# The Cousin

BigHeadFics

Rating: R
Genres: Action & Adventure, Horror
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 27/04/2008
Last Updated: 23/06/2008
Status: In Progress

Sometimes, it really is all about the Blood. Rating changed due to violence.

## 1. Letters

The Cousin

Author: BigHead

Disclaimer: The characters depicted therein belong to their rightful owners, none of which are me. This is done for fun, not profit.

Summary: Sometimes, it really is all about the Blood.

Feedback: Always welcome.

A.N.: Changes in the timeline were made so the dates would fit. This will eventually be a Harry/Hermione fic, but not for a while. I'll probably make him `test the waters' a bit before making the commitment.

Chapter 1 - Letters

Nine years.

Nine lonely and long years celebrated today. She had known back then that her life would never be normal, after all normal lives did not include protecting Britain and the colonies from supernatural threats, but she thought her father or her uncle would ease her upon the job, but no. Sir Arthur, her beloved father, has been taken by cancer, a disease that had systematically destroyed the powerful man until only a shadow of his former self remained.

And Richard, that bloody traitor…may he rot in Hell for all eternity.

Her thoughts darkening like the settling sun outside, Sir Integral Wingates Fairbrooks Hellsing stood up and lighted yet another cigarillo. This was not a good day, and the entire staff was aware of it. Even the vampire kept to himself today, not bothering her with his remarks.

The tall blonde looked outside to the grounds that rolled below. The activity over the training grounds were winding down, the troops readying themselves for their nightly patrols. Integra should be going out with them, but she was too distracted, and while she believed firmly in leading from the front lines, she was practical enough to know that distraction while facing vampires and ghouls usually meant death, not only hers but others too, so it just served to compose to the already moody situation.

A soft knock on her door made her lift an eyebrow and give another pull on her cigarillo.

“Enter,” she said in her typical strong voice, and only those who knew her deeply could detect a hint that something was wrong with her. One of those people was the one who entered the room, a middle-aged man in a crisp Saville Row suit and a monocle. He closed the door behind him, and walked until he was standing right at her side, but at a perfect distance both to provide cover if needed, and to enable her to have an effective field of fire if she so desired.

“I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, Integra,” he said, calling her by her first name only, one of the very few times she had seen him do so, “... but do you wish to go with the men?”

Another pull, and she finally turned to look at him. “I should, Walter, if only to find another thing to occupy my mind with,” she replied, the glacial exterior she always wore cracking a bit. “However, I'll be putting other lives but my own at risk.”

He nodded, a real small smile trading place with the smirk he usually wore. “Then perhaps I might have something to distract your mind from today, some mementos from Sir Arthur's past,” he said, and removed a bundle of tightly wrapped letters from the inner pocket of his suit.

“Letters? From who?” Integra asked, while grabbing the bundle.

“That's… a bit of a history,” he said. “Tell me, did Sir Arthur tell you about Alucard, and how your great-grandfather bound him into servitude?”

Sir Integra shook her head negatively, while cutting the tie that bound the letters together. Some of the original wax seals were intact, with the original impressions clearly visible on a few of them, a bird of some sort. “I know the basics from father's diary, because I needed to learn the spells in case they would be needed again, and how to control the seals, but there is no mention of how Grandfather Abraham did it.”

Walter Dornez moved to the other side of the desk, while Integra sat down. She left the bundle to a side, paying full attention to her friend, butler and mentor. “When Alucard was still known as Count Dracula and was causing panic around London and Transylvania, your great-grandfather engaged in a series of battles with him. In those battles, Abraham learned two important lessons: one was that Dracula was too powerful and two, he was almost impossible to kill. However, these battles gave them both a deep seated respect towards the other.”

“That is true,” a voice came from a corner where only shadows inhabited, and in a few moments it coalesced into a tall human-shaped being, wearing a red suit, wide-brimmed hat and yellow-lensed sunglasses. His face held the smirk of a madman, showing a row of glistening fangs. It was a bit more contrite than usual, but there nonetheless. “Abraham was a worthy enemy, one of the very few people worth of my respect. A true man who battled a true monster, and won,” he said with respect. “But enough of me. Continue your story, Angel of Death, I'll add when I feel the need to.”

“Thank you, Alucard. As I was saying, Abraham eventually found a way to kill Dracula, but at the same time he also found a way in which, if successful, would bind the most powerful vampire who ever lived in servitude to his own blood. While the idea of slavery was abhorrent to Abraham, the idea that the world could still be plagued by something like or worst than the monster he'd just defeated gave him pause, and a reason to do what he eventually did.”

Sir Integra nodded. “What does it have to do with those letters?”

“Abraham Van Hellsing was a great man, a doctor of strange diseases who was born and made his life in Amsterdam. He eventually came to London and got involved in a series of rather bizarre events, which culminated in Alucard being here serving the family and protecting England from supernatural threats. However, what Abraham never was, until then, was a wizard.”

An elegant eyebrow rose. “A…wizard, you say?”

Walter nodded. “It's a little known fact, Sir Integra, held under many layers of secrecy, but there is a wizard's society living among us. The wizarding world, as it is usually referenced by those in the known, is a society formed by people proficient in magic, real magic, not those parlor tricks shown everywhere to entertain the masses.”

Alucard snorted, which brought the attention of the room back to him.

“You have anything to say, vampire?” Integra asked.

“They're a rabble of the worst kind, sheep with delusions of grandeur, that think that because they have some meager power they're better than the rest of the world.”

The comment made Integra once again raise an eyebrow, this time towards Walter, its inner question clear to the older man. “He's…mostly right, Sir. They are rather full of themselves in general, but there are some nice fellows among them. One, or better, two of them are the ones responsible for the letters you now hold in your hands.”

Integra grabbed the oldest-looking one and unfolded it. The strange paper was surprisingly sturdy for its apparent age and started reading.

Dear Dr. Hellsing,

I hope this missive finds you in good health, and that the way it has arrived in your hands didn't cause more undue stress in an already stressful situation. It has come to my attention, thanks to a common acquaintance of ours that you're having quite a bit of trouble regarding the vampyr known as Vlad Dracul. While not really acquainted with this particular element, I come from a very specialized and highly regarded institution that has centuries of experience in dealing with these so-called Dark creatures, and I'd like to offer my help in whatever capacity you might need.

I know this might sound quite mysterious and strange, however any consistent and believable explanation, if you want it, should be given personally. If you agree to meet me, send an answer back by the same owl that delivered this message to you, she's instructed to wait for an answer.

Cordially yours,

Lord Richard Potter.

Integra shook her head. “Grandfather never made contact with him, did he? Because I never found any reference about this Richard Potter in any of the family's writings.”

“Yes, he did, and you shouldn't,” Walter replied, finally taking a seat. “However, I know for a fact that you uncle was named after him, unfortunately.”

“This is not making any sense, you're talking in riddles. Explain at once,” Integra said, her mood spiking.

“I'm sorry, Sir Integra. Let me explain,” Walter said and took a deep breath. “When Abraham was deeply entrenched in the fight against Dracula, he contacted several acquaintances, seeking knowledge on how to defeat the vampire. One of those acquaintances contacted Lord Richard Potter, a graduate from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who was an expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms, two of the school's main disciplines. As far as I know, Hogwarts is considered the top learning institution for magic in the world, and Richard was considered their top student four years in a row.”

Integra nodded, and Walter continued. “Abraham needed intel first and foremost, and even thinking Richard might be a quack, he offered to meet Lord Potter after some quiet inquiries that brought surprising results. After some demonstration of Richard's power, Dr. Hellsing accepted his help. However, Lord Potter's hands were tied in the extension of help he could provide.”

“How so?”

Alucard interrupted before Walter could speak. “The sheep are only interested in their secrecy and their own bellies, and their ruling government forbid their involvement in matters concerning the non-magical world. Potter was a courageous man, he helped in what he could, even knowing the risks he was suffering.”

Integra looked to the No Life King. “Seems to me that you know more about this world than Walter.”

Alucard smirked. “I should, Master. After all, one of their schools lies within the borders of my old domains.”

The Master of Monsters nodded. “This seems like a long conversation to have, but we're diverging from the main subject. Carry on, Walter.”

