A/N:

Thank-you to everyone who reviewed!

Disclaimer: I OWN JACK SQUAT…. sigh but not Harry Potter. Nope… Damnit.

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Harry walked out of the room, having left when Narcissa had fallen asleep mid-sentence. He took his time getting back to Sirius and Remus, so sure that they would enjoy the alone time and put it to good use. Harry felt oddly at peace, for once, contented with his surroundings. School was hectic, full of sounds, and smells, and drama. But here, at the castle, it felt… antique with serenity, homey, even. Calm, warm, and relatively silent, save for its occupants. Harry could quickly get used to the place. He would have to make a mental note coming to visit more often.

Harry stopped at the grand staircase, a polished, black spiraling structure that started in the foyer and continued upward to a tower. Harry wondered what could possibly be at the top. A room, perhaps, or maybe a gateway to another realm, the possibilities seemed endless. As the ideas poured into his mind, Harry climbed the steps, escalating in his speed as his curiosity spurred him onward. Before he knew it, he had reached the highest platform.

He had stepped onto a marble platform. There were windows all around the circular shaped space, a door on the opposite side of the stairs. Harry looked around; the room he was in seemed to be the entire diameter of the tower's top, but then, he was a wizard/vampire and this was the magical world. Sighing, he walked over, and turned the door knob.

A great gust of wind hit Harry's face as he opened the door. But instead of finding the sky in front of him, he saw what appeared to be a massive potion's lab. There were walls of alchemy books packed on shelves, a little nook up in the rafters where Harry supposed there was a bed or some form of bedding. But Harry was more so intrigued with a draped object that sat on a stool, under a beam of light. The scene just screamed: "DON'T TOUCH ME". , but Harry went to it with a mischievous look to his eye one would expect a naughty seven-year-old to possess. Reaching for the velvety cover, he froze. What if it was something dangerous? He thought. Oh well. He gripped the soft fabric, and pulled it away.

Sitting on a stand was a picture frame of gold and silver, but it held no picture within it. Harry stared, scratching his head in thought. He had expected an item of interest, like a magical mirror, or a cousin of the Sorting Hat. But an epty picture frame?

Harry looked at the silver inscriptions around the frame. It was written in a language he did not understand, nor recognize. It appeared to be a broken mix of Latin and Greek, symbols and letters together. Harry leaned forward and blew away some dust.

The picture frame began to shake and Harry jumped back in shock. He watched avidly as the frame glowed a resilient blue, then a blinding white that had Harry shielding his line of vision with a hand. The glow died out slowly, and his hand fell as he stared.

Where a picture was supposed to be was a silvery replacement. It moved like liquid steel behind a piece of glass. Cautiously Harry stepped forward, and the steely mass began to move in a frenzy, spinning madly and mixing itself up. Harry felt a source of heat from the frame, and, without much thought, reached out. With his index finger, he touched the picture, and felt his finger slowly being pulled in. Harry wrenched his hand away from it, shocked to find that his fingertip was covered in a metallic oil. Wiping it on his pants, he stared at the frame in disbelief.

"What the hell are you?" he thought aloud.

The silver swirled in a spiral, and it then began to form the general shape of an old man. Harry could make out a beard, a bald head, two eyes and a Jewish nose. Harry took a step away from the now portrait, unsure and wary of his sudden situation. Without really thinking about it, he popped the joints in his right hand, ready should the need arise to cast spells

"I am the Victim of Genocide," the portrait of the old man said in a hollow, deep voice.

And Harry blinked in confusion.

Morgan had wandered to the infirmary wing, Evan faithfully at her side. Her adoptive werewolf son leaned against the wall and sighed, his hands in his pocket. Morgan stared at the door, knowing who was behind it and what was going on. She could feel Amos, his pain, his fear… his soul. She could sense Adam's worry and insecurity in his own skills.

Mother, Evan sent to her, and Morgan looked at him.

"What, my son?" she asked.

Everything will be well, Evan said hopefully, smiling at her.

Morgan patted her son on the shoulder; "I pray that it will be," she whispered, looking at the door again.

