Chapter 14: Answers and Questions

"Cuz music can speak and it can breathe

and it can be the sword of truth

and if you got the music in ya

than it can talk through you

So DEFY, Decry just don't lay down and die

Transcendence ain't a question of descendance

It's we who got the power, and it's us who gotta fight."

Zach dela Rosa (aka. DJ La Revolte!)

Parte the Seconde: Way of the Music Maker

As I have said, my last months at Hogwarts were unpleasant (to say the least). The loss of my guitar was a detrimental blow to my moral. Ron, Hermione and Harry would half heartedly try to defend me in this state, but I spent much of my time alone, reading manuscripts my grandfather had brought back form his excursions to the Orient back for me when the Drakulya name was one that could stir fear in every creatures heart. One of these was an old Japanese copy of Miyamoto Musashi's famous 'Book of the Five Rings' on swordsmanship. What struck me most was the line in his works, which discussed the balance between peace and war, to know war was to know peace.

I felt that Musashi was sending me a message through this: to know the sword it to know the music. The tool is of little consequence, what is important is the ideal behind it. "In battle, if you make your opponent flinch, you have already won." Musashi wrote.

Through this time I remained in contact with Dante: there was something in his writing that made my suspicions rise: I barely knew him, and yet he took the time to reply to my letters… I sensed there was something in him though that was not malevolent. Like an older brother. Today Dante will claim that he is the one who convinced me to leave Hogwarts, but really, I had made my decision long before. One day in January, I just packed my trunk and left on the Hogwarts express for London. Ron wrote me later that nobody even knew I was gone until term report cards came out the following week (I failed all my courses).

When I reached Platform 9 and three quarters, Dante was leaning against a column of bricks waiting for the train. He looked much the same as he always had: hair was spiked in the back, and the bangs partially concealed his eyes, black t-shirt and the same faded bomber jacket I saw him wearing the first time, ripped jeans and numerous spiked belts. Not to mention sunglasses. Sunglasses are perhaps the only thing that is required of the vampire for a variety of reasons. History and lore teach that vampires only come out at night, to escape the suns light which are lethal. This is, in fact, bullshit. Vampires prefer night time, for there eyes are naturally created for night time, and going out in daylight without sunglasses means major migraines (Imagine in the winter, when everything is ice and the sun is shining really bright on the ice and you have to squint in order to see. It's a lot like that but year round). Dante let a faint smile and a large over acted mock salute as I got off the train and took up my bags and coffin.

"Count Sidnay Ignatius Vladimir Drakulya I presume?"

I gave him the finger and he laughed, "Where are we going exactly?"

Dante smiled and gestured for me to follow out the magical entrance, outside was a hearse, "We…acquired this hearse to most easily transport you and the coffin without raising too many questions from muggles or wizards… get in the back." I could see Mic-chan sitting at the wheel, wearing a rather ill fitting hearse driver's uniform, also wearing sunglasses.

Suddenly however the back of the hears was flung open and I was pulled inside roughly by a hair of arms, and the flash of a blade appeared before my throat, Dante got in behind me calmly and shut the back doors. He pulled out a long dagger himself and knelt in front of me, a half smile resting on his lips.

"Your very gullible you know that Sid?"

Anger seethed inside my chest, "Vladimir."

"Very well, 'Vlad'. Give me 1 good reason, other than the 'Skliros Thanatos', as to why we should gut you now and dump your sorry bourgeois body in a ditch?"

The anger quickly dissipated within me…I don't know why I felt…jubilant, almost humored, "Well, for one thing you'd make Buddha cry tears of blood."

To my surprise, Dante smiled, and lowered his knife though he remained knelt in front of me "Would it wash away all our pain?"

"Only if you're a moron who thinks that threatening my life will get you anywhere."

My reply seemed to humor them all, and the two who held me arms released them and patted my shoulders. Dante looked impressed.

"Congratulations smartass, you're in."

Now it was my turn to be confused, "In? In what?"

Dante smiled, "You passed the test, to make sure you've got the kind of constitution to live out our lifestyle. Its pretty demanding, with no rewards, and dangerous, but hey, that's what we call 'being a vampire.'"

