Harry Potter and the Love of a Veela

Chapter 6 - Return to Hogwarts

(Meetings)

By: Schittlez

Draco yawned as the Headmaster drabbled on, in his opinion, with his beginning-of-the-year speech—new announcements, new teachers and old, every-year rules that always had to be reiterated. Same old thing. He had enough on his mind anyway to even pay attention to the speech, even if it had been interesting; and everything compiled into his mind was driving him on the brink.

Sure he looked fine on the outside, now that he was settled among the crowd. He appeared smooth and sophisticated, but inside at that moment, he could easily destroy everything in his wake within a manner of seconds from all the frustration he was holding in right now.

For one, the grief over his parents had a cynically funny way of randomly coming at him in waves when he least expected it. Then, everyone at his table kept bugging him about trivial things he had no concern over, while Pansy Parkinson was doing anything, short of throwing herself on him, to arouse his attention. Draco wanted to kick her out of her seat. He wouldn't court that desperate whelp if his life depended on it.

That was another thing. His stupid Veela instincts were beyond controllable and it was infuriating. They were causing him to act in ways he was sure would ruin his reputation within no time at all.

He knew this situation was to be predestined and his mother had made sure he knew all the aspects, basic rules and the possible outcomes and consequences, but that was just it. His mother might not have been there for much support in any other aspect of his life, but when it came to passing down her heritage and knowing how crucial it was for Draco, Narcissa was on the front line.

But Draco didn't have her to help him through it, now. Even worse was, he had to witness, first-hand, what one of the downfalls were to being a Veela—watch helplessly as his beautiful mother dissolved before his very eyes.

The life of a Veela was harsh. He was finding that out the hard way and it was only going to get shoddier. On top of that, he had been dwelling on something that he had to be prepared to face if things didn't work out. If Draco didn't find at least who his mate was before his seventeenth birthday, a year after he first came into his inheritance, then he had no choice but to die.

That prospect didn't sound promising in the least but Draco couldn't prevent what was bred into his blood. He had to abide by the traditions, for the sake of his own life. But was the fear of an untimely death skewing his natural-born premonition of fate? Was his subconscious so desperate to save the last Malfoy that it was choosing almost any and every possible solution for a mate?

Draco figured it had to be as much. There was no way his instincts were honestly veering towards the students they led him to today and truly considered them as well-respectable candidates.

He knew the process would be tough. Too many students were around him all the time for it to be easy to pinpoint one. Draco knew he'd have to weed through them all and find the commonality of what students were around every time his senses peaked. Then, he could narrow them down by being around each of them alone and find whether or not his feelings still rang true.

Simple it seemed at first, until… him!

First on the Hogwarts Express, Draco thought, but there were other students in the compartment, albeit bad possibilities as well, and students were all over the train's corridor. But then, he bumped into him in the entrance hallway and his body quickly started to burn like every other time he felt the presence of his mate. However, there were other students around at that time as well. They could have passed by him on the train, right?

'Doubtful.'

'Shut up!'

'Oh, you're arguing with me now? Or is it with yourself?'

'You're not funny.'

'Whatever you say, but you're in denial.'

'I don't care. Besides, he's a boy!'

'Oh really? I hadn't noticed. And where in the Veela Code of Law does it state any differential rules on the matter of sexual preferences?'

'It doesn't but-'

'And it's not because he's a boy… it's because he's Harry Potter.'

'That too… but he's not the one!'

'…If you say so…'

Draco didn't care if he was crazy—carrying on like a lunatic, arguing mentally with himself.

Harry Potter was not Draco Malfoy's mate!

A few floating candles directly above him flickered out but no student paid any mind seeing that the feast was over and everyone began standing up and piling out of the room and into the hallway. Draco slowly began to get up to follow their lead when he happened to notice the teacher's table; and before he knew it, Professor Severus Snape was making his way over to the blonde-haired boy. Draco remained where he was, waiting for whatever the Head of Slytherin House had to say.

