Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Chapter 8

Harry Potter

The day after Harry resolved to stop the vampires, an owl came. Harry would have missed it, if he hadn't been walking outside, trying to find someone to bring more food for Lupin. They ought to have brought some the day before, and Lupin was so ill today that he couldn't walk without falling over.

There was something very wrong with a cure that made you feel worse than your illness ever had, in Harry's opinion. But Lupin was the werewolf. Presumably he knew what was best for himself.
Harry chanced to look up, and there was an owl in the air. He might have missed it then, too- the sky and owl were both white- but he had better vision these days. Especially when it came to seeing movement.
So he saw the owl, and he whipped out his wand before he had even thought about it, pointed it at the owl, and said "Accio."
It was after the owl came that he realized he had no idea what that spell was supposed to do. But by then, he had an angry owl to deal with. There were a few moments of scuffling, and Harry just managed to keep the owl from escaping, when he realized that it wasn't just like Hedwig in coloration; it was Hedwig.
Hedwig, once she realized that the strange person grabbing her was Harry, gave him a deeply offended look, and stopped struggling.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize it was you."
She nipped his finger, so he decided all was forgiven.
If Hedwig was here, then someone at Hogwarts had to be using her. Had Ron and Hermione sent him a letter? If they could do that, wouldn't they have come to find him?
He heard someone talking inside the tent nearest to him, and ducked behind it. He was near the outskirts of the camp, so it wasn't so busy- but it wouldn't do to get caught.
There was a letter on Hedwig's leg. When he took it from its envelope, he saw that it was all numbers-some sort of code, maybe? He knew he'd never be able to figure it out, so he ripped off the black half of the last page, and used to to write his own message. As he stuck it back into his pocket, his hand brushed the piece of paper that was already in his pocket. Oh- that. Well, he didn't have time to look at it just now.

Luckily, there was a muggle pen in his pocket, which he must have absentmindedly taken from Doctor Brown at some point. He scrawled off a quick note, as long as he dared make it. Every moment he took increased the chances he would be caught.

Ron, Hermione-
Have been captured by vampires. Am somewhere in the mountains, near giants. Saw Hagrid yesterday, but he has probably been obliviated. Vampires are planning war on ministry. Lupin is also here, also being held captive. Lupin is ill from lycanthropy cure, but otherwise we are both unharmed.
No idea what Hedwig is doing here, but I'm glad she is.
I don't think I can write again. Don't write me. It isn't safe.

--

Then, at the bottom, where they could easily tear it from the rest, he wrote:

--

I'm definitely a vampire now. I'm not ill anymore, though. So you don't need to worry that I'll die or anything.
I guess I can't come back to Hogwarts, even if I get out of here. But I miss you both.

He dated the letter, figuring that that might help them figure out where he was, and attached it to Hedwig's leg.
"Give this to Ron and Hermione," he told her.
She flew off, and Harry watched her until she was too small to see. There went his only lifeline to the outside world.

That just left the paper in his pocket. He took it out.
It was another coded message. Well, that was useless. Why was it in his pocket at all? This coat was from the summer, wasn't it? Somehow he doubted that he'd been trusted enough to handle coded messages, even then. He was a thirteen year old, for Merlin's sake. No one was going to trust him to do anything important, even if they were sure he was on their side- which the vampires really had no reason to think.
So maybe the coat wasn't his at all. Maybe it was someone else's coat, and they'd forgotten to take the message out before they passed it on.
But Harry couldn't believe that, either. The coat was exactly his size. There was no one else around that was as small as him. It was his.
Maybe he'd intercepted an owl sometime during the summer? That was all he could think of that made sense, and even that didn't really fit; Ron and Hermione hadn't mentioned any owls from him, and he didn't know who else he would have written. Dumbledore, maybe? Anyone he would have written would have mentioned it.
He had the maddening feeling that he was missing some clue that would make sense of all of this.
Life set back into its usual patterns. Harry was set to the task of learning all about werewolves, now that he had failed to be an effective diplomat to the giants. The camp became even busier, and Harry realized it was only a matter of time before they moved camp. There was no reason to stay here, now that they were finished with the giants.
He forgot entirely about the strange coded messages in his coat pocket, which was probably for the best. The last thing he needed was another mystery. He had enough on his hands, just trying to escape. It wasn't an easy task; he wandered as far as he dared, and paid close attention to the area surrounding the camp, but there was no sign of any town nearby. The only other living creatures he had seen were the giants- who would more likely kill him than help.

