The next few days were perhaps the most mentally trying experience I had encountered yet. I spent most of the time with Anna, or visiting Dante in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey made a few unkind remarks about having to send him to St. Mungo's, but Dumbledore put a kibosh on this before he left to speak with Fudge.

I myself was concerned. He was growing paler by the hour, and when he spoke, I noticed that his gums were reddening, and his teeth were growing sharper. I was worried about the violation of the Ministry's Cardinal rule of Vampires: do not make another vampire.

Dante was showing definite signs of vampirism…

On the other hand, I had never seen Anna look so happy, her face literally irradiant with glee, which made her look more beautiful than I had ever imagined. I have no doubt that Dante noticed, too. One hears rumors of Italian men being smooth talkers, and one would assume it is simply a stereotype. Unfortunately, Dante fit the stereotype a little too well, in my opinion.

Perhaps it was my growing apprehension about Dumbledore's return, or perhaps it was my feelings for Anna, or a mix of the two, but every time Dante and Anna came in contact with one another, I felt a growing irritation.

But I felt a guilt and a duty to not be angry with him. Had it not been for me, he would not be in such a dire situation. Granted, had it not been for me he probably would have been dead at the hands of his stepfather, but had it not been for me, he wouldn't be suffering as much as he quietly confessed to me one afternoon.

I was headed down to the hospital wing one evening when I spotted Anna, whom I'd given up looking for not moments before.

"Anna…"

She stopped, a slightly annoyed look crossing her face. "What?"

"I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment?"

"About what…?"

I pulled her aside as a gaggle of first years cut past, one of them casting us a weary look as they passed.

"It's about Dante…"

Her lips pursed together into a thin line and her eyes flashed. "You think I'm falling for his smooth tongue? I have two brothers, I know his game…"

"No." I said, dropping my voice lower and leaning closer as Snape swooped past, eyeing us wearily. I could smell her now more than ever, faintly of roses and old books with a hint of bittersweet blood…

"You know a great deal about vampires…"

Her eyes brightened considerably and her lips turned up at the corners in a smirk. "Not as much as you, probably."

"I don't know jack shit, except that I am one and how to kill them. What I'm asking you is how to prevent someone from becoming one." I leaned even closer unintentionally, placing my hand on the doorjamb beside her head as I dropped my voice even lower yet. She didn't shy away, simply looking directly into my eyes.

"Is Dante becoming a Vampire?"

"He's showing signs of vampirism…it could mean trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" I was oddly relieved to see a look of concern cross her features and I pulled back slightly.

"I don't want to say for now. It's best not to, but I need to know…"

She leaned forward, our faces just inches from one another's. My heart was pounding in my ears, like the toll of a churchyard bell, my head spinning as her lips moved. I could hardly concentrate on what she was saying, her breath was ghosting across my face as sweet as anything I had ever smelled…

"Integra, are you okay?"

I immediately broke from my trance, shivering slightly.

"Yeah, sorry…I'm just really…"

"Really what?"

"Worried." I finished lamely, stepping back. I suddenly felt awkward as I stood there looking at Anna, her fair hair shining in the watery sunlight.

"Well, don't worry, I we can counter this." She said with an excited shiver, looking over her shoulder as she did so. "But I need to know the parameters of my work. You know what will work and what won't, I assume."

I heard a noise in the hallway close by and looked up as Anna passed me. Professor McGonagall was standing sternly, silhouetted against the brilliant January sunset.
"Miss Black, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office."

XxX

When I reached Professor Dumbledore's office, I was quite bewildered to discover he was nowhere to be seen, sensed, or smelt. On the table sat a pensive, radiating a liquid silver light from within it's stone basin, the old man's wand laying beside it. I didn't dare get any closer, or pry into his private thoughts, for surely he was close by.

But I am unfortunately curious by nature, and due to the fact that I could not smell him, nor could I sense his presence close by, I leaned in over the bowl, my black hair swooping past my shoulders and dropping into the silvery white liquid.

