Disclaimer: See first chapter.
Jade: I agree
Rosie: That's absolutely true… explained in this chapter, and thanks.
Clara2000: I hope so and yes the Yeerk thing from Animorphs and also the Goa'uld from Stargate Sg1 were something of an inspirer.
D.T: Thank you.
Someone: Yes there is.
Evon: Part two here
Noberta: Ok, I'll ask you and thanks.
Knight Smeg: I definitely intend for it to get creepy.
Isabelle: ::Blushes:: thank you!
Black Magic: Thank you!
Sandra: I am.
Yammer: I intend to, I need to torture Harry a bit first… ::grins::
Cassie Lee: Thank you, and yes I intend to continue my Angel story, but at the moment I'm battling writer's block with that fic.
Archwiz: Thank you!
Author's Note: There's not much action in this part, but I wanted to explain Harry's situation in more detail. It also contains one of my pet theories and favourite things about the fourth book. Things should start speeding up in Chapter Three.
Chapter Two
Ron and Hermione looked up from their game of exploding snap as the portrait hole swung open and Harry- or rather, Traveller- entered.
"Hey, Harry." Ron said. "What disgusting beast are we going to be facing next Care of Magical Creatures lesson?"
"Oh, you mean besides Malfoy?" Traveller asked. Hermione attempted to look stern while Ron sniggered. Harry felt sick. It was exactly what he would have said, how he would have said it.
{It's not me!} He screamed in the prison his mind had become. {Can't you tell?!} He felt smug satisfaction radiating from the Traveller and lashed out, knowing it was useless even before he hit the strange barrier between them. Harry gasped as pain suddenly shot through his mind. It was gone almost before it began but it left him shaking.
{It can be much worse then that,} Traveller warned him, 'voice' calm. {All you have to do to avoid it is stop fighting.}
(Never!} Harry swore. It wasn't any worse then the Cruciatus Curse, he told himself, trying to pretend that that wasn't not saying much. And, Harry vowed to himself, I will not stop fighting!
Completely unaware of what was happening to his friend, Ron stared down at his cards in disgust, and then glanced hopefully up at Hermione.
"Why don't we play something else?" he suggested, deliberately casual. "Like chess?"
"No, thank you," Hermione told him primly, gathering up the cards to reshuffle them. "I prefer playing games I actually have a chance of winning." Ron muttered something under his breath and Harry/Traveller laughed, and began making his way over to the stairs up to the dormitories.
"Where are you going?" Traveller glanced back to Ron's inquisitive face.
"To bed," he explained simply.
"Already?" Hermione also looked up.
{Yes!} Harry screamed. {See?! I'm not behaving normally!}
"Yeah," Traveller explained. "I'm really tired, and I suspect Angelina of being possessed by Oliver Wood." Ron and Hermione laughed. Angelina, who had become Quidditch Captain this year, was determined to continue Gryffindor's winning streak to the point of continuing Oliver's training plan of Harry's Third year. Harry felt sick, understanding the taunt at him contained in the seemingly innocent words to his friends. And his friends didn't even question them, returning their attention to their game as the Traveller climbed the stairs up to the circular dormitory Harry shared with the other four fifth year Gryffindor boys.
Harry felt a black wave of despair crash over him and he curled up in his mind, fighting the utter desolate feelings that swamped him, desperately resisting any thought of giving up, no matter how tempting they felt as the stark reality of his situation sunk in.
Traveller smiled as he stretched his new body out on the four-poster bed, enjoying its suppleness, the ease with which it responded to his commands. His last host had lost that long ago, its limbs had become stiff, its reflexes slowed. Rotting skin had pulled restrictively every time he had moved a muscle. Now though… he had to restrain a laugh of delight. This body wouldn't decay around him, forcing him to seek a new host. This body wouldn't need his powers to be used up sustaining it. The powers of its former master would see to that.
