Feel my Fangs

Chapter Five – Fight or flight

The single most annoying thing about being a vampire with wizard powers is that you don't know if you're supposed to present yourself as a wizard or as a vampire.

"I could be a wizvamp," thought Harry. "Or a vampard?"

Both titles sounded lame and so Harry settled for neither. "I'll just be Harry," he decided. "I hope it's scary enough so that slayers, dark creatures and Voldemort will stay away."

"Not likely," said the imp in the back of his head. "You're a magnet for trouble."

Harry had decided that being a vampire wasn't so bad, since he had kept his wizard powers. He just didn't like the whole drinking blood thing but that was unavoidable.

Harry thought it was funny that he was now, technically, immortal. If he kept drinking blood, he could live right into the next millennium.

"I wonder why Voldemort didn't want to try out this whole vampire thing?" Harry wondered as he climbed into a large tree to spend the night. "I mean, now I'm as strong as any vampire and I still have magic."

Maybe Voldemort didn't want to depend on blood? Or maybe he just didn't like the idea of being a half-breed. He certainly had the power to survive the transformation with his magic intact. He'd survived many worse transformations already. Gee.

For as second, Harry entertained the idea of being able to influence Voldemort's mind. But he quickly dismissed the idea because if that case had been possible, Voldemort wouldn't have been able to deal with the vampire leaders properly.

Most likely, Voldemort was the charismatic one planting bad ideas in the vampire clans. Harry wondered how an old snake-faced bald man could inspire awe and fear. "He has his ways," supposed Harry thinking on all the time he'd seen Death Eaters getting crucio'd.

Harry settled himself comfortably in a nook between two large branches. He flung his invisibility cloak over himself. His last thought before falling asleep was that he should probably get a regular—yawn—cloak.

…………………………..

Harry's seventh victim went by the name of Elizabette Bonagerie. Her real name she kept hidden in order to preserve what was left of her identity. She was a higher end prostitute. She didn't look like the average prostitute either. She was dressed like your everyday working woman, albeit in better taste and more expansive wear.

She was also dressed in red, which appealed enormously to Harry and excited his blood lust in more ways than one. Hey, he was a young man with needs and all, you know.

She was also expansive, but Harry had money. Harry spent the night in her penthouse, frolicking and sipping on her neck at various time. She never noticed he was actually drinking her blood but the experience was orgasmic and she thought him an admirable lover. She loved getting customers like that.

Harry didn't kill her but he rather thought he was like Jack the Ripper. Maybe Jack the Ripper had been a vampire in muggle disguise? Not likely, but the idea was funny.

Slightly before the sun came up, Harry left her, asleep or pretending to anyways, curled up in the sweat-drenched blankets. Harry was suprised to see that his sweat was slightly pink-tinted after he'd drank blood.

He shrugged, threw a wad of money on the table and left through the front door—as opposed to through a window, which he had been doing lately in other homes.

Harry was in the elevator. Muggle contraptions were always useful. He whistled and tried to flatten his unruly black hair.

He wondered when they'd come after him, "they" referring to the light side, the dark side and the vampires.

"Let them come to me," Harry thought darkly. "I can deal with any of them." He cracked his knuckles significantly and laughed at himself. It was really funny to think of himself as someone with physical strength, him who had always been a bit of a disadvantaged in that area despite his quidditch training. Instead of fighting, Harry had always been fleeing from something.

Harry remembered running from Dudley, running from Dementors, running from bullies at school, running from a black dog, running from Voldemort.

He was always running away.

He'd fight the next time. Oh, he certainly would.

………………………….

Has it ever occurred to you that no one in the world missed you, thought about you or tried to find you?

That was how Harry was feeling. He was lonely. It had been several weeks and no one had yet to come after him.

Grateful for the peace but bored out of his mind, Harry paced the wizarding shops of Paris and wandered in and out of fashionable cafes.

He had a green high-collared robe on and the hood of his new wool cloak hid his face. His enchanted dragonskin boots made not a sound as Harry's feet hit the ground.

Harry stopped in front of a dingy shop whose sign read "Les livres du monde."

"The books of the world," Harry muttered to himself before stepping in. "Hogwarts is starting in two days."

He browsed through the aisles.

"I wonder if I'll be able to hide the vampirism," Harry frowned in thought, his fingers softly brushing against the spine of several aged books. "Dumbledore isn't exactly as oblivious as he pretends he is."

Unable to find the books he needed for Hogwarts, Harry went to the front desk and asked the old matronly lady sitting there. She was eager to help the intelligent young man and soon, Harry had a small pouch with his books spelled to fit inside.

On September first, Harry found a traveling agency and bought the necessary paraphernalia. He portkeyed back to Diagon Alley before immediately apparating to King's Cross, where the Hogwarts Express was to be parked for another half-hour.

Harry pricked his tongue on his left fang and tasted blood. He bit his lip. He fidgeted.

If Harry didn't like it at Hogwarts anymore, he could always go back to torment the vampires back in France.

He looked on both sides and stepped across the invisible barrier.

……………………………….

The Vampire Council sat together in their newly fortified room. The damage done by that boy had been irreparable and they had been forced to build around the holes—and the traps he left behind.

"He's back?" Harold exclaimed incredulous. "That disrespectful brat is back?"

"It seems so," Sythe said, just as surprised as the rest of the council. "Much sooner than any of us expected, I think."

"Wasn't he supposed to be at wizard school or something?" asked Paula, her hand curled around her chin. "The old codger Dumbledore would have never let him go willingly."

"You really should ask him, yourself, Paula," Sythe said. "I didn't expect him to be back for another decade at least!"

"He is such an interesting phenomena, I really think…."

"WHY IS HE BACK? THROW HIM OUT! HE'S A RABID ANIMAL!"

"Calm down, Harold."

"What do we do with him? He certainly doesn't need training."

"The wizards will be looking for him, won't they?"

"NOTHING BUT TROUBLE I TELL YOU!"

"Peace, Harold."

"We could send him to the old Gamon in Serbia, what do you think?"

"Why don't we just apprentice him to Sythe? The head council is powerful enough and so is the boy. My face is still hurting from that blast of wood he sent at us."

"SEE! HE'LL KILL US ALL!"

"Shut up, Harold, or you'll go hoarse. We should really just let him do what he wants and I'm sure he'll end up doing something spectacular."

"HE'S DANGEROUS!"

"Someone shut Harold up. What if the Dark Lord wants him, do we give him up? And what of Dumbledore?"

"I'm sure he'll be able to deal with them by himself. For the moment, we'll just let things as they are and he will be apprenticed to me. I will see to his vampire education."

"Hmmm, excuse me," Harry finally said. "Could you please stop talking about me as if I wasn't here?"

"Mad, this whole idea is, I say," mumbled Harold before he was blasted away by a spell sent by Harry.

Sythe addressed Harry. "This is how the council is usually held—"

"Various councilors biting each other's head off?" Harry raised one fine eyebrow. "How quaint."

"—and we discuss things together," Sythe ignored Harry's input. "As I was saying, you will be apprenticed to me and I will teach you some various vampire traits."

"You can try," added Harry, bored. "They tried teaching me at Hogwarts too. As you can see, they failed miserably."

"I will try," Sythe looked at the young wizard vampire appraisingly. "And so will you."

"Council dismissed," Sythe said. "Someone help Harold to his rooms, please."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the prospective of one-on-one time with the head of the vampire council. He had better develop some other painful methods of wood projection to annoy Sythe.

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Author's Note: I like reviews, just so that you know, ok?