DZ2's Den of Delights

Hi to all my loyal readers and those who enjoy my stories: The Den of Delights is open once more and I'm both grateful and amazed by everyone that has enjoyed my previous instalments and encouraged my ideas to flourish. I have to admit myself impressed; a big thanks to everyone that enjoyed my last instalment:

Now, for my next instalment, it's a Halloween treat for my readers since I doubt I'll be able to update on the date itself: however, here is the treat and I only hope you enjoy it. It's an example response to a poll I set up over the summer for a Harry Potter/Young Dracula XOver, so…enjoy;

Blood Is My Life

It was out there;

Calling to him on the breeze;

A voice…unlike any other;

It had been trying to call out to him ever since he had returned to Privet Drive for his now-sixth summer before returning to Hogwarts for his sixth year.

The only difference was that, this time, Harry James Potter didn't want to return to Hogwarts;

Why should he?

The world had called him a liar, a cheat, a traitor, a murderer and everything else under the sun and now they were expecting him to forget all that and save them from Voldemort's Second Coming?

Screw that!

So, when the call had come just one week after Harry had returned to Privet Drive, he'd waited, relying on a side of himself that he'd regressed for so long: his Slytherin nature, to get him out of Privet Drive without the Order of the Overcooked Pheasant knowing about it. He had left the house in the dead of night and, with little more than a few pounds stolen from Dudley – it was about time that they started paying him for keeping their worthless asses safe – and a change of clothes in a pack that Dudley had never used, Harry set off for the source of the call.

The journey was long and arduous, but Harry didn't give up: he rested by day and, when the sun went down and Harry was able to confirm that he wasn't going mad, the Call returned and Harry was able to move out, making his way to the north and west of the country. After almost a week of travelling, during which Harry had come close to having an encounter with wizards outside Birmingham, the young wizard found himself crossing the Severn Bridge in Wales, entering the adjoining country of the United Kingdom for the first time.

'What could be calling me from all this way?' Harry wondered, passing by the outskirts of Cardiff City before he made his way north, into dense woodlands and towards a town that, according to nearby English/Welsh translated signposts, was called Stokely.

Resting in the forest outside the town, Harry leaned against a tree and, wrapping his travelling cloak – the only other wizard's item he'd brought with him aside from his wand and his Father's Cloak – around him like a blanket, he nestled down for the night, his stomach rumbling quietly with hunger, the roadside burger he'd eaten that day seemingly eons ago now.

'Who are you?' he wondered to himself, looking in the direction of Stokely as he felt the pull against his insides once again: this was the force of the Call. It was almost like a strong tug against his magic, but, at the same time, it beckoned to Harry to heed the Call and, at times, Harry could swear that he felt incredible levels of power passing through the Call.

They had to be incredible levels to reach him all the way across in Little Whinging.

'Why do you call me like this?' Harry wondered, looking down the road where a soft glow seemed to illuminate the horizon: he must have been closer to the town than he realised. 'You're not Voldemort…I know that much, but then…who are you? What are you? What do you want with me?'

A sudden chilly wind blew through the trees and, as Harry tightened his makeshift blanket around him, he closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep, his eyelids flickering as dreams came to him that, as always, he couldn't quite understand…

Dream Start

Harry was hovering over what looked like a dark and very regal-looking throne room, a tall figure with dark hair restrained within what looked like a cage made from violet bars while, close by, a young boy of around fourteen or fifteen lay still and motionless on the ground. Above the boy and close to the man was a rather attractive-looking girl that strode across the room and glared at the boy with hatred.

"Is he…is he dead?" asked the man, his voice thick with power while his eyes appeared to hold an air of fear.

The girl's lip curled in a sneer before she replied, "I don't know…and I don't care."

Harry felt a shiver pass down his spine as he heard her response: so cold and callous and yet so hurt; he didn't know why, but he suddenly found himself feeling sorry for the girl. He didn't know who she was, let alone who the others were, but something seemed to draw him close to this scene, these three…strange people.

