Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. OK, I lied. I own the seven Harry Potter books – but that's it! I swear!!
Summary: After a bout of magic that leaves Dudley paralyzed, four-year-old Harry Potter is left for dead in London by his uncle. Fortunately, he was found and rescued. Unfortunately, he was found and rescued by a gang of vampires. What happens when the saviour of the wizarding world is raised by creatures of the night?
Warning: Character death is in here again though it's not that gruesome. Overall, it's about a PG-13.
A/N: First off, I am terribly sorry it took me such a long time to punch out another chapter. For some odd reason, it took me a long time to get anywhere – but it's finally done and that's what counts, right? OK, I know, I still have no real good excuse, seeing as how it's almost a year since the last update. All I have to say is this: writer's block is such a pain. Seriously! Nothing I wrote seemed right (I tried at least ten times so I know what I'm talking about.)!
But anyway, with no further ado – the fourth chapter and I hope it lives up to expectations! I personally think it's not that good, but then, it sort of is somewhat of a filler chapter – sort of. Annoying, but necessary.
Siri
10.01.07
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Zayn Callunde: Saviour or Traitor
Chapter 4
Death and the Proposition
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October 1997
The dark corridor was dusty and seemed to be devoid of life. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust and even the candelabras on the walls no longer lit automatically, as if being out of use for such a long time, they had given up of the prospect of ever lighting up for passersby ever again. The closest used classroom was a ten minute walk away through more cold and dark corridors and the Slytherin entrance was on the other side of the dungeons. All in honesty, the hallways in that section of the dungeons haven't been regularly traveled through for decades so that even the ever diligent house elves had stopped cleaning the area long ago.
All of these characteristics made it a perfect place for snogging in private – and that was exactly what a certain red-haired young lady and a dark-haired young man was doing right that second. Snogging. Suddenly, their lips were no longer attached to the other when the pair remembered that they needed to breathe, and as if they had never stopped, they continued – and with more passion. In fact, they were so immersed in their activities that they never noticed that there were people just around the corner until they heard them.
"So what did you say happened?" An obviously male voice cut through the couple's thoughts that were steadily heating up – until that moment, that is. The two jumped apart and pressed their backs into the wall with their hands entwined in an effort to hide from the unexpected intruders, which did nothing much since you could barely see your feet, never mind people in a corridor five feet away.
"I told you, Zabini, all in time," another voice replied coolly. "I don't want anyone to overhear us."
"But no one's here! No one's been here for ages according to that horrid, damp, musty smell." This time, the voice, Zabini's voice, if you will, held a tone of underlying disgust.
"You can never be too sure, though," a new voice replied. This one was cold and calculating, though also obviously male.
"Indeed."
While that was happening, the couple was waiting for the voices to continue speaking and so they could resume their activities. Meanwhile, however, they were trying to figure out who the people were in the first place and though they haven't spoken their thoughts aloud to each other, they unknowingly came to the same conclusion: the Slytherins were up to something. They had no idea how right they were – and how much danger they were in.
"Malfoy –"
The girl sucked in a breath and buried her face into her boyfriend's shoulder in order to prevent her from making anymore noise. Malfoy! What was Malfoy up to? Maybe this could be something they could use against him, she thought frantically, though with nervous anticipation.
"Zabini!" Malfoy's voice interrupted sharply. "You are the one who wants to know. No one here is obligated to tell you anything – so first, you had better tell us what you want to know and why you want to know what it is you want to know." An angry growl was heard until there was a spoken response.
"You already know—"
"Humour us," that same cold voice cut through. Zabini huffed a bit before forcing out a reply.
"As you both know, my family is neutral." There was a grunt of assent. "I just want to get a feel of what is going on."
"So basically, you are living up to being a Slytherin and are currently, shall we say, testing out the waters?"
"Yes, that would do it."
"And why should we tell you? What do we have to gain from it?" There was a short pause, then—
"You could gain an ally. A supporter if you will."
There was a longer pause this time and a series of whispers.
"So what do you already know?" There was the sound of a breath being released before an answer arrived.
"Not much. I only know what everyone knows from the Prophet. I know that the Light is taking a beating, even though the articles don't it say outright. I know a majority of the Dark creatures have joined the Dark Lord and that Light supporters are getting picked off one by one." At that, the girl squeezed her eyes shut in pain and several tears leaked through. She received a reassuring squeeze of the hand in turn and bucked up. "It's not much, but I want to know what's behind all the success of the Dark Lord. I want to know the details. I want to know what exactly is going on behind the scenes."
"So you decided to go to us."
"Yes." There was an amused 'hmmm'.
"Well, Zabini, I have to say that I am not surprised. It's a smart thing for you to do. Unfortunately, there isn't much I can tell you—"
"But—"
"But," the voice continued, a bit louder than before, "we'll tell you what we can. Nott?"
