I do not own Harry Potter or his world, JK Rowling has that honor. I own all that you do not know. I also do not own any songs that are printed at the beginning of each chapter, they belonged to their respective artists.

Unholy Purity

Part One: Demon Blood

Chapter Four: The Price for Power

Invasion from Within
Singer
Tsunami Bomb

Enemy inside of me

I'm caught

I cannot kick them out
Their claws are wrapped around my throat

And they are squeezing tighter
Insanity is coming over me
Their every wish is my command
No way out

I feed them, you will too
They're gonna take control of you
You'll know when they have got you trapped
Everything looks cloudy

And you feel like you're on fire
Inhabited, I wish that I were dead
My blood has turned from red to black
No way out

When they come for you,
They see right through your flesh and bones

For soon you'll be their home
They know you deep inside,

The things you can't try to hide
No hope after the first bite

Look out 'cause they are onto you
They'll cut you open,

Crawl inside

And you'll be lost forever
Don't try to run 'cause you're the chosen one
Your world is gone, no turning back
No way out

4 Privet Drive

It had taken a long time for the muggles to leave the scene of the crime, which was long after the firemen and police squad come. Petunia Dursley had been taken to the corner office and Nymphadora Tonks, posing as a family friend who had just come by, was told that her husband and son had been found dead as well. Vernon Dursley had been killed in a car accident and Dudley Dursley had committed suicide after an overdose of both alcohol and ecstasy. All of Harry Potter's relatives were dead.

Remus Lupin looked at the burnt rubble that had once been Harry Potter's shelter. There was still smoke curling into the blue summer sky and a heavy feel of horror still lingering around the debris. Tonks and Kinglsey had been interviewing every member of the Surrey suburb, asking (begging and pleading were better words for their actions) for knowledge of the boy's whereabouts. He was not at the ruined home of his immediate family, nor was he anywhere near Privet Drive or Magnolia Crescent.

Levitating aside the ruined wood and furniture, a very familiar shape appeared. It was Harry's trunk, the leather binding scratched and scared, but in one shape. He wasn't surprised, magical trunks were impervious to most damages, fire included. Tapping his wand on the top, he spoke a shrinking charm and slipped the now small object in the inside pocket of his robes.

With a crack, Tonks had apperated behind him, looking pained. Her navy hair was in tight ringlets today, her bottle green eyes wide and scared. "Remus, I just got back from Arabella's house. She says she saw a boy in red run from the house. She only caught a glimpse of the face, but she thinks it may have been Harry."

A rush of warm relief swept through him, making him slightly dizzy. At least Harry was alive and out of Voldemort's clutches. Tonks ran a hand through her curly hair. "I don't get it, he was suppose to be protected by that ward, you know?" she said, tripping over the charred remains of the kitchen table.

"Yes, that's what I thought. Did Mrs. Figg see where Harry was going?"

Tonks's brow furrowed and she ran her hands through her hair with a sigh. "Here's where it gets VERY strange. Arabella says she saw him at the corner of her street, then a woman grabbed him and they just seemed to disappear into thin air! She didn't catch a good glimpse of the woman, but she said she had dark hair and a gothic appearance."

Remus's fear returned in instants, constricting his breathing for a moment as he heard her words. "Probably a Death Eater. We've got to talk to Dumbledore, fast. This investigation's getting no where quickly."

Tonks bounced on the balls of her feet. "Do ya think he's in you-know-where? Or Hogwarts?" Remus shrugged. "Number 12, probably."

With a crack, both the witch and wizard vanished, only to reappear seconds later in Grimmauld Place. It had taken on an almost livable condition since last Christmas; Mrs. Weasley was to thank for it all. Poor Molly was running around like a headless chicken, fretting about every little detail. It had taken both a lot of convincing and a Sleeping Potion to get the woman to relax.

Dumbledore was in the basement kitchen, talking very quickly to a nervous looking Minerva McGonagall and an agitated Severus Snape. Both professors turned to the new arrivals. Dumbledore folded the letter in his aged hands and looked at the werewolf so calmly it was both aggravating and scary.