“Richard could help, but only by providing information. His direct involvement had been forbidden by their government, unless Dracula posed a direct threat to them. Even then, Richard did actively help your grandfather hunt down Alucard, with the proviso of his involvement to never be mentioned in the annals being written by the good doctor. As luck would have it, Abraham had some magic in his blood, not enough to be used actively, but sufficient for him to cast and hold the magic needed to seal Alucard's powers.”

“Potter was another man worthy of my respect,” Alucard voiced from the darkened corner he had leaned against. “Powerful, resourceful and smart. I once cornered him and removed his wand…”

“Wand? You're telling me these …wizards use wands?”

“Quite unimaginative, don't you think?” Walter smirked along with Alucard, and Integra shook her head.

“As I was saying, I removed his wand, the only real weapon he had against me, and while he should have cowed and ran in face of certain death, he challenged me using only his fists, even though he had little to no ability in unarmed combat. The action was so absurd that I laughed for a while, instead of attacking. It was enough to call the attention of Abraham and he came to the rescue of Potter, which took my brief distraction as a chance to recover his wand. With both of them now armed, I decided to walk away.”

“You ran?” Integra asked, incredulously.

Alucard's face turned from maniacal to enraged in a fraction of a second. “I ran from no one,” he growled. “If I were to finally die that moment, then so be it. However, I was more interested in the hunt than a simple kill, and believe me, it would be easy to kill one of them that night. That proved to be my mistake.”

“Yes,” Walter nodded, “that is true. A few nights later, Richard's research proved fruitful, and Abraham finally defeated Alucard, after killing all of his servants and releasing Mina from his grasp. Richard helped your Grandfather apply the Cromwell Seals and tie them to the bloodline of the Hellsings.”

“Potter learned much about blood magic,” Alucard commented.

Integra stood, followed a moment later by the retainer. She turned back to the large window. “Why I was never told about any of this?”

“Honestly, Sir, I had forgotten about those letters until today. I was taking a gander among Sir Arthur's old possessions and I remembered where he kept them. I also miss my old friend,” Walter replied.

“I need to think about this,” she said, without turning around. “Leave me.”

“As you wish, Sir,” Walter said, and walked out.

Once she and Alucard were alone, the No Life King spoke again. “Do not let this information sullen the image you have of Abraham. He was a great man, and so was Potter. Together they formed a great team, one that, if still alive today, wouldn't require your use of my services.”

“Why did you never mentioned it yourself, Alucard?”

“Why should I?” he said with a smirk.

Integra's shoulders shook momentarily, the only reflection of her amusement. She turned around abruptly, the fire back in her ice blue eyes. “What are you still doing here? My orders still haven't changed. Search and Destroy!”

Alucard's insane laughter echoed through the manor. “As you command, Master,” he said, and vanished into the shadows.

After some time of silent contemplation, Integra Hellsing sat back down in her chair and started reading.

-->

## 2. Espionage

Chapter 2 - Espionage

A few days later, Walter was called back to Sir Integra's office, only to find her sitting at her desk, her hand holding the last letter of the pile. She took some time to read them all, and they told quite a bit of history, from her ancestors and the Potters. The letters spanned three generations of Hellsings, her great-grandfather Abraham, her grandfather Nicholas and her father, all three of them held the two Potters, Richard and his son James in high regard. From what she could understand, the Potters, by being magical, had longer lifespans than their near magic-less friends, even taking into account that Abraham lived to the impressive age of 102. Everything was shared among them, how each of them was going with their everyday life, how they each met their loved ones, their grief, their success, everything, a deep bond of friendship forming among the families. There was very little mention of her uncle in the letters, apparently Richard Hellsing never had the inclination to meet the man he was named after, and after Richard Potter died, James never asked about Arthur's younger brother. However, she knew that James had asked for special dispensation from Hogwarts to be at her birth, and that he had been chosen to be her godfather, even being a bit young for the position.

But not everything was fun and games, and that was one of the reasons why Walter had been summoned.

“Tell me about Grindewald, Walter,” she asked without preamble.

“That's…a name I haven't heard in a long time. I believe he's mentioned in those letters?”

“More than once. He and another so-called `Dark' wizard, a fellow by the name of Voldemort,” Integra said.

“I know about Grindewald, but very little about Voldemort…'Flight from Death'…what a terrible choice in naming.”

“Is that so, Angel of Death?” Integra replied with a smirk.

Walter chose to ignore the slight jab. “When your father, Alucard and I were dealing with the Last Battalion, we heard that the Nazis were striking a deal with a powerful man named Gellert Grindewald. As soon as your father heard the name, he became frantic and left us for a while. I learned later that he sent a message to Richard Potter telling of the Germans' plans. A few days later we were contacted in the field by a man named Albus Dumbledore, and that's when I learned about the wizarding world. Apparently Dumbledore was the only man capable enough of facing Grindewald, so he accompanied us for a few days, since our contact was the only one who knew where the meeting between him and the Millennium Group would take place. Alucard did not like Dumbledore much, and the reverse was pretty much true, however I must say that the wizard held firm against Alucard's taunting. Once we learned the whereabouts of the meeting, we departed using a portkey, it's the wizard equivalent of instantaneous travel, and we arrived in the middle of a battlefield already. It seemed like their conversation had not gone the way the parties intended, so the Millennium Group was fighting Grindewald and his followers. As soon as Grindewald saw Dumbledore, they started fighting each other, and let me say it was one of the most impressive sights of my life. Soon we were swamped in enemies and we had little time to watch the wizards' duel.”

Walter cleaned his throat and went to grab a glass of water from a bureau to the side of Integra's desk. Once he had drunk it, he continued to speak. “Once the Letztes Bataillon was finished for good, we searched the battlefield for signs of Dumbledore or Grindewald. Finding neither, we came back to England, where your father finally learned what happened. Dumbledore had won and was being celebrated as the greatest wizard since Merlin.”

“What about Voldemort?”

“Of him, I have little to no information. The first time I heard the name, was when your father started developing the symptoms of his disease. James Potter had asked for some council regarding his actions after leaving Hogwarts…this was about eleven years ago. The only thing he was sure about was the marriage to his school sweetheart, a woman named Lily Evans. What little else I know is written in those letters you read, Sir. With the disease, I had to be more at hand for Sir Arthur's needs, and Alucard was sealed up, so we had little help to give. James was aware of it, but they kept changing letters, until the day where James mentioned they were going to ground to hide from Voldemort and protect their baby, a boy named Harry.”

Integra nodded. “No more letters since then?”

“No, Sir,” Walter replied.

“Did you try to contact them again?”

“I have no way to. Their contact was made by owl post…”

“What is it?” the Head of Hellsing asked.

“Their letters were delivered by owl, it's how they communicate long distance.”

“How primitive,” she huffed.

“Agreed. The owl would come with a letter and wait for a reply, and then would take it back to the Potters. I don't even know where they lived.”

Integra nodded and grabbed a cigarillo, and lighted it up. “I have a mission for you, Walter. I want you to find out what happened to my godfather and his family. Be discreet about it, and if they're still alive, tell them I'd wish very much to continue the tradition of friendship among the families.”

“It shall be done, Sir.”

“Alucard,” she called, and in a few moments the No Life King was rising from the floor of her office.

“Yes, Master?”

“You have an in into the wizarding world?” she asked.

“Not here in Britain, Master, but I could ask my contacts abroad to search for information about the Potters as well.”

“Do so, I'd like news as soon as possible about them.”

“Yes, Master.”

*****

A couple days later, Alucard was in the tombs under the manor, a glass of heated blood resting at his side, his mood pensive. What he had learned from his contacts did not paint a nice picture, at all, but first he needed to pass the information back to Integra.

He did the unusual task of walking until he was standing right in front of Integra's door and from what he could sense, Walter was there as well. He melted through the door, only to appear in the other side, already close to his Master's desk.

“I bring news about the Potters, Master,” he said without preamble.

“Your contacts are better than mine, Alucard,” Walter commented. “I still haven't managed to find anything about them. So far it seems like the Potters never existed.”

“It's because your contacts are not sheep, Angel of Death. To them, the Potters are like the Second Coming of the Shepherd, especially the boy.”

Integra's surprise was clear in her face. “Are they alive?”

“Unfortunately not, Master.”

She slumped back in her chair, surprise trading place with disappointment. Alucard then proceeded to tell her, in his rather sarcastic and acidic manner, the entire story he had heard from his contact, about Voldemort, the war, the betrayal of the Potters and the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Young Harry is alive, then?” she ended up asking, once he finished.

