"It's... uh... um..." Harry was stuttering, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for the stake that had fallen out of his robe pocket.
Ron's eyes were wide green saucers. "Is that what I think it is?"
Instinctively, Harry snatched the stake up, shoved it back in his robes, and cast what he hoped was both an apologetic and nonchalant look towards his best friend. "It's just my wand," he insisted tensely. "I got a new one just in case... you know... something--uh-- happens where I need a new one. You never know!"
"Harry, wands usually aren't pointy," said the redheaded boy, rather pointing out the obvious.
Harry laughed hoarsely, as if that were the funniest thing he'd heard in his whole life. "Yeah... uh... that's what I said when they gave it to me, but they insisted. They said it was even better than my old one."
Ron eyed his friend suspiciously. "All right. If it's really better than your old one, cast a spell with it."
"What?"
"Cast a spell with your 'new wand.'"
Oh God. How could Ron always know when Harry was lying? And why did Harry even try to cover up? Ron knew him better than he knew himself; it wasn't some big secret. Hands shaking, Harry drew the stake with one hand while his other slipped into his robes for his real wand and prayed for a miracle.
"Engorgio," he whispered. A small shimmer of magic came out and enlarged one of Ron's bedposts, making the bed creak and groan.
But his friend continued to stare at him. "That didn't come from that thing," he insisted.
"Yes, it did. Of course."
"No, it didn't," Ron repeated. "It came from your robes." His face was flushing with frustration.
Harry frowned defensively. "No, it came from my new wand."
"I wouldn't call that a wand. I'd call it a stake."
The bespectacled boy jerked from fear of being discovered, though he tried to cover it up. "Ha! Why the hell would I have a stake? Seriously Ron, you're delusional."
"Let me see it," Ron said, moving quickly toward Harry.
"No!" he shouted back.
But Ron had already reached into Harry's robes, knocking Harry's real wand to the ground. Before his best friend could successfully examine the stake that he had discovered, Harry jerked away and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him loudly. He soon heard Ron's footsteps behind him.
"Harry, whatever it is, you can tell me. You tell me everything!"
Harry quickened his pace. "It's none of your business! You have nothing to do with it!" he shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted away.
Ron slowed and watched his friend run away, catching his breath.
() () () () ()
Changes were happening to Harry. Big changes.
Everything that he had used to be seemed to fade away. His face, though normally a bit pale, had an ashen, sickly tint to it, and his lips were a deep scarlet. His eyes were bloodshot and red, and they looked empty and lifeless to anyone who knew the life that usually was present in them. He was definitely not acting like himself either. Especially after he ran away from Ron, Harry was more sullen and cold than he had ever been in his life. As well as this, he noticed girls looking at him differently. As if there was something new... intriguing... about him that he'd never had before. Whatever it was, he liked it, at least at some level.
He let a tiny, mysterious smile creep into the corners of his lips as his eyes surveyed the text in front of him. He could see Ron staring at him in concern out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't look back or even acknowledge his friend's presence. It all seemed so pointless now. Why had he ever cared so much about what Ron thought about him? Ron was just another one of the ordinary people, those with nothing extraordinary about them. Unlike Harry...
Harry stopped that line of thinking with an audible grunt. He couldn't seriously be thinking that about his best friend. Ron had stood by him through everything, even when he felt like his life was falling apart. This kind of betrayal, even in thought, was a terrible thing. He could just tell Ron... It would be okay... Still, some part of him didn't want to tell Ron no matter what the consequences were for their friendship.
The other students in Transfiguration were getting up and bustling about, heading for the Great Hall for lunch. Harry stayed behind to gather his things, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron standing up but not leaving. He seemed to be waiting for Harry, like he always had before. Harry shouldn't have been surprised at the sheep's actions.
But before Ron could say anything to his best friend, Rebecca stepped forward, nervously drumming her fingers on the paper before Harry. "Hey," she whispered, her deep blue eyes searching his with a kind of wonder.
"Hey," Harry replied bluntly. He glanced over her shoulder to see Ron walking away. Good.
She licked her lips. "I just wanted to... to apologize for what I said to you the other day. It was wrong of me." She still stared, transfixed, into his emerald eyes, as if looking for something. "I was wrong."
He couldn't help feeling his insides turn to mush, even after what she had said to him. She was still so goddamn beautiful. "Yes," he said slowly, not wanting to forgive so quickly. "You were. Is this all you came to say to me?" There. Give her a taste of her own medicine.
"N-no," Rebecca stuttered. "I also... well, I wondered... if we could maybe go to Hogsmeade together or something?"
Harry's eyes widened, but he managed to keep his cool. After all, it was this "new Harry" that she seemed to like, the cool, aloof, mysterious Harry. "What caused this sudden change of heart?" he demanded a bit bitterly.
"I dunno," she breathed with a half-laugh. "I just... I misjudged you, okay? I thought you were some goody-two-shoes suck-up or something. But now... I see that you're a lot more than that. You're... interesting. There is a lot more to you than just the boy who survived." Anxious dimples appeared at the edges of her smile.