Traveller could feel him, Harry; could feel the despair radiating off him, even if his thoughts were barred. He would like to think that that despair would break him, but…
Traveller frowned and sighed. He would like to think it would, but that was foolish and he had not survived for a thousand years by being a fool. Before he had possessed Harry, he had studied him. He remembered the dismay he had felt when he had learnt that Harry could resist the Imperious Curse. Of course, he was much stronger then any simple curse but still. It was safer to take precautions. Traveller smiled and his hand came up to caress the milky crystal that hung around his neck, a line of defence against Harry's strength of will.
Traveller's smile faded and he stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, his choice of words provoking memories not his own. He recalled a graveyard, ancient Dark Arts invoked, a ruler reclaiming his servants, taunts, a duel, Priori Incantetem, wands linking with a golden thread along which beads of light slid…
The young boy had no idea of what he had done, achieved, what it meant. He had not even begun to comprehend the significance of it. When their wands had failed to work against each other it had become not a battle of magic, but a battle of minds. Of wills striving against each other.
Traveller recalled a certain image from Harry's memories of that night. The Dark Lord looking astonished. Astonished, and almost fearful. As well he might do, Traveller thought grimly. It was during his first life that a prophecy had been made. Of the Heir of Slytherin and Darkness, Slayer of Kin, Nameless One… Traveller had no doubt of whom that prophecy referred to. It spoke of the Dark Lord having immense power, and enormous strength of will… and he had lost to this young boy whose despair was a palpable presence in Traveller's mind.
Traveller wasn't afraid of the competition the Kinslayer might offer him. He was immortal, after all, and it had been desperate chance that had led him to achieve it. The chances of the Kinslayer following in his path were slim to none. To achieve supremacy, all he had to do was wait. Let the Nameless one engulf the world in the Dark Arts, let him subjugated the servants of the light. When death claimed his due, Traveller would be waiting to take the reins of the Darkened World.
No, what scared him now was the strength of will the soul who shared this body with him possessed. Traveller wished as he had wished many times in the past but never as fervently as now that there was a way to posses a body whose spirit had been destroyed first. But as he had learnt the first time he had possessed another, the vampyre who had turned him, a body which did not hold the soul for which it was intended destroyed itself even quicker then one which held two. The only way to deal with the threat Harry posed, Traveller decided grimly, was to break him. Completely.
Harry sensed grimness and a hint of pleasure from the ball of dark emotions that was Traveller. Earlier, if he had had control of his body, he suspected he would have been hyperventilating. Now he felt a weird type of calm, his terror submerged somewhat beneath it. The despair was still there, floating around the edges of his mind but it was no longer as crippling as it was before.
Harry, metaphorically, took a deep breath. OK. There was a centuries old evil controlling him and his friends hadn't even noticed. Before, that had been enough to send him spiralling into a black pit of despair, but now he forced himself to look at it again. The conversation had only lasted a few minutes, and the Traveller had needed it quickly with his excuse about being tired. Harry forced himself to feel the tinniest glimmering of hope. Traveller would slip up, he told himself firmly. His friends 'would' realise what was happening to him.
Harry felt his hand come up to finger the crystal hanging around his neck. He shuddered inwardly at the sensation of his body moving without his command. Suddenly his thoughts caught up with him. The crystal. None of the Traveller's other victims had been forced to wear one, he realised, so why him? Because he was the last? Harry swallowed, or would have if he could command his body to do even that. He had power equal to the Traveller's and the memories he had shared proved that was no mean boast… Harry forced his mind back on track. The crystal: Was that the reason? Or was it something else…
The sound of the dormitory door opening jerked him from that train of thought. The Traveller propped Harry's head up to watch Dean Thomas stumble into the dormitory, cursing as he slammed into Neville's bed, unable to see where he was going in the da- Harry stared at him in shock. How could he see him. How- the comprehension came. It wasn't just a way for the Traveller to open a link between two bodies so he could travel to the next one. He had been turned. He was a vampire and the memories confirmed it. A vampyre with supernatural strength, speed, senses, almost impossible to kill. A Vampyre. And Harry felt the horror dawning in his mind as he completed that thought. A vampyre, who needed blood to live.