"What you said was correct – but it's only the tip of the sword. Of course, the bloody Ministry wouldn't want it to leak out even more on how utterly pathetic they are. Using our resources, we have disabled our opposition considerably. The Vampires, Werewolves, and Giants are on our side, with the few rogue exceptions, though the Centaurs stubbornly insist on being neutral. Especially with the death of that Longbottom boy at the hands of one of our allies, the vanguard of the Light, the Light's morale has diminished considerably, though they are far from having given up hope. Also, we have people occupying choice positions throughout the wizarding world." There was a moment of silence. "Honestly, we're both treading on a fine line since what we have, they have an equivalent of sorts in return, and though we have the upper hand and probably will for quite a while, one lucky move on their side could help them substantially."
"I think the road that the Dark Lord has paved will be the right one to take, what with Dumbledore losing the two people who had a chance to defeat the Dark Lord, if you go by the prophecy rumour that went around a few years back, it seems like we will prevail." A series of a harsh laughter filled the air.
"He lost them, all right."
"Huh?"
"Longbottom's dead. However, the Potter kid is still alive – if you could really call it that—"
Suddenly, two loud gasps of surprise could be heard and though twin sounds of hands slapping over their mouths could be heard a split second later, it was too late. Swift footsteps came and the two sprinted out of the hallway in an attempt to escape, but they were easily detained and cornered. The grey eyes of Draco Malfoy peered malevolently out from behind strands of his fine, blond hair and a smile stretched across his face.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't a bird and its slut of a weasel." The girl's face flushed a deep red in anger while the boy opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, searching for a proper comeback but finding none. "This is fortunate – for me, at least – meeting here." A tall Nott with brown hair took a step forward, a strange glint in his eye.
"I agree." Within half a second after that, the two Slytherins had their wands out and pointed at the two, while Zabini stood at the back, watching interestedly at what would happen next, with a hand on his wand – just in case. He was Slytherin, after all.
"Weasel, Boot." Malfoy nodded to each of them. "It was nice knowing you two, but, alas, what you heard is not to be spoken to anyone." He gave a thin smile and with an almost imperceptible incline of his head, twin beams of an emerald green lanced to the pair, leaving behind two bodies with eyes forever staring, their hands still clasped together. "Isn't that sweet? Together till the end. Come on, Zabini. We shall have to continue this another time and don't even think of letting slip what you learned today, or else their deaths" Malfoy waved a hand at the bodies. "will resemble your ending very soon – though yours would no doubt be a whole lot more messier and painful." Nott looked at the bodies indifferently and with a flick of his wand, they were set ablaze and the three walked calmly away from the distinctly foul stench of burning flesh and hair, the flames painting flickering reds and oranges on the walls and ceiling. Zabini nodded at the implied threat.
"I have no intentions of betraying your trust."
"You make sure of that."
As the three Slytherins rounded around the corner, the candelabras along the corridor simultaneously lit up as if for a silent vigil to two young lives lost.
IOI
1 Week Later
Emerald green eyes blinked once as they studied his reflection in the mirror. Content with his appearance and with only a swift movement to straighten his black velvet robes once more, he nodded and stepped towards the door. Striding swiftly through the hallway lined with majestic paintings with a floor of lacquered oak so shiny that one would see their own reflection in it as if it was a proper mirror, Zayn Callunde, the seventeen year old heir of the Callunde clan was on his way to yet another meeting with the Dark Lord Voldemort. Even with the prospect of meeting with the dreaded, self-proclaimed Dark Lord, Zayn only felt excitement at what the meeting would bring, as the summons had not put into detail what it would be about and he finally had something to do.
Finally reaching the heavy, wood doors to the outside, he walked to the apparition point to apparate to the Headquarters of Voldemort, which he secretly referred to as the Place of Death, otherwise known as POD. A faint smile graced his face at the thought of Voldemort's expression if he knew that one of his most trusted outside of his precious Inner Circle referred to his headquarters as "The POD", which didn't even sound remotely menacing in any way. Concentrating, Zayn felt the very uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed through a small tube, the trademark feeling of apparating and something he would probably never get used to, no matter how long he lived. Within moments, he was at his destination and was greeted by three hooded figures who bowed respectfully to him.
Zayn straightened his robes once again and nodded to each of them in turn, then strode towards the front doors to a large estate that resembled more like a picture of a Victorian era Estate, rather than one in the late twentieth century. The doors opened for him once he reached them and he stepped in. Immediately, a cowering house elf appeared at his side and bowed low, his thin nose touching the floor before he stood up again.