The hearse began to drive forward, and I responded, "Whatever it is, its gotta be better than Romania…"

Dante looked a little disbelieving, "Is life that bad for you in the heart of the lands you control?"

I laughed, "If we controlled them, do you really think that I would still be here?"

Some time later, we pulled up in front of the leaky cauldron, and Dante and I got out, carrying my coffin and trunk. The hearse pulled away quickly, leaving us there.

"C'mon Vlad."

The Leaky Cauldron was almost full of patrons, taking advantage of the sun and doing their shopping. There was a tangible decrease in volume as Dante and I entered. He muscled his way through the crowd, most of whom just back away nervously, as if afraid. Dante looked uncomfortable and sped up, though he was encumbered with my trunk.

We finally reached the emptiness of Diagon Alley, and Dante slowed his pace, "God I hate humans. A few freaking turncoat coward vampyre side with Voldemort and suddenly were all at war."

It was time I asked the thing that had been plaguing my mind, "Dante, why are you being so helpful to me?"

He remained silent for a moment, as we kept walking, "Would you believe its out of love for a comrade?"

I smiled, "Id believe it if I thought there were a chance of being true."

"In that case, let that be the reason for now. Let us just say for now that I am looking out for a good guitar player."

It was obvious that he was hiding something now, though I didn't press the issue: if he had intended me any genuine ill will, he had already had plenty of opportunities to kill me…

Knockturn Alley was dark and dingy as usual, and I felt…more alive in this atmosphere than anywhere else. The shadows teemed with excitement and the darkness all the more beautiful: there were no lies here, only plain, cold, truth. And I liked that.

Presently we found ourselves at the 'Remedy'. The shop was almost empty, save for a few creatures sitting at the bar. Dante led me up a flight of stairs and into a narrow dimly lit hallway, and finally through a narrow door, into a tiny room, illuminated by several candles, and occupied by a coffin set up on low box horses, a cluttered bedside table, and an open crate. There was barely room for another coffin, but he set mine down on a pair of wooden crates, "You'll share a room with me. At the Remedy, there isn't much space, and people are kinda crammed in up here."

I was even more confused now, "People live here?"

Dante smiled, "Yah, Micchan is an anarchist, so he basically lets anyone stay here so long as they pitch in somehow. We really don't have any humans here; everyone is a so called 'magical creature' so we all unite here as sort of… haven from oppression."

Mic-chan was as good as his word, as soon as I awoke later that night; I went downstairs where Dante was onstage with another band. The house was packed, as the western expression goes. The band was unimportant, though I sat at the bard and perused the crowd. They were a motley assortment of aggressive Werewolves, meditative Goblins, sullen Gargoyles, silent brooding Vampires, and even a few humans. There were no distinctions between species here; everyone was united by the music.

As Dante's set came to a close he strolled over to the bar and sat next to me, sneering slightly at the crowd as he stretched his arms, and nodded to a group of passing girls who giggled and stared at him, saying in unison, "Dante." Before giggling again; I couldn't help but role my eyes.

Dante just smiled, and peered over his sunglasses at me (even though the room was dark). "You have to hear this next guy. He's got some absolutely amazing lyrics and rhymes."

It was Dreads, the man I had seen at the Weird Sisters concert. I stood up, and he seemed to recognize me as well. I watched his performance with intense interest: he had a magnetic appeal, with so much energy and aggression crammed into his motions and lyrics. It was…transcendental. The heavy base and turn table scratching were something I had never heard before.

"What is this?"

Dante gave a laugh, "Don't tell me they don't have Hip Hop in Transylvania."

The show went by in a blur of throbbing heads and flashing lights, and when it was over, the crowd began to file out. Dreads came over to where Dante and I were sitting and he took Dante's outstretched hand.

"Hey Zach, awesome set."

Zach (or as I would forever call him 'Dreads') smiled and nodded, before looking at me and nodding, before saying with a smirk, "What's with the fresh meat Dante?"

Dante smiled and gestured to me, "This, entity of which you speak, is genuine Nobility. Count…"

"Sidnay Ignatius Alexandre Vladimir Drakulya." Dreads echoed, "You come along way from playing that Weird Sisters concert I hear."

