Although he did not show it, Dumbledore must have been caught off-
guard by my sudden return. He let me sleep in my private chambers while he
had "a conference with my advisors," as he put it. I slept on and off for
hours; the faces of all those I had killed kept haunting my mind.
I sat straight up when I heard the door creak open. Snape stood in the doorway, holding a glass of red liquid. With obvious discomfort he walked towards me, and handed me the glass. "It's not human," he told me as I took a sniff. "It's-"
"Pig," I cut him off. He eyed me oddly. "That's all I got the last time I was here. I recognize the smell." Quickly I emptied the glass. I felt much of physical pain leave me; however, no amount of blood could heal my conscience.
"You tried to stop me from killing Hermione," I said as if I had just learned this for the first time. "And you tried to stop her from killing others." He nodded. "I wish I had listened."
To my surprise, Snape shook his head vigorously. "My attempts were useless. Vampires retain their mortal soul, but they are- infected, with a powerful, almost uncontrollable need to hunt and kill. That is why their memories are lost; most vampires would kill themselves if they hunted with their morals intact."
"How did you get your memory?"
"I never lost it," he explained, looking at his hands while he spoke. "My mother was killed by a vampire during her pregnancy. I was born prematurely, but stronger than any mortal child. I age like mortals, and retain my wizarding powers. However, I feel the need to kill as strongly as you do." Snape looked up at me. "Killing is in your nature."
"It still doesn't make up for anything," I replied bitterly, squeezing the glass in my hand. "I killed so many people. I- I can't describe how horrible I am."
"You cannot judge yourself on a human level," Snape told me. "Humans- at least, not most- do not feel an urge to kill. Vampires do. We are entirely different creatures and therefore cannot base our misdeeds on human standards."
"There must be something I can do," I murmured.
"You can help others." I looked up at the older vampire, surprised. "Your strength and abilities are great. You can put them to use. The vampire population has nearly doubled since you killed the First. Your powers are needed."
A wry thought entered my mind. "The only time you're civil to me is after I've killed hundreds of people," I remarked.
Snape snorted. "I have not missed the irony, Potter," he said in a tone I was much more familiar with. He held out his hand, which I placed the glass in. The vampire stood to leave, just as a thought crossed my mind.
"Snape," I began, not bothering with titles. He turned to me. "Do you think you could help me with something. There's- there's someone I want to talk to."
* * *
Around eight o'clock, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," I called, not moving from the bed. Ron entered the room, looking at me with loathing.
"Ron," I said, sitting up straighter. "You- you look older." He was taller than I remembered, and leaner.
"You don't," he replied sharply. I suddenly realized something; I had stopped growing the day I died. I was going to be fifteen forever. I'd never grow older.
"Ron," I began, not knowing exactly what to say, "I want to talk to you."
"So talk," my old friend answered, sitting down in a chair across from the bed. His expression couldn't be read.
"I just wanted to tell that I'm sorry. I know that sounds weak," I added quickly when he narrowed his eyes at me, "but I'm sorry."
"How can you even say that!" he shouted at me. "You drove Hermione insane and you killed her. You killed my baby sister! You killed Draco- I'm not too upset about that, but still! Then you get all your vamp friends and kill half the students here! And you think you can just say you're sorry and it'll be all better?"
"No, I don't," I shot back, starting to feel defensive. "You don't understand. That wasn't me-"
"Yes it was! We've studied vampires in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Vampires lose their memories, not their souls. Just because you knew the people you killed doesn't mean you're excused for everything you've done." Ron stood up. "I will never forgive you, Harry. Never." He slammed the door as he left the room.
* * *
I didn't sleep that night. My mind was too busy, brimming with people and places. So much had happened in my life, and I felt like I missed it, in a way.
It was as if there were two Harrys; the Boy Who Lived, and the Boy Who Died. The Boy Who Died was noble and true. He faced down Voldemort, and killed a basilisk, and saved the wizarding world. The Boy Who Died joined Voldemort, killed innocent wizard students, and massacred the very people he saved.
Every inch of me was filled with guilt, but not over the people I killed. No, this guilt came from another source.
I felt guilty over the fact I DIDN'T feel guilt over the innocent deaths.