They were making the last preparations to leave when there was a bit of a ruckus. Galba had come across a human woman in another vampires tent. Harry didn't know that vampire's name; he recognized him, though, from times he had brought Lupin food. He was paler than was usual, even for vampires, and his hair was the same color as Ron's. He had always made Harry a little homesick, for that reason alone.

As Galba dragged him to the center of the camp, though, and his crimes were revealed, Harry just felt sick.

Apparently, this man- Jacob, he was called- had taken this woman from Hogsmeade just before they left the forest. He had kept her in a tent and used potions to keep her quiet and cooperative- love potions, and calming droughts, and all sorts of other things, none of which were safe to use together.

"You drank her blood?" Galba said. Harry had never seen him look so furious.

"What else would I be doing with her?" Jacob said. "It's the one pleasure left to us- eating And you'd have us give up even that."

"I would," Galba said. Some of the fury went out of his voice, but he was still angry. "And you agreed to give it up, so that we could work towards equal rights. So that we could work, and live in houses. Are you willing to give those dreams up, for a few meals?"

"She offered," he said. "She said I could have some- could drink some of her blood- if I gave her some money to help her family. And I did."

"You kidnapped her. You drugged her. She may never be the same."

Harry thought that Jacob would try to protest some more. And indeed, he might have, if Galba hadn't suddenly pulled out a knife and sliced his head off.

The head rolled around, the body collapsed to the ground, and Harry looked away. The blood didn't bother him anymore, but the bone, muscle and the death itself did. It was still gory. Being a vampire didn't make it much less disgusting.

"Now I need someone to make sure Lupin and the woman eat enough," Galba said with distaste. "Harry- you were doing that anyway. It will be your responsibility. Simply let me know what needs to be purchased."

"Lupin could tell you himself," Harry pointed out. "He knows how much he eats."

"Lupin is ill, and the woman is worse. Neither are capable. And Lupin is a prisoner. I don't want him to have access to a supply of food. He might stockpile it and try to escape."

"Lupin wouldn't be ill, if it weren't for that potion you give him." And I'm just as much a prisoner as Lupin. Why pretend that I'm not?

"He would be a werewolf if it weren't for that potion. He made his views very clear to us. He would rather be ill than be a lycanthrope. No one forces him to drink it. In fact, he would fight you if you tried to stop him from having it."

After seeing a man beheaded by Galba, Harry wasn't willing to argue the point.

"Fine," he said. "The woman- has she had food, then? What is her name?"

"I don't know her name. She seems to have been fed, though not nearly enough. I imagine Jacob was taking food from the supplies we kept for Lupin. You might want to move her into your tent. You have an extra room, yes? She is... unwell."

Harry went to the tent Jacob had kept the woman in. There had been a great deal of shouting in it earlier. The entire camp knew which tent it was by now. It was a warehouse, and very chilly.

She had dark hair, and her skin was pale. Anemic, no doubt. She was sitting in a chair, hands folded in her lap. She wore long blue robes, and was very still.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. She looked up. Her eyes were dark blue, too, and they seemed to look a little past him.

"Jacob," she said. "Where is Jacob?"

"He's gone," Harry said.

She started weeping silently. Harry remembered that she had been given love potions, as well as a dozen other things.

"You need to come this way now," he said. "I'll make you - er- a cup of tea."

She followed easily enough, though she kept weeping the whole way. Harry had to help her put on a coat and shoes. She couldn't manage them herself.

Seeing her, he could almost forgive Galba for killing Jacob. Who could do that to another person? Even if it wore off when the potions did- which Harry somehow doubted- it was disgusting, to make anyone so helpless.

He had to hold her hand as they walked to keep her moving, or else she'd stop and look around with a puzzled expression.

"Here," he said when they finally got to the tent he and Lupin shared. "This is where you'll be staying."

She didn't seem to take any interest in her surroundings, but sat willingly enough in a chair. He made a cup of tea for her, then woke Lupin, who was not feeling well, yet again.

"I'm supposed to take care of her," Harry said after explaining, "but I don't know what to do."

"She needs to go to St. Mungo's," Lupin said. "Potion interactions are complex. I don't know how much we can do for her."

Harry looked through the doorway. He could see the woman, sitting quietly once more. She hadn't touched the tea. He might have expected as much. She didn't seem capable of anything at all.