“According to my contacts, he survived the so-called killing curse. However, no one knows where the boy lives, or even if he's still living, and word-to-mouth tell the most absurd tales.”

Integra steeped her fingers, and looked to the two people who effectively raised and trained her. “I want the boy found, by whatever means necessary. Alucard, see if your contacts can shed some light on where he might be. Walter, try searching for any non-magical relatives Harry might have, perhaps he's enrolled at some school. I need to know what happened to him, and what can we do to help him.”

Both man and vampire shared a quick look, and they both turned back to her. “Yes, Master.”

“If you find him, do not approach, I wish to do this myself,” she concluded.

“Yes, Master.”

“Dismissed.”

*****

To someone observant enough, the sight flying high in the skies was odd, to say the least. A single, lonely owl was being followed at a distance by a large flock of bats, and this had started almost a day ago. Alucard had an idea to dispatch an owl with a message to Harry Potter, and to follow it to its final destination. So far the owl had followed a pretty straight line, and they were approaching London's outskirts. Suddenly, the bird started flying in circles, as if lost, and then it took a completely different direction a couple moments later.

Instead of promptly changing directions, the bats continued on the same trajectory they were before, until something changed their own status quo as well. The flock descended until street level, and they reformed behind a tree into a very surprised No Life King. He too had been affected and almost turned away by whatever it was that had changed the owl's course, and that required some extra verification.

He was somewhere in Surrey, in a fairly ordinary and rather quaint neighborhood, a place where, if these were the old days, he'd slaughter everyone from house to house just to save them from a life of boredom and sameness.

He started to move forward down the street where he was, in the direction where he felt the disturbance. He felt his skin start to tingle lightly, as if he was being affected by static electricity. The sensation wasn't awful, but it was distracting. As he walked onwards, it started to become more pronounced, and it started affecting his supernatural senses. He stopped and started sniffing the air, the `smell' of the magic, this specific brand of magic, and that brought a smile to his face.

“Smart, Potter. Really smart.”

Having learned what he wanted, Alucard doubled back, and as soon as he was out of the range of the ward, he vanished into the shadows.

*****

“I think I found him, Master,” he said as he reappeared back into the manor.

“Did you see him? How is he?” she asked, her usual cold demeanor almost completely gone in the face of the discovery.

“No, I didn't see him, and I think I couldn't if I tried. The young Potter is protected, Master, safe from my reach and whoever else that wishes him harm,” Alucard said.

“How do you know that?”

“The boy is hidden behind wards, Master. Blood wards quite similar to some I've seen Richard Potter use.”

Integra scowled. “Why? What do those wards do?”

“I believe the sheep did a lousy job of ending Voldemort's threat, at least when it comes to his followers. There are still a lot of them around who think that his imbecilic ideas about blood purity have a lot of merit. As for the wards, they protect him from discovery by any magical beings that have harm in mind, and it makes scrying impossible. They obscure his presence so much I could stand right in front of him and not see him,” Alucard said, slightly frustrated.

“But you do not wish him harm, why do these wards block you?”

“They do not know me, they just recognize what I am, and consider me a threat,” he replied, pensive. “I believe the Angel of Death should have better luck. Tell him to start looking in Surrey, it's where the boundaries of the wards are.”

“Could you break them, if needed?” the young woman asked.

“I could, Master. While they're blood wards, I am Blood, they are no match for me. However, in doing so I'd negate the boy the security tied to them and would probably hurt or downright kill him in the process.”

“Thank you, Alucard. I'll pass the information to Walter. Now, I'd want you to check a nest that has been reported…”

*****

Vernon Dursley looked over his shoulder once again, looking for something he couldn't identify. If not for the fact that the…freak was locked in the cupboard, he'd sworn it had to do with him and his…unnaturalness. It seemed as if he was being watched, but he couldn't see anyone suspicious, except for that old Figg woman and her damned cats.

“Vernon, come inside,” Petunia called, and the large man turned around and walked back in.

“What is it, my flowerpot?” he asked sweetly.

“Vernon, the front lawn needs to be mowed again, the neighbors are starting to notice,” she said. It was a bit of a lie, of course, and Vernon thought she was doing that to release the freak from his room, but he wasn't in the mood to argue with her or to mow the lawn himself.

“Don't worry, my snugglybuns, I'll handle it,” he said, smiling at her. As soon as he turned around, his face turned into the typical scowl he wore when dealing with the boy. Opening the catch locking the cupboard's door, he yanked it open and spoke without lowering himself. “The front lawn needs to be mowed.”

A scrawny boy walked out of the cramped room, eyes flinching against the sudden infusion of light. He was rail thin, and he seemed like a mockery of what a normal kid of his age would be, wearing clothes a few sizes too big for his frame, clothes that had seen better days a few summers ago. If someone bothered to look at him, they'd see eyes of a surprising shade of green, that seemed to glow with some sort of inner light, messy black hair that seemed to stick to all sides and a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt adorning his forehead. If someone bothered to talk to him, they'd find that his name was Harry Potter, and he was nine years old.

The small boy walked to the garage without saying a word to his uncle, where he grabbed the heavy lawnmower to work on the front lawn. As soon as he stepped outside, his head snapped up and he started looking around, confused. He felt as if someone was watching him, but he couldn't see anyone nearby. After a few more moments, he shrugged to himself and dragged his feet onwards.

*****

Phillip Reston had hit, as the Yanks liked to say, pay dirt. He snapped a few more shots, only to be sure, the powerful camera lens allowing him a great deal of anonymity, plus some extra perfect pictures of the small boy. However, what he was seeing did not paint a nice picture for a private detective like himself.

Finding him hadn't been easy, he had to check all schools in the area and after finding the one the boy frequented, he had a bit of a challenge in convincing the school's secretary to give him an address. He found the house easily enough, and a good spot almost a block away where he could park his car and have an unimpeded view of the house. Assembling the huge telephoto lens inside the car wasn't easy, but it wasn't the first time he had done it either. The first day of stakeout, he'd discovered that the Dursleys had a son, a big boy named Dudley, and Phillip wasted some film and some time tailing the wrong kid, until he overheard one of the kids the boy played with calling him by his name.

Backtracking to his car, he waited an entire day for Harry to appear, and when he didn't, not on the first, second and third day, Reston started to get worried. Using a bit more of his personal charm, he inquired a few neighbors discreetly about young Harry, and he found out that the boy did indeed live with the Dursleys. The opinions about Harry and the Dursleys varied astronomically, some said he was a shy, quiet boy who spoke to no one and the Dursleys were pretty normal, albeit a bit snobbish, while other said the Dursleys walked on water, and Harry was a good-for-nothing troublemaking brat.

The fifth day of stakeout was today, and Reston watched the small kid, who, according to his file, was nine, but looked like seven, fight with a troublesome lawnmower, without any help whatsoever from his relatives. His instincts, both of a detective and a parent, told him he needed to investigate this further than simply tell the client where the young boy was.

He took a few more pictures, but he needed evidence that the boy was indeed Harry Potter. He climbed out of the car and locked it, and started to walk as if he was looking for something. The young boy noticed him and he walked on in, coming closer, but paying no direct attention to him. As soon as he was close enough, he turned to the boy.

“Hello, young man. My name's Preston. What's yours?” he asked, sounding the least menacing as possible.

“Harry,” the boy mumbled, while trying to turn the lawnmower back on.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. Look, I'm kind of lost, can you tell me where Whisteria Walk is?”

Harry stood up and pointed. “That street there.”

“Well, thank you,” he said with a smile, and started walking in the direction of the street.

As soon as he was out of sight, he doubled back to his car, his mood pensive and his guts churning. Something was terribly wrong with this job, and he needed to find out what.

*****

A week later, Reston had another meeting with his client, a man by the name of Walter Dornez, this time to present his findings. Once the distinguished gentleman was seated, Phillip started talking.

“Before we begin, Mr. Dornez, I must ask what do you intend to do with this information?”

That surprised the retainer a bit, and got him curious. “I'm afraid I must ask why you're asking me this.”

“Well, Mr. Dornez, I found the young man you asked me to. However, the situation I found him in gives me reason to call the Police and the Child Protection Services.”

The monocle fell down, and the utter surprise on the man's usually extremely composed face was sufficient to clear whatever suspicions Reston might have about his client's involvement in the disgusting situation. Surprise was replaced almost instantly by a cold look that almost made Reston scream for help. “Explain at once,” the man said, readjusting the monocle.