Snape was right over top of him moments later and thrust a folded up piece of parchment in Draco's hands. "Do not read aloud," Snape drawled out, making a move to leave but then he halted, looking at Draco once more and said, "And I hope that this year you remain as much of an 'ambitious advocate' as you have been in previous years. Good night Mr. Malfoy."

'Ambitious Advocate,' Draco replayed in his head. So that was the new password to the common room this year? He stared intently at his teacher a moment longer then drew his attention to what was probably a note. He peeled it open and read the contents.

'Dear Young Malfoy,

I regret to say that I have heard about how your summer turned out and think it wise we discuss your situation. Please meet me at my office one hour after dinner, tonight at nine o'clock.

-Albus Dumbledore

P.S. I just love pumpkin-fudge nougats, don't you?'

Six words came to mind right after Draco finished reading the note.

'Pumpkin…Fudge… Nougat. What the hell?'

If he hadn't thought it many times before, he had proof right now that his headmaster was a batty ol' coot who was a few pawns short of a chess set. Nevertheless, he had to hurry and settle in his dormitory, so he wasn't late for whatever the professor had in store.

Harry had wasted no time in making his way up towards the gargoyle statue that rested in front of the staircase, leading to the Headmaster's office. He hadn't even bothered to stop in at the Gryffindor common room before he came. He was just too anxious to discover what Dumbledore wanted to meet with him about.

"Pumpkin-fudge nougat," Harry addressed the stone guard who then proceeded to leap out of the way so he could climb the spiral staircase. He wasted no time in ascending to the office. He approached to door, gave it a few knocks and waited for a response. He received none. He began to knock again, but slowly opened the door as he did so.

"Professor?"

Harry let himself all the way in to find that no one occupied the office at that moment besides himself. He decided to at least have a seat while he waited. As he rested in the armchair, he took in his surroundings, noticing all the gadgets and trinkets that had been whirling, popping and buzzing since he could remember. It was then he realized that all of them were intact. He easily recalled the very last time he was in this office and set it ablaze by smashing whatever he could get his hands on.

Every object sat as if it had never been touched and when Harry thought back on that moment, he felt slightly ashamed. He hadn't meant to be disrespectful; he was just outraged—outraged by the injustice of it all. He had to admit, he was still ticked about the Headmaster from time to time when he thought about him. But what was he really angry at him for? The fact that Dumbledore kept things from him? Maybe it was that when Harry felt he really needed the professor, at that time more than ever, to make things right, the Headmaster actually couldn't for once? Or was it that the professor seemed keen on planning things for Harry without expressing care for the teen's own opinion, like he was some sort of pawn?

It was a combination of the three—Harry thought—that pushed him to the point of feeling unforgiving towards him. But that didn't mean he hated Dumbledore. Either way, this meeting was definitely going to be really awkward for Harry.

Right on cue, the doorknob behind him began to twist and Harry looked around the back of his chair to witness Professor Dumbledore enter his own office looking rather worn. Any harshness Harry felt towards him melted as he took in the sight. The Headmaster finally looked like the years were really getting to him. But that didn't stop the elderly man from perking up once he noticed his invited guest was already seated and waiting for him.

"Ah, Harry, ever-so punctual. I appreciate you waiting patiently for me. You've been doing your best to stay well over the summer I hope."

"It's been fair, Professor," Harry reluctantly replied as he watched Dumbledore pass by him and seated himself in front of Harry at his desk. He appeared to be contemplating what Harry was saying as he rested his chin on his hands, with his elbows propped on the desk.

"Hmm, yes…" Dumbledore trailed off. Then, he piped up and said, "Well, we have a lot to cover before the night is over and, more importantly, our other guest arrives."

"Other guest, sir?" Harry inquired.

"Yes, Harry, but more of that later. First we need to discuss some things so that a few loose ends can be tied up." Dumbledore received a nervous nod from Harry and continued. "I couldn't find a more brooding topic to start off with, but it is a necessary evil. It's the matter of your late-godfather, Sirius."

Harry noticeably flinched but remained silent and still for a few moments. He knew it had to be brought up, but that made it nowhere near easier. Every time he thought about the last family member he had and how he just slipped away, Harry wanted to destroy something. That was the only way to describe the hurt and anger. It wasn't fair, but there was nothing Harry could do about that and his life had to go on. Dumbledore waited very patiently for Harry to let him proceed.