"Did you find anything?"

"His school trunk and wand," said Remus, placing both objects on the kitchen table, "And some information."

McGonagall raised a dark eyebrow. "Well, what information?"

"Arabella said she saw Harry and a dark-haired woman near her house before they vanished into thin air," said Tonks quickly, not wanting to spite the strict woman into anger.

'That was the last thing anyone wanted, thought Remus with a mental smile, remembering an interesting scene from his sixth year involving an angry McGonagall, a cat and Sirius . . .

"What did the woman look like?" asked McGonagall quickly. Tonks raised a blue eyebrow. "She didn't get a good glimpse."

"I have rather troubling news from both Harry and Miss. Weasley," said Dumbledore, handing the folded parchment to Remus. It was a letter, written in Harry's hand, but sentences jumped out at him.

( . . . Had a dream with my parents and Sirius and a woman . . . Woke up some sort of half-dog . . . Got a tail and fangs . . . Hermione says transfiguration spell . . .)

"What on Earth does this mean?" asked Remus, trying and failing to keep a calm note in his voice.

"It means Potter's gotten in over his head again," snapped Snape, "I am, however, more concerned as to why I wasn't informed of this attack. If the Dark Lord has found a way by Potter's shields, then he would have gloated about it to many of his Death Eaters."

"Not necessarily," said Dumbledore. A vein twitched in Snape's temple for a moment, though his voice was as cold as his norm, "He was ecstatic about his meeting with Aiden Shamshair, he would certainly have made it known if he could kill Potter."

"Who's Aiden Shamshair?" asked Tonks innocently and quietly, trying not to incite the Slytherine's famed temper. Snape's black eyes turned to the auror and seemed to pierce through her soul.

"You are not at liberty to know such information," he said quickly, his eyes narrowing. Tonks muttered under her breath, mentioning the words 'arrogant git.' Remus barely stopped a smile from flickering across his face.

"I've sent Fawkes to look for Harry. It shouldn't be too long before he finds the boy." As if on cue, there was a flash of brandy and golden flames above the kitchen table and a note fluttered down. At a glance, he couldn't recognize the handwriting, but there was something strange about it. Snape caught it in midair and read it quickly.

"It's from a Kairai Okami," he said coolly, "And it's a . . . poem."

Dumbledore took the parchment and read it quickly. "Interesting, yet . . . Remus, you might want to read this."

The werewolf took the writing and his eyes immediately went to the end of the scripture. It was signed with Japanese kanji, but below that was English. The silver-blue ink shone painful against the white of the parchment. Kairai Okami signed her name large and curly, the ink that composed her signature was dark violet unlike the other silver-blue, and below that was the words 'Madame of the Marionettes.' Feeling disturbed, he read the poem.

(When the darkness falls

And the orb of Tsaki-Yami rises

The Dark Empress's human puppets

Will wither and turn to their primitive ways

Women wail as their husbands kill

And when the Sun Queen's eye opens

The men will see their sins

'Tis a sad fate to be met by any

Yet the cure for the Moonchildren is not

As demons bring forth the sanctuary

Red with black, merged with the bane of the wolf

This will end Selene's line of children on Earth

Bringing forth Athar's children from the beast

Sleep ends all, death awakens all to truth

When the black of the star is gone from this world

The hero of the secrets will sob and cry

Waiting for the Immortal Death to heal his wounded soul

Then, then the pure Moon-son will emerge

And help the Wolf Demon,

Kin of the Hunted Hunter and Flower Girl

Oh, how has the light has crumbled?)

Remus's blood went cold as he re-read the poem several times. He knew enough about literary devises from his mother's book of poetry to understand the meaning behind the cruel wording. As he stared at the words, he recognized the so-called 'silver ink.'

"It's written in liquid Wolfsbane."

"Glad you noticed Lupin," said Snape sourly and Remus narrowed his own pale eyes towards the black-clad man.

"Severus, is there a Death Eater who goes by the name of Kairai Okami?" asked Dumbledore.

