Memories In My Blood by reptilia28

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 29/06/2007
Last Updated: 11/04/2008
Status: Completed

Hermione helps Harry to adjust after he is turned into a vampire. But as they hunt the Horcruxes
and dodge both the Ministry and the Death Eaters, can Harry defeat Voldemort when he is slowly
losing his own humanity? Vamp!Harry, H/Hr.




1. Chapter 1
------------



After much searching, I have noticed that there is a rather annoying (for me, at least) shortage
of decent Vamp!Harry fics, and even fewer that are H/Hr, so I decided to make one of my own.

As this story contains several points about vampires I invented for an RPG forum I used to go to
(long since closed), this will be a little bit different than most Vamp!Harry fics.

I don't own Harry Potter, or any associated characters or objects. I DO own any original
characters and most of the unusual factoids about vampires in this fic, though, so that's
something.

----

One night, in Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter was laying in his bed, deep in thought.
Thinking about the previous year, and how everything had gone to Hell in a hand basket. Over the
past few weeks, he had thought about his obsession with Malfoy, his strained friendship with
Hermione, his short-lived relationship with Ginny Weasley, Dumbledore's death and Snape's
betrayal, but right now, his daunting quest to find Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes plagued his
mind. Harry had destroyed the first one - Riddle's diary - in his second year, with few
repercussions. But Dumbledore destroyed the Gaunt family ring at the cost of his hand, and when
they tried to retrieve Slytherin's locket, it turned out to be a fake, and Dumbledore was
murdered for his troubles. Was that the price Harry would have to pay to destroy Voldemort? To
watch helplessly as more friends and loved ones died for his cause?

Harry thought about the other four possible Horcruxes: Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's
cup, something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's, and finally, Voldemort's pet snake,
Nagini. Nagini would probably be with Voldemort at all times, so her position was a given, if
somewhat difficult to get to, and Slytherin's locket had been stolen by a mysterious R.A.B. and
it, along with the other two Horcruxes, could be anywhere in the world.

As per Dumbledore's final wishes, Harry elected to stay at Privet Drive until his
seventeenth birthday, at which time the blood wards would expire, and Harry would leave the
Dursleys forever. Needless to say, it was a moment that Harry eagerly looked forward to.

Harry sighed as he thought about his friends. Ron and Hermione both said that they would be with
him until the end, something that Harry wasn't entirely comfortable with. As soon as they
stepped off the Hogwarts Express, Ron was pulled in by Molly Weasley to help prepare for the
wedding of her eldest son Bill and Fleur Delacour, and Hermione wanted to spend a little more time
with her parents before they went on their quest, something that Harry understood. Unfortunately,
due to security reasons, they couldn't contact each other until they met at the Burrow.

After glancing at his clock, which read 11:43, he decided to go back to sleep. But as he faded
into unconsciousness, he couldn't help but feel that something especially bad was going to
happen.

And it would happen soon.

Unknown to Harry and his Order guard, he was being observed by the resident of Number 5 Privet
Drive. Hidden by the shadows, he only opened the drapes to the second story window enough to peek
out without being seen.

“Eight years. Eight long, boring, bloody years,” the figure sighed, sipping a dark, viscous
liquid from a plastic container, enjoying the metallic tingle on his tongue. “Why the hell is this
kid so important anyway?” he wondered out loud to himself. “Oh well, orders are orders.” The figure
stood in silence for several minutes, rubbing the envelope that had been burning a hole in his
pocket since he was assigned this task, before sighing again. “For the love of Merlin, I am
*bored*.”

Several weeks of dull monotony later, it was finally the eve of Harry's seventeenth
birthday, the day he would be considered an adult by the wizarding world. After packing all his
worldly possessions and releasing Hedwig to go the Burrow in anticipation for the Order members who
would be escorting him later, he walked down to the sitting room, where Uncle Vernon and Aunt
Petunia were watching the telly.

“Well, I'll be leaving soon,” Harry said. This immediately got both of his relatives'
attention. “Tomorrow's my seventeenth birthday, and someone will probably be taking me in the
middle of the night.” Uncle Vernon just turned back towards the telly.

“Good riddance,” he grunted. Not really expecting anything more, Harry just went back to his
room and waited on his escort.

Harry's alarm chirped softly to alert him that it was midnight and he was now officially
seventeen. Putting on his cloak, he grabbed his trunk and awaited for the Order to show up, and
indeed, five minutes later, the door creaked open to show Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin and Kingsley
Shacklebolt.

“Kingsley, professors,” Harry said joyfully.

“For the last time, kid, we're not your professors. Ready to go, Potter?” Moody growled, his
eye whizzing around in its socket. “Got your wand properly stowed?” Harry opened his cloak to show
his wand shoved into his belt. Moody grunted dismissively. “Better than last time, kid. Grab your
stuff, and we'll head off.” Grabbing his trunk and his broom, Harry and the three Order members
walked out into the street, being careful not to awaken the Dursleys.

The resident of Number 5 Privet Drive had been watching particularly intently, as that night
signified the time that he would finally strike. Grabbing a long rifle, he looked through the crack
in the drapes to see what he was dealing with.

“Three escorts,” he muttered to himself, peering down the scope and taking aim. “Excellent.”

Outside, Moody was doing one last check before they Disapparated to the Burrow.