Vampires are hunters; they feel an urge to hunt and kill. So I was simply doing what I was meant to do, correct? Hunt and kill? Like Snape said, vampires can't be judged on a human level. So am I evil, then? No; I was doing what felt natural.
It sounds like a load of shit, but to the confused mind, it all makes sense.
So now what happens? I go back to La Infierno and kill? No. While I didn't feel guilt over the past, I knew killing with my conscience intact wouldn't work.
Now it was time to put my abilities, and my need to kill to use.
* * *
Snape started training me, honing my powers. He told me he'd never met such a young, powerful vampire. It only took a few days for me to master it.
He'd also gotten me off human blood. At first not drinking human blood nearly crippled me, but I became used to it. Still, I had to be separated from the students, out of fear I might attack them.
Ron still wouldn't talk to me.
News came from the vampire world: Draco had healed, almost completely. However, Hermione was the Fourth. She apparently refused to give up the throne, in case I returned. I wanted to go see her, to tell her I was alive and I still loved her, but Snape refused to let me leave the castle.
After three weeks of training, I was allowed to leave Hogwarts, and go with Snape and several other wizards from the Ministry of Magic on a vampire hunt. Our first stop was Diagon Alley.
* * *
The sky was just beginning to darken when we set out upon the district. I was paired up with another wizard named Iris Atkins, to hunt down the vampires.
"Is that one?" she asked me, not looking up from her newspaper. The two of us sat at a café, watching the people pass by. She nodded towards a pallid, black-haired female. I glanced over at the girl, but I sensed no vampiric aura.
"No," I murmured, sipping the flask of pig blood I kept in my cloak. While I still received the same energy and power from animal blood, human blood was just much fresher and tastier.
I felt a tingle on the back of my neck. I turned around and saw a blonde man head down an alley with a petite brunette. The male was definitely a vampire.
"Over there," I said to Iris. She nodded, dropping a few Sickles on the table. The two of us headed into the alley.
The vampire had already pierced her neck with his fangs, and had started feeding. "*Expelliarmus*!" cried out Iris, and the vampire was thrown back from the female into the wall. He looked up at us with surprise; it was Draco.
"Stay with her, Potter," Iris ordered. Draco disappeared, and Iris Apparated after him.
I knelt beside the girl. Draco hadn't taken enough blood to kill her, but she was losing it quickly. Her eyes darted frantically around the alley, and her breathing was shallow. She laid her panicked eyes on me.
"It's OK," I told her softly, grabbing her hand. "Don't worry. We'll get someone to heal you." From my pocket I pulled a handkerchief and put it to her neck, to stop the blood loss. I felt the warm blood trickle out of her, through the handkerchief, onto my hands. I hadn't had human blood for weeks.
Her eyes were closing. The girl was as good as dead. My fangs pushed through my gums. No, I told myself. I can't. I can't!
Suddenly I lost control. I bent down beside the girl and drank from her. She cried out, but it was barely a whisper in my ears. The blood was warm and I drank freely.
"Harry!" I pulled away quickly. Standing beside me was Snape. His expression hurt me; he wasn't angry, just- disappointed. He knelt down and checked the female's throat. "She's dead."
"I'm sorry," I said quickly, wiping the blood from my mouth. "I'm sorry-"
"Leave, Harry," Snape said softly.
"What?"
"If the other wizards see what you've done, they'll kill you. Get out of here, and don't come back."
I was surprised. "Where should I go?"
"Anywhere that's not here." I heard footsteps pound on the cobblestones behind me. "Go, Harry."
I nodded and disappeared. There was only one place I could go.
* * *
I appeared near the bookcase in the library. Draco was there, in an old-fashioned wheelchair, drinking a glass of blood. Ginny was on the sofa, napping as the fire roared in the hearth.
Draco looked up at the sudden sound of footsteps and gaped at me. "Harry," he whispered, pushing the wheels of his chair as far back as they would go. "But-"
"Yeah, my memory's back," I cut him off, walking through the library towards the master bedroom. I slammed the doors open.
Hermione was in the wardrobe, slipping to a silk nightgown. She turned around quickly. My Girl's eyes lit up. "Oh, Harry," she sighed, running towards me. "My Prince's back." She pressed her lips to mine, and I wondered how I even thought of leaving her.