Snape shook his head quickly and his voice held a slight sense of uncertainty. "There are no Asian Death Eaters, headmaster, China and Japan are busy with a dark sorceress of their own to intervene with the Dark Lord."

"Well," said McGonagall, "We're going to have to track down this poet. She certainly knows where Harry is, and I am curious to what she means about these Moonchildren."

'A little too well,' thought Remus, 'The wolf-demon, kin to James and Lily. God help him . . .'

Letum Castle, Transylvania, Romania

Peter Pettigrew was pleased to note that he was not the only one who did not enjoy the Dark Lord's new headquarters. The cathedral-like castle was horrible, as were its occupants, realized Wormtail with a squirm of discomfort. He was waiting in the castle's largest dungeon, where one Aiden Shamshair had requested to come. Lord Voldemort was in a rare moment of malicious happiness; his lipless mouth curled into a snarl of a smile, revealing his white teeth that had been filed to dagger tips.

Shamshair had stayed the majority of the day, vanishing only once and returning shortly afterwards. He had brought a guest back, a pretty woman with perfectly straight raven hair and cold eyes of an unusual lavender color. He had dubbed the woman Dagian Faren, his wife of a hundred years. It was very disturbing, considering neither looked a day over thirty. She was a vindictive woman, quite the temptress and easily wooing half the male Death Eaters in seconds. It was she who had brought them and given them this castle, which had once been the home of a very influential vampire named Lucifer Letum. Fitting owner for such a place.

The décor of the castle was all emerald green and black, any metal work done in silver of platinum. It was as Slytherin as Salazar's heir, the tapestries and magical portraits depicting gruesome battles and deaths. There was an icy silence to the air, one with an aura of magic that could have rivaled Durmstrang and Beauxbaton. Dust littered every article of furniture in the building, cobwebs and the like hanging from the wooden rafters and glass chandeliers. Amongst the halls where one would see armor were marble sculptures, all of a woman who, as they were told, was the bride of Letum, Lurlina. She was stunning, or at least the sculpture depicted her so. The dungeons were as warm and welcoming as a cell in Azkaban, guarded by a dozen dementors. It was within these dungeons that many a Death Eater stood around their lord, waiting for the arrival of the demon king.

He had left earlier along with his wife, promising to return with a precious gift. If Voldemort assembled in the dungeons with his inner circle, he would return shortly. True to the demon's word, Shamshair materialized from the shadows. Instead of his usual grab from the 1700's, he wore red armor, edged with designs depicting emerald and cerulean flames. It was an odd design, just as odd as the large and flat wooden box in his arms. There was an odd smile on his face, his trademark top hat still in place. He inclined his head in the smallest of bows.

"I bring you a treat, Lord Voldemort," said Shamshair quietly, "A very, very rare treat, just like I promised."

His red eyes hungered for the power. Bellatrix's dark gray eyes were equally driven by that mad power. Her defeat by Harry Potter had been a horrid loss; she had been punished disgusted for it. Her face was still disfigured by long claw marks, looking as though her attack had been by a large wolf rather then a sixteen year old boy. Shamshair opened his box, revealing seven crystal vials. Each was filled to the brim with a black liquid; each topped with a jewel of different colors.

"Some sort of potion, Shamshair?" asked Voldemort deadly quiet, "I have my own potions master to brew things."

"Does your potions master possess demon blood? Blood of six of the seven breeds?" asked Shamshair softly.

Voldemort, had he possessed a nose, would have raised it. "I don't understand, demon, why would I need blood?"

There was a malicious smile spread wide across the dragoon's face, his eyes flickering back and forth from reflective yellow to cold blue. "On a change of conversation, one of your prized Death Eaters failed to apprehend Harry Potter this morning, correct?" Bellatrix's hand flew to her wand, her face livid, but a casual wave of Voldemort's hand silenced her.

"What of it?"

"Harry Potter will no longer be human on the morn of his sixteenth birthday. I can do the same for your Death Eaters. I can make them demons."