Suddenly, the doorknob turned, and Adam poked his head out; "I thought I sensed guilt," he said, his eyes resting on Morgan.

Morgan bowed her head. Adam closed the door and stood in front of her. "He's going to be fine, Morgan," Adam assured her; "The last of the transfusion is underway, nothing went wrong, and I expect him to make a full recovery."

Morgan looked up, smiling as she wiped a tear from her cheek. Adam smiled, "Would you like to see him?" he asked.

Morgan nodded, and Adam opened the door, "Don't be too long, though," he whispered, and she nodded again.

Morgan was still until Adam closed the door, then she rushed to the bedside where Amos lay, motionless. She quickly cast a spell so that she could not be sensed or overheard, then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, Amos," she said quietly, taking his hand; "Please, pull through this."

Amos coughed, wincing; "M… Morgan?" he asked, squinting as he cracked an eye open. He smiled and sighed, squeezing her hand gently; "Hey…"

Morgan smiled; "You're very lucky," she whispered.

"Well, I owe the Muggles one," Amos said, laughing. He winced and groaned, turning slightly on his side.

"Oh! Be careful," Morgan said; "Here," she gently pushed him back down, getting up to fluff up his pillow. Amos watched her, smiling to himself. Morgan looked at him and she smiled; "What?" she asked innocently.

"I want to tell you something," Amos whispered.

Unable to hear him clearly, Morgan leaned in, and Amos kissed her.

"Draco, eat something!"

"No."

"Please?"

"I said I wasn't hungry!"

"Yeah, hours ago! But that's what's bothering us! Aren't you hungry?

"Draco, we're worrying about you."

"Yeah, drake, come on, eat!"

"NO! GET THE FUCK AWAY!"

Draco screamed the phrase, and Pansy along with Blaise took a step back.

"What the fuck's got your panties in a twist?" Blaise asked; "It's like you're affected by the weather!"

At that, Draco was silent, anger gone form his face. Getting up from his chair by the fire, he went to the nearest window. Looking out, he saw how the midday sun was nearly set. Where was Harry? That wasn't really important though, at the moment. With a look of fear and worry in his eyes, Draco continued to stare at the sky.

"Draco?" Pansy asked warily; "What's the matter?"

Draco looked at his friends, and uttered a single word; "The Equinox… It's upon us."

"So?" Blaise asked.

Draco looked back at the window. He coughed, and quickly blamed it on the dust from the books, though he knew better; "We have to get into contact with Harry," he said, coughing again.

They left the empty classroom in which Draco had initially run to for a little alone time, but Blaise and Pansy had found him, anyway.

"Can't you just, project a thought to him?" Pansy asked quietly as they walked down the hall.

"No," Draco said, "I've… I've tried. He's too far away, I suppose."

Blaise held back a smart comment, and instead said; "I bet he's on his way. In the mean time, why don't we get on to supper?"

Draco knew that his two friends were trying to get him to eat, but he had thrown what little he had in his stomach up already. He felt nauseous, his breathing was irregular… he wanted to just lie down somewhere, anywhere, but he was too nervous. Blaise and Pansy could tell, he knew, but at the rate he was going, soon he wouldn't care.

"Draco, watch out!" he heard Pansy say, and Blaise pulled Draco away from a step that had chosen to vanish.

"Huh what? Oh, oops," Draco said drowsily.

"Draco, fess up," Pansy said worriedly; "What's the matter?"

She felt his forehead but recoiled; he was cold as ice; "Oh my god!" she gasped; "Blaise, we have to get Draco back to his room, he's really sick!"

Sabet and Faust sat in companionable silence, both sipping on the crimson brandy. As the sun set behind the mountains, Sabet sighed. Faust could since the Elder's weariness.

"Morste," he said quietly; "The Equinox is not so far off."

"Of such I know, good friend," Morste said, rising; "I'm beginning to suffer as it is."

"As am I," Faust said; "Morste… This will be Harry Potter's first Equinox," he said testily, not sure of whether or not the grounds he tried upon were safe or not. When Sabet only moved to the large floor-to-ceiling windows, he continued; "How do you think he will handle it?"

