A/N: Sorry it took a while, I'm writing my other series right now. But please stay tuned, this cliffhanger will be resolved quickly.

Chapter Five: Blood on the Moon

"Where are they? The sun has set!" Ron walked briskly down the hall, turning his head at various empty classrooms, halting only at the sounds of distant footsteps or echoes of a voice. "Please don't let me find them in a closet together or something. I'll kill them," the redhead muttered under his breath.

As he turned a corner, he yelped in pain as his head came in contact with hers.

"Ow!" cried the girl with curly fair hair.

"Ginger?" Ron asked with a laugh. "You're like the Hermione of Ravenclaw. What are you doing out here past curfew?" Ginger scowled a scowl that reminded Ron of Hermione.

"It's only curfew in a few more minutes!" she hissed. "I left my potions essay in the library and needed to go get it now incase I forgot to tomorrow morning."

"How's your eye?" Ron asked.

"Healed," she replied in a whimper. "I'd rather not talk about it right now. What are you doing out wandering the halls?"

"Wondering if Harry and Hermione are playing a very cruel joke on me. I haven't seen either one since breakfast!" Ginger frowned.

"It's not like Hermione to play cruel jokes. Something's wrong."

"I figured that much out," Ron rolled his eyes. "I was just thinking maybe they were doing something together and forgot the time…" Ginger noticed the hurt in Ron's voice as he said it.

"You aren't suggesting what you know is not true?" Ginger said with sympathy. Ron gave her a weak smile to show his appreciation of the comment.
"Let's just find them before they end up dead somewhere."

"Or worse…" Ginger muttered. Ron shot her a look. Ginger shrugged. "Well you never know with you three, do you?" Horrible thoughts swirling in his mind, Ron continued walking down the hall.

"Hermione!" The seventh year witch was suddenly aware of her head lolling from side to side. She moaned as her migraine rushed back to her like cold waters and thundered in her ears like a silent, deafening storm.

"Oh… What happened?"

"Hermione, are you alright?" The girl blinked and saw a red haired boy with warm, deep brown eyes full of dreadful concern. She gave him a wan smile.
"Except this horrible headache," she assured him. He heaved a heavy sigh and turned his head and called down the hall.

"Ginger, wait! She's fine!" His voice was full of tremendous relief. He then turned to Hermione again, and she saw that worry was still written across his face like invisible ink.

"Hermione, what happened! You were bleeding!" Ginger appeared by Ron's side as soon as he said this.
"I was bleeding?" Hermione frowned and ran a hand through her bushy brown hair. She felt a matted spot and as she pulled her fingers out, she noticed dry crimson on her hands, like paint chips. Her eyes grew wide.

"Blood…" she muttered. "Blood… I was bleeding? On my head?"

"No, Hermione, you were bleeding from your foot!" Even in serious moments, Ron would never abandon his faithful sarcasm. It's something one could always count on from him.

"I must have hit my head hard when I fell…" Hermione muttered to herself. "Blood… oh, why is that word bothering me! Wait… Where's Harry?" Hermione was suddenly extremely disturbed.

"Well, Ron said you saw him last…" Ginger said, hesitantly. But Hermione couldn't remember. But she did remember Draco Malfoy and scowled. She turned to Ginger.

"How can you put up with him?!"
"Who, Harry?" Ginger seemed confused.

"No, not Harry, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. Ginger was still perplexed.

"Hermione… I couldn't put up with Draco. Or rather, he couldn't put up with me. We got in a fight a month ago and he hit me and we've never spoken since. You saw me in Arithmancy, why do you think I had that black eye? Didn't you know we had broken up?" An eerie feeling of apprehension swept over Hermione once more and the winds began to whisper in her ear, trying desperately to inform her of what had happened, and yet they were speaking in a dead language.

"Blood… Harry… Malfoy…" Hermione's hand flew to her pocket to find it empty. But the words in the letter swiftly returned to her as if the letter had been lost in her head and she'd just found it in an old drawer. "Malfoy took the letter…" she muttered.

"What letter?" Ron demanded, terrified at the look on Hermione's face. "What happened to Harry?!"

"Harry went to face a vampyre… On his own. We have to find Dumbledore!"

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Harry's breath was short and shaking, not from failing health, but from the shock and amazement at its improvement. He was astounded as he examined all the molecules on a drop of dew on a rose in the dim moonlight. He heard a small sound and he whipped his head upward to where it had come from and found out the sound he had heard was the wings of a bat, many meters above him.

His movements startled him as well. They were swift and graceful, like a cat. But that wasn't the only cat-like attribute he had inherited from his beautiful beast.

The horrible eyes that haunted his dreams now glowed as bright as the sallow moon in his own sockets. A cold feeling shivered down his spine.

But what horrified the boy most was his appetite. He was hungry. But it wasn't his usual craving for food.

"No," he muttered, shaking his head and gulping. His mouth seemed extremely parched. He needed water. Or better yet… "No," he repeated, appalled at the thought.

"Yes." The tall, slender form of Layla stepped out of the shadows. He looked up and horror. Instantly, he stood up and pointed his finger at her.

"You did this to me!" He accused. "YOU! Why did you do this to me?!"
"You wanted me to," Layla shrugged. "Really, Harry, it's a benefit, not a burden. Think of the advantage you have over your enemy. Have you noticed you aren't wearing your glasses?" Harry's brow furrowed and his hands flew to his eyes, searching his face for the glasses he would never find.

"Where are they?" Harry demanded.