"My godfather, sir...? What about him?"

"Well," the professor started, "with his untimely passing came the issue of his will. He had one written, in fact, and you are the sole beneficiary. He bequeaths everything to you."

"Everything, sir?" Harry blinked a few times.

"Everything, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "You seem surprised. I personally think Sirius would love no one else to inherit his estate more than you. So, all of his assets are now in your name. His money, possessions, but his residence…" the Headmaster trailed off.

A tear almost slipped out from the overwhelming emotion, but that didn't stop Harry from noticing what Dumbledore just said. "What do you mean, Professor?"

"There is an issue about Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and whether or not it truly belongs to you."

"Well, why not?"

"The truth is, Harry, you are not blood related and knowing how the Black's lineage works, they were probably very persistent about keeping their legacy as untainted as possible. Meaning there might be possible magic that the family enforced so that only a blood relative could receive the estate."

"Meaning…"

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry shuddered. He didn't even want to think of the woman's name, let alone hear it uttered. Was it true? Could that sadistic, twisted excuse for a woman really own what Sirius once possessed? The thought was maddening.

"But, even if you somehow still retained the right to be the beneficiary, we, as in the Order I mean, might still not be able to convene there any longer."

Harry was confused. "I don't understand, Professor. You know I'd be more than happy to let the Order retain it as headquarters. You can have it for all I care. It has too many memories for me to really want to keep it."

Dumbledore smiled consolingly at the teenager and replied, "I wouldn't expect you to offer any less, Harry. You are quite kind. However, this is a matter of security and safety."

"Safety?"

"Yes. You see, when Sirius' house-elf, Kreacher, was demanded to go away, he took it in a context where he could interpret it in a way he wanted to manipulate it into, a loophole if you will. Hence, he ran off to Sirius' cousin, Miss Lestrange, helping their side conspire in tricking all of us."

Harry needed no reminding of the two new names he would gladly love to see etched in gravestones that would be perched on top of the tombs to those very same individuals. Dumbledore easily noticed the malice in Harry's eyes because he quickly continued, glancing at his watch that rested on his desk, which read 8:19.

"So, the problem is, if Kreacher manipulated Sirius' statement to that extent, who is to say that he didn't take it literally in a sense where he could assume Sirius meant it to set him free?"

"But Sirius didn't give him clothes," Harry retorted.

"That's very true, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "But Sirius also didn't command Kreacher to go behind his back, report to a Death Eater and plot against us."

Harry could understand where the Headmaster was coming from. If Kreacher was to considered himself as a free house elf, even if Harry had a chance at owning the estate, then that would mean Kreacher technically freed himself before Sirius died and would not belong to Harry anyway. Therefore, he could run to his favorite Voldemort follower and not only expose what went on regarding the Order of the Phoenix, but also who was involved.

"That thing is more trouble than it's worth," Harry spat out, crossing his arms.

"At the moment, it would appear so," Dumbledore sighed. "And although I'd appreciate it if you would address the house-elf in a more respectful manner, I do understand your anger. Furthermore, we haven't the time."

"So, what do we do about both situations?" Harry asked.

"Well, you could call him and see if he comes. If Sirius' total estate does indeed belong to you and not Bellatrix, house, house-elf and all, then that would make Kreacher your house-elf now, for as long as you see fit."

"I don't want him," Harry threw out.

"I'm quite sure, but we need to know," Dumbledore threw back.

"But, how can I call him? I thought no one could apparate in and out of Hogwarts."

"Ah, so I see you do listen to Miss Granger at times," Dumbledore beamed. "You're quite right. But you also have to remember that house-elves have a code slightly above that rule, since they have to report to their master at a moment's notice, no matter where the location of whom they serve."

Harry nodded and then cleared his throat. "Umm… Kreacher?" he spoke out, a little uncertain. At first he felt pretty stupid, calling out in thin air for something he didn't even want to see anymore. But then, before he could say anything, there was a 'pop' and a tattered, old, grumpy-looking house-elf stood right in between Harry and Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore clapped his approval for a second and addressed Harry again. Unfortunately, his comments were frequently interrupted by Kreacher's loud, disdainful remarks.