As the girl approached a throne at the head of the room, the man gave a snarl before he barked, "He's your brother: you must help him!"

The girl didn't seem to be in too much of a hurry to listen; instead, she took hold of what looked like a human skull and a sceptre before she turned to face the man, a vicious snarl now etched into her features as she retorted, "I'll decide what I must do!"

Approaching the throne, the girl took the seat before she added with a cold grin, "Because I'm in charge now…"

The man, looking both shocked and a little scared, gave a roar that seemed to make the walls tremble before he barked, "TRAITOR! You will pay for this betrayal, Ingrid…"

"SILENCE!" The girl, Ingrid, commanded, her voice holding more power than the man as she then explained, "From now on, you will call me Countess Dracula; watch me as I avenge Will's death and make the streets of Stokely run red with blood…"

Her evil laugh echoed around the halls while the man looked frightened and the boy on the floor remained unconscious, though Harry, looking back to Ingrid, only had one thought as the dream pulled him away…

'No…way…'

Dream End

Waking with a start, Harry gasped, his heart racing at a speed that seemed impossible as he tried to piece together what he'd just seen: he'd had visions before, but this one…it was so vivid…so real: like he'd really been there.

'That girl,' Harry thought, remembering the frightening image of the girl, Ingrid, from his dream, 'She said to call her…Countess Dracula, but…if she's real…if what I saw is real…then that would make her…a vampire.'

With a sigh and a rub of his eyes, Harry realised he wasn't about to get any more sleep that night and so, rising from the ground, he tucked his makeshift blanket back into his pack and made for the town, a part of him almost amused he couldn't help but think one last thought about what he'd seen:

'Vampire or not…she was kind of cute…'

Blood Is My Life

Stokely seemed like any ordinary town…well, any ordinary town with an awe-inspiring, somewhat-intimidating castle overlooking the town centre. The local school seemed to be somewhat deserted, which didn't surprise Harry as he figured that the summer holidays had begun for Muggles, though what did surprise him was the air of…mystery that hung over the town. An eerie silence followed Harry as he walked past a row of semi-detached houses and up, following the Call, to the Castle.

'Okay…' he thought to himself, 'Unusual dream…magical Call…of course you're heading for the Castle: don't be afraid, Harry. This is nothing new to you…'

Passing through a pair of rusted iron gates with two large gargoyles on either side of him, Harry took a deep breath before he reached the large wooden doors that led into the castle.

Reaching the front door, Harry lifted his hand and knocked once: no reply.

'This isn't that suspicious,' Harry thought to himself, looking back out over Stokely where the early-morning atmosphere was showing itself in the form of a few people walking down the street away from the castle. A few birds flew overhead and, despite the crisp sensation of the morning, Harry noticed that a dark, sombre atmosphere hung over the castle's walls and structure.

Without needing to ask himself about it, Harry lifted a hand and pushed against the doors: they opened as though bidden, allowing him to step into the gloom of the rooms within. Though, if he was honest with himself, Harry wasn't all that impressed with the interior design as it seemed to have been abandoned and left to gather dust: if he'd been able to use his wand without worry for the Trace, he would actually have lit the room.

As the doors closed behind him, Harry gulped, gathering every ounce of his Gryffindor courage as he looked around, a part of him then noticing that the mysterious Call he had been feeling and sensing ever since Surrey was now…gone. He was able to move, breathe and, if he wanted, he could turn around, go back to England and Surrey and forget about the Call.

'Yeah,' he thought to himself with a snigger, 'Back to lies, distrusts and deceptions that leave me feeling like the black sheep of Hogwarts and the target of pure evil, death and destruction. Back to a world where there's nothing left for me: Sirius is dead, Remus would rather cower in fear and let the Order run his life and my friends…well, after their say-no-evil treatment last summer, I'd just as soon avoid them.'