And Reston did.

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## 3. Confrontations

Chapter 3- Confrontations

A/N: This chapter might read a bit bizarre, because I'll be changing points of view without changing scenes, just to reflect what every character is thinking at the moment. You've been warned.

It wasn't as quick as Integra had intended, once Walter told her what the private detective had uncovered about young Harry Potter. All three of them wanted to take a direct and final approach to the situation, they even had the Crown's approval if they so desired, it was in the charter the Royal Protestant Knights upheld. However, dead people learned nothing, and they figured that in this case an object lesson was important. So, after the murdering rage simmered down to cold vengeance, the trio formulated a plan to deal with the situation. Alucard, surprisingly, remained utterly calm and silent after the decision of not terminating the Dursleys was taken, which bothered both Integra and Walter, to a certain degree.

Now, nearly a month later, a month where the Dursleys were silently investigated and enough evidence was collected so they would have a solid case to deliver to the proper authorities if they so desired, the plan was put in motion. During the course of said investigation, they discovered that Dursley senior had a `thing' about royalty and the Royal Family in particular, so it was a simple case of sending a polite letter to Grunnings asking for a specific sales representative to be sent to Hellsing Manor, and that the Crown would be very thankful for their prompt action.

A date and time was set, and Integra was now waiting for the waste of space to show up.

Her intercom beeped, and Walter's voice came through. “Sir, Mr. Vernon Dursley from Grunnings is here,” he said politely.

“Send him in, Walter,” she said, and the murdering rage that she had felt when first told came back, full force. She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, squashing it for the time being.

The door to her office opened up, and the fat man waddled in. Integra registered his surprise when he noticed that the `Sir' wasn't, in fact, male. Using an extra ounce of her fabulous will, she once again squashed her want to draw her Walter 9mm out and use him as target practice.

“Mr. Dursley?” she asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.

“Y-yes, V-Vernon Dursley, at your service,” he said, his brain still trying to understand why he was talking to a `Sir' who looked like, and sounded like a woman. Would he…she be one of those transgender freaks he heard about? However, he offered his hand to be shaken, which was summarily ignored. He noticed, however, that her - he would go with her until said otherwise - eyebrows rose almost to her hairline, and her face looked enraged for a moment, until it went back to cold indifference.

“Have a seat, Mr. Dursley,” Integra said, her voice even colder than usual, especially after what Alucard had transmitted what Vernon Dursley thought about her. Summary execution sounded better by each passing moment. The whale sat at the offered chair and started to fumble with his case. “No need to show me anything right now, Mr. Dursley, let's talk first.”

“S-sure, Sir,” he said, uncertain about the title, but since it was what Mr. Dornenz had called her, it would be how he would address her. Not a smart move to upset a possible client with ties to the Crown.

“Tell me, Mr. Dursley, are you married?” Integra asked.

Vernon calmed down a bit. He had his parcel of chatty clients, and while they were sometimes annoying, they often proved to be good and very profitable clients. “Yes, Sir. Going on to almost twelve years now.”

“Any children?”

“My boy Dudley. Smart lad, he is, takes to his father. Almost ten now,” he said, proudly.

“Good, good. So, I imagine you like children,” Integra said, and picked the folder resting to a side.

“Oh, yes, yes,” Vernon lied. He liked his Dudders, but children in general irked him.

“That's good to know. You see, I'm an only child, and I lost my father when I was nine years old, but I learned since early on that family is very important. I don't have any living blood relatives, but I made a family for myself. The man that introduced you outside, Walter? He's the closest thing I have to a father now, and while he might sound a little cold and impersonal, I know for a fact that in his heart I'm the closest thing he has to a daughter. We have no blood between us, but what we have is a family,” Integra said, now perusing the contents of the folder.

Vernon nodded automatically, but to be honest this conversation was bothering him.

“Did you ever want to have any more children?” Integra asked.

Vernon shook his head. “No, Ma…Sir. My wife Petunia and I are content with just our boy,” he replied, almost slipping and calling her madam.

“Interesting. But what if someone dropped a bundle at your doorstep, say, a young baby and asked you to take care of him from the goodness of your heart, would you do it?” Integra asked, sounding perfectly casual.

Vernon froze. The woman had…no, it wasn't possible. How? He had to answer her… “O-of c-course we would, Sir. It's the r-right thing to do,” he lied.

“I see,” she answered, and removed one photo from the folder. “Then I'd like you to explain him to me, Mr. Dursley,” she said, and slid the photo of Harry over the table, and it stopped right in front of him. It was a blown up image of Harry working on their front lawn.

Vernon stood up, enraged and affronted. “What sort of…”

Integra was faster than he was. “Sit down, Dursley, or I'll go along with my baser impulses and kill you right now,” she said, slamming her hand hard at the table. It sounded like a pistol shot in the closed office.

“You c-can't…” he tried, not believing what he had just been told.

“I can and I will. Now sit down and listen,” she said. He dropped like a sack of potatoes back in the chair. “I am Sir Integral Wingates Fairbrooks Hellsing, Head of the Hellsing Organization and the Royal Protestant Knights. It is my job to keep England safe against threats, and I have the authority, granted upon me by Her Majesty and the Crown, to kill whoever I deem necessary to do so. In the grand scheme of things, Vernon Dursley, I wouldn't consider you worthy of anyone's attention, especially mine. However, Fate decided to intervene in our lives, and it called my attention upon you. Now, I want you to tell me everything about your nephew. Spare no words.”

Vernon tried to lie, but to lie he would have to be thinking right now, but he was too scared to have any real chance of lying convincingly, so he decided to go with the truth. Steeling himself, he started to talk.

“We never wanted him, he comes from the freak side of my wife's family. She and her freakish husband died and left him at our doorstep. Can you imagine having a baby forced upon you, and an unnatural…thing like himself to top it off? I am always afraid he'll…contaminate us, or that someone will come and finish the job they started, and me and my family would pay the price? I don't want him, I never wanted him, but I must suffer him anyway. I tried to…” he said, but stopped himself.

“You tried to what, Dursley?” she asked, icily.

“I tried to remove the freakishness…”he replied, but saying it seemed to embolden him. “You have no right to ask how I deal with him, he was left at my doorstep so I shall deal with him as I see fit, not as some proclaimed whore…”

This time, the sound of the gunshot was all too real, and Vernon screamed in pain, his left knee destroyed by the bullet.

“You'll listen to me, you worm,” she said, moving around her desk after holstering her pistol, “James Potter was my godfather, and Fate was not kind enough to let him be alive so I could meet him. However I have much more of a relationship than that. I have a debt of honor to the Potter family, a debt I will fulfill to the best of my abilities. What you are going to do now is, you're going to sign those papers, transferring Harry's guardianship to me, and then you're going to disappear. I don't care where you will go or how you'll get there, but if I ever see or hear your name again, I'll send someone after you that will make this look like a lover's tap. Do you understand me?” she asked, coming closer to the man. When he didn't answer, she pressed the heel of her shoe against the destroyed knee. “I said, do you understand me?”

Between wails of pain, Vernon screamed “yes” several times.

“Good. Now, sign.”

*****

Petunia was waiting for Vernon's return with a great deal of anticipation. He had mentioned about the letter Grunnings had received asking for his very own presence at a new client, and his supervisor's hints that if the deal was concluded, he'd certainly get a promotion out of it. She barely had left the window during the day, only to give young Dudders his meals. It was mid-afternoon when the usual quaint status quo of Little Whinging was dramatically changed. A motorcade of three vehicles came from down the street, two smaller vehicles providing security for a limousine. Petunia's eyes almost fell down from her face when the vehicles stopped right in front of her house. She yelled for Dudley to come down, while outside several men disembarked from the two small vehicles and cordoned off the area. The entire situation called every neighbor outside, and Petunia promptly walked outside.

One of the security men, dressed in an impeccable suit, opened the back door to the limo, and that's when Petunia's world was once again turned upside down. Vernon came out of the large luxury vehicle tumbling down, as if kicked out. He was in severe pain, that much was clear from both his looks and the wail he gave as soon as he hit the hard pavement. His wife came running to his aid but was stopped by one of the security men. Another one held Dudley in check.

From the limo disembarked a distinguished, albeit young, woman, with silvery blond hair, ice blue eyes clearly visible behind large glasses, dressed impeccably in a forest green suit cut perfectly for her tall frame. Petunia tried to force herself free of the security's hands, until the woman stopped right in front of her.