“Okay, you've got your wand, your trunk, your broomstick,” Moody checked off. “Now, what you
need to do is shrink your junk before—” Moody was interrupted by a soft thump on his back. Swaying
on his feet, Moody's real eye rolled in his head as he collapsed, a dart protruding from his
shoulder. Before anyone could react, Remus and Shacklebolt were also shot and collapsed.

Harry whipped his wand out, frantically searching for a target. He heard a crack behind him, but
before he could react, he felt a hand tug his head to the side and two sharp objects pierce into
his neck. He tried to scream, but the hand that tugged his head had wrapped around his mouth,
silencing him. Harry's vision started to blur, and his head felt fuzzy. He felt the two objects
retract from his neck and he fell to the ground, his glasses falling off of his face. He saw a dark
figure standing over him, and hold out a pale wrist with a deep cut on it to his face. Acting on
instinct, Harry reached up and latched his lips onto the gash and began sucking greedily, reveling
in the bittersweet, metallic taste. While he drank, he felt a rush of power surge through his
body.

Finally, he had drunk his fill, and he dropped his head back onto the pavement. The last thing
he felt before fading into unconsciousness was the figure kneeling next to him wiping a wet cloth
on his bloody neck.

Jared Simmons was strumming his fingers on his desk. During the day time, the Hilton hotel was
bursting with activity, but at night, business was usually rather slow. He shot straight up when he
saw a twenty-something man dressed in black walk in carrying an unconscious teenager in his arms
and struggling to pull a suitcase.

“Oh my God, is he okay?” Jared exclaimed. The man just nodded dismissively.

“He's okay, he flew in from out of town and we went partying. Kid sleeps like the dead after
all that excitement. He'll be staying in room 713.” Jared punched the room number into his
computer and came back with a name.

“Of course, Mister Darknight. Do you need any help taking your friend to your room?” he asked
politely.

“No thanks, I got it covered,” Darknight said. Before Jared could answer, Darknight left for the
lift and punched the number to take him to the seventh level.

When Darknight reached the seventh floor of the hotel, he dragged Harry and his trunk to his
room, where he set Harry down on a bed and, after checking to make sure the drapes were closed,
scribbled something on a piece of parchment and laid it on the table. He pulled an envelope out of
his pocket and dropped it on top of the note with a heavy thump. He turned to the still sleeping
Harry and sighed.

“I hate to have to do this to you, kid, to make you spend an eternity like this, but I have my
orders. I'm sorry,” Darknight whispered before exiting the hotel room, hanging a “Do Not
Disturb” sign on the doorknob.

When Darknight reached the hotel lobby, he turned to Jared.

“I just received an urgent business call, and I need to leave. My friend will be staying in my
room for the remainder of my bill.”

“Okay, Mister Darknight. Have a pleasant evening,” Jared said. Nodding politely, Darknight
strolled out of the lobby and into the night.

The next day, Harry stirred with a groan. He blindly groped for his glasses, but couldn't
find them. He opened his eyes to find that he could now see perfectly. He turned his head to see a
ray of sunshine pouring from a crack in the drapes, and an irrational fear gripped Harry's
heart, and he fell out of his bed and crawled into a far corner in an attempt to get away from
it.

As he huddled in his corner, terrified, he suddenly remembered a story, even though he
didn't remember it ever being told to him. He remembered a story about a woman who tried to
find her lover, only to find heartache. The details were fuzzy at the moment, and he didn't
think too hard about it. He looked up and saw a letter lying on the table. After carefully stepping
towards the table, as if the sunlight would jump up and attack him, he lifted the surprisingly
heavy envelope to see a hastily scribbled note. Setting the letter aside, he read the note
first.

*Your friends were tranquilized last night, and are probably looking for you now. It's
probably wise to NOT let them know where you are right now*. Suddenly, Harry remembered what
happened the night before, and rushed to the bathroom, and gasped at what he saw in the mirror.

He saw himself, but his skin had turned deathly pale, his scar standing out even more
prominently. His normally deep green eyes had turned pale green, almost gray. He felt his neck to
feel two scars on his neck, and bared his teeth to see that his canines were long and pointed.
Panicking, he ran back into the main room and tore open the letter, ignoring the object that fell
out as he pulled out and hastily unfolded the letter, which was written in much neater handwriting
than the note.

*If you're reading this letter, then you are now* *a vampire, like myself, and for
that I am truly sorry.* *The only explanation I can give is that I was acting under orders,
whose orders you will learn eventually.*

*The pendant enclosed with this letter will act as an emergency portkey to the nearest vampire
clan* *when activated**, and can transport up to three people. However, as it is a
one-way portkey, it is highly recommended that you only use it if you have absolutely no other
option.*

*That story that you remember in the back of your head is the story of our founding. More
details will emerge within the next few days, so don't worry about it.*

*The room you're in is paid off until August 24, so I suggest you collect your bearings
and figure out a plan of action before then. By the way, you're in the Hilton hotel, so magic
is not recommended.*

*You cannot die from poison, drowning, suffocation, or the Avada Kedavara curse. If injured by
normal objects, the wounds will heal quickly. If you're injured by silver or spells or
enchantments, it will heal as if you were human. Get fatally hit in the heart or head, and
you're screwed. That was probably a given, but it never hurts to let you know.*