I just eyed him and said, "Such is life, or if you are a vampire, death."

Both Dante and Dreads laughed before sitting down on a stool and ordering something I could not hear over the din. Soon the place was empty save for us three and the bartender who leaned on the bar and talked animatedly with us. Dante kept ordering something for me which had a strong taste of alcohol mixed with blood, though it didn't seem to effect me as much as Dante had expected. We spent the night down there and were awake when Mic-chan came to open the store back up. He seemed amused by our presence. Something had occurred to me during the night. I needed a new guitar, and I had no money.

"Hey Mic-chan…what do you do with the broken guitars beyond repair?"

The room was dusty and full of death: to me when music ends, that is death. These guitars were locked in a sort of eternal Limbo, and I was here I bring one back to life. They were all scrapped, but I was able to take the body and neck form an old Les Paul, the tuning pegs from a Telecaster, and a set of pickups from several other guitars. The wiring I just ripped right out of the newest guitar on hand. I don't know how long I spend in there; it must have been at least several hours. I felt as though I had to…

Parte the Seconde: Way of the Sword

The following is an excerpt from Dante's memoirs, "Dancing with the Demons"

When I met Vlad on the train, we attempted to initiate him, test his courage and limits. He had no limits. I don't know what he suspected from us: organization, direction, or simply perhaps acceptance. He had spent his life among persecution and decaying decadence. I think all that he existed on was his thirst for glory and knowledge of what his ancestors had done in the past. Vlad the Impaler had, within 2 centuries, brought the magical world to its knees with his brilliant military expeditions, his son, Sidnay's father, had taken the empire into the Far East, and revolutionized the vampire world. Before them his family was warriors and conquerors: His cousins, the Goths had crushed the Roman Empire. His was in the shadow of those before him, and as we all know, he would become the greatest in a long line of greats…

Even his insistence upon being referred to as 'Vlad' was a reflection of this, as opposed to his first name 'Sidnay' (given to him by a friend of his fathers, who was the British MoM representative to Romania)…

end of reference change perspective to Narrator

Knockturn Alley was bathed in its usual shadows, a faint fog had fallen on London, and the mist seemed particularly thick in this particular area. An almost cliché 'London Fog' atmosphere hung in the air as Sid strode through the billowing clouds, glad that he was carrying his short sword under the long coat. Lately it had seemed as though someone were watching him. He hadn't voiced this to Dante who would call him paranoid, and surely not to anyone else who would think him insane.

He could feel their presence following him even before they smoke, and was only aware of a small circle of people in black robes. Black robes and masks…

"Count Dracula…" One said in a raspy, venomous voice.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, irritated "Drakulya."

"What's the difference?" one of the Death Eaters, said taking a step forward as if to intimidate him.

"Well, one is a bastardization of my name, used by ignorant Death Eaters who can't grasp the vocation of proper language. The other is my name." Sid smiled at the Death Eaters surprise at his retort, "Now if you don't mind, get to the bloody point or get out of my way."

The Death Eater who appeared in charge looked to the others who now seemed timid, their own courage being questioned by this…creature. The Death Eater stepped forward, "The Dark Lord sends his greetings, and wishes to propose an agreement between our races. If you will support the Dark Lord in his endeavors, the rewards will be great…"

The mist swirled around them, "Tell Darth Vader, that I will…think about it."

The Death Eater smiled, "Think swiftly Count, or his good will can turn to wrath…" and with a crack, the Death Eaters were gone and the fog had lifted.

"So…you were accosted by Death Eaters?" Dante asked, blinking in confusion.

Sid had made it back to the Remedy, and the safety therein, and had told Dante what had happened. "Well, don't act so surprised Vlad, you ARE the bloody count of bloody Dracula… no pun intended…"

Sid sighed, "Dante…I think its time I go home…"

((I know this chapter is really badly written, and it took a while to do, I'm very very very sorry. To spark what must be waning interest, I will give special props to anyone who can name who each of my main characters are based off of: Each has their own distinct basis in someone in the world: musical or otherwise.))