"I'll take her to Doctor Brown," he said. "Maybe he can do something."

He made her drink her tea first, by reminding her about it every minute or so. Then he went through the tedious process of leading her to Doctor Brown's tent.

"A human!" Doctor Brown said, when Harry walked in with her. "What is she doing here?"

"You didn't hear?" Harry asked. "I was all the way across the camp, and I heard the noise."

"I was away this morning."

"Jacob was keeping her. He gave her all sorts of potions- I don't know exactly what, but there were love potions and calming ones- and Galba told me to take care of her. I thought you might be able to help."

"Hmm..." Doctor Brown said. "I don't know what I can do, without knowing what potions she was given. We'll see how she fares tomorrow. Most potions last less than a day."

So Harry was left to look in the warehouse tent for food. Lupin was out of tea.

That morning, just before the disturbance, the camp had starting packing in earnest. They would be leaving the next day. Harry's letter to Ron and Hermione was useless. If, of course, they'd ever received it at all. He had no guarantee.

It was bright out, and that made him tired. Stupid vampire instincts. Everyone else seemed to be managing. But he didn't have any work to do, so he went back to his tent to take a nap.

Lupin was lying on the ground, right near the entryway.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said. "Are you alright?" Which was an inane thing to say, really. Obviously he wasn't okay. He was unconscious. But his chest was rising and falling, so he was alive.

Good. Harry didn't want to see anyone else die today. One was more than enough.

He moved Lupin onto the sofa, grateful for the first time for his own vampirism; without it, there was no way he would be able to lift Lupin. Vampire strength: occasionally useful.

Unsure of what to do next, Harry ran back to Doctor Brown.

"It's Lupin- he won't wake up!"

The two of them then made a mad dash back to Harry's tent.

Doctor Brown checked Lupin's pulse, muttering to himself. "Too slow..."

He went into the kitchen. Harry followed.

There was a glass on the counter, with the usual sticky residue from Lupin's potion.

"He took a second dose?" Harry said. For he clearly remembered washing a glass just like that this morning. Lupin had been feeling particularly awful then, and Harry tried to be helpful to him. "Would that- is that why he's so ill?"

"That would account for the sleepiness," Doctor Brown said. "Best to let him sleep it off. Perhaps I should put you in charge of giving him his potion. He seems too confused lately to be administering his own medications."

"He seems too sick to keep going with that potion at all," Harry said. "He can barely walk."

Doctor Brown made a sort of humming noise, and paced back and forth. "I suppose I could reformulate it- slightly- to be less harsh. It might not work so well, then. He might still change."

"I could sit with him," Harry suggested. "I mean- I'm not likely to be hurt if he does change into a wolf, am I? I'm immune."

"Immune to his curse, yes. He could still rip you apart. You are more human than the rest of us. More delicate. I don't think you are strong enough to fight off a werewolf."

Harry scowled. Madame Pomfrey had called him delicate, at the beginning of the year, when the Dementors had affected him so terribly. It was not a word he liked associated with him. Especially now, when he wasn't even human anymore.

"However- that is a good idea. I will sit with him on the full moon. I should have no problems restraining him, should the need arise. For now, I will move him where I can keep an eye on him. "

With that, Doctor Brown picked Lupin up and carried him off. He showed no visible signs of effort, and Harry could see what he had meant, about Harry being delicate. It hadn't been easy for him to lift Lupin. It had merely been possible.

Too human for this place. Too vampire for anywhere else. Really, it didn't seem fair. For all of Doctor Brown's babbling about taking back the day, Harry didn't see that it was worth being weak compared to everyone else, just so he didn't have to wear sunglasses.

He had nothing important to do at the moment, so he pulled out a book from the shelf. He could have had them all read ages ago, but he was saving them- savoring them. They were like a lifeline to the outside world, where people argued over silly things, and fell in love, and ate real food (and enjoyed it, something Harry couldn't imagine anymore), and generally had a good time, even if there were rough patches.

So he read them slowly. He'd never been especially fast with books, so it wasn't difficult to drag them out so that each lasted weeks. And when he finished, he reread all the ones he'd already finished.

It was funny. He'd never liked to read that much before. At the Dursley's, he had no time- chores had taken up his every moment- and at Hogwarts, he'd had friends to take up his time.

Now, he had no distractions.