*Finally, you must know the laws of the vampires. A few have been laid down by our kind, but
most have been determined by our very existence.*

*Firstly, you must drink blood at least once every two weeks. Human, animal, it does not
matter. The longer you wait the more hungry you become, until you become little more than a wild
animal. Then, very few things other than the sun's rays can stop your rampage as you slake your
thirst for blood. Animal blood is less nutritious than human blood, but with feasting on humans
comes certain…repercussions. I'll let you figure them out on your own.*

*Secondly, stay out of the sunlight. I think this is fairly self-explanatory.*

*Thirdly,* *do not kill another vampire unless you have to. A vampire killing other
vampires is not kindly looked upon, so don't do it unless it's your hide or his.*

*Fourthly, do not feed from or turn a child. This will get you in serious trouble with the
higher-ups, so just don't do it.*

*Finally, be careful. It's a harsh world out there for a vampire, so you need to do
whatever it takes to survive.*

*I am not asking for your forgiveness, as I will probably not receive it, but this is a little
primer for the things to come. And be warned, it is not the act of becoming a vampire that rids you
of your humanity, but of what happens afterwards.*

*Darknight*.

Harry stared at the letter, shocked to the core. He was a vampire now, cursed to walk the earth
forever. He'd never see his parents, Sirius or Dumbledore again; he would have to watch as all
his friends fade away while he remained. Setting the letter down, he picked up the pendant and
looked at it. It was a silver image of a bat with a single ruby eye, swinging from a silver chain.
Harry sighed in defeat. He was already a vampire, what else did he have to lose by putting on a
little necklace, he thought as he hung the pendant around his neck. It ended in the middle of his
chest, level to where his heart was. He walked back into the bathroom and looked at himself again,
and thought that when he got past the fact that he wasn't alive anymore, he didn't really
look all that different…except he probably shouldn't smile in public anymore. Harry sighed
again. Well, he was stuck in a hotel room for the day, and he had no idea where to go, or even
where he was. He found a notepad and a pen and decided to start constructing a bare semblance of a
plan with one thought on his mind.

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Once-Lived, was having a bad day.

----

Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter.

The questions of who Darknight was receiving orders from, the full details of the vampire's
history and just what happens when a vampire feeds off a human will be answered in upcoming
chapters.

Don't worry, it will be H/Hr.

Don't forget to read and review!

-->



2. Chapter 2
------------



Huh, this is interesting. With my other stories, I usually net around thirty reviews between
FanFiction and Portkey within a couple of days, yet with this fic, I got just over ten. Are vampire
fics that unpopular?

Most of this chapter is everybody's reactions to Harry's disappearance.

I own Darknight, and most of the unfamiliar features that come with being a vampire in this fic.
Everything else belongs to J. K. Rowling.

----

While Harry slept off his vampirism in a hotel room in the city, Remus slowly stirred from his
stupor, laying groggily on the darkened street of Privet Drive. Groaning, he reached up and pulled
the dart out of his chest, rubbing the puncture wound gingerly. After extracting the darts from
Moody and Shacklebolt, he revived the younger auror.

“Ohh, my head,” the dark man groaned, clutching his temple. “What happened?” Lifting Shacklebolt
to his feet, Remus held up one of the darts.

“We were shot with these,” he said. “Lily told me about these once. They're called
tranquilizers, they're needles filled with some sort of potion that makes you sleepy. Muggles
use it to keep large animals docile during transportation.” As if realizing something, Remus looked
around frantically. “Where's Harry?” He lit his wand and searched the area, panicking. A few
feet away, he saw blood splattered on the ground, with Harry's broken glasses lying in it, and
it took all his willpower not to break down and sob right then.

“*Stupefy*!” a voice shouted behind him, and Remus ducked just in time to dodge a stunning
spell that flew harmlessly into a bush. Apparently, Shacklebolt had decided to revive Moody.

“Where are those bloody cowards?” Moody growled angrily, his eye spinning madly. “Stunning a man
from behind; ain't got not class at all.”

“We weren't stunned, Moody, we were shot with Muggle darts,” Shacklebolt explained.

“You were *shot*?!” Moody spat, outraged. “What have I told you about—” Moody began to
rant, but was surprisingly interrupted by Remus.

“We were all down within ten seconds, and need I remind you that *you* were the one who was
shot first, Mister Constant Vigilance?” the werewolf snarled. “Besides, we have bigger questions,
such as who did this and where's Harry?” Moody tapped his chin in thought as he considered the
incident.

“I was shot from behind, and we were facing the Dursleys' place, so it must have been
there,” he said, pointing at Number 5 Privet Drive. They walked over and unlocked the door before
letting themselves in.

“Shacklebolt, you go upstairs; Lupin and I'll sweep down here.” Nodding, Shacklebolt walked
up the stairs, wand drawn. Moody and Remus searched the bottom floor of the house, and found
nothing. No photos, no furniture, no evidence at all that it had been occupied.

“Guys, I found something!” Shacklebolt shouted from upstairs. After Moody clumped his way up the
stairs, they followed Shacklebolt's voice to find him standing in a small bedroom, about the
size of Harry's. In it were a small refrigerator and a mattress on the floor.

