Disclaimer: Inspired by multitudes of Vampire fiction and games, but without a direct cross-over to any of them. The planned sequels are not cross-overs to any particular TV show or game, but I won't completely rule them out for the far future.
Summary: An unexpected Weasley shows up in Harry's neighborhood, needing help. Can the arrival of the undead, destruction of his flat, and an Auror investigation kick Harry back into action? Or will he succomb to the evil crossover or the Monty Python references first? Ships: HP/HG
Chapter One - A Weasley Found
When Harry Potter was still in Hogwarts, he didn't seek out danger. He would have been perfectly willing to have let it pass him by, to have what passed for a Normal childhood among Magicals. He didn't ask to have his teachers try to kill him. He would have gladly avoided dueling Dark Wizards in graveyards. Whenever he had a choice, he avoided danger and excitement, unless there was no other choice. Unless he was the only one that could do something.
Harry reflected on this, as he rushed into the darkened alley in Muggle London. He wouldn't normally have run into this type of situation. The Muggles that he had seen walk down the alley were wearing leather and silver, sporting nose studs, multiple earrings, and lip piercings, and Merlin knew what else. Harry hadn't doubted that they were up to no good, but it wasn't his problem.
Until he had heard the scream. It was high-pitched and piercing. Harry hadn't heard a scream so shrill since the time before the death of Voldemort, when he witnessed more than one Cruciation. It was not the type of scream that he could ignore.
Running into the darkness, Harry winced at a memory, of him entering a darkened graveyard with someone who could have been a friend, had he not died soon after. "Wands out, you reckon?" he whispered to himself, as he pulled his wand out of his sleeve.
Harry must have struck an interesting figure. He was athletic, the result of years both during and after Hogwarts under Oliver Wood's slightly demented leadership. While Quidditch wasn't the most athletic of sports, Oliver insisted on his team keeping in great shape, in addition to using push-ups and lap running as a punishment for slacking off.
Harry's black-rimmed glasses had been replaced by wire rims, at the insistence of the Cannon's press agent, who felt that the team's star player deserved to look like he could afford more than the cast-offs of Muggles. Harry had worn the old rims for so long that he could scarcely recognize himself in the mirror, but the reactions of his friends had proven that it wasn't a bad thing.
His clothes were a change from Hogwarts as well. Harry spent most of his spare time in Muggle cities, avoiding the press of Magicals who were after the Boy Who Lived. He wore robes when he was home, but had exchanged them for Muggle clothing, jeans and a black button-down shirt.
The athletic figure, well dressed, would not have looked out of place in any Muggle city, if it weren't for two things; he was running towards trouble, and he had a wand in his hand.
In the dim light of the alley, Harry could barely make out the figures. There were two on the ground, but three standing over them. This was scarcely a fair fight. Harry grinned, the feeling that he could make a difference suffusing him with satisfaction. He pointed the wand carefully at the middle one, and whispered, hoping that a little power would be enough. "Stupefy."
A beam of light shot from his wand, hitting the middle attacker. At first, Harry wondered if it had even noticed. Then he realized that it had. It turned to look at him, and Harry stared at Death, if only figuratively.
He wasn't sure what about the figure he found frightening, but the pointy teeth poking out from beneath puckered lips were probably up there on the list. So was the black lipstick. He couldn't tell if the attacker was male or female, but it was clear that it wasn't human. It had no figure to speak of, but neither did its two friends. Its hair was died white-blonde, and cropped so close to the skull that it might as well not have been there. Harry wasn't sure why he was noticing these features, since they were much less important than the teeth.
The three were smiling at him. He supposed that with teeth like that, they probably couldn't frown much, since they'd cut themselves to ribbons. The middle one spoke. "Another who thinks he can play with magic. His lordship will be pleased." They advanced on him.
To heck with subtlety. He pointed his wand at the middle one again. "Incendio!" His voice was more forceful, and there was more magic behind it. Flames reached from his wand to the creature. It growled at him and jumped, but Harry wasn't there.