"That's wonderful Harry."

'Filthy muggle lovers'

"Now, this doesn't necessarily mean he's really yours."

'Would never dream of serving a half-blooded little brat'

"He could very well be Miss Lestrange's elf instead."

'Not worthy to speak her beautiful name. Yes, she is Kreacher's mistress, not a repulsive, little worm.'

"Give him a command and if he does as you say, then we are very much in the clear."

'Will not do anything that wretched, grotesque thing has to say!'

Harry was trying really hard to understand what Dumbledore was saying while Kreacher wailed on and on, balling his fists, making faces and sticking his tongue out at the sixth-year in between his rude annotations.

Harry was getting rather far more than annoyed with the insufferable house-elf and finally couldn't stand it any longer when Kreacher started shouting, 'Filth! Filth! Filth!'

"Damnit, Kreacher, shut up! Just… go run into a wall!"

Dumbledore and Kreacher both stopped abruptly and turned their attention fully on Harry. Both of the reasons were far from different. Dumbledore cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at Harry, causing him to grow hot for his sudden outburst. But all was interrupted when the flailing house-elf put on the weirdest scene.

Kreacher was in the mist of doing what seemed to be an attempt at walking. But every time he took two steps forward, he tried desperately to pull one leg back. His face frowned and contorted as if he was trying to say something, but as he opened his mouth, his lips immediately shut once more.

Finally after a few rather confusing minutes, Kreacher's body seemed to slack with defeat as his legs carried him fast across the room towards one of Dumbledore's bookshelves. He collided with it, creating a loud 'smack' to emit into the room and caused the shelf he ran into to spill a few of its texts. They landed on his head as he fell to the ground. The elf was, needless to say, extremely disoriented and had a difficult time getting back up.

Harry looked back at Dumbledore to see that the Headmaster was already looking back at him.

"Well, Harry, I guess that's one way of testing it. But if we are to continue this meeting peacefully I urge you to show some restraint with your temper."

"Sorry, sir," Harry replied sheepishly, but when he looked at Dumbledore, the professor's eyes betrayed his strict tone as they were hinted with a slight amusement.

"So, Harry, what do you propose should be done with him now? The entertaining act just preformed in front of us proved Sirius' residence along with the house-elf is now yours."

"Well…" Harry started, ready to quickly move on, "Kreacher, I want you to go and work with the other Hogwarts elves in the kitchens until I say otherwise."

The house-elf immediately came out of his dizzy-spell once he heard the command that Harry uttered and grumbled rather incoherently as he vanished with a 'pop'.

"Good. Now, since that situation is settled, we can move on." Dumbledore then slowly let his smile falter as he gazed more intently at the sixth-year student. Harry could only help but feel a little apprehensive as the professor began to speak.

"Harry, I judge that your summer was a little less than fair, as you explained earlier. Would I be correct in making that assumption?"

Harry sighed. He knew this was the true reason for the meeting, and having him opening up about it was inevitable if he was to truly grow to understand his situation. It would be stupid of him to make the situation worse for himself by hiding it away as if it didn't exist; but verbally admitting it was just too… why did he have such a problem saying things out loud?

Harry solemnly met Dumbledore's eyes with his own when he responded. "Yes, sir."

"You seem greatly troubled."

Greatly troubled? Just greatly troubled?

"Professor, I didn't ask for this… any of this—this life, this fate and now this 'inheritance' if you will. I thought I had far more than enough to endure and now look! I'm a… a…" Harry swooped himself out of his chair and began to pace.

"Say it," the Headmaster pressed on.

"A vampire!" Harry shouted, grabbing two handfuls of hair as he continued to bore his footprints into the rug. "I mean, come on, do I not already have a fair amount stacked upon my shoulders to the point where life goes, 'hmm… maybe he's had enough?' No! I'm not ready for this. How can I do this?"