“Take a look at the view,” Shacklebolt said. Remus and Moody looked out the window to see a
perfect view of where they were standing earlier. “And I also found this,” Shacklebolt added,
holding up a rifle. He opened it so show a dart that was loaded and ready to be chambered. “Someone
was expecting us. No Death Eater would dare use a Muggle weapon to take us out, and certainly not
with less than lethal force. I think we're dealing with someone else entirely. The question is,
who?”

“Did you find anything in there?” Remus asked, pointing towards the fridge. Shacklebolt shook
his head.

“Not so much as a biscuit crumb. It's like someone bought it and then never used it.” Remus
bit his lip nervously while Moody scowled.

“This guy's good,” he said darkly. “Waits until our backs are turned, doesn't use magic,
then leaves only just enough to show his existence. The cowardly bastard probably just left these
here to taunt us.” His magical eye did another once-over, and found nothing. “We should tell
McGonnagal about this,” he said before spinning around and disappearing with a crack. Sullen-faced,
the other two men Apparated to Diagon Alley and flooed back to Hogwarts.

Minerva McGonnagal was pacing around her office nervously. The three Order members that she sent
to retrieve Harry was late by almost an hour. Most of the paintings of past Headmasters were
sleeping, but a few were watching her pace in boredom, or in once case, amusement.

“Where can they be?” McGonnagal muttered to herself. She considered herself a well-composed
woman, but as each second passed, her composure wore down a little more.

“Relax, Minerva,” the portrait of the late Albus Dumbledore said, amused. “I'm sure that
they're just at the Burrow being force-fed Molly's cooking. You know how she is.”

“Yes, but I can't help but worry.” Suddenly, the floo flared up and three men stumbled out
of the fireplace.

“Where have you been?” she practically shrieked, her face turning red with anger. “You three are
late by almost an hour! Remus I can understand, but you two--!”

“Harry's missing,” Remus interrupted, and her face immediately went from light pink to pale
white.

“What?” she gasped.

“We should assemble the Order, Minerva,” Moody said. “This is something that they all need to
hear.” Nodding, McGonnagal went to her desk and tapped a crystal with her wand, signalling all the
Order members for a meeting.

Ten long, tense minutes later, the Order had been assembled, some of whom were not happy about
being dragged out of bed at this hour.

“I apologize for bringing you here so early, but we have a matter of utmost urgency. Remus, if
you will?” Remus stood up and cleared his throat, tears welling up in his eyes.

“At approximately five minutes after midnight, we arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive to escort
Harry to the Burrow. When we got there, Harry was packed and waiting for us. When we went outside
and did one final check to make sure he had everything, we were knocked out with Muggle sedatives.
When we came to, Harry was missing, and all we found were some bloodstains on the street,
and…these.” He lifted up the broken, bloody glasses, and Molly sobbed loudly into her husband's
shoulder. Several minutes later, after the wailing had drifted into faint sniffling, Remus
continued. “We determined that the darts that were used to inject the sedatives had come from the
house opposite of the Dursleys, so we entered and searched for evidence of its occupants. The only
evidence that it had been occupied at all were a matress, a small empty icebox and a Muggle firearm
in the smallest bedroom on the second story, which has a perfect view of the street, and
consequentially us. When we examined the firearm, we saw that at least one more dart was inside,
implying that whoever took Harry had probably been waiting for some time, probably for when the
blood wards fell, and was expecting at least four people to escort him. As of right now, we
don't know who took him or why, but we can probably exclude Voldemort's—” most of the room
gasped at the name. Remus rolled his eyes before continuing, “…Voldemort's involvement, as we
were taken out by a non-lethal Muggle weapon, two things that Death Eaters wouldn't be caught
dead doing.” Whispers and murmurs immediately echoed throughout the room as they soaked in this
dark revelation. Molly had broken down so much that Arthur had to take her out of the room.

“Harry's gone,” Molly sobbed. “He could be anywhere, having anything inflicted to him, and
we have no idea where he is.” Sniffling, she wiped away her tears. “We need to tell the children.”
Arthur nodded his head quietly.

“They need their sleep, we'll tell them tomorrow morning.” Nodding, the two found the
nearest floo grate and flooed back to their home for a sleepless night. When they looked at the
enchanted grandfather clock in their sitting room, Molly's tears ran anew. The hand that held
Harry name and photo was set firmly on Mortal Peril.

The next morning, seventeen-year-old Hermione Granger stirred softly. She looked to the other
bed in her room to see her roommate, Ginny Weasley, spread over her bed, snoring softly. After
wiping the sleep from her eyes and tying her unusually bush morning hair into a long ponytail, she
walked down to the kitchen to see an odd sight.

Molly Weasley washing dishes by hand.

“Mrs. Weasley? Are you alright?” Hermione asked softly, and softly gasped when she saw
Molly's red and puffy eyes.

“I'm alright dear,” she said with fake joy, but soon abandoned the charade. “Actually, no,
I'm not. Something's happened, and you children need to hear it. Why don't you wake Ron
and Ginny up while I make breakfast? Merlin knows that the food will be cold if you try to wake
those two up after the food's been made.” Hermione frowned when Molly neglected to mention
Harry.

“What about Harry?” Instead of answering, Molly just toiled tirelessly at the cooktop, the
melachony look never leaving her face.Worried at what could drive Molly to such a state, Hermione
ran back up the stairs to wake up the Weasley children.

