Disclaimer: La la la la la la la… As if I own anything.
CHAPTER 2: Vamps, Seers and Smelly Toads
"He would make a lovely corpse."
* Charles Dickens *
He was going to die.
Harry Potter, a scrawny little boy who had yet to turn seven years of age, also newly turned runaway about to enjoy the life he never experienced, was about to die at the hands of an unknown vampire.
Or rather, he thought wryly, he was going to die at the fangs of an unknown vampire.
No more than ten minutes ago he had thought his future was finally looking up, having discovered that magic was as real as the Dursley's hatred for him. Then, in the span of ten minutes, everything had gone south because of his inability to pay attention to his surroundings.
How was that fair?
It wasn't, he decided, but then again, when had anything ever been fair?
Harry looked up at the advancing vampire, sharp and deadly fangs bared for the world to see, and in this case, there in order to scare the bejesus out of Harry.
The vampire looked menacing, eyes cold and dead, and they had turned an even darker shade of black during the last two minutes. They looked like big pools of black oil, swirling around mesmerizingly, but as dangerous as Marjorie Dursley's ferocious bulldog, Ripper.
"Sanguini! What do you think you are doing? Scaring the poor boy like that!" A shrilly voice interrupted.
So the vampire's name was Sanguini?
At least he would know the name of his killer then, how comforting. And morbid, his mind added.
Sanguini's head snapped towards the intruder, and a sly smile found its way to his lips.
"But it's so much fun scaring the shite out of ignorant little brats…" He trailed off, and his gaze travelled to the crouching boy, pushed up against the newly conjured wall of bricks as far as he could possibly go, in a feeble attempt to get away.
"Language!" She screeched warningly. "Sanguini, what have I told you about cursing?" Harry could see a bony-looking old lady appear from behind Sanguini's towering form, forcefully jabbing a skeletal finger on the vampire's shoulder in rapid movements. The amount of grey hair on her head was scarce, yet she had decided to keep the length of her silvery locks long, despite the obvious lack of volume. She was dressed in midnight blue robes with silver linings that looked like it had clearly seen better days, and by the amount of jewellery she had opted to wear, Harry thought she might have raided someone's jewellery box, if not her own. She hadn't a spindly finger free of silver rings with multi-coloured stones, nor did her bony little wrists look like they could handle another bracelet.
"Not to curse while you're around." He stated smugly, his eyes turning back to the dull black colour they had previously been, and his fangs shrunk back to their former size.
"I don't know why I even bother with you." She sighed, annoyed, and then turned her attention to Harry, who was still crouching on the grimy cobblestone ground.
"Now, who do we have here?" She said, swiftly kneeling down to his eyelevel and forcefully grabbed his chin to get a better look at him.
Harry thought that for such a frail looking old crone, she sure had a lot of strength left in her.
"Sweet Circe! You're Harry Potter!" Again Harry had no idea how she knew his name, but this time he refrained from asking; instead he stared back at her, his bright green eyes brimming with unanswered questions.
"What are you doing here boy? In Knockturn Alley of all places? Have you any idea what could have happened, had the wrong sort of people found you dallying around?" He shook his head, still uncertain about the situation. How would he know who the wrong sort of people was? The old woman turned to give Sanguini a questioning glance, to which Harry didn't dare utter a sound out of fear for the vampire.
"I spotted him at The Leaky Cauldron, alone, and somehow he ended up wandering around Diagon Alley. I flooed The Coffin House to cut him off before someone else discovered him…" He gave her an odd look Harry couldn't decipher. "Lucius Malfoy was running errands today."
To Harry that didn't explain much, but the old crone looked startled and it seemed that it did, in fact, make sense to her.
"So, you are not going to kill me or turn me into a vampire then?" Harry directed the question at Sanguini, still uncertain about, well, just about everything.
"Heaven's no, dear child! This imbecile here was only pulling your leg." The woman looked beyond scandalised, which reassured Harry immensely, and he sighed in relief and sagged against the conjured wall.
"It's such a shame though, he would make a fine corpse." Sanguini bared his teeth slightly, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the statement, almost expecting the vampire to attack him, again.
"That's enough out of you Sanguini!" She hissed viciously at the grinning vampire.
"Well, that's nice to know, I suppose." Harry shrugged, once he got over his initial shock, and again Sanguini burst out laughing at Harry's choice of words.
"You're an odd one Potter." Sanguini said, once his laughter had subsided.
"Never mind, let's get you inside and have a look at those knees." The old woman pulled Harry up from the grimy cobblestone ground, harshly grabbing his skinny little arms, and again Harry couldn't help but think she really must eat a lot of spinach, otherwise she was entirely too strong to be as old as she looked.