"By sitting down and listening carefully to me," Dumbledore calmly replied. Harry whipped his head towards him and just stared at him. The professor motioned him to sit back down with his hand and looked at Harry in the most comforting way possible. Harry took a deep breath and let it out heavily before returning to his seat.

"Now," said Dumbledore. "I can only begin to imagine your hardships, Harry. Such a heavy burden for any pair of shoulders, let alone those of a young man, could drive any person over the edge of insanity. Believe me, I've seen it-

"But I wouldn't be here, weighing out your options with you, and much less let you come back to school, if I did not trust you could handle it and, more importantly, control it. Now, I'll be here throughout the year to help you and answer any questions. And I brought someone to guide you and train you as well, since I know he possesses a far greater amount of knowledge towards this matter than I."

'Knock. Knock. Knock.'

Harry perked up as Dumbledore beckoned the person who interrupted to come inside; and upon immediately looking at the visitor, Harry wanted to gag.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Severus Snape oozed out every word as he stepped inside and approached the two, resting where he stood, beside Harry's chair. Harry could not believe he was being forced to tunnel down the same spiral he was forced to endure last year. Had they not learned anything from the Occlumency lessons?

"Yes, Severus. Young Harry is here and we were beginning to discuss the options of his latest development."

Harry had to look back at Dumbledore. "Does he… already know, Professor?" He gazed at the person he looked up to, now with speculation of betrayal in his eyes, but it was Snape who responded.

"Considering I am the only person here who can help you hone your senses and develop your skills as a vampire, Mr. Potter, I find it wise that I should know, don't you?"

"Um... well, yeah, but-"

"And I hope you take this a lot more seriously than your last faux-pa, when attempting to learn my lessons, because this time, if you don't concentrate and work hard enough to develop the strength needed to embrace and control your heritage, you'll find other peoples' lives could be in jeopardy, Mr. Potter. Not just your own…"

"I understand, however-"

"Very well. Starting Tuesday you will see me in my office at eight o'clock so we can commence the first meeting and your extra-curricular schedule with me shall be every Tuesday and Thursday at that precise time, unless I say otherwise, do I make myself clear?"

Harry was now full on gawking at Dumbledore, pleading for his help. The only thing he received in return was the signature twinkle in the Headmaster's eye and he knew this decision was final.

"Yes, Professor," Harry sighed.

Snape uttered no verbal reply, but instead pulled out a mirror and held it in front of Harry's face. Harry glanced at the object with confusion and found that his reflection was a hair away from being completely invisible.

"You're letting your emotions get the best of you. If you are to remain well at keeping this a secret, you have to control your emotions so that your reflection doesn't fade before your very eyes, or others' for that matter," Snape 'tsk'ed a little as he drew something else out of his robes. It was a thick, clear, glass flask containing a light blue liquid. The flask itself looked to be held in a little pouch with some sort of buckle on the side.

"What is that?" Harry couldn't help himself from asking.

Snape narrowed his eyes a little as he handed it over to the sixth-year. "This is what will help you remain calm until you gain more control over yourself. If you get too excited or let yourself become too affected by your senses tuning into those around you, your reflection can easily disappear, or worse, you could end up showing slight signs of transformation. In essence, this potion will help keep your disguise up and it lasts for twenty-four hours."

"So, this will help me calm down and tune out other people's emotions?"

"I am quite sure that is what I just said, Potter," Snape sneered.

Harry paid him no mind. Surveying the flask, he said, "Thank Merlin! I honestly don't know how much longer I would have been able to bare all those amplified girly wails and giggles."

Snape merely cocked an eyebrow, while Dumbledore couldn't help but smile.

Harry then proceeded to stand up. "Is there anything else I need tonight?" He looked more towards the Headmaster than Professor Snape. Luckily, the first one replied.

"No, Harry. That will be all. And Dobby will be visiting to bring you something else you might need later tonight once you get back to the common room."

"Oh, okay," Harry said as he got up and began to dismiss himself.

"Oh, one more thing," Dumbledore called to him once more, bringing Harry's attention back to the room.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Some good news I thought you might like to have. It appears you have been appointed to be the new Quidditch captain and I felt the need to deliver the letter to you personally."