A thrill of horror rushed through Wormtail and he whimpered. Bellatrix gave him a disgusted glare and Goyle slammed his enormous foot onto Wormtail's. It hurt. A lot. Voldemort looked ecstatic beyond words, his face lit with a madman's horrid smile. Shamshair picked one of the vials and set the box down upon one of the small tables that littered the room.

"With your permission, milord, bring forth Draco Malfoy."

Lucius's son had been a Death Eater since the beginning of July. Three days later there had been the Azkaban breakout, though the wizarding public knew not of this. Muggles had replaced the Death Eaters and had died within days. Everyone thought that they were dead. His father went to fetch the boy: the Malfoys had been staying in a room of the castle as their mansion was under Ministry inspection.

There were a few minutes of silence and stillness as the blonde boy was fetched. When both returned, Draco was shoved painfully forward, his jaw clamped tightly shut and feigning a look of immense pride. Shamshair knew otherwise and uncorked the vial. The bloodstone topper was cast aside and a slight sense of sulfur filled the room's air.

"My wife has brewed this potion, and let's just say there are more dragoons amongst Carpathia's legion." His cruel smile stretched as he shoved the vial between Draco's lips. His cold gray eyes closed in preparation for pain, and Shamshair jerked away from him. There was a moment as the potion surged through his body, entering his bloodstream, then his body began to shake as though he were having a seizure.

A dragon's screech came from the boy's mouth as two black wings ripped through his black robe. There was covered in slick, leathery skin and blood as dark as the skin. His hands curled into claws, the fingernails growing several inches and turning to ivory. His pale skin dried and turned to black scales. His teeth grew into pointed fangs, the eyes slanting and mouth and nose merged to form a muzzle.

Shamshair watched the transformation with apathetic eyes and, when it was complete, a very draconian human collapsed to the ground, exhausted. He placed one foot on the body. "What you see here is one of the many forms of a dragoon," he said, his tone lecture-like, "Young master Malfoy will be like this for a few hours, then assume his human body. I will tell him how to control his power. As you all can see, all traces of humanity are lost from the boy."

Voldemort's lipless mouth was in a dark smile, his eyes alight with cruel amusement and merriment. "Shamshair, you are a genius," whispered the Dark Lord, "Will your forces be joining mine at any time?" His Death Eaters were frozen silent. Only one thought was running through their heads and it scared them to death.

They would soon lose their humanity.

Wormtail gave a shuddering look to his fellows. Lucius Malfoy was looking at his son in horror, true traces of parental instinct in the gray eyes behind the mask. Rookwood gave a violent shudder, Macnair tense, almost petrified, and even cruel, apathetic Bellatrix looked as though she was about to cry. After all, it was her nephew that had withered on the floor, suffering the most horrid of fates to wish upon a man.

Suddenly, it seemed the Death Eaters of Lord Voldemort were as human as the people they murdered, filled with human emotions of fear and terror. For the first time in God knows how long, they were wishing that they were with Dumbledore rather then this madman.

12 Willow Avenue

The Grangers were like the Weasleys; Harry had come to discover, except muggle and smaller in number. Mrs. Granger, a thin woman with Hermione's bushy hair in a shade of rust red, had treated him like a son, bustling on about the heroic tales the witch had told them, much like Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Granger was kind and calming, as well as inquisitive like Mr. Weasley and Amelia was like Ginny in her first year: shy and secretive. Currently he was in the kitchen helping Hermione with dinner, something that Mrs. Granger had failed to talk him out of. It gave him a few moments to talk with Hermione in private.

"I wonder why the Order haven't shown up yet," said Harry as Hermione's eyes flickered to the oven where a pot of spaghetti noodles were boiling merrily.

"Well, you did get from Surrey to London in only a few seconds. It's either that, or . . ." She pursed her lips, looking worried.

"They think Death Eaters have me, that's what you think, isn't it?"