He must have fallen asleep, because he woke to find that he had dropped the book of the edge of the bed. He automatically reached up to fix his glasses, only to find that he wasn't wearing them. He must have gone without them all day. He hadn't noticed.

Well, there was another benefit to being a vampire.

He yawned, and walked out of his room. Galba was standing in the middle of the room, holding Harry's coat. His hand was in the pocket.

"Hi," Harry said, hoping to distract him. But there was no distracting Galba. There never was. A few seconds later, he discovered the cryptic letters.

"I should have expected as much," he said, "when I realized the orders were missing. I assumed the owl had been lost, or killed. But it was you, all along. Theiving brat."

"What are you doing with Hedwig, anyway?" Harry asked. "She's my owl. You don't have any right to her."

Galba scowled. "You sent a note back, didn't you?"

Harry said nothing. There really wasn't a point in lying.

It seemed like no time passed, but Harry found himself pinned to the wall by his throat.

"What did you say?" Galba asked, his voice more a hiss than human speech.

Harry couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak. He didn't really need air anymore, but his body didn't seem to know that; he felt a desperate need to breathe, a burning in his lungs.

Galba's grip tightened. "Tell me."

Harry tried to pull Galba's hands from his throat, but he couldn't. Too delicate, a voice at the back of his mind whispered. Too human.

Galba's grip only tightened, and Harry was sure that he was going to have nasty bruises, healing ability or not, and as Galba gripped, Harry could feel his feet leaving the ground.

"Tell me!" Galba roared, no longer hissing. His eyes were wide, and utterly focused on Harry's face.

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound could come out.

It seemed impossible that Galba's grip could get any tighter, but it did. He began to shake Harry, bashing his head into the wall with every twitch of his monstrous arms. Harry was sure he would pass out, from hitting his head if nothing else. But the pain stayed; consciousness stubbornly refused to leave him.

At last, after what seemed like eternity, Galba let him fall to the ground. "Now," he said, more calm. "Tell me what you said, in the letter."

"I told them where we are," Harry managed to choke out. "I told them there was a cure for lycanthropy. I told them everything."

Harry had been expecting more pain, but it was still a surprise when Galba stepped on his hand, crushing it. Harry was sure some bones were broken by now. His hand. Perhaps his skull.

And still, he couldn't pass out.

"You've compromised our plans," Galba said. "You might have gotten someone killed."

Galba paused for a moment, thinking of something. For a moment, it looked as if he might laugh. Then his expression quickly sobered.

"If he is dead," he said, "you'll wish you were."

He stepped on Harry's other hand, then, and might have done more, had a voice at the door not said: "Stop."

Galba turned. Harry could not see- he was on the ground, and the table obscured his view of the door. All he could see of the person at the door was a pair of battered trainers.

Funny, Harry thought, still staring at the shoes. Those are just like my trainers. And that voice-

"Harry," Galba said, but he was not looking at Harry. He was looking at the door

"Galba," the voice said. And, as the figure stepped forward, Harry realized why the voice had sounded so familiar. It was his own. The figure in the doorway was him- him, wearing a Gryffindor badge on his robes, and holding Harry's school bag.

Polyjuice, he thought. Their plans- they'd had someone there, impersonating him the whole time. Someone had been sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes and going to his classes. Ron and Hermione hadn't even realized he was gone. No one had worried. No one had even known. He felt a tide of despair rise in him- he'd pinned so much hope to that letter. And now he'd been hurt for it, and it hadn't even mattered.

"Let's get you to Doctor Brown," the other Harry said. He looked pointedly at Galba. "I'll deal with you later."

Broken bones were nothing to a healer, and Doctor Brown was a healer as well as a doctor. It took only moments to fix, and a few more moments to get rid of the bruises.

The other Harry was very quiet while the doctor fixed Harry up, but Brown chattered away.

"And here I thought I was only going to have to deal with one of you for months yet," he said.

"Sorry to disappoint you," other Harry said. "But my cover was blown. They think I was an impostor, disguised with polyjuice."

"Aren't you?" Harry blurted out.

The other Harry laughed. "No. Didn't anyone tell you there was a time traveler in charge of all of this?"

Harry was speechless.

"Here," the other Harry said. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk about this."

They walked back to Harry's tent. Galba was gone, and Lupin was staying with Doctor Brown, so the tent was empty.