“Ginny, wake up,” she said, shaking her friend's shoulder. Ginny just mumbled incoherently
and shifted position on her bed. Hermione just shook Ginny more vigorously until the younger girl
knocked her hand away.

“Alright, alright, I'm up,” she grumbled. “What the hell did you need to do that for?”

“Your mother has something to tell us,” Hermione said. “And it has to be something big, because
I've never seen her act as upset as she is.” Before Ginny could inquire further, Hermione left
the room for the daunting task of waking her brother up.

When Hermione entered Ron's room, she saw that while Ron was splayed out his bed, snoring
loudly, Harry wasn't in his bed. Indeed, it looked like had had never been slept in. She shook
Ron's shoulder, but he just snorted loudly.

“Five more minutes, mummy,” he muttered before falling back to sleep.

“Wake up, Ronald, your mother has something to tell us,” Hermione said, which was promptly
ignored by the redheaded boy. Then she was hit with a stroke of genius, and leaned into his
ear.

“Ron, there are spiders crawling all over your bed.” She plugged her ears and stood back as Ron
suddenly jumped out of his bed in a decidedly girlish shriek of fright.

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” he gasped, clutching his chest. “You could give a bloke a heart attack!
What did you do that for?” Hermione looked at him, all amusement gone from her face.

“Your mother has something she needs to tell us, and from the looks of things, it's not
good. Now get dressed,” she said before leaving the room. Ron just shook his head in confusion.

“Bloody mental,” he muttered before gathering his clothes to change.

When the two Weasley children went down to the table, the rest of the Burrow's occupants
were already seated: Hermione, the rest of the Weasleys, sans Percy, Fleur Delacour and her sister
and parents. Right now, Molly was piling obscenely large portions of eggs and bacon onto
everybody's plates, ignoring everyone's protests that it was too much. He also noticed that
the older Weasley siblings seemed to have the same sad, melachony look as their parents.

“What's going on, Mum?” Ron asked. Molly just shook her head.

“Eat up first, dearies, then we'll tell you,” she said in a tone that left no room for
argument, so Ron and Ginny just sat down and dug in.

After everybody had eaten their fill (the portions were so large that, surprisingly, even Ron
could not help but deny a second helping), Molly and Arthur stood up.

“Everyone, we have something to say,” Molly said, and everyone immediately fell silent. “Last
night…last…Ha…I can't say it, Arthur,” she gasped as she sobbed into her husband's
shoulder. Now everyone was really worried. If whatever news they had could break a woman as strong
as Molly Weasley, then it must be bad. After patting his wife's back comfortingly, Arthur took
the initiative.

“Last night, Remus, Moody and Shacklebolt went to pick up Harry and escort him here. But when
they got there, someone knocked them out and kidnapped Harry.” Several shocked gasps echoed
throughtout the room, and Hermione couldn't help the tears from falling down her face. “The
only thing they could find of Harry's was his glasses, which was lying in some blood.” Arthur
had to pause a moment to regain his composure. “We don't know who took him, or why. All we know
is that whoever it is, he or she probably isn't involved with…You-Know-Who, since they used a
Muggle weapon to sedate Harry's escorts.” Whatever else Arthur had to say fell on deaf ears as
Hermione stood up from the table and ran out of the room.

As soon as she was far enough away from the rest of the Weasleys and Delacours, she let the
tears fall freely. For weeks now, she wanted to apologize to Harry for acting the way she did the
year before, as well as to sort out her own convulted feelings for the raven-haired boy, but now
there was very likely that she would never get that opportunity.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” she whispered into thin air, and opening the first door she found, she
went inside and did something she hadn't done since her first year at Hogwarts.

She locked herself into a bathroom and cried.

Meanwhile, in the Hilton hotel, Harry looked up at his “to-do list”, which he had spent an hour
working on.

*Figure out how to break news of being a vampire to friends.*

*Figure out how to get into Professor McGonnagal's office to talk to Dumbledore.*

*Find Horcruxes.*

*Destroy Horcruxes.*

*Kill Voldemort.*

*Figure out who ordered my turning*.

*Well, it's simple, but it works*, Harry thought. Harry felt his stomach rumble, and
walked to the mini bar out of instinct. There, he saw a hotel keycard taped to the door. Peeling it
off, he opened the door to see that instead of candy bars and small drinks, was about a dozen round
plastic containers full of blood. Taking one labeled “pig's blood,” Harry grimaced at the
thought of drinking blood, but realizing he had no other choice, pulled the lid off and started
drinking, grimacing at the sickeningly sweet, but slightly metallic flavor. After he had drunk
about a third of it, he licked his lips clean and put the container back in the icebox.

Having nothing better to do, Harry opened his trunk and saw his shrunken Firebolt on top. Taking
it out, he dug around for a book and flopped onto the bed and started reading.

After reading and flipping through the television and just generally acting bored, Harry fell
asleep, and when he woke, it was 1:32 in the morning. Next to the clock, he noticed a notepad from
the hotel that had the address on it.

He was in London.

Grinning, he grabbed his key and stuffing his invisibility cloak in his pocket, he walked out of
the hotel and into an abandoned alley. Wrapping himself in his invisibility cloak, he concentrated
on the alleyway where the Leaky Cauldron was at, and spun around, Apparating with a crack.

