took his seat.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Well, I do believe young Harry may be persuaded to enter back into Hogwarts."