"I put them in your robes, Harry, but you won't need them any longer. You're fine." Harry hesitated for a moment, thinking of everything that had happened to him. Why had he agreed to go? But even as he voiced it, he knew the answer. Those eyes were so hypnotizing. Finally, his eyes were cast downwards as he slowly shook his head.

"You're evil," he muttered. He looked up and faced her. "How did it happen to you? How were you first… created?" Layla smiled, remembering the twisted day. She looked up at the moon and turned her back to him.

"Do you want to hear my story?" she whispered, half-laughing to herself. "No one has ever asked me to hear my story." Harry sat resolutely on a decaying log.

"Well I'm asking now."

"Do you know how many years I've lived? And do you know no one has ever asked how I have come to live all those years?" Harry saw Layla's head bend and her hair shone like white gold in the moonlight. She sadly shook it and Harry wondered if the weakness he saw in her right then was an illusion. Standing there in the pale moonlight she looked like a frail young girl who had done so many things she was not proud of. A gentle creature that had lived on this earth far longer than she wished to.

"Alright," she finally said, turning to him, her face set in an unreadable expression. "Let me tell you how the vampyre kind was born."

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Ron, Hermione and Ginger sprinted to the staff room where Ginger had informed them Dumbledore was at that moment. But as they reached the door, however, they hesitated.

"We're out past curfew," Ginger pointed out the obvious. Ron turned to her.

"If you're so concerned about curfew, Ginger, go back to Ravenclaw where you can be safe. We're used to this." Ginger put her hands on her hips, offended.

"Are you saying I'm not adventurous, Ron Weasley? You obviously don't know me at all!"
"What, Miss. Follow-The-Rules?" Ron laughed.

"Hermione follows the rules," Ginger pointed out, pointing at the girl herself, who shrunk away from the finger.
"Hermione's different. Go home." Frowning, Ginger gave him one last comment.

"If I wasn't looking for adventure, why on earth would I consent to dating a Death Eater?" Both Ron and Hermione gaped. Smiling and knowing she just revealed confidential information, Ginger flipped her head of curls and walked back down the hall towards her common room. Ron and Hermione stared at each other.

"Did you know he was a Death Eater?" they both demanded of each other. Hermione shook her head.

"I really need to get in on the school gossip more often. I'd hear these things."
"Hermione, I don't think anyone—" But Ron was cut off as the door opened and a very surprised looking Professor McGonagall stood there.

"What are you two doing out of bed?" she demanded. "And where's your accomplice?"

"If I may ask, what are you doing in the staff room at eleven o'clock at night, Professor?" Hermione returned in as polite a tone as possible. Still, McGonagall was lacking sleep and took her query as insolence. She became defensive.
"Don't take that tone with me young lady! It was an emergency meeting called by Dumbledore. Now you, explain yourselves!"

"Harry's gone, Professor," Ron explained hastily. "And we really need to see Dumbledore about a few details."

"Let them in, Minerva," Dumbledore's weary voice came from inside the classroom. Frowning, Hermione and Ron entered the room cautiously. They noticed Dumbledore frowning at papers scattered across a desk.

"I don't like this at all…" he muttered to himself. He blinked and looked up at the teenagers as if just noticing they were there.

"You two," he said. "Harry's missing, you say?" They nodded. "So is Professor Ferris. She disappeared without a word to anyone, which is why this meeting had been called. Professor McGonagall had stayed behind to help me with some items."
"What items, sir?" Ron asked.
"The Ministry," Dumbledore sighed. "There is no record of a Layla Ferris anywhere. Do you know anything about this?" Ron looked at Hermione, who turned to Dumbledore.

"I'm guessing that you weren't aware that Layla Ferris, sir was a—"

"Vampyre…" Dumbledore sighed the words. "I should have known, I should have guessed it was her. Vampyres can be so convincing. They can even fool an old man like me, especially her…"

"This is… Really bad news…" Ron shivered as a cold wind went down his spine. He straightened up. "Something really bad has happened."
"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Harry," he said. "I… I can feel him."

"What do you mean you can 'feel him?'" Hermione's voice was unnaturally high. Dumbledore nodded at Ron, understanding.

"He is with Layla then?" he asked. Hermione turned back to the headmaster and took a deep breath. Her voice was normal again.

"Yes, Professor. Harry tried to face her alone. He told me in a letter Draco Malfoy stole. Sir, he's a Death Eater." Dumbledore nodded.

"Sadly, that is correct," he said. "We only just discovered it ourselves." Hermione and Ron both gaped.

"You knew he was a Death Eater?" Ron screamed.

"Quiet, boy, you'll wake the entire school!" McGonagall scolded from behind. Ron didn't even bother to apologize.

"How long?"
"Recently." Dumbledore said the word in such a manner, it made it clear it was the end of that discussion. At least to Hermione, Ron couldn't take a hint.

"But how recently?!"

"What my ignorant friend means, sir," Hermione said through a forced smile and elbowing Ron in the ribs at the same time, "That it's possible that Lord— The Dark Lord, is in league with this vampyre…" but Dumbledore was already shaking his head.

"No," he said sternly, "Not Layla. Not her."

"Why not, sir?" Hermione asked. "Who is she, really? Do you know?" Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Sadly, I do. I have encountered her before. I wondered why she was so familiar…"

"Who is she?" Ron asked. They were both dangling over the edge of a cliff, gripping the hand of suspense to keep them from falling.

"She is only the most feared creature on the face of this earth since before Lord Voldemort's time. She is…"

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"The First Vampyre," Layla sighed, sadly. She turned to her son and stroked his messy black hair. "This is how it began."