“Where is Harry?” she asked, in a chilling voice.

That brought Petunia up short. “What did you do to my husband, you…” she started.

The blonde ignored her. “I asked where is Harry?”

Having no other option, she nodded towards the open door. “I-inside. Let me go, you oaf,” she demanded of the security.

“Let her go, but keep them nearby,” the other woman said, and the guard promptly released Petunia, who ran towards her hurt husband.

*****

Integra walked on in, taking the place all at once. It wasn't big and it seemed rather normal, if one didn't care much for taste. If not for the file she'd gotten from the investigators, she would never believe what the boy suffered with those people.

“Harry?” she called, her voice quite warm. “Harry Potter? I didn't come to harm you, my name is Integra…” she said, and she heard some banging and a voice calling. It came from nearby, and she soon found where from. There was a small door under the stairs, probably a cupboard of some sort. “Harry?” she called, not believing what her eyes were seeing. A tiny voice came from inside.

“Yes,” he said.

Integra promptly unlatched the door, throwing it open. The small boy flinched with the sudden action, and her eyes hardened. Seeing her reaction, he backed up as much as possible in the cramped space. A small cot was the only furniture, if it could be called that, and it shared space with some odds and ends from the Dursleys.

The young woman realized that her actions were frightening him, so she controlled her highly volatile temper and tried to extract a smile, a rare action on her part, to give him.

“Hello, Harry,” she said, kneeling on the floor. If anyone outside had seen either action, they'd probably be deemed mad. “I'm Integra,” she said, extending her hand.

Harry flinched again, eyeing the hand with distrust.

“I know you don't know me,” she continued, lowering the hand a bit, “but our fathers were friends.”

That served to perk him up, and his eyes grew. “You knew my father?” he asked, his voice fearful, probably fearing this to be a lie.

“No, I did not, I was too young back then, but I know he was my godfather. Look, we have a lot of things to talk, but first I want to ask you something. Do you like it here?” she asked.

Harry's face traveled from fear through surprise until it settled on shame. He shook his head.

“What if I said I came to pick you up, that you'll never have to live with your relatives again?” Integra continued.

“You can do this?” he asked, eyes growing wide.

“I already did. All you have to do is come with me,” she said, starting to stand up.

“No more Dudley o-or Uncle Vernon o-or Aunt Petunia?” he asked, hope growing in a heart with very little of it.

“No more,” she said, hand once again stretched. While the conversation had a surreal touch to her, she couldn't do any different.

“You promise?” he pleaded.

“I promise,” she said, and he finally grabbed her hand. “Anything you want to take with you?”

He shook his head once again.

“Ok, let's go.”

*****

Petunia had Vernon in her arms, and the man was sweating buckets. His knee had been bandaged but they did nothing for the pain He'd have to go to a hospital immediately, but the men around them didn't seem inclined to let them go, not until that …woman released them.

A few moments later she came out of the house, holding hands with the freak, her face a cold mask of fury. She turned to the boy for a moment, and whispered something in his ear. The boy nodded and walked to the limo, giving one final look towards them. Petunia noticed that he looked…sad. A bodyguard opened the door and he walked on in, while the blonde came closer to them.

“I'm giving you until tomorrow to get out of my sight. After that, if you're still around, I'm sending my agent to deal with you.”

Petunia didn't understand a thing, but seeing Vernon's condition, she simply nodded.

With that, the blonde entered the limo, and after a few moments, the motorcade was rolling down the street, leaving a broken man and his family behind.

-->

## 4. Waves

Chapter 4 - Waves

A/N: Just to point one thing, in this universe, Bram Stoker never published a book called Dracula, thus expanding the myth of vampire through their culture. Vampires, to everyday humans, are just another sort of boogiemen. And I don't know if Dracula's wife was ever named, so I invented the name, plus most of the background story here.

The ride back home started with a young boy trying to hide while sitting at the large expanse of the limo's backseat. Integra was a bit lost, she never had to deal with children when she was one herself, especially an abused and very frightened children. What she knew was that she'd have to win young Harry's trust first and then help him grow past his horrible childhood.

“We're going to my home,” she started, and Harry looked at her. “It's close to London, and a very large place. I guess you'll like it there.”

Harry, not knowing what to say, simply nodded.

“Did you have anything to eat?” she asked. It was getting late, lunchtime was quite a few hours ago.

Harry shook his head, and lowered it.

Integra sighed. “Look, Harry… I'll be completely honest with you. I don't have much of an idea of what I'm doing here, I never had to deal with children before, but what I do know, what I promise you is that, while I'm alive, you'll have a roof above your head, food on your plate and someone to care about you. And I'll never, ever, lift my hand against you.”

He lifted his head, another measure of hope shining on his eyes. Tentatively, he mouthed something, too low for her to hear.

“Speak louder, Harry.”

“W-why?”

“Why I'm doing this?” she asked, and the nod confirmed it. “As I said, our parents knew each other, and your father was my godfather. But before that, our family has a long history of friendship that started with your grandfather, Richard. He knew my great-grandfather, Abraham, and they helped each other out of a severe and dangerous situation. I am sorry for not having done anything sooner, but I just learned about all of this about a month or so ago. I have a debt of honor to your family, one I can never repay fully, but outside of this, I could never let you live with those…aberrations,” she said, the last word almost spat.

Harry nodded, and his voice sounded once again. “What will happen with me?”

Integra looked him straight in the eyes, he had something in them, something that looked dormant now, but if awakened… Controlling herself, she started her reply. “Right now, we'll find you something to eat, some better clothes, a nice bath and a decent place to sleep. Tomorrow, we'll talk about the long run. One thing you can be certain of, while the Hellsing family exists, you'll have a place with us, for as long as you want.”

Harry nodded again, and the silence stretched for a few more minutes, his eyes unfocused looking out the bulletproof glass. “Wha-what can you tell me about my father?” he asked some time later.

Integra turned to him. “How much do you know?”

“That he… they died on a car accident. Dad was drunk, and they both died on the crash,” Harry replied.

Integra almost asked the driver to turn around so she could finish the job, but she figured Harry wouldn't need to watch more violence than he already did on his short life. Clamping on her temper once again, an act that while successful didn't go unnoticed, she turned again to a coiling boy.

“Harry, don't be afraid. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at your relatives for the lies and the life they submitted upon you. Believe me when I say I wish you absolutely no harm.”

Seeing that Harry wasn't relaxing, she started to talk.

“According to the letters that I have in my possession, and yes, I'll give them to you so you can read them, your father was born March 27, 1960, from Richard and Angelica Potter. He was, so says your grandfather, a beautiful baby boy, with a mop of black hair not unlike your own, I believe. He grew up a bit spoiled, on his own admission, but he was loved by his parents and they loved him back. He went to school where he made friends with three other boys not unlike himself, and he was quite the prankster. In there, he met with and eventually fell in love with your mother, Lily. They left the school and married soon after, and your mother was pregnant about a year later. From what I could understand, they worked for a law enforcement agency, and their mission put them against a very powerful and very bad man. They decided to go into hiding to protect you from this man, but one of their friends betrayed them, and he came after them and you. Unfortunately, they perished on the attack, but somehow you survived, while the bad man did not.”

Harry was now deeply focused on her tale, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“One thing your father wrote on the very first letter he sent after you were born, is that he was the happiest man on Earth, you looked a lot like him, with your mother's eyes, and that as soon as he held you in his hands he had fallen in love all over again and for a completely different reason.”

The tears started falling right then. It wasn't easy for Integra to see him crying, she had never been able to shed any tears for all the losses she had suffered in her life, but she wouldn't condemn him for doing so. He stopped some time later, and she gave him a tissue, which he looked at oddly.

“If you dare use your sleeve, I'll…” she started, and stopped promptly. Sighing again, she turned to him. “Harry, I must warn you of a few things, things that I'd like you to learn with time, but I think you'll benefit from sooner rather than later. First off is that I have a very important job, one that requires some rather long explanations, but for the time being, all that you need to know is that I'm the head of a very large and very important organization. Because of that, it is expected of me a certain…attitude, a certain bearing, so I was raised to bear this position. I usually have to deal with people in a position of strength, and I have to be stronger than them to get what I want. Do you understand me?”

Harry nodded, his muscles unclenching a bit. Integra figured he was starting to see what this was all about.