"It is too hard to predict," Sabet mused, sipping his brandy. Holding it out, it left his hand to float back to the small table, and landed down on the tray it had first been on. Sabet held his hands behind his back, watching the sun setting; "I feel that perhaps, he is safest here. But yet…"

"You feel he should learn to cope in his own surroundings?" Faust finished.

Sabet nodded; "But that worries me," he said, "Greatly."

- - -

"The Victim of Genocide?" Harry asked quizzically, waving his hand behind him. A stool appeared, and he sat down, leaning forward to stare at the magical artifact.

The face in the portrait nodded slowly; "I am the memories of the unknown," it said; "Those persecuted and killed for what they were, not who."

Harry nodded; "Why are you up here?"

The portrait was silent; "I do not know," it said.

Harry nodded again; "What could I call u, then, since you obviously have know given name," he asked.

"I am every name, every man, every thing who has been killed by genocide," the portrait said.

"It's Unknown, then," Harry said; "Unknown, do you think there will be yet another Genocide?"

"The Magical realm has not seen genocide since 1876 where the elves were taken from Ireland to their deaths;" the portrait said; "But yes, Genocide may be upon the world once again."

Harry was silent; Does it involve… my people?" he asked, implying vampires.

The portrait nodded, slowly, like before; "The Judas in us all will come forth, and betray who once tried to save him from everlasting death and despair."

"Judas?" Harry repeated; "Like, Judas as in the biblical figure?"

Again, the slow nod of conformation from the portrait was the reply. Harry nodded, chin in his hand as he thought. It made sense, yet then again, it didn't. He couldn't quite think of anyone who would betray him, per say, but his entire race? Everything was so secretive, so thoughtfully hidden from Wizarding eyes. Only a vampire could pull so a horrible betrayal…

"Would you know the Judas?" Harry asked suddenly.

The portrait was still. Slowly the man's face faded, and Harry watched on as the cloudy metallic began to swirl. It formed the face of a young, handsome man, and Harry stared. The light colored hair, which he assumed to be a blonde shade, reminded him of Draco.

"Ellis Vander," the portrait said in the same, low voice.

Harry rose at the name. He had heard it before, and it was not said with a liking. Harry picked the portrait up. It was warm to his touch, and the old man's face reappeared. Tucking the portrait under his arm, Harry left the room, and ran down the stairs. He came to the third floor, and jetted down the right. He sought for Sabet, and sensed him in the parlor.

Harry burst through the double doors, and saw that Faust was there as well. Sabet looked at him curiously, and then his eyes went to the portrait.

"Harry," he said, walking over; "Where did you find this?"

The portrait floated from Harry's grasp and into Sabet's open hands. Sabet looked at the portrait, and then at Faust; "Come see," he said, looking at the portrait.

Faust rose, and came over. Harry stood and waited where he was, listening to the two vampires converse. He then decided to join the two.

"It's Ahmedi," Faust whispered with disbelief as the old man came into view within the portrait.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Our first forefather slain by the wizards," Sabet explained; "Just before the first attempt to wipe our kind out," he was quiet with reflection for a moment; "Harry, were you near the upper tower?"

Harry was silent; "Yeah," he said finally, looking down; "But, I was only curious, I haven't had the chance to look around…"

"Curiosity is not a thing to be ashamed of, Harry," Sabet said kindly; "Oh my, his mouth's moving…"

That statement said with calm surprise reminded Harry of one person: Albus Dumbledore. He ignored the thought, or tried. But then suddenly, a wave of pain struck his forehead. Harry hissed and held his palms to his scar, backing up and inevitably falling onto a couch. He fell onto his back and writhed and moved, hardly noticing two pairs of strong hands propping him up while one set was placed on his chest.

A large dark cave… living dead bodies… green water…

Harry heard an incantation being whispered and numbing heat spread through his chest and throughout his body. Finally, he stilled, and just lay there, breathing heavily and keeping his eyes closed.