I felt a yank forward, my own mother's scolding voice echoing in my ears, reaching from the past and chastising me for being so impulsive as she had so often in my youth. The roots that held my hair fast to my head were aching dully as I was drawn into the stifling liquid. I felt like I was going to suffocate as the thoughts went over my head, submersing my shoulders as I went deeper until I was swallowed up entirely in Dumbledore's thoughts.

I fell farther and farther in, like Alice through the proverbial looking glass, pulled by my long hair with invisible hands as I landed into the water-colored world of Dumbledore's pensive.

It took me a second to gather my thoughts as I landed hard on a cobbled street, darkness all around me. I could see the tops of high buildings, the glow of oil lamps through lace curtains, the scent of decay reaching my nose. In the shadows, I could make out the form of a man with red hair, cloaked in a deep, deep blue, watching the empty street wearily.

I looked at him blankly, his ice-blue eyes going right through me over his long, broken nose. He was young, in his mid to late twenties, his face taking on an uncharacteristically stern expression in his memory.

Behind him, I made out a pair of eyes glowing crimson, the shadow of a true monster looming benignly in the deepest shadows of the alleyway.

A low, hissing sound filled the air, sending chills up my spine. I could smell something drawing closer, ever closer, appearing in the fog that permeated these London streets. The feeling was overwhelming, like I was slowly going insane, and I realized that this was what Dumbledore had felt on that dark night as he crouched there in the shadows.

I walked calmly over to a stoop nearby, my skin prickling with goose pimples as I sat down in a horribly calm manner. These were Dumbledore's memories, no harm would come to me…

I heard a soft whistling song on the putrid breeze, the crimson eyes in the alley behind Dumbledore flashing with glee as the grim song rang out in a heavy accent.

"Down among the dead men,
Down among the dead men let him lie."

"Hush." Dumbledore's voice came out as softer than I had ever heard it, untouched by age. I could see his wand in the dim lights of the foggy street and I started slightly as I saw movement, a man drawing ever-near through the dim lights.

I sat up straight as the figure materialized in the darkness, Dumbledore stepping out to confront it. I saw the darkness around him, threatening to swallow up the street.

I knew what this was immediately, as did the young blond man whom Dumbledore was confronting.

"Gillert! The time for this nonsense ends now!"

Laughter rang out, the other young man's wand raised in the air as the scene flickered slightly.

"Do you really think you can stop me, Albus?" The young man laughed. I stood up, clutching the wrought-iron railing for support as I watched the ensuing duel play out. I couldn't help but think that there was something about this 'Gillert' that made me uncomfortable, perhaps it was his ear-to ear grin as he battled Dumbledore, perhaps it was the eerie familiarity in the man's voice as he spoke poisonously sweet words to Dumbledore, who refused to raise a hand against the other young man.

There was blood, everywhere, all belonging to Dumbledore. I couldn't help but feel concerned, though I knew that one or both of the young men would survive. I felt like I should do something to defend Dumbledore, who was bleeding heavily, but I knew my hands were tied, so I just leaned my hea don my hand and watched.

"How many?" Dumbledore shouted, his vice rising to a temper I had never heard before. "How many more women must die at your hand, Gillert?"

"As many as I need to better the world!" Gillert laughed, raising his wand and casting a well-aimed hex on Dumbledore, who stumbled forward, his tattered robes clinging to his lithe young form. Gillert's strong hand shot out, gripping Dumbledore's robes and pulling them so close that their faces nearly met.

"Do you remember our dream, Albus? Do you remember?"

I blinked, lifting my head up in disbelief of the scene that was playing out before me. I felt a white-hot shock run though my veins as Gillert kissed Dumbledore, who closed his eyes, a sad expression crossing his face. "We can have that again, you and I, together…just come with me…." Gillert's voice was now soft and pleading, persuasive as he spoke against the other young man's lips.

Dumbledore's eyes opened and he looked up at the other man. "No."

Gillert threw Dumbledore back against the cobbles, raising his wand. "Then you'll have to die!"