"Good evening, Young Master Callunde. Master is waiting in his study. Please follow Rinnel." Zayn only raised one eyebrow and with a nod to the elf who he safely assumed was "Rinnel", as he never really saw the same elf greet him at The POD, and followed the little creature deeper into the mansion. Several minutes later, they arrived before a set of doors with winding snakes carved beautifully into the frame and with a bow, Rinnel left with a crack. Zayn raised an eyebrow in amusement and knocked on the door three times.
"Come in, Zayn."
With that, Zayn pushed open the doors to reveal a study that was equipped in floor to ceiling bookshelves, a large desk with only an ink pot on it, a large leather chair behind it, and a number of rather comfortable looking chairs before the desk. He raised his eyebrows at that and looked to Voldemort.
"My Lord," he greeted with a slight incline of his head. "Are you expecting visitors?" A corner of possibly the most feared being in the wizarding world twitched in amusement.
"Shortly." He waved a shockingly pale hand at a chair. "Please, sit. I have a proposition for you." Zayn mentally cheered at that and gladly took a seat, as he really didn't have much to do over the past two weeks and was itching for something – anything – to keep from eternal boredom.
"A proposition…?" he prompted. He received a nod in response.
"Would you be willing to get rid of a certain fool for me?" Voldemort asked casually, even though it really was more of an order. After all, who would dare say no to him, even if it was the proud heir to the Callunde clan?
"Which fool? There are many in this world." Voldemort threw back his head and laughed, the chilling sound seemed to go on for ages. Zayn allowed himself a small smile before his usual blank mask returned and patiently waited for an answer. Voldemort eventually stopped and surveyed the young vampire with a calculating glint in his eye.
"Cornelius Fudge." Zayn smiled.
"Gladly." Voldemort seemed to study him once more before nodding, as if he approved of what he saw.
"Ten thousand galleons?" Zayn nodded in approval after a second of deliberation. After all, it didn't really take much thought as this was the most he was ever offered. "This leads me to the second purpose for this meeting."
"Oh?"
"You are very efficient and are fast becoming one of my most trusted." There was a pause. "I have decided to change a little in how you usually carry out your job." At that, Zayn mentally frowned but his words betrayed none of his thoughts.
"What would be… changed?"
"I would like to have some of my Death Eaters involved as well." Intrigued, Zayn waited for the man to continue. "It will be a test of some sort to see if you get along with the next generation of Death Eaters."
"Does this have a purpose?" Voldemort gave a single nod.
"I am considering letting you into my Inner Circle." Zayn's eyes widened slightly at the admission. "I need to see how effectively you handle my people."
"I see."
"Are you up to it?" Voldemort posed the question as a challenge, his crimson eyes darkened dangerously.
"Yes," came the simple reply.
And as if it was rehearsed, the doors opened moments after his reply to reveal seven figures in Death Eater garb. By their stature, Zayn surmised and confirmed that he would be working with people around his age. Outwardly, Zayn appeared to not feel any emotion, inside, however, he was mentally rubbing his hands together with glee.
Oh, this'll be fun!
IOI
Later That Night
Albus Dumbledore was pacing in his office, his face was showing his years and his normally twinkling eyes were dull with fatigue. What has this world come to, when evil conquers good? He raised his hand to massage his temples and proceeded to sit down. The entire staff was notified almost a week ago that Ginny Weasley and her boyfriend, Terry Boot, were missing and had been missing – and no one found them until that night. In fact, they only found them, or, rather, evidence of their time there when they enlisted the help of the house elves with their own special brand of magic. Truthfully, all that was left was a smattering of ashes mixed in with the dust with bleached, white bones. All in all, you could barely tell the difference between the ashes and the dust, besides the fact that the wall near the scattered ashes was scorched black as if from a fire. What honestly stuck with him, though, was the heartbreaking image of the remains of two hands held together, fingers entwined for all eternity.
And as if things couldn't get any worse, no one knew the people behind it, though he had his suspicions, but he couldn't act upon them without any solid evidence – of which he had none. All he had was a collection of ash and bones with no witnesses to the deaths and a school full of shocked and mourning students. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. And young Miss Weasley had such potential!
At the sound of his magical doorbell, he raised his head a bit to glare at the door. Shaking his head, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a small tin container. Opening it, a number of round, yellow sweets twinkled in the light. Smiling slightly, the aging man picked one up and popped it into his mouth.
Almost immediately, his eyes grew lighter again with a hint of his old, trademark twinkle as he straightened up just in time for the door to bang open, revealing a mass of red headed people, with Molly Weasley leading them, her eyes red, swollen, and still streaming tears, a wet handkerchief in one hand, the other clenched with determination at her side, the rest of her family resembling her in varying stages of grief, sadness, remorse, and anger.
Thank Merlin for lemon drops, he thought before he braced himself for the fury of the fiery matriarch of the Weasley family.