"Harry… Harry…"

Harry shook his head feebly, not wanting to open his eyes for some reason. But he did, and his vision was blurry for a moment before clearing. HE saw Faust and Sabet looking down at him worriedly, but when the youngest Vampire seemed to be alright, they both eased.

"Gave us a scare there, lad," Faust said.

Harry sat up fully, and rubbed his head; "Something's up," he whispered, looking at the floor.

"Come again?" Sabet asked; "Harry, was your scar troubling you?"

Harry nodded; "Happens every now and then," he said, looking up; "But, it hasn't lately. I thought it was over, the pain, but I guess Voldemort id up to something again…"

Faust looked at Harry, hoping the sympathy in his eyes was not showing strongly. Here, standing before him, was not the strong-willed, determined rebel he had been told of and met, but a mere teenager in the throws of confusion. Harry had let the hard guard down… But as if Harry had read Faust's thoughts, the seemed back to normal.

"Perhaps some brandy, Harry, to calm your nerves," Sabet said, glancing at Faust as he walked over to a small bar. Apparently, he had noticed the quick change as well.

Harry knew it was more of a statement that a question, so he merely nodded and sighed. Faust rose from the couch and walked over to pick up the portrait that he had dropped on the floor in an effort to aid Harry. He walked over to the mantle, and for a moment, watched the flames. Then, with a swift wave of his hand, a small stand appeared atop the mantle, and Faust set the portrait, now vacant, on it.

Sabet brought back a small glass filled with amber liquid and handed it to Harry. Harry held the glass for a moment to imply a "cheers", then drowned it in one gulp. His face went askew for a moment, and he coughed as he levitated the glass to the nearest coffee table.

Sabet chuckled; "1923 brand," he explained; "It's been in the cellars for a time."

Harry nodded, but found littler humor. Perhaps it was obvious he wasn't a drinker, oh well ,it didn't matter.

"I… I need to get home," he said distractedly; "I'm starting to miss…" his voice trailed off.

Again, Sabet chuckled; "Of course, Harry," he said; "I just want to explain a few things, and then you may be on your way."

Faust chose to leave at this moment, slipping out silently. He went off to get the godfathers, for surely they would want to leave as well.

Harry nodded. "As you know, the equinox is upon us, Harry," Sabet said, his tone serious and to the point; "Symptoms are different for each of us. Should you suddenly feel faint, or nauseous, or in great pain, run straight to a place where no one will be able to find or bother you. If I remember correctly there is a Room at Hogwarts…" he paused with thought; "Ah yes, the Room of Requirement. Here, let us walk and talk, to save you time…"

They left the parlor, walking down the hallway; "Also, Harry, I may be planning on visiting…"

"What!" Harry asked, bewildered; "But, sir, this place, how will it—?"

"Run?" Sabet asked, chuckling; "Faust will handle things, trust in that. He's a very reliable friends and I have been friends with him for over a century. Anyway, yes, I will, to speak with Dumbledore. Ah, don't interrupt, I'll explain.

"Albus and I, we go back as well. Harry, you must understand that though his methods are unorthodox and questionable, he has the best of interests at heart. You for example: his game of manipulation was a way to keep you safe. No, don't interrupt me, Harry, I am not through!" he said with a slight smirk, knowing how Harry desperately wanted to have his say. "The wizard sent an owl, as well. Harry, things are starting to happen in your world, dreadful things. Have you been reading the papers lately?"

"No," Harry said quietly.

Sabet nodded, rubbing his eyes; "Be on the look-out," was all he said.

They mounted the stairs, both going speedily to save time. They met outside of the room Sirius had been placed in, and they could hear a loud conversation being carried on within. Two voices angrily bickered, and it seemed that the argument was escalating. Sabet and Harry exchanged glances, then Harry opened the door.

"Sirius, Remus? What's going… Faust?"

Faust was standing behind a curtain, which, along with the other, had been drawn; "I'm not hollering, if that's what you're wondering," he said simply, then he thumbed behind him; "Black threw a shoe at me. He 'n' Remus are havin' a row."