I saw a dark shape appear between them, a cloud of bats solidifying between the duelists.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that." I recognized the voice immediately, rising to my feet on the stoop as The Count appeared, a cruel, almost evil smile crossing his features. I didn't recognize his face; he was clean-shaven, appearing quite young, though he retained his long, shaggy hair and amber-red eyes. He was dressed like a Victorian gentleman, as he did every once in a while when I knew him, clad in a Long black riding coat with the collar turned up, polished black boots up to the thigh, a bunch of lace gathered at his chin…

"Count Dracula…" I heard Gillert laugh with positive glee. "so the great Albus Dumbledore called in his great lapdog to nip at my heels! This is rich! I must inquire…how is Mrs. Harker? I am certain that she would look oh-so-lovely with her ears clipped like Miss. Eddowes, don't you think?"

I had never, in my entire experience with him, seen the expression The Count made upon hearing this. Pure hatred, his face contorted unlike anything I had seen before.

"You bastard! Don't touch her!"

The barrage that followed was a sight to behold, blood flying freely in all directions as Gillert let out a coughing laugh.

"Stop! Stop, I beg of you! Don't kill him!" Dumbledore's voice was barely audible above the fracas. "There must be another way!"

The Count let go of Gillert's throat, dropping him to the ground without mercy.

"You're a damned fool, Albus…a damned fool."

The Count made an angry sound, moving into an attack position, but Dumbledore called for him to stop as Gillert vanished with a telltale 'pop'.

There was an aura of relief as the Count turned, kneeling before Dumbledore and bowing his head in an almost penitent gesture.

"Forgive me, my master…"

The vision vanished, and I was whisked erratically through a series of snippets that seemed petty, complete with irregular and non-sequential time skips, a blur of voices as they passed, thoughts detailing Albus' relationship with Gillert, his relationship with the Count. Perhaps I was a little upset, for multiple reasons, so I didn't pay the attention I should have, my thoughts on Mrs. Harker and the Count's apparent 'subservience' to Dumbledore. It bothered me greatly, to say the least…

But there was some comfort in knowing a little more about Dumbledore, particularly in reguard to Gillert, something that we shared, and knowing that I was not alone.
I found myself again, standing in an office filled with whirring gadgets and various other otherwise obscure curios, I knew this office. It had been Dumbledore's in the 1940's. I spotted the tea set that we used to have tea out of, the well-loved books sitting at their usual odd angles in towering piles.

"Ah, where were we…?"

I looked down at the red chintz chair that I used to sit in, taking a step back at the sight of the Count, once more looking as if he were in his mid-forties, like a well-kempt medieval warrior, armor and all. He sat with his usual air of bored regality, his knees crossed and his cheek resting on his lightly closed fist. So much like Anna…

"The girl…the Japanese one…" He muttered, swirling a wine-glass in his hand and casually looking up at Dumbledore.

"Yes…I'm concerned about her…" Dumbledore said, resting his chin in his hands and looking squarely at the Count. "Vlad, you have witnessed the utmost discrimination throughout the years…you must empathize with her to some degree, even if she is Living."

"I always make time for beautiful women." He said with a sly smile, raising his glass to his lips. "Empathy or not."

I felt deep embarrassment, shaking my head as the ridiculousness of it all. I was most certainly not considered beautiful, not in 1943, anyway, and definitely not by the English.

There was a spark of amusement in Dumbledore's eyes. "You haven't changed a bit…So you will keep an eye on her? I certainly cannot do it alone."

The count's tone suddenly changed to one of utmost seriousness. "Master, you must make up your mind. I can either trail Grindelwald or I can trail the Japanese girl. I cannot be two places at once…"

Dumbledore nodded, thinking for what felt like an eternity before he spoke again.

"As much as I hate to say this, Grindlewald is more important at the moment. I'll keep an eye on Integra here, but you come back to me immediately when Gillert makes any kind of major move…"

The Count nodded, standing up. "We'll meet at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, I presume?"

Dumbledore stood as well, shaking the counts hand. The count smiled serenely.

"Integra…"

I felt the world spin again, and in all my awkward embarrassment, I realized where I was, attempting to mentally and physically pull myself out of Dumbledore's mind before I was caught. I managed to emerge on top of Dumbledore's desk, nearly upsetting the pensive as I scrambled to get down, coming close to falling on my face in the process.