“I'm never going to abuse you, either physically or mentally, but to live with me you'll have to learn how to behave among us, and most importantly, you'll have to understand that I might scream, rant, rave and be downright nasty to everyone, even to those I consider allies, friends or family. However, I don't want you to think that I wish you harm, that you can't talk to me, that you can't come to me. I might not be available all the time, but I'll make some time to be with you. Understood?”

Harry nodded once again, and finally accepted the tissue. Integra closed her eyes, slightly content. First step had been given, the rest…time would tell.

*****

It started almost imperceptibly, like a small itch that you don't know where to scratch. The itch grew more and more until it started being slightly uncomfortable. Harry started scratching himself slightly, and that brought Integra's attention to him.

“Something wrong, Harry?” she asked, eyeing him speculatively.

The boy shook his head. “Just an itch.”

Integra nodded, but she feared something like that might happen. They were getting closer to the manor, and Alucard, so the wards which protected the boy were probably starting to sense the No Life King.

“Well, if it gets worse, do tell me, please.”

He nodded, and got back to watch the landscape roll by, while Integra watched him. A few moments later, they were close enough to the manor so she could feel Alucard's presence, and turned to Harry.

“You're all right, Harry?” she asked. “We're almost there.”

Harry looked at her. “I feel…something. It's like static electricity, but over my entire body.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“No, not really. It's just strange,” he said.

Integra's face fell into a slight frown, his description tickled something in her memory, but she couldn't figure out what. As the gates to the manor opened to allow them through, she heard the insane cackling of the vampire echoing in her mind.

“Wow. Are you the Queen?” he asked, eyeing the huge manor.

The momentary surprise of the question made her forget about the cackling for a moment. “No, but I work for the Queen,” she said with a hidden smile.

The limousine stopped right in front of the main entrance, but before they could disembark, Integra held Harry's arm lightly. “You might see and learn several things in the next few hours or days that might sound strange or highly unbelievable, but believe me, most of it is true, and I'll explain all in due time. Understood?”

He nodded, and she let him go. The driver opened the door to them, and she disembarked first, Harry coming right behind her. Suddenly his ears were assaulted by the sound of repeated automatic gunfire, and his eyes grew as big as saucers, but apparently in surprise, not in fear. Integra turned to him and spoke calmly.

“I command a military group with a very specific mission. Don't worry about the gunfire, they're all trained soldiers. Just don't go wandering around the grounds without an adult supervising, it might be dangerous.”

When he nodded again, Integra walked to the front door, he following a few steps behind, his awe about the manor and the absurd amount of grounds supplanting the surprise of the sound of gunfire. “I believe you approve, then?” she asked, seeing his delighted face, and she received an impressive smile in reply. “Come, I have a few introductions to make.”

He followed her footsteps, and the door was opened by an older looking man using a monocle. “I believe you had success upon your mission, Sir?” he said, looking pointedly at Harry.

“I did, Walter,” Integra replied, turning halfway to him. “Harry Potter, I want you to meet Walter Dornenz. Walter is Hellsing Group's retainer, among other things. Walter, Harry James Potter.”

“It's a pleasure finally meeting you, young man,” Walter said, extending a gloved hand. Harry eyed it carefully for a second but shook it nonetheless.

“Hello,” he replied, but his attention was diverted by a sudden chill that grew from his bones and permeated his skin. However, as soon as it came it was gone, and Harry felt a pull in a direction where only the darkest shadows inhabited, an alcove below the main staircase. From there emerged a tall man, and Harry couldn't say if he was there all along or not, he seemed to appear from the very substance of the shadows. He was dressed all in black, in an old style suit that Harry had only seen in history books, the only splash of color a gold cravat pin with a blood red ruby holding the tie in place. His hands were enclosed in pristine white gloves with some sort of motif on them, and his eyes were almost hidden behind rounded yellow lenses. He came closer to them, his strong steps echoing in the large hall.

“Alucard…” Integra said, her tone a warning.

The man, Alucard, lifted a hand, as if to placate her fears, a smile that bordered on the insane adorning his so far serious look. He came close to Harry and looked him straight in the eye.

“I am Vlad Draculea Tepes, Prince of Wallachia, known by the Turks as Kazikli Voyvoda. Who are you, Little Bolt?” he asked, voice strong and intimidating.

Harry, instead of looking fearful, as Integra feared, looked surprised.

“I think not, sir,” he replied politely. “And I'm Harry. Harry Potter.”

The answer surprised all of them, including Alucard, who raised an eyebrow. “You call me a liar, Little Bolt?”

“No, sir. I know that the man you speak of has been dead for at least five hundred years, so you cannot possibly be him.”

“And how does a small slip of a boy like yourself might know this?” he asked, amused. The rest of the adults remained silent.

Harry shrugged. “I read about him in the encyclopedia at the library, when I was still allowed.”

Alucard gave away a curt laugh that sounded more like a bark, while Integra fumed. “A learned boy, with enough courage to rise above his own fears. That is good, and it gives me no regrets to do this,” the tall man said, and lowered himself to one knee. “As the Hellsing Blood binds me, so does the Potter's. As my Master commands, so I shall obey. What are your orders, Master?” he asked, lowering his head in front of a nine year old boy.

And you could hear a feather drop in the ensuing silence.

*****

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a man of many titles, among them being the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. However, the one he prized the most was being the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the world's foremost learning institute of magic. He was regarded by all, friends and enemies, as a very powerful individual with a very commanding presence and very few, if any, people didn't feel humbled by him.

However, even very powerful people in a position of power still had to deal with paperwork, something that even the greatest wizard of current times couldn't make disappear with a flick of his wand. Now he was reading a request from the Board of Governors that had no real justification, except to generate more paperwork. He sighed, and added his signature, which made the paper promptly disappear to be filed in the proper places. At least magic was good enough to avoid messy filing systems.

He grabbed another paper and started to read, silent wishing for a distraction, and a few moments later he had his wish granted, but in a very strange way. His fireplace was hooked to the floo network, however it was protected to be accessed by very few outside addresses, and when it flared for a moment, he waited for someone to either call him or step through. When neither happened, he stood up and went to check it, drawing his wand at the same time.

Inside it rested a single occupant of the feline variety, a part-kneazle if he wasn't mistaken. One of Arabella's, if memory served him right. While it was believed that squibs couldn't do magic, this wasn't exactly true. In some cases, like the slightly batty old woman, she magic enough to power the floo to send one of her pet half-breeds through, and it could only mean one thing, Harry Potter was in trouble. Wasting no time, he grabbed the half-kneazle in one hand and a pinch of floo powder in another, and in a moment he was walking out of Arabella Figg's own fireplace.

“What's the matter, Arabella?” he asked, his usual jovial demeanor lost. He placed the cat on the ground, where it promptly disappeared among his rather large family.

“Something…something happened at the Dursley's home,” the woman said, rather nervous. “I…I was away, buying some food for my babies so I didn't see a thing, but I know that someone very important came earlier today to their house, a muggle woman from what the other neighbors said. She came in a limousine, with lots of security, and she did something to Vernon, he was hurt and then she entered the house. A few minutes later she comes out with Mr. Potter holding hands with her, they go back to the car and depart. The Dursleys then went to a hospital to treat Vernon's wound,” she said, almost fainting with the rapid-fire babbling.

Dumbledore was stunned, but he needed to calm her down enough so she could be a bit more coherent. Quickly conjuring a chair, which he lucked out in not hitting any of the cats cramming the floor space, he managed to steer her to it, and helped her sit.

“Now, Arabella, calm down and explain it all to me,” Dumbledore asked politely, in his most grandfatherly way.

*****

Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts a couple hours later in a far worse mood than he had left. Arabella didn't have much to add, coherent or not, and his scans over the Dursley's home did not find a speck of magic being used. Whoever had kidnapped Harry, and assaulted the Dursleys, hadn't used magic. Instead, the assault and removal of the boy had used strictly muggle means, which meant that it would be much harder to use his own magics to find out who the attackers had been.

He checked all of his magical sensors, and each told him exactly the same, Harry was fine. That, at least, was some consolation, but he had to find the boy and the Dursleys, as quickly as possible. He dashed to the owlery, it would be far better if young Harry saw an owl rather than Fawkes as his first introduction to the Wizarding world, while thinking on what to write to a boy who had no idea about his past and his heritage.

Albus just hoped it would be enough, and that he wasn't too late to fix things.