"Really?"

"Yes, if you want the position, of course."

"Absolutely," Harry exclaimed as he received the envelope from Dumbledore. "Thanks."

"You're quite welcome, Harry."

With nothing left to say, Harry excused himself. "Good night, Professors." Then, he opened the office door and let himself out.

He was pretty elated as he trotted down the steps—first the potion and then Quidditch captain? He couldn't wait to tell Ron about the latter of the two topics; and with the potion he just received, he could easily keep his secret safe—although help had to come from one of the top five people he hated most.

Having classes again with the grease ball was going to be a living Hell; but if Dumbledore insisted, then Harry couldn't help but comply with anything that was going to aid in taking care of this situation. At least he did have an option to help deal with this new issue. For the first time since he arrived, Harry felt pretty confident.

His bubble of euphoria popped all too soon, however. Looking at the object in his hand, instead of the hall in front of him, as he exited the staircase, his lack of attention caused him to smack into something rather hard.

"Oomph!"

"Ow!"

Harry immediately fell backward and landed on his butt before his could even catch himself. Luckily, his right hand still kept his potion flask clasped tightly against his chest.

"I swear, Potter, you walk as bad as you fly. Can't you watch where you're going?"

Harry glared at the person in front of him, who obviously fell as well. "You must not have been doing a top-notch job of paying attention either if you ran into me as well, Malfoy. Why don't you watch where you're going, if you're so smart?"

"Same ol' Potter. Swears everything has to revolve around him," Malfoy spat back. "Well sorry, I don't worship filth."

Harry was getting more and more heated by the second and he could feel his teeth starting to elongate underneath his lips. He let the moment get to him and now look what happened. He dared himself not to speak or he would be exposed. He figured Draco would eat up this moment of forced silence and have a snide remark for that as well. Well, Harry still had his wand. If the prat got too cocky, he'd hex him to death.

But once again, for the third time, Malfoy had no response. He sat there for a second, staring at Harry. He narrowed his eyes for a moment and pulled his head forward a bit as if trying to get a better look at something; and if Harry could open his mouth, he'd scream at the bastard to shove off. What happened next was something that Harry was completely unprepared for.

Draco Malfoy jolted up off the floor and bolted in the direction of Dumbledore's office. When he realized he had a statue in his way, he stammered out, "Um, uh… fudge pumpkin nougats. No wait, pumpkin nougat fudge… what the hell? Damn that Dumbledore!"

Harry could not believe his eyes. Who was this guy and what had he done with Malfoy? Harry noticed the boy obviously needed help and turned his head to stare in the other direction of the hall as he opened his fang-filled mouth and uttered, "Pumpkin Fudge Nougat," and then quickly closed his lips once more.

Malfoy stopped fidgeting for a second and turned to look at Harry, who look at him silently, as if questioning whether or not the raven-haired teenager just helped him; but it didn't take long for his true colors to shine once more.

"You're still filth," Malfoy spat as he tore up the staircase and out of sight.

While the gargoyle slid back into place, Harry was left feeling, well… he didn't know how the hell he was feeling at that moment. He didn't even have half a nerve to believe what just happened. Once again, the blonde Slytherin managed to totally amaze him with his insane antics, worthy of admitting him into St. Mungo's. What on earth was going on with that basket case? It was getting to the point of being well beyond annoying and peculiar.

Harry slowly got up and dusted himself off and sighed, knowing nothing good would come out of worrying about it right now. Besides, Ron and Hermione were probably keeping themselves awake in the common room, waiting for him to return and discuss all the lovely details. He had to get his fake meeting in order to go over with them.

However, Harry did keep thoughts about Malfoy in the back of his mind, knowing he needed to get to the bottom of that issue, sooner or later. That ferret was up to something. Harry was sure of it. It was only a matter of time before he found out. Speaking of which…

"Damn." Harry's curse echoed through the empty hall, save for one wandering ghost. "I forgot to hit the git."

... to be continued...

There you have it! Love it, hate it, think I'm rusty? Lemme know!