One of the books I bought in Hay-on-Wye ("Letters to Dead Authors" by A. Lang, 1892) said of Jane Austen: "You are not a very popular author: your volumes are not found in gaudy covers on every bookstall…" And if that tells me anything, those who write? Keep writing! Keep it up! Who knows whose lives we can touch, even if we can't live to see it. Sometimes it just takes a long minute.
Harry paused for a moment at the doorknob his hand was hovering over. As he grasped it, he gasped as it seemed to shock him slightly before warming. Though he had never had a home, he could feel it settling into his bones.
Taking a breath, he opened the door.
Looking around the entryway he had just entered, it was surprisingly tasteful.
One of the properties that had been noted in the inventory provided by Gringotts was a townhouse in London, which was a little insane.
If nothing else, that spoke of how much money the Potter family had in the past. According to a genealogy book he had found in Diagon, the Potters used to have many times more than what the inventory stated. As James never grew to be old enough to earn back what he likely spent, and from what he read his grandparents had not worked for quite some time before they passed, it made sense that the family wealth had dwindled.
It would have been a different story if they had invested instead of letting the galleons sit in the vault, but what's done is done.
Lowering his hood and walking further down the hallway, he came across a large open room that was obviously cared for. No dust covered the chairs, and the picture frames on the fireplace mantel looked as though they had been placed there yesterday.
Feeling a little silly, he attempted to call for any elves that might be in the property, jumping a little when one popped suddenly in front of him.
"Master Harry! Millie is happy to meet yous!" Unlike Dobby, Millie was wearing a clean white uniform of sorts, a loose-fitting dress almost. On the chest it had the Potter crest displayed proudly.
"I'm pleased to meet you as well Millie!" He couldn't help but smile down at her. No matter how dark his last few months had been, this little elf seemed to exude happy energy.
"Are you the only elf working for the Potter family Millie?" Her face fell slightly at his question, which was an answer in itself.
"Yes Master Harry. Millie had a mate, Zeesy, until shortly before when Master Harry would be at Hoggywarts." She looked down at her feet when she said this, understandably.
Four years she had been alone, presumably only in this house. That's a lot of solitary confinement.
"Well I'm here now. I'm sorry I did not know you existed before today Millie. Otherwise I would have called you long before now." Knowing she existed would have helped him out innumerable times, the elves were always underestimated and forgotten. More's the shame.
She looked thrilled at this, which also, understandable.
"Thanks yous Master Harry! Will you be staying here?" Her big eyes looked up at him with hope, with one of her hands tugging lightly on her left ear, even if he hadn't already been planning on staying he likely would have been swayed.
"Yes Millie, where I was staying before was not safe. Being a vampire on the streets was not ideal." He huffed in amusement at that understatement. Even then, her eyes seemed to widen even further. Which did not look healthy.
"Yous be safe here Master Harry! Is yous hungry?" She hopped a bit, apparently excited to have a potential task after years of just cleaning an empty house.
Curious, Harry agreed to a meal, interested to see what she would supply.
He wasn't starving, but the thought that perhaps he would not have to wait to eat until his stomach started twisting anymore was pleasant.
Millie popped up in front of him again, looking content and hopeful. "Yous meal is in the dining room Master Harry, is that good?"
He nodded, "Yes, Millie, but can you show me where that is?"
"Yes Master Harry! Follow Millie." At her lead, it was a short walk from the common area they had just been in.
The table wasn't as long as he imagined a table at Malfoy Manor would have, but the manageable size was greatly preferable to someone more extravagant.
On top of said table was a decanter of recognizable red liquid with an empty short glass placed next to it.
Walking over to the decanter, he rested his hand on the glass, finding it to be warm.
Giving Millie a bit of a side-eye, he found himself curious about where and how she got the blood so quickly.
Shrugging, as he had done some very questionable acts for the purpose of sating hunger -no other reason. *cough*- he sat down in front of the meal.
"This looks great Millie, thank you." She looked ecstatic before popping away quietly.
After taking a long look at the decanter he poured some of the blood into his glass.
After taking a small sip, his eyebrows shot up.
It was absolutely delicious.
Nothing like the animals he had gotten used to, or even the muggles that he had preyed after. Compared to this the muggles tasted like the sickly pigeon.