Feeling slightly intoxicated, he nodded. "Hogsmeade would be great," he murmured, amazed at his own ability to stay calm.
Rebecca sighed with relief. Harry had never seen her so flustered. "Great," she said.
"See you... whenever," Harry mumbled carelessly, at the same time, thinking, Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. He turned his back to her and had only taken a few steps away when her hands were on his shoulders and, almost as if obeying his command, her lips were pressed against his passionately. Her arms tightened around his neck, deepening the kiss, and he felt himself returning it, finally able to kiss girl he'd dreamt about since school began.
But the moment passed and he quickly pulled away from her. He couldn't let her have everything she wanted or she'd never come back to him in the night... Harry smiled secretively and walked away, leaving Rebecca to wonder about what had just happened and whether it had been fantasy or reality.
() () () () ()
Dumbledore was approaching him. He would probably want to know how the remedies were working, but Harry just didn't want to share that with... anyone. Especially when he wasn't sure himself. He was changing, he knew that for sure, but whether or not he was becoming a vampire was a mystery... No, that was a lie. The remedies weren't working. He could feel the urge growing deep inside for blood, anyone's blood. Rebecca's blood.
That wasn't exactly something he could tell his headmaster. He doubted he could even tell him about the creature that still lingered in his dreams, the one that no longer bit him but now sat and studied him, as if waiting for a change to happen inside of him...
"Harry," Dumbledore called, taking long strides toward the bespectacled boy.
Harry forced a smile for a greeting. "Hey, Professor," he murmured.
"You look sick," the headmaster proclaimed. "Shall I escort you to the nurse's office? Are you feeling... afflicted in any way?" The double meaning of his words was apparent.
"I'm fine," the boy insisted quickly. "I'm just kind of disoriented. All that garlic, you know?"
Dumbledore smiled smoothly, but it didn't seem to fit the worry on the rest of his face. "Of course. Garlic can do that. But Harry... If anything is going on, you will tell me?"
"Yes, I promise," Harry lied. He felt a surprising lack of guilt at all of his lying.
"Well, there are other students in this school I must attend to. Just... Be careful now." The headmaster headed off towards his office, though glancing once more at his pupil in concern.
Harry shook his head quickly and began to walk towards his room. If ever there was a time when he needed his holy water and garlic, now was it. But he had barely taken a few steps when Hermione stepped in front of him, halting his path down the hall.
"Harry, what's with the sullen expression?" she demanded, though she seemed weaker than usual.
He shrugged. "Today's just not my day, I guess."
"Has anything... you know... happened?"
"Nothing of note."
Hermione continued examining his face, her eyes resting on his bloodred lips in a curious fascination. "Are you... Are you sure about that?" she asked quietly.
"Totally sure. Actually, I was just going to do my homework. You're always bugging me to do it anyway."
"What about Quiddich?"
That was right. Today was Tuesday. The first day of Quiddich practice. He pressed his palms into his eyes in frustration; he couldn't believe he didn't remember that he had practice today. It had been all that he could think about before the dreams. Now other thoughts were battling for his time.
"I totally forgot," he murmured frustratedly. "I should just go then..."
"And you're completely fine?"
"Completely," Harry mumbled as he rushed out to the Quiddich field.
() () () () ()
The wind in his hair was enough to take his mind off of these issues, if only for a minute. Harry let himself relax as he flew, the crisp air snapping at his face and making him feel the most alive he ever felt as of late. He watched the tiny figures below him. They all seemed so small, so inconsequential from up here. And so did all of his problems. He began to wonder why he had been so stressed about those dreams and Rebecca and everything. Just days later, everything seemed to be working out for the better.
He thought he spotted the practice snitch just feet away, and he raced after it with his arm outstretched. The wind whipped at his hands, but he managed to get close to it. He was just feet away now... All he had to do was reach out his fingers and...
Suddenly something clouded his vision. The corners of his peripheral vision turned completely black. He couldn't focus on the snitch anymore... His mind was somewhere else, like it had felt at the beginning. Something was calling to him; it wanted him to come to it so badly, he wasn't sure what it would do. It would... kill... for Harry. But it hadn't reached that point yet. The thing... It was waiting for him, had been waiting for sixteen years, ever since he'd been born...
Before he realized what was happening to him, he was falling through the air, the ground rapidly rushing to meet him. He landed with a loud thump and his vision went completely black.
() () () () ()
The vampire was back.
Harry was walking through the halls of Hogwarts as he did every day. Rebecca stood in one corner, waiting for him to walk her to class. Ron and Hermione stood in another. Expressions of disbelief and disgust were painted on their faces. They were disappointed with him. Rebecca seemed happy, smug. She was glad that he was changing. Whatever that change meant.