"You have a lot of questions," the other Harry said.

"Yes." Harry was still unnerved by the sight of the other Harry. They were utterly identical, in height, in looks- everything. Harry had known, intellectually, that he wasn't going to age, but the reality hadn't been hammered home yet.

"How long?" he finally asked.

"I'm from a hundred years in the future."

So in a hundred years, he would still look thirteen. That was going to be unpleasant.

"And- why?"

"Because there weren't any of us left. I was one of the last vampires, and making new ones was illegal. Everyone I knew was dying. And not just vampires. The ministry gets a lot worse. They started killing centaurs, mermaids, veela- anyone a little different. Everyone who didn't quite fit."

Harry knew himself too well to miss that too-innocent look on the other Harry's face. "You're lying."

"Yes. But that's the official story."

"Then what's the real story?"

The other Harry started pacing. "I think that might have been the real story, once," he said. "But the thing about time travel is, it changes the future. It changes you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well- let me tell you a story, then.

"Once there was a Harry Potter in a world just like I described. Alone. And, just like the official story, he came back and tried to change things. He was successful. But that left a problem- that Harry shouldn't have existed. He was from a future that no longer existed. He was a paradox. Do you follow so far?"

"I think so."

"Good. Now, for this timeline to be stable, it had to be self-sustaining. A Harry in the new future had to go back to the past and change things. Does that make sense?"

"I think so," Harry said.

"But this new Harry had grown up in peaceful times. He didn't experience all that the Harry from the old timeline had, but he needed to go back anyway, to start the war that made it peaceful. And the only way to start that war was to tell others about the dreadful future they needed to avoid.
"So he lied. And after the timeline had repeated enough times, no one could remember the first Harry at all. He existed- exists- only as an explanation. Because otherwise I don't see how any of this could have started."

"So- came back in time and lied to start a war."

"Yes."

"Because you knew the war had to come."

"Yes."

Harry couldn't quite wrap his mind around it.

"But-"

"It all makes sense later," the other Harry said. "Just wait fifty or sixty years."

"What? I can't wait-"

"You'll wait," the other Harry said. "Don't worry, time passes faster than you think."

Another thought occurred to Harry. "Why did you make all of this so elaborate- kidnapping me over the summer, and erasing my memories, and then re-kidnapping me? It all seems so elaborate."

"I wanted you at school as long as possible."

"Why?"

"Because if I could have one more day- one more minute- with Ron and Hermione, I would take it."

That was when Harry was convinced that the other Harry really was a time one could fake things that well.

"Now- I have to go speak to Galba. I think the responsibility I've given him is too much. He's a little..."

"Crazy," Harry finished.

The other Harry frowned. "He's... old. And he forgets what is acceptable. Everything has changed, in the past few hundred years. Hell, it keeps changing. The world's barely recognizable fifty years from now. But I couldn't keep an eye on him, these last few months. It's all a bit much for him."

He stood. "I'm going to change- it'll be nice to get back into my own clothes. I forgot how badly Dudley's cast-offs fit."

Oh. The clothes- they hadn't been from this summer at all. They'd been the other Harry's. That made sense.

The other Harry went into Harry's room, and Harry was left alone, unsure about what to think.

He didn't want to support this war. But it looked he was going to support it, eventually. Start it, even. It seemed a bit silly to oppose it now.

The other Harry emerged, dressed in some of the more formal clothes. Harry had never worn those; he'd left them in the back of the closet.

Is that really what I look like? Harry wondered. The other Harry was- there was no other word for it- graceful. Harry had never really been clumsy, but he couldn't imagine that he walked so smoothly, or looked so elegant. Even as a vampire. Even now.

"Ballroom dancing," the other Harry said.

"What?"

"I took up ballroom dancing for a while. It was something to do. But had to stop after a couple of years. The judges started to notice that I didn't age. I was pretty dazzling for those two years, though. And it improves your posture incredibly."

Harry didn't even want to comment on that.

The other Harry turned to walk out the door.

"Do you want your coat back?" Harry blurted out. "I've been wearing it."

"Keep it. The cold doesn't bother me any more."

The door slammed shut, and Harry was once again alone.

–

-

A/N:

There! A bit of a longer chapter to make up for the short one last time.

I know even less about dancing than I do about brit-picking. Actually, the only thing I really know about dancing is that I'm terrible at it.

If anyone would like to beta, let me know.

Please Review!