*****

Back on Integra's study, Harry was sitting on a chair in front of her desk, with the strange man who identified himself as Vlad Tepes, or as the books called him, Vlad the Impaler to a side, the man Walter waiting behind Integra's chair.

The blonde woman sighed, her hand pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked at the tall man and then at him, and he squirmed under the scrutiny. He felt as if being called in front of his school's headmistress.

“I think the explanations will have to be hastened once again, but first... Walter, ask the kitchen to bring up some food for Mr. Potter, please.”

Walter nodded and moved to a side, to talk on the intercom.

“Now, what did you mean `while you were still allowed to read'?” she asked.

“I…Dudley liked to pick on me, he and his friends have this sport called `Harry Hunting'… Only place where I was safe enough while not in class was at the school's library, they wouldn't be caught dead on it. First time I did it, the librarian looked at me strangely, she looked as if I was going to damage the books, when all I was doing was just stand there... so, I pulled some books off the shelves, so I didn't upset her... and since I had them, I figured reading them couldn't hurt. My grades were always better than Dudders and they just improved, and Aunt Petunia got called in and suddenly I was forbidden to be `smarter' than Dudley, and not to cheat to get better grades.”

Integra saw him rub a spot on his arm almost automatically, but decided not to press things further right now. Instead, she turned to the tall man. “I know that you have something planned, and I leave things to your discretion, Alucard,” she said, and got a curt nod and an insane-looking smile from him. “Now, you probably noticed that Walter called me `Sir', and there is an explanation for that. My full name, Harry, is Integral Wingates Fairbrooks Hellsing, and I am the current head of the Hellsing Organization and also of the Royal Protestant Knights. The Knights are a group of individuals which had been encumbered by the Queen with the mission of protecting Britain against threats of a very specific nature, and the Head position always had the title of `Sir', even if I am female. So far understood? Good.

“Now, what I am going to tell you falls into the unbelievable category I mentioned back in the car, but please try to keep an open mind. Tell me, since you like to read, do you know what a vampire is?”

He nodded. “A creature that drinks blood to survive, is very strong, and is what's called undead. That's the only thing solid that I can remember, the rest is a lot of speculation. Some say they fear sunlight, others garlic, most of them holy symbols. That's it.”

Integra half-nodded. “What if I said they aren't a myth? That our mission, the mission of the Hellsing Organization is to fight vampires and their ilk?”

Harry was stunned. “F-for real?”

Vlad turned to him. “You said I am not who I am supposed to be, but do you remember how my story ended?”

“Something about your…Vlad's head being cut… I don't remember all the details.”

`Vlad' nodded. “A long time ago, a powerful man, known by his allies and enemies to be a real monster in the battlefield fell, downed by that surreptitious blade that strikes upon all of us, whether we like it or not. That blade, Little Bolt, is called love. I fell in love with the most beautiful woman in my realm, my dear Irina. My country was ravaged by constant war back then, and during one siege of my castle, instead of being captured by my enemies she opted to commit suicide. I had hope back then that one day we'd be reunited in Heaven, so I was captured and regained my freedom and my country some time later, the blood of my enemies coating my blade. However, the worst yet blow to my heart came once again not from the battlefield, but from the serpentine mouth of a clergyman. He said to me that God did not accept people who had taken their own lives in His realm, that my beloved wife who had never taken a single life and never raised her voice in anger against anyone was cast out, forbidden her place in Heaven.”

By then, Vlad's voice was full of anger, and Harry could feel the power coming out of him in waves.

“I used my blade once again, and the clergyman and his followers fell, drowning the Holy Ground they were in in their blood. Right then and there, I cast God away from my life, and made a deal with the Devil, to grant me power to destroy my enemies, to drink and bathe in their blood until none existed and to fight a God that had no mercy for my beloved. My soul was cast out, and Vlad Tepes died that day, and in his place the No Life King, Dracula, was born. And I, Little Bolt, am a vampire.”

Harry was stunned, and a bit frightened, to be honest, but mostly he was surprised that someone would go to such depths because of their love. He noticed that Dracula…what had Integra called him? Alucard? …yes, Alucard's fangs had grown to an impossible size, and that he looked even more insane than previously. But something wasn't adding up.

“You said your organization fought vampires?” he asked Integra, growing more comfortable in their presence. She nodded affirmatively. “Well, aren't you supposed to be fighting him?”

She gave away a short laugh. “That is where the story of our families merges and becomes rather interesting, and it's time once again to surprise you further. Tell me, Harry, do you believe in magic?”

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## 5. Pounding

Chapter 5 - Pounding

Harry was completely stunned after hearing what Integra had told him about magic, and about the possibility of him being a wizard. So stunned, in fact, that he didn't hear a word of what Walter had said a few moments later. Whatever it was, it couldn't be all that important, could it? After all, he was a wizard…well, he was a fledgling wizard. He could do magic. Probably. Well, he was special…he was…a freak.

It slammed like a ton of bricks, and his silly smile vanished, to be replaced by anguish and tears. Integra was lowering herself in front of him a second later.

“What's wrong, Harry?”

“I'm a f-freak. U-uncle Vernon was right, I'm…” he tried to say, between sobs.

Integra's fury was stoked once again. “No, you're not. They are the freaks in this, Harry. I don't know what you've been through, but I know enough to say no child deserves to be treated like you have. Being a wizard is not being a freak, it's just being different, and there are a lot of people like you in the world, and they all deserve to be treated decently. It's not what makes us different that says what we are, it's how we deal with what is given to us that is important. You are not a freak, understood?”

“She is right, Little Bolt. Good or bad have nothing to do with powers, gained by birth or otherwise, but by decisions we take during our lives,” Alucard said.

Harry's nod was uncertain, but his growing curiosity didn't stop his mouth. “What are you, then?”

“I am what I am, Little Bolt. A monster, a beast that killed thousands upon thousands, and that shall keep doing it until my final day. I am the No Life King,” he said, the mad grin growing until his mouth had stretched beyond what was humanly possible, showing two rows of glistening fangs. Harry did what was natural, he backed up, almost upending the chair he was at.

“Alucard, stop it,” Integra ordered.

“As you command, Master,” Alucard replied, and backed up on the menace he was exuding. Harry looked at him again, this time studying the vampire, the so called No Life King.

“Harry, look at me,” Integra called his attention, and he turned to her. “Alucard here won't harm you, he's blood bound to treat you as his master, the same way he is bound to me, from what I understand.”

“Master? Like a teacher or something? I'm not old enough…”

Integra silenced him with a raised hand and stood back up. “No, not like a teacher. Alucard is a servant of the Hellsing, and now Potter's, family.”

“Like…a slave?” he asked, his eyes growing wide.

“Yes, like a slave, Harry,” she sighed.

“Who did that?” he asked, affronted.

“Our ancestors did. Your grandfather and my great-grandfather,” Integra said.

“No one should be a slave,” he murmured, and turned to Alucard. “What can I do to release you?”

Alucard looked at him, deeply surprised, and then a moment later he laughed. “Do you know what I am, Harry Potter? If freed, I could kill everyone in this house, including you, and then the world would be crushed below my feet. Is that what you want?”

“No, but at the same time I don't want to have a slave,” he said and turned to Integra. “What can we do?”

*****

Integra was almost as surprised as Alucard was, but her wits returned quickly. She thought about berating the boy about things he had no idea about, but thought better about it. He really had no idea what he was suggesting, and while she herself had her reservations about having Alucard as a slave, the option about releasing him was almost unthinkable. She took a deep breath and looked into the boy's hardening eyes.

“Harry, while in part I agree with you about having a slave, we don't have any other option at the moment. As he said himself, he is too dangerous to be released. However, I think we could start researching ways that this could be done without endangering anyone. Agreed?”

The young boy looked between them, as if measuring what was being said and what he was seeing right now, and he lowered his head. “I don't want a slave,” he murmured, and Integra promptly understood what he meant about it. He didn't want anyone to be treated as he had been.

“We'll see what can be done, Harry. Now, I want you to know what we had planned for you for the foreseeable future.”

He lifted his head and looked at her once again.

“First, we'll see how far along you are in your education and we shall provide some private tutors to continue your teachings, and yes, that will include a tutor in magic. In the meantime, it has been suggested to us that you should have someone to talk to about what you have been through.”

“Can't it be you?” he asked, not really understanding.