Reflexes honed from years of avoiding Bludgers might not have made Harry an expert in unarmed combat, but he was pretty good at avoiding large incoming objects. He rolled out of the way, keeping the wand pointed at the creatures. He noticed that one of them held a shotgun, and figured that was important to deal with. "Expelliarmus!" The shotgun was out of the attacker's hands.
Then he was back to using Incendio.
One wizard versus three of these creatures didn't appear to be very fair odds. Three of these Vampires, he admitted to himself, finally considering the word. They had reviewed those dark creatures back at Hogwarts, but he had never seen one. At the time, he had wondered if perhaps they were given a bad name, if they might be like Werewolves, just people who were under a nasty curse, but were otherwise just as good or evil as anyone else. He might have to revise that thinking.
Claws raked at his left arm, and Harry laughed. "Be careful! You're about to get on Oliver Wood's bad side. He doesn't like people messing with his Seeker."
Harry saw one of the two victims stand up at the end of the alley, and go for the shotgun. Harry wasn't too familiar with Muggle firearms, but he knew enough to know that he didn't want to be anywhere near it. Harry pointed his wand up towards the roof of a nearby building, and a rope shot out of it. He'd practiced this for the World Cup against America's Quidditch team, who had a reputation for knocking the Seekers off their brooms.
As the shotgun came up, Harry concentrated, and the rope tightened, pulling him off the ground. BLAM...BLAM...BLAM, three shots rang out in quick succession. Harry was gratified to see that each of the three Vampires had fallen, and he landed back on the ground.
They were already starting to move again.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" The man with the shotgun snapped. He looked nervous, rather than angry. "Finish them off, quick." Harry thought he looked familiar.
Harry pointed the wand at each one in turn, putting what was left of his energy into each. "INCENDIO!" Where his earlier spells had been only marginally effective, he seemed to be having rather more effect now - if you could call burning them down to ash more effective. He had to keep repeating to himself that they were already dead to silence the voice inside that was screaming for sanity.
When the last one was done, he looked up. The woman who had collapsed at the end of the alley was now standing by the side of the man, one arm around his waist, the other hand playing with his long red hair. She seemed to be whispering something to him. She was shorter than he, just barely over five feet tall, with cascading blonde hair. Both of them were wearing mostly black, although in a much more tasteful way than their three now-ash assailants had. The man wore black jeans, and a black button down shirt with a collar. The woman wore a black skirt, a pair of black leather boots, a black leather jacket, and a white blouse, which was mostly covered with blood.
The man shook his head, and Harry suddenly realized who he looked like. It had been years since he'd seen him. "Charlie?" Harry asked.
"You've grown. Good thing you mentioned Oliver, Harry, or I'd never have recognized you. You don't have to worry, Tracy, he won't give us away. He's an old friend of the family."
"Good God, Charlie, we all thought you were dead."
"Well, Harry, there's no easy way to say this." Charlie's grin showed rather more tooth than necessary. "You were right."
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Harry wasn't sure why he let Charlie and Tracy follow him back to his flat. The stock of the shotgun had been treated to another "INCENDIO" to remove any traces of fingerprints, and with the three Vampires down, there wasn't any immediate danger that he could see. His rescuees still looked frightened, though, and Harry felt some sense of responsibility.
He hoped that was all it was. Harry had heard legends that Vampires could affect the mind of the weak. He'd been concentrating on his Occulomancy the whole way back to the flat, but he hadn't found any sign of influence. He settled for believing that he was just helping because he was Harry Potter, and he couldn't leave a Weasley out in the cold.
They didn't speak during the walk. Charlie had advised him to pretend that they weren't there, in case they were being watched. He said didn't want Harry caught up in his business. It was probably too late for that, Harry thought, grimly.
When they were all snug in the flat, Harry turned to them. "All right, I'd say to make yourselves at home, but I'm fresh out of type O. What's going on?"
He didn't like the way that Tracy was looking at him, like he was something to be gobbled up. It was a little like the way some of his fans looked, especially the female ones, after a particularly good save, but it had unpleasant connotations in her case.