Or perhaps it had something to do with magic? He wasn't sure, but hadn't the nerve to ask her. He was certain there was a lot he didn't, and probably wouldn't ever, know about magic.
Instead he asked her something else to quench his thirst for answers.
"Excuse me, but who exactly are you?" He looked at the old woman still holding him by his arm, and apparently intent on dragging him towards the door at the end of the dirty little alley. Harry had always thought it polite to at least introduce oneself before dragging people off to God knows where - or what.
"Oh my, you're right boy, I haven't even introduced myself yet." She looked puzzled at Harry, her free hand going despairingly dramatic to her cheek, and he could see Sanguini roll his eyes at the old woman's antics.
"I am Madam Delphia Brahan, owner of The Starry Prophesier. At your service." She curtsied awkwardly, and Harry thought it another oddity to file away for the day.
"Nice to meet you." He said, not knowing what else to say to the peculiar lady, and since she had decided to remember her manners, he would act the part too.
"Now, enough with the chit chat." Delphia said sternly, taking Harry by the arm, yet again, dragging him with her as she stalked towards the shabby door, her countless bracelets dangling and jiggling with every step she took.
So much for manners.
Harry wondered if staying with the Dursleys would have been the better option, but the thought was fleeting and gone before he could even berate himself for thinking it in the first place.
A dubious vampire and an old crone with strength like Popeye were definitely better than the Dursleys, even if he was a tad uncertain whether said vampire wanted to befriend him, or make dinner out him. Either way, this alternative, any alternative really, to being in the vicinity of the Dursleys would always be the better option to him.
Always.
"Now, what are you doing here in the first place, boy?" Delphia examined him intensely, much like a scientist would a new and interesting project, from her seat in the grandmotherly sofa filled with lace. Even the smell in the odd little flat above, what he assumed was, The Starry Prophesier, was stuffy and dusty, much like it had been whenever he was saddled with the likes of Arabella Figg – only this time there were no cats.
"I ran away from home and I'm not going back." He stated calmly, as he figured there was no reason to beat around the bush. They would probably find out eventually anyway.
"This just gets better and better!" Sanguini laughed, but stopped when the old woman's hand connected with the back of his head, to which he then turned to scowl at her instead, and moved a few inches away from her, for good measure. Clearly he didn't want to risk getting hit again like a petulant child.
"What do you mean you ran away?" She ordered strictly, her attention on Harry was sharp like that of an eagle.
"I meant what I said. I took the bus to London, then the Underground, and somehow I ended up at that odd pub." He took a sip from his tea. "I just can't believe magic is real…" His gaze turned hazy, and he got lost in the delightful memories from his rather short expedition to that wonderful place they called Diagon Alley. He had never felt so at home.
"Of course magic is real! How do you think your parents learned it all?" Delphia looked outraged at the comment, and her chipped teacup quivered in the white saucer beneath it, as she forcefully connected the rose-patterned porcelain with the saucer in a swift, angry gesture.
"You knew my parents?" The moment his parents were mentioned his eyes snapped up to look at the eccentric woman, and everything else was forgotten for the time being. The Dursleys had never willingly offered any information about his parents, and if they did, which was seldom, the only words coming out of their mouths were insulting slurs and downright degrading comments. He hadn't the stomach for their vile slanders; he was young, not stupid, and he knew something was off with their vicious words.
"I don't think there's a witch or wizard in England and Scotland who doesn't know about Lily and James Potter! The same goes for you boy. You're famous around here!" She practically roared at him.
"Didn't your family tell you about it?" Sanguini asked curiously, he had observed the brat since his arrival at the Leaky Cauldron, and he was not at all what he had expected from The Boy Who Lived. Arrogance and a hunger for fame seemed so far away from the scrawny little boy seated on the opposite sofa. No, Harry Potter wasn't anything like the person he had imagined him to be.
"No they didn't. They didn't tell me anything at all; they hated me too much to talk to me. They still hate me, which is why I left. I figured they would be better off without me." Harry averted his gaze uncomfortably, his eyes looking at the creaky floorboards that looked like they too had seen better days. The whole building looked worse for the wear in fact, and far older than Harry, which admittedly wasn't saying much, but Harry thought the place looked to be a part of a different era altogether.
"Don't you think you are overreacting? Surely they don't hate you. You know, families fight all the time, boy." Delphia frowned, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. Surely no one could hate him. Him, Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived!
"They do. I've never doubted they didn't." Harry said in a small voice, unbidden memories choosing to resurface, as he remembered just how much his so-called family hated him.