He could taste the magic in the blood, and it almost zipped across his taste buds. It had the same heavy copper scent, but the taste was rich and complex. It went down hot, almost like it was fresh from the source.
Granted, with preservation charms it was probable it could retain that level of freshness for quite some time.
He did not want to kill wizards to obtain blood, but if it all tasted like this, wherever Millie got it from, he might be tempted.
The trick would be finding someone who would be willing to become a donor.
The small animals would not have had enough blood otherwise, but killing the muggles for blood was merely to prevent being found through them reporting him. If he had known he could cast magic through the emancipation, things might have been different.
Now however, he didn't trust his magical education to cover getting away with taking blood from witches or wizards. They were in a much better place to defend themselves. Teaching himself what he could only get him so far.
Taking another long drink from the glass, he let out a contented sigh.
So, donors.
People that he could turn to when he was hungry, alternating so not one of them had too much blood taken from them at a time.
They also would have to be willing to become very close. The pleasure that comes as a result would almost be a waste otherwise.
It was a dream at this point while he had no connections.
Perhaps taking the risk of reaching out to Sirius would be worthwhile. He might know where to start, and getting a taste, so to speak, of not going hungry made a good case.
There could be so much gained, but he had been staying away for a reason.
If there was a way to test and see what he thought about vampires, that might be helpful, but his owl was too recognizable to send a letter anonymously.
And without being able to speak to Sirius beforehand, any letter he would send would almost certainly be directed straight to the headmaster.
Pausing in his rumination for a moment, he let out a groan, letting his head hit the table.
Millie. A house elf that could more than likely get through any wards he might be behind.
Though he might recognize her, she doubtless could direct a message to Sirius.
Mind made up, and not letting himself second guess this decision, as it seemed to him to be the best route at this point, he got some stationary from the bag he had bought in Diagon. Featherlight and expanding charms were a wonderful combination.
Absently sipping on the remaining blood, he began composing his letter.
This could go wrong, but he needed allies. Being alone had made it so he didn't need to worry about the opinions of others, but it had done him no favors.
Finding out he was a lord made it all the more vital to create a new network in the wizarding society.
He was not taught politics in Hogwarts, but that didn't mean he was incapable of learning now. And he was certain that though Sirius did not like his family, they had definitively taught him about politics. Extensively.
It took a while to finish the letter to a satisfactory level. They had no idea where he was, what condition he was in whether it be mental or physical, it was almost a blank slate.
He really didn't even know Sirius that well, so it was a blank slate in more ways than one.
No matter what the headmaster had certainly told his godfather, hopefully Sirius would read his note with an open mind.
Heaving a sigh, he took one last drink of the blood, finishing it off.
Licking his lips, savoring the remnant of the taste, he hoped Millie would be able to keep supplying meals like this.
Though he was purposefully not thinking about the how. Even though that would be very useful to know.
After sealing the letter in an inconspicuous envelope, he called Millie to him, having her lead him up to what would be his bedroom.
Once they arrived, he handed her the note.
"Please take this letter to Sirius Black, but wait until he is alone. Quickly, in and out." He didn't want to spook Sirius into not reading the letter, but he also didn't want Millie to be recognized.
"Yes Master Harry, Millie will." She took the letter reverently, and bowed before popping away.
Well, now that was out of his hands.
He was looking forward to when Hedwig would find him.
He had told her to keep her distance while he was on the streets, as that would be immediately recognizable, but now that he was in a home, hopefully she would settle.
It had been a frightfully long five months, and he was looking forward to being unconscious for perhaps a couple of days. Certainly by then Hedwig would be here, and he might learn how his godfather would respond.
He could only hope his letter would be received well.
- S.O.A.R. -
Not too far away in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius startled as a house elf popped in and out of his bedroom. The order had cleared out of the house and he had just walked in to start winding down for the evening. He was certainly not expecting company other than Remus.
Casting several detection charms on the piece of parchment, he hesitantly picked it up when all of the spells came back clear.
Breaking the wax seal, his eyes widened at the handwriting and then widened further when he read the note.
"REMUS!"
Yeah... Harry is repressing what happened to him when he got turned big time. That's not going to backfire at all! Thank you for reading, I would enjoy reading your thoughts! :)