“No, Harry, it should be someone with training to deal with these kinds of situations. We were assured that the person indicated was one of the best in all England. Agreed?”

He shrugged noncommittally.

“Second, Her Majesty asked for a meeting, where you will be introduced as my ward.”

That made Harry's eyes goggle, and the action amused Integra greatly. “Do not worry, it shall take some time to set this meeting up, and in the meantime we will teach you how to behave in front of her, so you don't make a fool of yourself and us.”

“Third, we will try to find the state of affairs of your parents in the wizarding world. This might take some time, because nowadays we have no contact with them. We're trying to find a way in without having to resort to more strong handed tactics. Understood?”

He nodded.

“Good. Now Walter here will take you to your room. You should find some appropriate attire for your use there, and you're free to roam the house at your will. I do not want you to go outside without adult supervision, and I ask you to respect and listen to the adults that speak with you. Right now I need to finish discussing some matters with Alucard, but later on we will sit down and talk, just the two of us. Agreed?”

Harry nodded again, and Integra smiled slightly.

“See you later then, Harry.”

“Now, young Master Potter, if you will follow me?” Walter said a moment later, bowing slightly and pointing to the door.

The young boy stood up and followed the aged retainer. Before he was out of the room, Integra called.

“Harry? I almost forgot,” she said, holding a pile of letters in her hand.

His eyes lighted up, and he ran back to her.

“Thank you…what should I call you? Sir? Integra?” he asked politely, while grabbing the bundle.

“For now, if you want, you can call me Integra. Later on, we shall see.”

“Then thank you, Integra. And thank you, Mr. Alucard,” he said to the silent vampire.

“Call me Alucard only, Little Bolt. I am your servant,” the No Life King replied evenly.

“You are not,” he said resolutely, and turned back to Integra. “Until later.”

“Until later, Harry.”

*****

A few moments after the door closed behind the young boy, Integra turned to Alucard.

“Now, explain this all to me, Alucard.”

A fleeting thought about making her squirm a bit for his answers passed through the vampire's mind, but he decided for bluntness.

“His ancestor was a smart man, Sir, far smarter than I gave him credit for, back then. When he bound me, he added a backup clause to the binding, which I only felt when the boy approached me. There is a secondary binding to the Potter bloodline, and as far as I can tell is almost entirely dormant. He can use some of it to order me around, but it has no real power unless I give in to it.”

“That is interesting. I believe that if no other Hellsings existed, the full bond would befall upon Harry and his descendants,” Integra mused.

“That is probably correct, Master. However, I do believe you have no intentions on testing it now,” he added with a smirk.

“Insufferable vampire,” she grumbled in response. “Now, why weren't you affected by the wards you said were protecting him?”

“The only explanation I have is that the wards are not directly tied to him, they're probably tied to his direct blood relative. His aunt, I believe,” Alucard replied. “Makes some sense, if you think about it. His parents were wizards, and I believe they would want him to have a wizard's education when the time was right. It would be quite difficult to do so if the protections were tied to him directly, anyone with a hint of ill-will towards him would have to be kept at a safe distance to even be able to live normally. A child with a small grudge because a teacher gave Harry a bit more attention than usual would probably fall down almost immediately in excruciating pain.”

Integra nodded. “Is he safe here?”

“I believe so. My mere presence near him makes most of the sheep's tricks of discovery fall down short. His ties to you reinforce the blood-based magic between us, which feedbacks to him, so he gains another level of protection. Besides, like my binding makes me bound to protect you, so it does him, and I know Richard Potter's bag of tricks, they did little to affect me. If they didn't discover anything new or more permanent, there is very little they could do to stop me.”

The head of the Hellsing Organization stood up and looked out of the large window, but remained silent. Alucard, after a bit of time, spoke again.

“Having second thoughts, Master?”

“No,” she answered, without turning around. “I could do no different, after learning what Harry went through. However, I fear we might do him more harm than good in the long run, Alucard. This is not the life for a child.”

“Speaking of your own experience, Integral?”

“Yes…no. I cannot compare our experiences, Alucard. I was never abused, I have no inkling on what Harry suffered, and I had my father by my side for a few years, I knew his love. Harry had nothing of it,” she said, turning around and looking at him.

Alucard nodded silently. "I was raised on a time that beatings were a common way to treat our children, like a sword is mauled by the smith so it can be given proper shape and then its edge. However, I know a sword beaten once too many is just a misshapen piece of metal. I know and feel that the boy has been mauled too much, now it's time to put him into the fire again, shape him and give him his edge."

Integra snorted. “So, are you a sword, No Life King?”

He laughed. “No, Integral Hellsing. I am a hammer, and one who is about to teach one stupid mortal and his family the more creative uses of a smith's tool,” he said, and vanished among shadows.

*****

Petunia Dursley's day was still spinning completely out of control. The doctor who operated on Vernon had come to talk to her a few minutes earlier, to say that while the operation was successful, Vernon would probably still need to go through another one in the near future, and even then he would probably need a cane or a crutch to walk for the rest of his life. The damage had been too extensive, as far as she had understood the bullet used was too `soft', it deformed a lot upon impact, which caused even more damage than usual. Besides, the bullet fragmented, and while they took most or all of the fragments out, they weren't certain yet, so they had to keep him under even more strict watch because he could end up suffering from heavy metal poisoning.

The doctor asked who had shot her Vernon, and she answered the same thing she had said to the policeman who had taken her statement while he was in surgery: she had no idea. Petunia figured it had been the woman who took the freak away, but she wasn't certain. Even then she had given her description to the detective and he said he would do his best with the information, but he would need Vernon's statement as soon as he was conscious again.

Dudley, ever helpful, was munching on a candy bar and remaining out of the way. She had to look strong for her young boy, but all that she wanted now was to find a good, private spot so she could cry. Vernon was crippled, probably for life, their perfect…almost perfect life was shattered beyond recovery.

What had happened?

Her inner musings were turned down short when a nurse came pushing a bed down the corridor, her Vernon laid down on it, still out of it.

“Is he alright?” she asked, frightened.

“The doctor said he's going to be all right, he needs to be under observation for a few more days, but things should end up fine. He should be coming to in the next couple of hours, you should call one of us as soon as he is conscious,” the man said, while adjusting the bed and the heart monitor. “If anything changes in the meantime, don't hesitate to call us,” he said, and left the room.

Petunia looked at the ashen face of her unconscious husband, the bandaged leg lifted by a contraption, and the final walls of her emotional control fell down, and she started crying.

Dudley looked at them both, completely lost.

*****

If someone asked nurse Ennesby what was her opinion about her job, she would probably answer `dull'. If someone decided to expand on the question and ask why she thought that, she would say the job itself wasn't dull, but that after a time you felt `dull' towards it, or you couldn't function. After nearly twenty years of working on this same hospital, it took a lot to affect her. She had been dulled enough by all the pain and suffering roaming around.

However, every once in a while something came along to prove that under all of her barriers something human and very primal still remained. The man currently standing behind her counter was one such event.

He was dressed in an old-looking suit, that looked, age apart, to be extremely expensive. His eyes were partially hidden behind strange yellow-lensed sunglasses, and he had a golden pin holding his tie in place, the only color she could see in the entire black ensemble. This only served to accentuate the man's extreme paleness, and while it surprised her somewhat, it became lost in the sheer presence he exuded. He wasn't gorgeous, he hadn't said a word, but his mere presence was making her body tingle something fierce. She had never felt like that, not even in the prime of her youth when she had the looks and the body to get any man she wanted.

Taking a breath, she tried to focus on something…anything to be able to talk without sounding like a fool. She tried to focus on her computer screen, on her keyboard, but she failed as soon as she locked eyes with him. They…pulled her in, and suddenly her mind wasn't her own anymore.

A couple moments later she returned to herself, the man's complete presence and questions erased from her mind, as if they were never there.

And the dullness returned.

*****

Alucard walked among the corridors of the hospital, people giving him a wide berth without even noticing. He had grown accustomed to it a long time ago, depending on his mood and his intent people either gravitated around him or moved away. Right now, with the intent he was pouring off, he had to admire those who didn't run away immediately to their mommies. If Integra knew she would probably berate him for doing that at a hospital, but he simply wasn't caring.

Once he approached the hall of the room he wanted, he focused his hearing, and as luck would want it, the man had just awakened. He knocked at the door, and without waiting for an answer, walked on in.

“Mr. Dursley, I presume?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

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