When he appeared in front of the wizard pub, he walked inside, being careful to make as little
noise as possible. After no one showed up, he went to the floo grate and grabbed a handful of floo
powder. Bracing himself for the inevitable tumble, he said, “Hogwarts Headmistress's office,”
before disappearing in a burst of green flames.

As expected, Harry did tumble out of the fireplace, but thankfully didn't crash into
anything. He looked around and saw that, even in a very dark room, he could see perfectly.

After casting locking charms on all the doors, he illuminated his wand and shone the light at
Dumbledore's portrait, awakening him.

“My boy, if you are going to shine a light, at least be a little more careful about where you
point it,” Dumbledore admonished gently.

“I'm sorry, Professor, but I needed you to be awake,” Harry said, deepening his voice. “If
it's possible, could you ask the other portraits to give us some privacy?” Dumbledore thought
about it for a moment, before addressing the other portraits.

“This seems to be a highly personal matter, could you be so kind as to allow us a few moments of
privacy?” With varying degrees of complaint, the other portaits vacated their frames, leaving
Dumbledore and Harry alone. “Is that better? Now, to light the room, just say *lumos* without
holding your wand.” Extinquishing his wand, Harry illuminated the room, and Dumbledore gasped in
shock at Harry's pale complexion. “Merlin's beard, Harry, what happened to you?” Harry
thought of a suitable answer, and decided to use the first one he thought of.

“I died, professor.”

----

Well, I hope you enjoyed that.

As I have never drunk pig's blood, I don't know if it's really sweet or not
(probably not), but I came up with this idea (more of a joke than anything else) that the bloods of
various animals would have different flavors and therefor, different levels of desirability.

I don't know what the British word for refrigerator is, so I just guessed it. If I'm
wrong, please feel free to correct me.

Given the deliberately vague description of the vampire genesis last chapter, I want to know
your theories as to how the vampires came to be, to see how close they are to my own idea.

Don't forget to read and review!

-->



3. Chapter 3
------------



Ehh…both FanFiction and Portkey still have single-digit review counts, but it's improving.
Maybe this time I'll get ten reviews! :P

As usual, I don't own Harry Potter. I am sad.

----

Dumbledore gaped at Harry, shocked by his answer. If he were still alive, he might have fainted,
but since he was just a painting, he had to settle to sit there slack-jawed.

“What do you mean, you died, Harry?” he finally gasped.

“A few minutes after midnight this morning, I was attacked by a vampire in the street right in
front of the Dursleys' house,” Harry replied emotionlessly.

“But what about the Order members?” Dumbledore asked.

“They were neutralized with Muggle tranquilizers,” Harry responded. “They never saw it coming.”
Dumbledore rubbed his temple tiredly. This was not how he had hoped things would turn out. He had
hoped that Harry would find the Horcruxes with his friends, defeat Voldemort, and live as normal a
life as a person of his celebrity could. But now he was a vampire, a dark creature feared and hated
by the world.

“Can I inquire as to why you're here?” Dumbledore asked.

“I need help,” Harry said. “I need to research about the Horcruxes, and what and where they
might be. The logical place to start would be Grimmauld, but with Snape on the loose, that location
is compromised. What I need to know is, is it possible to reset the Fidelius with a new secret
keeper?” Dumbledore closed in eyes as he thought of an answer. Being a painting made things fuzzy,
but he eventually figured something out.

“Forgive me Harry, but as I am but a painting, I do not possess the clarity of mind that my
living self had, but I believe that upon the death of the secret keeper, the secret is
automatically transferred to the current owner of the property, in this case yourself. With that in
mind, if you use someone who already knows the address, you can override the current Fidelius with
a new one. Does that answer your question?”

“For now,” Harry said, nodding. But Dumbledore noticed that he still had a gloomy look on his
face.

“Is something else troubling you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked. Harry shook his head to clear his
thoughts.

“I just thought of something,” Harry admitted. “I will probably need Hermione's help, if
nothing else, but…I'm a vampire now, what is there to stop me from feeding off of them?
They'll practically have the words `Eat Me' tatooed on their foreheads.” Dumbledore sighed,
and could not help but feel pity for Harry's predicament.

“I cannot give you a definite answer, Harry, but I believe that as long as you keep yourself fed
through other means, your love for your friends will prevent you from feeding off of them.” While
Harry mulled on this thought, Dumbledore had an idea.

“If you could be so kind as to humor an old man, may I make a couple of suggestions?” Harry
nodded, but did not say anything. “First off, I highly doubt that it would be convenient for you to
break into my, or shall I say, Professor McGonnagal's office every time you wish to speak with
me, so if you could be so kind as to open that drawer there,” Dumbledore said, pointing at a set of
drawers where the pensieve stood. Harry opened the top drawer and saw Dumbledore walk into a
picture frame. “This will make communicating with me much easier,” he said from the photo. “Now,
for my second request, please Apparate somewhere out of sight.” Harry cocked his eyebrow at the
photo.

“I thought it was impossible to Apparate to and from Hogwarts?” Harry asked. Dumbledore
shrugged.

“If it doesn't work, forget I ever asked. Please, Harry?” Sighing, Harry focused on the
tunnel that led from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack, and disappeared with a crack.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself in a stone tunnel.