The vampire stood at the end of the hall. Now it wasn't just darkness; it was a shape. A tall, black robed body stared down at Harry with red, misshapen eyes. Still, through its ugliness, it was strangely beautiful and haunting. And it wanted him to near it now more than ever. And Harry listened to its call without resistance. He'd gone too far to turn back now. Just a few more steps forward and he would be what he was always intended to be... A new being, a new creature... Something that lived forever and depended on nothing but itself... Harry wanted it more than anything.
While his friends watched, he took the final step, bringing him within inches of the vampire. Its dark head leaned towards him slowly, almost tentatively, and sank its fangs into his neck with a huge hunger and greed. Immediately, the pain struck Harry, but it felt wonderful to him. He found himself wanting to speed up the process. His hand assisted the vampire, pressing its head harder against his neck. He shivered in happy anticipation.
Life slowly seeped away from him... Red flecks danced across his eyes. It was a beautiful moment, the most beautiful moment of his life... His head swam with dizziness. He was dying... He welcomed death. Just when Harry felt as though he could lose no more blood, the vampire stopped. Harry breathed deeply. He knew what he was supposed to do now; he just found himself more scared than he thought he would be. The final step... The exchange of blood... Although the vampire had not said so to him, Harry knew it was his turn to take blood back.
His mouth slowly cupped over the vampire's wrist, and he bit in hungrily, immediately tasting the metallic taste of its blood. He drank in deeply and felt life returning to his aching body. But there was also something else. He was now something else. More powerful. More alive. More... everything.
He pulled away from it now, smiling. It was done. He was one of them now. Two other vampires appeared behind the first, and they bowed their heads in recognition. They were different from the original... They looked rather normal, just pale and ashen-faced like Harry. Somehow that was comforting to him. Backing away, he turned his grin to Rebecca, who smiled fiercely back at him in approval. But the further he backed away, the further away they all got... Suddenly they were blurs of color... Suddenly they were far, far away...
"I think he's waking up."
Harry opened his eyes painfully. Ron, Hermione, Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore were all staring at him expectantly, although of course they looked relieved. Concerned creases decorated each of their faces, all in their own particular ways. It all seemed so pathetic to Harry. He was perfectly all right. Better than ever, in fact.
"Hello," Harry rasped.
Hermione breathed a relieved sigh. "Thank goodness you're all right!" she smiled. "We thought... well... we weren't really sure..."
"Yeah, what happened on the Quiddich field? You just passed out. None of us knew what had happened," Ron said quickly.
Harry sat up slowly, ignoring the shooting pains that zigzagged through every muscle group he had. He sucked on his teeth apprehensively, hoping to wipe off any remaining traces of blood. The last thing he would want would be for everyone to know the truth... "Honestly, I'm not sure what happened. I just got dizzy all of a sudden. And I couldn't balance right. I think it was because I skipped lunch," he lied smoothly. "I feel fine now. Just a bit sore."
Madame Pomfrey glanced at him in disbelief. "You fell nearly thirty feet. You're lucky you're not dead."
"Seriously, I'm fine. I must've landed well."
"It's a most peculiar thing, Harry," Dumbledore explained, not meeting Harry's eyes. "When we found you, we were certain that you had a broken spine. But three hours later, you had no external injuries. Except for this." The headmaster indicated the place where the teethmarks used to be. "But now, two more hours later, its gone. Whatever happened?"
Harry eyed Ron, who was staring in shock at the scar that remained from the gashes. He wondered if Ron or Hermione already knew about Harry's... condition. If they didn't know, Harry certainly wasn't going to tell. "Er--"
"They know," Dumbledore said suspiciously. "Though I'm not sure why you would keep it from them..."
Harry feigned embarrassment and looked down at his legs. "I was ashamed."
"There is nothing to be ashamed of," Hermione said matter-of-factly, still concerned. "You couldn't help what was happening to you..."
If only you knew, Harry thought, but didn't say so out loud. "I guess. Well, the thing..." He winced. "The vampire... it went away. I think that is why I healed. So there's nothing to worry about... I just need a good rest..."
"I certainly hope that's only thing you need," Madame Pomfrey said curtly before impatiently walking away.
Ron continued to look at him in that hurt, disbelieving way. "I can't believe you couldn't tell me," he whispered, tears thickening his voice. "Me, of all people... What's happened to you? You've changed. You're not even the same person anymore." He swiped a tear out of his eye. "Why am I even talking to you? You're not Harry." Throwing one last hateful look behind him, he stomped away.
"Ron has a point, Harry. You should have told us," Hermione frowned at him before following Ron out.
Dumbledore smiled weakly at him and without a formal goodbye, walked out. Again Harry got the sense that he was ashamed of what he had done.
But the thing was, Harry didn't care that they thought he had changed, or that he was different. Because he was. And he was proud of that. They were just jealous, all of them. They somehow sensed that he was greater than them now, and they resented that fact. But it wasn't as if Harry needed them. He had all he needed in his new friends. His new brothers and sisters. He smiled slowly. Whoever this New Harry was, he liked him.