Okay, here's the prequel to "I'm Not Gay!" It is not necessary to have read that. This is not finished! I've ground to a halt! You want to know how bad? This was supposed to be out Feb. 17, and it's March 23! I'm sorry!
Harry stormed into the Great Hall and up to Albus Dumbledore, his black robes billowing behind him. Professor McGonagall Looked at him in surprise, and Harry vaguely realized that he must be resembling Severus Snape a great deal right about now. He really had spent too much time with him over the past two years, being trained to survive Voldemort. But it had helped them to get along. Yes, not if you locked them into a room together they would both come out alive and unharmed. Well, if you took away their wands. And spelled them so they couldn't touch each other. And only left them in there for thirty seconds. And... well, at any rate, they got along better now. "Albus, what exactly did that announcement mean, 'Attendance is required,' and why, exactly, would we need costumes? We have never worn costumes on Hallowe'en before." Albus had given him permission to call him by his first name, and most of the rest of the teachers had followed his example, during 5th year, after he had gotten away from Voldie and the Death Munchers yet again. Thank Merlin that problem had been taken care of—for a little while, at least—over the summer. He had gone to the Quidditch World Cup—apparently Voldie liked to try things during sports, especially Quidditch, there was that Snitch enchanted to be a Portkey, and the rogue Bludger that simply could NOT be stopped, and finally Harry had gotten exasperated with everybody's attempts and blew the damned thing up—and had bought a program, and wouldn't you know, the cursed thing was a Portkey. He had really started to hate the damn things now. But Portkeys were one of the things Snape had trained him with, and he was able to take control of it and moved his location slightly. He had his wand out, and as quickly as he appeared—he had also practiced landing standing up, with both Floo and Portkey—and tried to explode "Lord Flight-of-Death" (Voldemort) with the same spell he had used on the Bludger, with a little twist to ensure that his spirit—he refused to call it a soul—could never be resurrected or reborn. But, he was unable to tell if it had actually struck Voldie, as he had been temporarily blinded, and Voldemort had an uncanny ability to escape death.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled; with amusement, and perhaps a tiny bit of—malice?—it seemed, though you couldn't always tell with him. He took his time about answering, with Harry growing more and more impatient, but seconds before he finally exploded in Dumbledore's face, the answer came. "Well, I found out how Muggles celebrate All Hallow's Eve, and found it fascinating! I thought that we could all have a Masquerade Ball instead of the usual Hallowe'en Feast, and everyone is to attend to improve their spirits." Through this sentence, Harry had been growing more and more appalled. He hated being in large crowds, ever since the World Cup! He was just about to beg Dumbledore for permission to not be there, when he heard Dumbledore utter one more sentence. Astonishingly, a smile spread across his face. Well, maybe it was more of a smirk. Dumbledore had said: "And of course, the teachers will all attend in costume as well!"
Harry turned and smirked at Snape, on who's face a look of horror was quickly beginning to dawn. He hated making a fool of himself! "Well, looks like I won't be the only one who will be dressed like a fool against their will," Harry said to Snape, and stalked back out of the Great Hall.
***
That night, Harry stalked back into the Great Hall, and sat down at the Gryffindor table, scowling. Every movement of his body screamed, 'I don't want to be here!' and the rest of the Gryffindors, despite their reputation for bravery, avoided him. A few minutes later, Hermione and Ron came in and sat down by Harry.
"Do you know what the deal was with telling us that we don't need costumes? We've never worn them before. And why do we have to be here?" Ron asked him, oblivious to the glare Harry shot him. Normally, Harry wouldn't do that, but he really didn't want to be there. Suddenly, he sighed, and his body uncoiled slightly. He had just noticed Severus Snape stalk to the teacher's table, and the way he was sitting reminded Harry rather uncomfortably of himself.
"Dumbledore will tell everyone. See, he's getting up now." Sure enough, Dumbledore had stood up, and rapped his spoon gently on his goblet to get everyone's attention.
"Now, I know that several of you were wondering about the costumes, and why your presence was required. Well, I recently discovered how Muggles celebrate the holiday, and thought that it would be fun if we dressed up too! After the feast, there will be a Masquerade Ball. I will supply the costumes. And, once you are in costume, you will not be able to tell anyone your name or House. This will help get rid of House prejudice. Everyone was asked to be here because I thought it would lift spirits. The costumes will remain in place until midnight, if you are a 3rd to 7th year, and to 10.00 if you are a 1st or 2nd year. If whatever your costume portrays holds specific powers, you may gain those powers, if you have strong enough control over your own, and if they are not completely incompatible with you. Now, I hope you have fun!" And Dumbledore sits down. There is absolute quiet for a moment, while Harry (and Severus, unbeknownst to him) winced. It was worse than he expected. Then, the Hall erupted with noise, people exclaiming (in horror, some of them) about the spell. As the last of the food disappears from the tables, the air shimmers, and everyone is clad in their costumes and transported to some other location in the room. The four long tables disappeared from the middle of the room, and several round tables for 8 or 10 people appeared around the edges. The lights dimmed, and music started playing.