“It's just as I thought,” he heard Dumbledore mutter to himself. Harry looked down at the
photo in his hand.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Why was I able to pass the wards?” Cracking his fingers,
Dumbledore dove into his explanation.

“The way that anti-apparation wards work is that it detects a certain magical signature
performing a certain magical act, and either blocks or lets it pass accordingly. As you know from
experience, the wards at Hogwarts prevent humans from Apparating onto its grounds, but it will let
house elves in without a fuss. I believe that your…” Dumbledore considered his next word carefully,
“*condition* has altered your signature enough so that the wards no longer recognize you as
human, and as such will let you through. It is not the most logical reasoning, but I cannot help
but admit that wizards never were the most logical folk.” Harry could not help but shrug in
agreement. “I believe that you can use this to your advantage, as now you are immune to all
anti-entry wards except the Fidelius and those specifically keyed to ward off the undead.”
Harry's eyes widened as he realized that he could break through almost any ward erected by man
without a problem.

“If I may make one final request, Harry,” Dumbledore said, interrupting Harry's thoughts,
“can I tell Minerva about you? I imagine that you would like to keep your location and condition
secret, but can I at least tell her that you are well, if only to ease the Order's worries?”
Harry nodded, then realized something.

“I guess I should go back and unlock the doors,” Harry said, mostly to himself, but Dumbledore
heard him.

“Don't worry, Harry, all the doors in the Headmaster's office is keyed to remove any
locking charms after ten minutes, just in case they happen to lock themselves out without their
wand. Rest assured, Minerva will not be locked in her room come morning. Now, I believe that you
must be staying somewhere,” he said. Harry stuck the photo in his pocket and Apparated back to the
alley where he left from earlier and walked back to the hotel. When he entered his room, he placed
Dumbledore's photo on the table.

“Ah, you seem to be staying at the Hilton. I stayed here for a few days during my sabbatical
during your fifth year. A wee bit expensive, but I believe that the service was well worth it.” As
Harry grabbed a book and started reading, Dumbledore suddenly thought of something worrying.

“Harry, what will you do if you ever run into Severus?” he asked, worried as to what his answer
would be.

“Well, professor—” Harry began, not looking up from his book, but was interrupted by
Dumbledore.

“Please, Harry, you are an adult and I am dead, call me Albus,” he insisted. Harry looked up
from his book, his face an emotionless mask.

“Okay, Albus, what will I do if I ever see Snape again? That depends on whether he cooperates or
not,” Harry said darkly.

“Harry, please, whatever your differences, you need to trust Severus,” Albus pleaded. Even in
undeath, Harry couldn't let go of his grudge against Snape.

“And why should I?” Harry snapped.


“Because I trust him,” Albus said, but had a feeling that that excuse wouldn't work
anymore.

“I'm sorry, Albus, but that won't fly anymore. I've been willing to let it slide
before, but you refused to listen to me last year, and he ended up killing you, so unless you can
give me a valid reason to trust Snape, I'm sorry, but your word just isn't good enough for
me this time.” Harry went back to his book, and no more words were spoken between the two that
night.

The next day, McGonnagal woke up and prepared for a new day. After showering and putting on her
robes, she walked into her office to sort through various papers that she had to look at as
Headmistress, when Albus' portrait cleared his throat.

“Good morning, Minerva,” he said. “I'm afraid I have bittersweet news concerning Harry.” Her
paperwork forgotten, McGonnagal rushed over to the portrait surprisingly quickly for a woman her
age.

“What do you mean? Is he alright?” she gasped.

“Harry is…well,” Albus said hesitantly. “He is currently recovering from his ordeal and has
asked me not to disclose his wherabouts. He wants his privacy, so if anyone wishes to find him,
then they must look for him.” Minerva frowned at this news. “Do not worry, he is safe from the
Death Eaters, for now. I'm afraid that is all I can give you.” McGonnagal scowled at Albus'
evasiveness and went grabbed a handful of floo powder to call the rest of the Order.

That afternoon, Harry was reading a potions book when he heard a tapping on his sliding glass
door. After carefully opening the door through the curtain so he wouldn't be burned by the
sunlight, a familiar white owl swooped in.

“Hedwig!” Harry cried, closing the door. The owl took one look at Harry and, sensing something
was wrong, started backing away from Harry, even though the letter tied to her leg made movement
difficult. “Hedwig, it's me, Harry,” he pleaded, holding his hand out. “It's me, Harry,” he
said, softer. Hedwig stopped backing away, and Harry carefully removed the letter from her leg. He
dug through his trunk for an owl treat, which she nibbled on while he read the letter, recognizing
Hermione's handwriting.

*Harry, where the hell are you?! Everyone is worried sick trying to find you!* Harry saw
that the next part was more elegant than the first, as if Hermione stopped to fume before finishing
her letter. *I'm sorry, Harry, but we've been up all night trying to find you.*
*Dumbledore spoke to Professor McGonnagal this morning, and* *all he would say was that you
were well. I'm worried about you, Harry. I'm worried about your safety.*

*Please come back, wherever you are, Harry. We need you.* **I** *need you. I need to
talk to you about things…things that I need to say to your face.*

*Love,*

*Hermione.*

Harry sighed. It hurt him to hurt his friends like that, but he needed to break into his new
identity alone. Grabbing a pen and a notepad, he scribbled a note to Hermione.