"Did they do something to you?" Sanguini asked, as he took in Harry's appearance, clothes that were much too large for him, malnourished, and extremely pale. The boy practically screamed for help.
"Uncle Vernon spanked me often enough, whenever he felt like it, and sometimes when he got really mad, he would use his belt instead of his hands." Harry mumbled uncomfortably. It was the first time he told that to anyone - and it felt weird, like he was doing something he wasn't supposed to do, yet there was relief mingled with the guilt.
"Why?" Delphia's sharp blue eyes hardened, again not believing what she was hearing. What the boy was talking about was downright child abuse, now, an earned spanking had never hurt anyone, but the way the boy went about his explanation…he made it sound like he was hit on a regular basis, hit too much for it not to be anything else but abuse.
"Whenever weird things happened they would blame me, or just because they believed I earned myself a spanking for chores I didn't do right. Take your pick. Either that or I wouldn't get any food for a few days."
"They starved you? Are you sure you aren't exaggerating? Children are known to complain whenever they misbehave and receive proper punishment for their actions-" Harry could feel his anger starting to bubble up, angry that Delphia didn't want to believe his very honest words, but before she could continue her faulty assessment, Sanguini chose to cut in, for which he was grateful.
"I believe it." Sanguini interrupted forcefully, feeling tired of watching Delphia doubt the boy's words. "Take a look at him Delphia, does it look like the boy is lying to you? Because I would say he looks skinnier than you, which can't be healthy." Harry could have kissed the vampire, but thought better of it; he didn't want to risk being bit.
"I have old bruises on my arms and back if you doubt my words." Harry interjected sardonically, lifting his jumper halfway over his head and turned around so both of them could see his bruised back. He could hear Delphia gasp loudly behind him, and he didn't hear a word from Sanguini.
"Magical mother of Morgana!" Delphia shrieked, outraged.
"They beat you?! They beat a defenceless child?" She continued her shrieking, furious at the people who were supposed to take care of him.
"Yes." He stated, pulling his jumper down again, relieved she finally seemed to believe him, even if he had to show her old and fading bruises first. "I refuse to go back." He turned around on the sofa to look at them again. "Please…you can't send me back. I beg of you! I finally got away; I finally got to be free. I can't go back, not after this…" Harry's voice cracked, but he didn't cry. He couldn't. He had shed one too many tears at the Dursleys, and so far tears hadn't gotten him anywhere.
"Whatever will you do Delphia?" Sanguini asked, amused. He was well aware of Delphia's views on child abuse, and she would rather burn down the Dursley's house than send him back.
"Shut it, you bloody leech, I've had enough of your thoughtless comments for one day." She hissed at Sanguini, and for a second it looked like she contemplated hitting him again, but then instead turned to look at Harry. "You aren't going anywhere boy. Until I figure out what to do with you, you are staying right here. In fact, you can share a room with Sanguini." She looked smug at her deduction, pleased to annoy Sanguini and keep Harry from his abusive remaining family.
"What! You can't be serious!" Sanguini exclaimed, horrified at the thought of sharing his room with anyone, least of all Harry Potter, a six-year-old runaway with no knowledge of the wizarding world or magic in general. Harry, on the other hand, didn't know whether to be relieved that he had a place to stay, or to freak out at the idea of sharing a room with a real vampire.
"Well, where else do you propose we put him? I need approval from the Ministry before adding another storey to the building. You know that..." She eyed him knowingly. "Which means you will have to share your room with young Mr Potter here until then."
Sharing a room with a vampire?
Well, Harry thought interestingly, why the heck not?
The room was nice.
It was as worn and dirty as the rest of the ancient flat, but nice nonetheless. There was only a small bed lined up against the wall, a tiny nightstand that looked ready to topple over, and an antique desk standing by the window, complete with an array of books splayed over the surface. The wall opposite of the bed, however, was completely empty, much to Harry's confusion.
On the other hand Harry had never slept in a room this big before, not that he remembered at least, and he thought the room looked to be just as big as Dudley's first bedroom.
"There's only one bed." Harry stated with a frown, once he realised the problematic sleeping arrangements.
"I sleep in the coffin beneath the bed, the bed is yours." The unhappy vampire growled.
"You sleep in a coffin?" Harry exclaimed, whirling around to look at the vampire standing awkwardly behind him.
"Got a problem with that Potter?" Sanguini asked, raising an eyebrow challenging in the process.
"No, of course not, it's just a bit odd."
"I could say the same to you; sleeping in a bed." Sanguini scoffed at the word 'bed'.
"I guess, if you look at it like that." Harry frowned and turned around again, assessing the room once again, and seemingly lost in thought until he noticed a big blob of brown sitting on the bed.