I felt upset, mentally an emotionally torn apart as I stood, habitually brushing my grey jumper off and smoothing my pleats, sitting down in the chair opposite of Dumbledore's desk. I could smell him coming closer, faintly at first until I watched him emerge form the pensive with catlike grace.

I leaned on my elbow, forcing a smile through clenched teeth. Dumbledore smoothed his robes, looking at me from over the top of his spectacles.

"Ah, Integra, forgive me, I wasn't expecting you so soon…I was just talking a walk down memory lane…"

"No worries…It gave me some time to…gather my own memories as well." I said carefully, sitting up straighter and looking at him. I wanted to question him, and by the look he gave me, I expected that he knew about my adventure in 'wonderland', and guessed my thoughts.

He sat down and said nothing, clearly still thinking deeply. I had only once before seen such a look of deep sorrow on his face, and it was just moments ago inside the pensive when the Count had fought Gillert.

"You seem troubled." I said softly.

"As do we all, my dear…" Dumbledore replied, taking a deep breath and exhaling. "The Ministry…they say that they do not hold you responsible for the attack. There is an inquiry to Dante's disappearance, and he will eventually have to speak with Fudge when he is feeling better. This whole thing is an international nightmare. The Italian Minister, De Lombardi, is under investigation now."

My fingers curled around the armrests of the chair. "He did try to murder his stepson…the least they could do for Dante is give him diplomatic immunity or something…"

Dumbledore nodded, leaning back and sighing. "It looks as though Dante is going to have to go through the same procedures as anyone else entering the U.K. Needless to say, The Ministry is failing us yet again." He muttered softly, eying an empty panting that hung on the wall in the corner. "They've gone so far as to cut off the blood supply to the castle…I think they're trying to drive you into attacking. I have reason to believe you are being set up. I think they want an excuse to execute you."

I looked it him, pressing my lips together, my sharpened teeth digging into the flesh of my mouth.

"Well, I have already done so, or in case you haven't noticed, Mr. Esposito's ribcage was almost torn out by me."

"Don't exaggerate, Integra!" Dumbledore said with a sudden sternness. "I know you attacked Dante. The regret is understandable, but…"

"I turned on him like a dog." I said softly, my black bangs obscuring my eyes, my voice falling into a flat tone that hid my anger and frustration. "I mindlessly turned at the scent of blood and attacked a comrade like an animal. I didn't even know what I was doing until it was almost too late…"

Dumbledore looked at me, a slight degree of hesitation in his eyes. "I understand what you are going through, but now is not the time for self-condemnation. You must believe you're innocent, because if you don't, they won't."

"Don't sugar coat it, Albus. It's not that simple and we both know it."

A silence fell on the office, our eyes locking. Dumbledore looked away, smiling slightly in an odd, sad sort of way.

"This is an ugly situation, Integra, and it will get uglier if you don't play the game correctly. Can you handle the steps that need to be taken?"

"I believe so. There is no point in becoming so impassioned over something you can't control."

Dumbledore nodded. "You shouldn't sugar coat it, as well Integra. You are afraid, as am I, but you can control this."

I sighed. "I guess we'll take it as it comes, then. However, I am concerned about Dante."

"Yes, his impending vampirism…I noted that when you brought him in. I have contacted someone who may be able to help…"

"As have I, though I doubt her resources are as broad."

Dumbledore looked at me sternly. "I don't advise you involve Miss Le Croux in this. It will end badly."

I nodded solemnly. "Unfortunately, the moment she elected to sit down beside me she became involved. The best I can do now is keep her informed and protect her the best I can from here on. You have told me many times before that 'Knowledge is the ultimate power', and Anna is uncannily sharp. I think that if she were to walk down this path, she could be greater then Abraham Van Helsing."

"I think you are right, but could you lead her down that dark path? Could your heart bear it?"

I looked at him with as much simple honesty as I could muster, my crimson eyes meeting his over the shining pensive light.

"For Anna, I would endure anything."

XxX

A/n: I feel bad that I haven't been working on anything story-wise lately. I love how life comes at you all at once, then kind of backs off for a bit, then comes at you again...