"Don't worry, Princess," I told her quietly, stroking her back. "I'm back, and I'm not leaving ever again."
I sat straight up when I heard the door creak open. Snape stood in the doorway, holding a glass of red liquid. With obvious discomfort he walked towards me, and handed me the glass. "It's not human," he told me as I took a sniff. "It's-"
"Pig," I cut him off. He eyed me oddly. "That's all I got the last time I was here. I recognize the smell." Quickly I emptied the glass. I felt much of physical pain leave me; however, no amount of blood could heal my conscience.
"You tried to stop me from killing Hermione," I said as if I had just learned this for the first time. "And you tried to stop her from killing others." He nodded. "I wish I had listened."
To my surprise, Snape shook his head vigorously. "My attempts were useless. Vampires retain their mortal soul, but they are- infected, with a powerful, almost uncontrollable need to hunt and kill. That is why their memories are lost; most vampires would kill themselves if they hunted with their morals intact."
"How did you get your memory?"
"I never lost it," he explained, looking at his hands while he spoke. "My mother was killed by a vampire during her pregnancy. I was born prematurely, but stronger than any mortal child. I age like mortals, and retain my wizarding powers. However, I feel the need to kill as strongly as you do." Snape looked up at me. "Killing is in your nature."
"It still doesn't make up for anything," I replied bitterly, squeezing the glass in my hand. "I killed so many people. I- I can't describe how horrible I am."
"You cannot judge yourself on a human level," Snape told me. "Humans- at least, not most- do not feel an urge to kill. Vampires do. We are entirely different creatures and therefore cannot base our misdeeds on human standards."
"There must be something I can do," I murmured.
"You can help others." I looked up at the older vampire, surprised. "Your strength and abilities are great. You can put them to use. The vampire population has nearly doubled since you killed the First. Your powers are needed."
A wry thought entered my mind. "The only time you're civil to me is after I've killed hundreds of people," I remarked.
Snape snorted. "I have not missed the irony, Potter," he said in a tone I was much more familiar with. He held out his hand, which I placed the glass in. The vampire stood to leave, just as a thought crossed my mind.
"Snape," I began, not bothering with titles. He turned to me. "Do you think you could help me with something. There's- there's someone I want to talk to."
* * *
Around eight o'clock, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," I called, not moving from the bed. Ron entered the room, looking at me with loathing.
"Ron," I said, sitting up straighter. "You- you look older." He was taller than I remembered, and leaner.
"You don't," he replied sharply. I suddenly realized something; I had stopped growing the day I died. I was going to be fifteen forever. I'd never grow older.
"Ron," I began, not knowing exactly what to say, "I want to talk to you."
"So talk," my old friend answered, sitting down in a chair across from the bed. His expression couldn't be read.
"I just wanted to tell that I'm sorry. I know that sounds weak," I added quickly when he narrowed his eyes at me, "but I'm sorry."
"How can you even say that!" he shouted at me. "You drove Hermione insane and you killed her. You killed my baby sister! You killed Draco- I'm not too upset about that, but still! Then you get all your vamp friends and kill half the students here! And you think you can just say you're sorry and it'll be all better?"
"No, I don't," I shot back, starting to feel defensive. "You don't understand. That wasn't me-"
"Yes it was! We've studied vampires in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Vampires lose their memories, not their souls. Just because you knew the people you killed doesn't mean you're excused for everything you've done." Ron stood up. "I will never forgive you, Harry. Never." He slammed the door as he left the room.
* * *
I didn't sleep that night. My mind was too busy, brimming with people and places. So much had happened in my life, and I felt like I missed it, in a way.
It was as if there were two Harrys; the Boy Who Lived, and the Boy Who Died. The Boy Who Died was noble and true. He faced down Voldemort, and killed a basilisk, and saved the wizarding world. The Boy Who Died joined Voldemort, killed innocent wizard students, and massacred the very people he saved.
Every inch of me was filled with guilt, but not over the people I killed. No, this guilt came from another source.
I felt guilty over the fact I DIDN'T feel guilt over the innocent deaths.
Vampires are hunters; they feel an urge to hunt and kill. So I was simply doing what I was meant to do, correct? Hunt and kill? Like Snape said, vampires can't be judged on a human level. So am I evil, then? No; I was doing what felt natural.