"What is that?" Harry grimaced, as he put down his backpack on the floor.
"This is Trevor, be nice to him." Sanguini noticed Harry's sceptic glance at the revolting toad, a reaction similar to his own. "Just remember, Potter, Trevor was living here long before either of us, and if Delphia catches you doing anything funny to her beloved toad, well, you have seen her temper first hand…" Sanguini trailed off suggestively, and Harry got the feeling Sanguini had in fact tried to do something to the poor toad – and got caught red handed by the mad woman Delphia Brahan.
"A toad?" Harry asked incredulously, wondering why a toad of all animals would be present – and sitting on the bed like it owned it.
"He's Delphia's familiar. And she dislikes any funny business when it comes to the bloody toad." He explained. "That woman can't take a simple joke." He muttered under his breath, but Harry heard him perfectly.
So this was where he was going to stay for the time being? Vampires, toads and mad old women didn't seem all that bad.
Not bad at all.
"Out with it Potter."
"Well, you're a vampire-" Harry began timidly, not sure if it was rude to ask about what he wanted to know.
"Well spotted youngling." Sanguini interjected sarcastically, which Harry opted to ignore. He had caught on fast, and was no longer scared of Sanguini, at least not as long as he kept his fangs far away from Harry.
"Aren't vampires supposed to be allergic to the sun?"
"That's one way of putting it, I suppose, and we are, well, sort of anyhow."
"I don't understand." Harry frowned deeply, looking as if a difficult puzzle had refused to be solved.
"Surprise…" Sanguini muttered under his breath, shot the boy a nasty glare from his open coffin on the creaky floorboards and only then remembered just how uneducated Harry Potter was in the ways of the wizarding world. "We won't turn into dust if that's what you're thinking. We can walk in the sunlight, but it causes us a terrible headache, hence why I stick to the shade or nighttime. Most vampires tend to sleep during the day because of the dreadful pain it causes otherwise, but a few disregards it completely."
"What about you?" Harry asked suddenly, after taking in Sanguini's explanation with an enthusiastic approach, similar to the maddest bookworm devouring every book with an unequalled passion.
"What about me?" Sanguini frowned.
"Do you usually stay awake during the day? Or do you prefer the night?" Harry asked, exited.
"Normally no, I have business to attend to during the night. Work to do, people to meet." Sanguini rolled his eyes at the all too enthusiastic boy.
"Then why were you awake today?" Harry asked, puzzled. It had bothered him ever since he realised Sanguini was a vampire. For all purposes and intents, vampires were supposed to sleep during the day, or at least that was how the movies and books commonly depicted them.
And as everything else today, it had proved to be bollocks.
"Delphia had an inkling something grand was going to happen today, and she was right." He glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eyes, just in time to see the disbelieving look on Harry's face.
"An inkling? So you stayed awake because of that?" Harry sat up in his new bed to get a better look at the vampire lying in his coffin, an incredulous look apparent on his gaunt face.
"I might as well tell you know then." The vampire sighed tiredly. "Delphia comes from a long line of seers, but as most 'seers' these days, her abilities are insignificant in comparison to that of her ancestors'. She has the gift, yes, but prophecies and simple foretelling are scant on her part. They do, however, surprise her once in a while, like today."
"Oh."
"Now that that is explained, you can pester Delphia all you want tomorrow, because I need my beauty sleep now." Sanguini muttered and turned around abruptly, and as he turned, he brought the coffin's lid down, officially ending his conversation with Harry.
"That was…rude." Harry frowned; muttering the words to himself, as his roommate so rudely chose to call it a night.
Well, he supposed he had been asking lots of questions, and hadn't stopped to think about whether it would bother the unfriendly vampire or not. In hindsight he probably should have seen Sanguini's hostile response come from a mile away.
He shrugged to himself and eased himself back under the covers, relishing in the feel of getting to sleep in a nice and soft bed - far away from the Dursley's.
And for the first time in his rather short life, Harry Potter actually looked forward to the next day to come.
TBC…
Ever wondered why Trevor always tries to escape Neville? I think Trevor just misses Delphia. LOL. Entirely made up by my wayward mind (obviously).
And thanks to autumngold for the lovely review :)
Anyway… I'm considering turning this into a Harry/Draco, Harry/Luna, Luna/Harry/ Draco or perhaps a Harry/Tonks? It will be a while before anything even remotely related to a Harry-pairing happens, but I'm a bit out of my element with Harry, so I would like some response as to what people like best in terms of Harry pairings? (It won't be Hermione, she is already paired off I'm afraid) It won't interfere too much with the plot itself, so I figured asking people was okay.
Hope to hear from you :)
Love
Winnie