Harry ran into the house sensing immediately that something was wrong but refusing to believe it.
'Edward!' he shouted at the top of his voice even though he knew that Edward's vampire hearing would have heard his approach long before he reached the house. He shouted over and over again; running blindly from room to room but the house was empty. He stood very still and felt out with his magic. It brought back to him whispers of another here in the house with Edward, a feeling of lust and then nothing. Had Edward been lured away by Dracula? Harry's mind beat frantically inside his head like a bird in a cage. A thousand questions flew at him. Had Edward been seduced away? Surely he wouldn't have... no it was impossible! Had he been forced? Hurt? Harry's mind was a blur with panic. Underneath the frantic thoughts was a dark voice which whispered to him that Edward had been hurt. 'Because of you,' it whispered,' once again you're the survivor Potter while the innocents end up dead.'
'No!' he shouted, 'not again!' He began to cry. He cried and cried until there were no more tears left in him; until his eyes hurt and his chest burned with pain; until the agony was replaced by a deadly calm. And fury.
He picked up his wand from amongst his belongings scattered on the floor and he went outside. He followed his instinct blindly, not heeding the people around him or the cars which sounded their horns angrily as he numbly walked into the road. He followed his feelings until they took him to the cafe where he and Edward had met Mina the night before. He tried not to look at the table they had shared or think about the night that had followed. The old woman was mopping the floor, her back hunched and her grey hair wiry under her headscarf.
'Excuse me?' she looked up from her work and saw the young man, his eyes red rimmed with crying. She stood up and leaned heavily on her mop. Harry realised she might not understand him.' Do you speak English?' The old lady nodded and her face lined with even more wrinkles as she smiled. Somehow that smile made Harry want to cry even more. The kindness of this stranger reopening the grief he was feeling. He took a deep breath.
'I need to see Lord Ruthven,' he explained. The old woman's face frowned and he was afraid she didn't know him. 'Erm, Lord Ruthven,' he said again, 'an Englishman. Very handsome, lots of money?' the old lady nodded and reached into her pocket for a piece of paper and a pencil. She wrote down the name of a street and another word, it seemed to be a name. 'Will I find him here?' Harry asked tapping the paper. She nodded and smiled at him showing her few teeth. Harry noticed that in her old wizened gums the canine teeth were sharp and healthy. He swallowed and thanked her again rushing back out into the sunshine.
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Harry found the street quite easily, he should have been surprised but he felt numb, as though all this was a dream, a horrible nightmare that he would wake from and feel Edward's cool fingers stroking his hair. He forced the tears back. It seemed his magic could trace Ruthven somehow. Something about the Lord's personality left a flavour in the air and Harry followed the scent until he was on the street to which the old lady had sent him. There were some small, run down houses on one side and a high wall on the other. Halfway down the wall was an archway with a black iron gate, slightly ajar. Harry looked through the gate. The archway led to a sprawling graveyard. Squaring his shoulders he pushed open the gate. It swung back without the creak he had expected. A voice inside him told him that Ruthven would know he was coming whether the gate squeaked or not. Harry felt his heart begin to beat faster but he knew that he had to see the vampire again. Edward's existence depended on it. Once again he felt the stab of pain which urged him on.
The place seemed like a small town for the dead. There were no graves but instead huge, decrepit family crypts lined the 'streets'. Many of the names were worn or chipped away and ivy grew thickly over statues of what Harry assumed must be angels. Sometimes all that was visible was a hand reaching up and pointing to heaven as though the angel had been eaten alive by the living green tangles. Harry shuddered and looked again at the paper the old lady had given him. The hot midday sun shone fiercely down between the stones and there was no place to shelter apart from inside the tombs themselves. Some of the doorways had been forced and Harry caught glimpses of dark interiors and white stone tables which glowed eerily inside. Just when he was beginning to seriously scare himself he saw a tomb inscribed with the word the old woman had given to him. The ivy had grown along the letters and served to highlight the name of the family buried inside. Polidori, it read, and then a list of dates. The wooden door which filled the gothic arch of the crypt was closed but not locked. Wishing he did not have to do this, Harry gave the door a shove with his shoulder. Dirt, dislodged from above the door, covered his head and shoulders making him sneeze.
'Lumos' he whispered. His wand began to give its familiar glow and the inside of the tomb was lit by the friendly golden light. There were several stone tables in the room, a few of them had collapsed with the years of neglect; their legs smashed away and their flat tops crooked. Along the edges of the walls were many small arches. They looked like shelves and Harry realised that they probably held the bones of the Polidori family who were not grand enough to warrant or afford a table slab grave. Avoiding looking too closely into the shadowy crevices Harry made for the low arch at the back of the crypt. It was obvious Ruthven was not in this room.
The doorway led to another smaller room similarly furnished with marble slabs. This room was much tidier and Harry started as he saw Ruthven and Zillah lying curled together on one of the long white tables. Ruthven's head was against Zillah's shoulder, his arm thrown over the sleeping vampire. They looked so peaceful and happy in their embrace that Harry thought his grief was going to rise up and swallow him. Looking at them made him realise that he and Edwards would never sleep like this, even if Harry managed to save Edward. Edward didn't sleep; couldn't sleep. He choked back a sob and tried to busy his mind with the fact that Ruthven and Zillah must also be the other sort of vampire. Not like Edward and his family. What about Edward's family? he thought. Should he have told them what had happened to Edward? From what Edward had said about Alice she might already know what had happened but then Edward had told Alice to stop looking. Harry felt the spark of hope he had felt flicker and die. He didn't know how to contact the Cullens. He didn't know where they lived apart from it was somewhere in North America where it rained a lot. Tears poured down his face as the pain he had been holding inside engulfed him. He leaned back against the wall of the tomb, his vision blurred by tears. Zillah opened one eye. Carefully extricating himself from Ruthven's sleeping body he padded on white, silent feet to Harry. He pulled the sobbing boy to him and held him gently to his chest, stroking his hair. When Harry's tears began to subside. Zillah held him at arm's length. Then he looked down at his sodden t shirt and pulled it over his head. Ruthven woke up. He stretched gracefully and swung himself to stand beside them.
'Ye gods,' he whispered looking at Zillah over Harry's tangled hair,' has the bastard killed him?'
Harry shook his head numbly. Ruthven exchanged a look with Zillah.
'Good, then he will keep him alive Harry,' he spoke softly and lifted Harry's chin with his finger until he could look into the startling green eyes. 'We will get him back dear boy.'