It sounds like a load of shit, but to the confused mind, it all makes sense.
So now what happens? I go back to La Infierno and kill? No. While I didn't feel guilt over the past, I knew killing with my conscience intact wouldn't work.
Now it was time to put my abilities, and my need to kill to use.
* * *
Snape started training me, honing my powers. He told me he'd never met such a young, powerful vampire. It only took a few days for me to master it.
He'd also gotten me off human blood. At first not drinking human blood nearly crippled me, but I became used to it. Still, I had to be separated from the students, out of fear I might attack them.
Ron still wouldn't talk to me.
News came from the vampire world: Draco had healed, almost completely. However, Hermione was the Fourth. She apparently refused to give up the throne, in case I returned. I wanted to go see her, to tell her I was alive and I still loved her, but Snape refused to let me leave the castle.
After three weeks of training, I was allowed to leave Hogwarts, and go with Snape and several other wizards from the Ministry of Magic on a vampire hunt. Our first stop was Diagon Alley.
* * *
The sky was just beginning to darken when we set out upon the district. I was paired up with another wizard named Iris Atkins, to hunt down the vampires.
"Is that one?" she asked me, not looking up from her newspaper. The two of us sat at a café, watching the people pass by. She nodded towards a pallid, black-haired female. I glanced over at the girl, but I sensed no vampiric aura.
"No," I murmured, sipping the flask of pig blood I kept in my cloak. While I still received the same energy and power from animal blood, human blood was just much fresher and tastier.
I felt a tingle on the back of my neck. I turned around and saw a blonde man head down an alley with a petite brunette. The male was definitely a vampire.
"Over there," I said to Iris. She nodded, dropping a few Sickles on the table. The two of us headed into the alley.
The vampire had already pierced her neck with his fangs, and had started feeding. "*Expelliarmus*!" cried out Iris, and the vampire was thrown back from the female into the wall. He looked up at us with surprise; it was Draco.
"Stay with her, Potter," Iris ordered. Draco disappeared, and Iris Apparated after him.
I knelt beside the girl. Draco hadn't taken enough blood to kill her, but she was losing it quickly. Her eyes darted frantically around the alley, and her breathing was shallow. She laid her panicked eyes on me.
"It's OK," I told her softly, grabbing her hand. "Don't worry. We'll get someone to heal you." From my pocket I pulled a handkerchief and put it to her neck, to stop the blood loss. I felt the warm blood trickle out of her, through the handkerchief, onto my hands. I hadn't had human blood for weeks.
Her eyes were closing. The girl was as good as dead. My fangs pushed through my gums. No, I told myself. I can't. I can't!
Suddenly I lost control. I bent down beside the girl and drank from her. She cried out, but it was barely a whisper in my ears. The blood was warm and I drank freely.
"Harry!" I pulled away quickly. Standing beside me was Snape. His expression hurt me; he wasn't angry, just- disappointed. He knelt down and checked the female's throat. "She's dead."
"I'm sorry," I said quickly, wiping the blood from my mouth. "I'm sorry-"
"Leave, Harry," Snape said softly.
"What?"
"If the other wizards see what you've done, they'll kill you. Get out of here, and don't come back."
I was surprised. "Where should I go?"
"Anywhere that's not here." I heard footsteps pound on the cobblestones behind me. "Go, Harry."
I nodded and disappeared. There was only one place I could go.
* * *
I appeared near the bookcase in the library. Draco was there, in an old-fashioned wheelchair, drinking a glass of blood. Ginny was on the sofa, napping as the fire roared in the hearth.
Draco looked up at the sudden sound of footsteps and gaped at me. "Harry," he whispered, pushing the wheels of his chair as far back as they would go. "But-"
"Yeah, my memory's back," I cut him off, walking through the library towards the master bedroom. I slammed the doors open.
Hermione was in the wardrobe, slipping to a silk nightgown. She turned around quickly. My Girl's eyes lit up. "Oh, Harry," she sighed, running towards me. "My Prince's back." She pressed her lips to mine, and I wondered how I even thought of leaving her.
"Don't worry, Princess," I told her quietly, stroking her back. "I'm back, and I'm not leaving ever again."