"Look at the facts, Harry," she said in her usual tone. "Your house burns down. You're nowhere near by. Your aunt was killed by Avada Kedarva. It makes sense. Either that or you killed her - "

"I liked it better when you weren't joking," he said coldly, eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

"Watch that's what Fudge prints on the Daily Prophet. God knows he printed enough of the crap last year." She pushed back a few strands of her hair. "Have you been reading the Prophet lately Harry?"

He shook his head. "I stopped the subscription after they put up the poll of renaming Halloween 'Harry Potter Day.'"

"Well," she said uneasily, "They said that the Death Eaters from the Department of Mysteries, you know," her voice lowered, "Lucius Malfoy and . . . and Bellatrix, Fudge said their bodies were found dead in Azkaban. Suicides, everyone of them."

He raised an eyebrow. "And her ghost attacked me? Oh yes, I can imagine the headline now. 'Potter claims dead woman killed aunt. He's now a psycho again. Hide in the barracks.'" He gave a bitter laugh, "It's Rita Skeeter all over again."

"That's not funny!" snapped Hermione, "I'm serious! I have the whole article upstairs if you want to read it."

He leaned against the kitchen counter, looking out the sliding glass door. "They're not going to believe me Hermione. Like Rita said, the prophet prints what the public wants. They don't want to be told Voldemort's deadliest supporters are still alive and managed to kill my aunt and uncle."

"I know," she said softly, turning to the pot and ladling it over to the sink, "But damn it, you know what their doing now? You know who they set up for our Defense professor this year?"

A thrill of horror entered his system. He hadn't thought about the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and he wished with every fiber of his being that is wasn't Umbridge again or anything remotely like her. "Do I want to know?" he asked slowly. Hermione bit her lip before speaking.

"It's this Japanese auror, Shirahime Shirogane. Perfect little woman to, result of the richest prime of Japanese breeding and without a single spot on her record. Fudge imported her, since he's still got every decree in place!" She breathed angrily, clutching her hands into fists.

"You're joking! It's going to be Umbridge all over again," he moaned, feeling lightheaded for a minute, "Damn it!"

"No," she said, cursing as she burnt her hand on the metal of the pot. He took the strainer as she continued pouring the water and noodles in. "She's a genius. She's quoted in an article, speaking as though she were the queen of England. She's going to teach us combat, actually medieval weaponry and everything!" Hermione took a deep breath before continuing. "From what the Prophet says, her mum's family descended from this famous samurai and her dad's were all aurors and . . . and bounty hunters."

He raised an eyebrow. "Bounty hunter?"

"People who hunt dark creatures!" Hermione's voice had its bossy quality, along with the egotistical insert that she used when she wanted to prove she knew more then him. "Werewolves, vampires, oni, any part-human creature's fair game."

"This won't end well for me. And what's an oni?"

"Keep that talisman on and you'll be fine." She didn't answer his second question until the noodles were in the serving bowl. "Oni are Japanese demons. Humans with claws, teeth and two horns. Their about as social as vampires and they control elements, like earth, fire, wind, etc. But not a single one's ever been seen out of Japan before and their small population is being hunted by bounty hunters. They have rather poor temper handling skill."

He was immediately reminded of Ron. Speaking of Ron . . . "What's up with Ron? Ginny said something happened with him."

"I completely forgot! Ron's got wings, black ones, but wings. He looks different to, shorter and his hair's streaked black."

Harry let the new information sink in, chewing his tongue. It had been an extremely eventful day, one he had no desire to ever repeat. His dream, his bizarre transformation, Bellatrix's attack, Makai Mitsukai, Samantha Chesterburn and now all this information . . .

'God damn me if I ever have a normal life,' he cursed as Amelia entered the kitchen. She looked as stony as ever but finally spoke. Her voice was soft, one of those whispering voice that you had to strain your ears to hear. However, he heard her perfectly clear. There was something held behind her back.

"Hermione? An owl just came with your paper."

That was interesting, as well as bad. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "But the Prophet came this morning." Amelia cleared her throat and held out the folded sheet of newsprint that had been held behind her back.

In thick black lettering was the headline story.

(HARRY POTTER – SAVIOR OR MURDERER?)

End Chapter Four: The Price for Power