Crazy as it was to admit it to himself, Harry knew: he was staying.

Suddenly, the cold chill from before returned and, as Harry looked around, he was aware of a dim flicker against the edge of his vision, a feeling of intense pain and fear passing through Harry before a familiar voice spoke from the shadows, "Who are you to willingly walk into my home like this, breather?"

"Ingrid?" asked Harry, remembering the name from his dream: as he asked the name, the flicker returned and, this time, it became the fully-fledged form of the attractive young woman he'd seen in his dream. She was dressed in black clothes that hugged her frame, her dark hair slightly matted and, if Harry was being honest, somewhat similar to a certain Death Eater that Harry had vowed to one day kill. Her eyes were a rich shade of hazel with a hint of redness to them as she glared at Harry and, as she met his eyes, Ingrid snarled at him, revealing two rows of vampire fangs that shone in the dim light of the castle's interior.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, a demonic roar to her voice as she demanded, "Answer me while you're still breathing: are you a Slayer? Looking for my wormy wimpire of a brother? Well, you made the mistake of coming here…and unarmed at that!"

"I'm not a Slayer," Harry insisted, holding his hands up in an attempt to show her that he was unarmed, "And, as for how I know your name, you wouldn't believe me if I told you…even if you are Countess Dracula."

Ingrid seemed taken aback by his forwardness; as she met his eyes, her eyes shone with the mesmerising shade of gold that came with vampire hypnotism, before she whispered, "Tell me…how do you know me?"

"Hypnotising me?" asked Harry, shaking his head as he explained, "That won't work: I'm a wizard, Countess: a user of the mystic arts and one of those arts, known as the Imperious, is a curse I can throw off. I won't be controlled: not by anybody!"

Ingrid suddenly gasped as the nearby fireplace suddenly flared into life, Harry's almost-glowing emerald-green eyes now shining in the light of the fire as he hissed, "Now, since you know I'm a wizard, I suppose I can tell you: I…well, I dreamt about you…and your brother…and some man: your Father?"

"Yes," Ingrid replied, her voice softer than before as she seemed to be in awe of Harry's power. Looking from his eyes to the roaring flames, Ingrid then asked, "What…what's your name…wizard breather?"

"Harry," replied the young wizard, "Harry Potter."

Now Ingrid was surprised: there wasn't a creature of magic and mystery that didn't know that name: the Boy Who Could Defy Death; the destroyer of the breather's dark lord.

Here he was: standing in front of her, but the question that Ingrid needed to ask was, "What are you doing here, Harry Potter?"

"Would you believe that I was Called here?" asked Harry, earning a look of disbelief from Ingrid, which Harry shrugged to as he explained, "I don't really understand it, but…a week ago now, I started feeling this…drawing in sensation inside me that didn't let up. Since I had no real qualms about running away from the hellhole I lived in, I chose the lesser of two evils and followed it. The Call led me straight here and only really stopped when I stepped inside the Castle; I don't know what it was or why I was brought here, but, as far as I'm concerned, anywhere is better than where I was."

"You say that with such malice," Ingrid noticed, now approaching Harry with a more humane appearance to her as she asked, "Why do you sound so…vampirically-evil when you say that?"

"Like I said before," Harry replied, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you…but if the Call has brought me here…to this castle where the Vampire Countess of Dracula resides, then I may as well say it: no matter what, I'm not going back!"

Ingrid actually felt sorrow in her cold, unbeating heart as she listened to the rage and fury within Harry; she hadn't felt this way for over two years: not since Will had been turned by her and she'd lost him in that last battle. Now this…this gifted child was here, with fire and darkness in his soul and clearly willing to stay, but he wasn't afraid: it was like he had nothing left to lose.

"Harry…"

"Yeah?" asked Harry, looking to Ingrid, noticing her eyes now on him.

"If you're here," she explained, "Then there has to be a reason: I know it's not because of my brother, the Chosen One, so…there must be another: however, since you seem to be so…willing to let go of your past, then…what would you say if I told you…I can help you with that?"