She looked up at Charlie. "I'm not going to be the one that breaks the Seal."
Charlie inhaled. "There's not a lot I can tell you, Harry."
"How about you start with -- where have you been? You know that's where your Mother will start."
Charlie winced. "Let's leave her out of this for now."
Tracy snickered. "Don't tell me the great Charles Weasley, creature of the night, is still afraid of Mommy?"
Harry and Charlie both looked at her, but Harry spoke first. "You've obviously never met Molly Weasley."
Charles laughed in agreement. "I'd almost forgotten how good she was at writing a Howler. Anyway, Harry, do you mind if we stay here tonight?"
Harry shrugged. "It's fine with me. There's an extra bedroom on the inside, if you can call it that. No windows, no skylight, so you're fine there. I'm not providing refreshments, though. And you still have to answer my questions."
Charlie nodded. "That's alright. We've both eaten already tonight." He didn't seem to be eager to volunteer information, though.
Tracy spoke up. "I know I said we shouldn't tell him anything, but is it fair to involve him this way?"
"What do you mean," Harry asked. "Involve me in what? I'm not offering to be your landlord forever, just giving you a place to shack up for the night. Or the day, in this case."
Tracy stared at him. "I should warn you. You're in grave danger."
Harry looked back. "Me? I'm in grave danger?"
Charlie nodded solemnly. "That's right. If word gets back to the people behind the attack tonight, they might end up sending more people after you. Especially if they think you know anything."
Harry started laughing.
Tracy stood, her hands on her hips. "This is no laughing matter."
Harry looked at her, then back at Charlie. "She doesn't know much about me, does she?"
Charlie shook his head. "She's from Canada. She didn't even know she had any Magical powers until after she was turned, although she tried enough. There aren't many of us across the pond, although I'm not sure why."
A loud shrieking, something that Harry thought sounded like the wail of an undead spirit, cut into their discussion. Tracy and Charlie looked at each other with alarm, but Harry waited patiently. It sounded for almost ten minutes, during which they couldn't talk at all, but they took their cue from Harry, and just stood, waiting.
"It's just my neighbor's Volkswagen," Harry said. "It does that sometimes. Probably why I can afford my rent." Harry looked back at Tracy, and continued where they had left off. "It's been a while since anyone's tried to kill me, and I don't really miss it, but I owe enough to the Weasley's that I'd never turn one of them out, even if he is dead, just because there's someone who might try to kill me. The only way I'll turn him out is if I don't get some answers."
Tracy sat back down. "Well, there's a lot that we can't tell you. As to where he's been..."
Charlie continued for her. "I've been in Canada. It's a great place to be a creature of the night. With all the Goths and Vampire wanna-bes, no one ever thinks what someone who dresses normally might be, even if he doesn't come out during the day."
Harry let him continue. "I was turned about three years ago. There was a Vampire who was fascinated with magic. She'd never really interacted with the Ministry, didn't realize that there were so many of us, and when she saw me cast a spell, she figured I was something special." Charlie smiled, self-deprecatingly. Harry saw Tracy rolling her eyes.
Charlie was still talking, though. "I can't say why I followed her back to her place, but she ended up turning me. She expected me to teach her magic once I was one of her kind. She didn't realize that you can't just teach it to someone without the ability, and she got pretty mad at me for not being able to do anything about it. Anyway, I managed to get away from her, and that's when I wound up in Canada."
Harry nodded. "Fair enough. But why are there Vampires out to kill you? Did you forget to pay your dues or something?"
Charlie nodded. "Something like that. I can't say much... it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that the few people who are on my side would feel they had to kill me if I said anything."
"I guess I can't argue with that."
Tracy looked up, suddenly, as if she'd heard something. "It's almost time."
Charlie nodded. "Thanks for letting us stay in your place, Harry. We'll see you after dark."
Harry nodded back, and walked them to the bedroom. It was a glorified closet, but they seemed fine with it. He closed the door after them, and heard them lock it. He decided that they probably had the right idea, and went back to his room, locking and warding the door before trying to get some sleep.