Harry went past the curtains, and saw Sirius readying another shoe from his spot on the bed; "I said--! Oh, Harry, it's only you, sorry," he said, sighing as he lowered his hand.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, but before Sirius could reply, Remus came out from behind another curtain, adjusting his belt.

"I'll tell you," Remus said, "That nice man was just coming to remind us that I was set to leave soon, and…" he looked at Sirius; "Oh, stupid, stupid us," Remus tutted, crossing his arms; "what were we initially fighting about, hmm?" he asked Sirius with an eyebrow raised skeptically.

Sirius leaned back on a mound of pillows; "That I should stay here, until things are cleared up on the outside;" he mumbled; "But I could have gone with you as Padfoot!" he insisted with renewed vigor.

"You and I both know that you would have been recognized by everyone in the Order immediately!" Remus said loudly.

"I could change the color of my coat, and the shape of my muzzle!"

"Sirius, you just don't have the strength!"

Harry rolled his eyes and turned away from the squabble, waling through the curtains and pulling them together tightly. He held his hands upon them for a moment then sighed, and when he let go he saw that Faust was still standing there, obviously amused by the twinkling in his eyes.

"Lover's spat," Harry said simply, shrugging.

Faust chuckled; "Ah, my Lorelei and I had them all the time," he mused.

Harry smirked; "Is she here?" he asked.

Faust nodded; "IN the back, with so many others," he said quietly; "Lorelei was a squib, Harry. She died in the great year of '43, tryin' to save her father from Nazi's."

"Wow," Harry said; "I'm… I'm sorry."

"Why should ya be?" he asked; "She died doin' what she wanted to do: help others. Kinda inspiring, whenever I think about it all," he mused. Then he sighed; "Well, I'll be off. Betcha kin handle those two," he said with a slight chuckle.

Harry nodded and watched as Faust left. He sighed and, composing himself, walked back into the curtains.

But then he hastily left. Remus and Sirius had already begun to make-up.

Draco was ill. He moaned as pain like daggers seeming to stab his gut hit his torso. He doubled over in his bed, begging for solace silently. Blaise and Pansy watched on, knowing they could not go get the nurse and yet, not knowing what they could do. Pansy had tried several of incantations, and Blaise had brewed a potion that normally would have easily cured stomach aches.

"Perhaps we should get Severus…" Blaise muttered nervously, ringing his hands together.

"No, remember, Draco said not to," Pansy whispered, but she too, was nervous.

"Harry…" Draco moaned, reaching up into thin air, as if he could pull his love down to him.

Pansy rushed over to the bedside, and took Draco's hand into her own; "He's on his way, Draco, I promise…"

Draco's face contorted with pain; "Nnn Harry…" he said through clenched teeth.

"Shh, shh, just rest," Pansy cooed, feeling Draco's head again. He was still cool, but the chill was coming up.

When Draco stilled and his breathing slowed, Pansy laid his hand down on the bed and rose. She went to Blaise and he embraced her. Pansy sighed and rested her head against his broad chest.

"I'm worrying, Blaise," she whispered, looking up at him.

"I am too, love," Blaise said, "But, it'll pass, trust me. Come on, let's get out of here, let him rest."

As soon as Harry and Remus apparated to the front gates, Harry felt that something was wrong. Hurriedly Remus got the gates open, then Harry sprinted towards the castle. Blindly he ran down to the dungeons, and burst into the room he shared with Draco.

"Draco!" he said, running to the bed. But he sighed when he saw that Draco was only sleeping.

Harry checked the clock on the wall, and saw that it read "1:34" in the morning. Harry looked down at Draco, brushing back stray blonde locks from the beautiful face he had longed to see. But what began to worry him was the crease on Draco's forehead, a line that did not appear unless he was frustrated or suffering from an annoyance. The equinox, Harry thought immediately.

He began to wonder why it was not affecting him yet. But his scar hurting… no, that had to do with Voldemort, surely it did. Yawning, he climbed over Draco and laid beside him, kicking off his shoes before he closed his eyes, ready for sleep.

TBC

Sorry this was so so late everyone! I'll be bookin' it to get the next chapter, please forgive me! And review please!