"Well, might as well see how bad it is," Harry muttered to himself, slightly surprised at the deepness and smoothness of his voice. "Speculum!" He gapes at the reflection in the mirror. He is tall, about six feet, with long, slightly curly jet-black hair, sapphire-blue eyes, and extremely pale, almost white skin. He was wearing a conservative business cut with fastened cuffs and a simple collar. It was red with the collar and cuffs a solid, almost satiny scarlet. The rest of the shirt was some sheer fabric so that his arms, chest, and waist were bare behind a sheen of red cloth. It made the cross-shaped scar on his chest appear bloody. There was a red cord threaded through the belt-loops on his black jeans, and the cord fell in knots down one side of his hip. His black leather boots came almost to the top of his legs, encasing his long legs in leather from toe to nearly groin. Oh, and one more thing, he noted as he gaped at his reflection. A pair of fangs. He snarled as he realized who he was, and turned to the rest of the Hall, searching for Albus. He started swearing rather inventively when he realized that everyone was in costume, but then his eyes alit on a giant, white bumblebee. That had to be Albus. He stormed over to it, noting as he walked that he was almost gliding. Of course, he would be. He also noticed Gilderoy Lockheart stalking toward Albus. I pity the poor guy, whoever he is. Harry thought. He arrived seconds before "Lockheart". "Albus Dumbledore. Did you know who would receive this costume?" he asked, using his eyes to ensnare the man. Albus shook his head no, eyes slightly glazed. "Did you know that someone would receive this as a costume?" Again, Albus shakes his head. Harry releases him, and sighs. "You are not often a fool, Albus, but you have been one now." Harry glanced at "Lockheart". "Do you want to know if you were given that costume on purpose?" "Lockheart" nodded, looking slightly befuddled. It wasn't often that someone was able to get a straight answer out of the man. "Albus. Did you send the Gilderoy costume to someone in particular?" Ah, a bit of a fight on this one. He didn't want to answer, but finally nodded.
"Damn you Albus!" "Lockheart" snarled. Harry was slightly startled, then light dawned. No one held such disgust for Lockheart... no one except Severus Snape. But he kept his mouth shut, released Albus, and dragged Snape to the darkest corner of the room, and sat down.
"Sit down, I'm not going to... eat you," Harry said wearily. "I have just as many complaints for Albus as you do, and I dare say that mine have a legitimate base." "Lockheart" scowled at him. It was eerily discomforting to see on the normally overly smiling face.
"And what would those be?" It was even odder to hear that tone. Harry hadn't known that Lockheart's body could produce it. It was mildly humourous to picture Snape-as-Lockheart teaching them potions, glaring at them and snarling at them, taking off points. He couldn't refrain himself from a chuckle, and forgetting about the powers this form had, the laugh... affected them. "What the hell was that?"
Harry sighed. "That was one of the reasons I have to complain about this damned costume. I am a vampyre." He added hastily, when Lock—Snape stiffened and started to back away—"Not the kind of vampyre that you know. I can control my bloodlust. I am a fictional character—I think. I might be a real person, and I just don't know about it. That made a whole lot of sense," Harry said, disgusted, and continued. "I have powers beyond your knowledge. I can control someone with my eyes, cause them to feel joy, pain, hunger, love, lust," as he said each of the words, Snape felt the emotions rush through him. "merely with my voice. I can bind a human to me, I control werewolves, cause them to change, keep them from changing. I am Master of the City of St. Louis, I am descended from Bella Morte, the most beautiful of the Vampyre Council. I am more powerful than any in this room, because I am not just wizard and not just vampyre. I am practically immortal, I do not burn in sunlight like all other vampyres, I do not cringe from holy symbols and do not burn when touched by them. I am power!" With every word, his voice had been growing in power and intensity, until with the last sentence it burst out over the Hall, causing everyone to stop and look over at him. He sighed and said, "Nothing is happening over here. You have no reason to look over here. We aren't the ones you're looking for." With that, everyone went back to what they were doing, slightly dazed. Harry sighed again and muttered, "Need to control it..." while Snape looked at him in disbelief.
"I repeat myself. What the hell was that?" Snape asked hostilely.
Harry laughed. "I just told you. I am most probably, when I wear this body—because Albus didn't just put a glamour on us, no, he halfway transformed us into these costumes, so that we are, in essence, these costumes—more powerful than anyone in this room. Perhaps more powerful than Merlin himself. I can't say as I never met the guy, and neither did Jean-Claude. The person who I am," Harry added, anticipating Snape's next question.
"What, exactly, are you? I don't believe that I've heard of vampyres such as you." Snape asked curiously.