"How?" asked Harry.

With a smile that revealed her fangs, Ingrid replied, "Take a wild guess."

"Bite me?" asked Harry, turning to face her as he asked, "Make me a vampire? How is that supposed to help?"

"Maybe it'll silence the Call," Ingrid suggested, "Give you a new start on life…and besides, I don't recall the last time that a sorcerer was able to become a vampire: we have powers of our own, but…not like you."

"But I've read about your kind," Harry insisted, "Wouldn't your bite make me loyal to you? I told you, Ingrid, I don't bow to anyone."

"I know," Ingrid replied, a chuckle escaping her as she added, "That's what I'm counting on to make you…different: you won't answer to me, Harry; I won't allow it. You'll be unique: different, stronger and, above all else, you'll have someone here that…" An actual blush crossed her cheek as she whispered, "Who cares for you."

Harry was a little surprised, but, as he looked to Ingrid, he felt the same sensation rise inside him that he'd felt in his dream state: he couldn't deny that she was cute, but, just like a former Triwizard Champion's kin couldn't allure him, Harry also knew that it wasn't her vampire allure doing this.

And besides, hadn't he just admitted to himself that he wasn't going back to a life where he was expected to be a puppet on a string?

Here was Ingrid Dracula, yes, a vampire, but here she was offering him an out;

All he had to do, so to speak, was die.

"You're right, Ingrid," Harry confessed, now facing her while he lowered the collar of his shirt, "I won't be controlled…but I have nothing to go back to: so…go ahead, if you want to give me a new life by killing me…then do it! Drink me dry…and make me strong…er!"

With a nod, Ingrid approached Harry and, baring her fangs, she sank them into his throat, her eyes suddenly glowing with vampire-red bloodlust as she tasted raw power and fury within his blood. She'd never tasted anything so rich, so…enticing: not even when she'd finally managed to bite that breather freak, Robin, and his sister, Chloe.

It had been such a shame that the idiot had let Slayers catch him…he'd had such potential.

As for Chloe, she'd idiotically sunned herself rather than embrace the power of the night.

But, speaking of power, Ingrid could taste it, feel it and sense it all at the same time: Harry's blood was filled with raw energy and, as he fell against her, Ingrid let him go before she carved a wound into her wrist and offered it to him.

"Drink, Harry," she breathed, feeling a passion rise inside her that had never been there before, "Become anew."

Harry latched onto Ingrid's wrist and gulped hungrily, his body almost glowing as the power of the dark passed into him, his skin becoming pale while his body seemed to change, becoming slender and strong, his wild hair falling around his shoulders while his eyes shone with emerald-green fire that may as well have been the flames of death.

Pulling away from Ingrid's wrist, Harry took his last breath before he gasped, coughing heavily for a few seconds as he rose and, looking to her, he whispered, "I've…I've never felt so much power!"

"And you can have even more…" a ghostly voice replied, both Harry and Ingrid then turning as the voice echoed through the halls of the once-proud Castle Dracula, "Come to the Blood Mirror…and find out…"

"The Blood Mirror?" asked Ingrid, watching as Harry vanished with vampiric speed; following his path, the Countess soon found her path blocked by the guardians of the Blood Mirror Chamber where she'd fought her reflection and Boris had become…something more.

'Why would the Blood Mirror call a ghoul of a vampire like Harry to the Chamber?' she wondered, watching and waiting for the result of this incredible twist of fate…

And there we go: a very happy Halloween/Samhain or whatever else you call it to all my readers; I feel like I've been waiting forever to post this idea: now it's here and, as for bringing it onto FFN, that remains to be seen. The dream that Harry had is the final scene of Young Dracula's second series and, as you can probably guess, I'd be looking to make this a Harry/Ingrid pairing;

Anyway, enjoy…next chapter of the Den's seemingly-endless archives coming soon…