*I have* *some**thing to tell you too, Hermione. Come to Sirius' place, nine `o
clock tonight. Please come alone, I can't deal with too many people right now. When I'm
done, I can only hope that you* *will* *still be my friend.*

*Harry*.

Putting the note in the envelope that Hermione sent her letter in, he carefully opened the
sliding door, and Hedwig swooped away. Harry groaned as he rubbed his head. The memory of the
vampire genesis was getting clearer now, and the unfamiliar memory was giving him a headache.

Grabbing a plastic bag from the bathroom and putting all the containers of blood into it, he
grabbed his possessions and Apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Upon appearing in the dark and dusty house, Harry placed the blood into the pantry, where it
would be preserved by the cooling charms inside. Harry went into the sitting room and looked at the
windows. Years of grit and grime had dulled the sunlight, but it still shone through enough to be a
danger, so Harry decided to fix that.

“Kreacher!” Harry yelled. Immediately, the short, pig-nosed house elf popped before him,
grumbling.

“Filthy half-blood commanding Kreacher, oh what Kreacher's poor mistress would think if she
knew that the great and noble house of Black was being sullied by such filth,” he grumbled just
loud enough for Harry to hear.

“Spare me your whining, Kreacher, I have a job for you,” Harry snarled, his teeth bared. With a
gasp of fear, Kreacher began backing away.

“Master is a vampire, what shall Kreacher do?” the house elf whimpered.

“What Kreacher shall do is cover every window in this house with dark curtains, make sure that
no sunlight can get in. Then, you are to return to your duties at Hogwarts. Once there, you are not
to communicate to anyone, be it through word or letter or gesture or *anything*. Is that
clear?” Thinking hard to find any loophole, and finding none, Kreacher grudgingly nodded and began
covering the windows. Harry grabbed a container of blood and went into the library. Looking up at
the massive shelves of books, Harry sighed to himself. It was going to be a long day.

A couple of hours later, Harry was tired of reading, so he stood up and took a walk. He walked
around the upper floors, pausing at the room where Sirius slept. When he passed the kitchen, he had
an idea when he saw all the knives lying in the drawers. Grabbing two knives, he walked out into
the front hall and threw the curtains open, revealing Mrs. Black.

“YOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!” she shrieked, her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Yes, me,” Harry deadpanned.

“YOU DO NOT BELONG IN MY HOUSE, YOU FILTH!!! KREACHER! KREA—ack!” she gasped as Harry slammed a
knife into the canvas where her midsection was, pinning her to her position.

“I am sick and tired of your screaming, you hag,” Harry growled. “So tonight, I'm going to
get rid of you.”

“RELEASE ME, MUDBLOOD FILTH!!” Mrs. Black shrieked. In response, Harry made a bestial hiss,
baring his fangs and silencing the portait. “You…you're a vampire.” Suddenly, her demeanor
changed, and she adopted an evil grin. “Well then, you are always welcome in my home.” Grabbing the
other knife in a stabbing position, Harry walked up to the portrait.

“It's my house now,” he spat before cutting around Mrs. Black's figure, the ripping of
canvas drowned out by her screams. After he had cut all the way around, he pulled out the first
knife and rolled the canvas up. Lighting a fire, he threw the portait in and watched as the portait
burst into flames. When the last of the canvas withered away and the screams stopped, Harry
extinguished the flames.

“Finally, some peace and quite around here.”

At nine `o clock that night, Hermione Apparated in front of Grimmauld Place, and shuddered at
the gloom that it emanated. Rapping the snake-shaped knocker, she waited for a response.

“What happened in the girls' bathroom our second year?” Harry's voice asked from behind
the door. Relieved that Harry was there, but embarrased by the question, she answered as softly as
she could.

“I turned into a half-cat because I drank a faulty Polyjuice potion. Why does Voldemort want you
dead?” She hated to have to ask that, but it was necessary.

“Because of a prophecy that says that one of us must die at the hands of the other,” Harry
responded before opening the door. As soon as she stepped in, Hermione tackled Hary into a bear hug
that normally would have knocked the breath out of him, if he had any breath. It took a moment for
him to realize that she was crying.

“I was so scared, Harry,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I was scared that something had
happened to you, that I would never see you again. I couldn't sleep, I could barely eat, I just
couldn't help but think about you.” Harry just rubbed her back soothingly and carefully led her
to the sofa, where they sat down. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?” Harry asked, confused.

“I'm sorry for last year. I'm sorry for pestering you about the book, for not believing you
about Snape and Malfoy, and for just not being there for you,” she sniffled. Harry held her close,
and she couldn't help but notice that he felt cool.

“I'm sorry too,” he said. “I'm sorry for not listening to you about the Prince, for
using that spell when I shouldn't have, and for being a general prat.”

“I guess we both had a bad year,” Hermione chuckled, but quickly stopped. “When your note said
that you hoped that I would still be your friend. What did you mean by that?” Harry's look
immediately darkened.

“That night I disappeared?” he asked. Hermione nodded into his shoulder. “Well, these past
couple of days, I've been hiding away at the Hilton.” Hermione snorted in amusement.

“The Hilton? That's your big secret? You've been hiding away in a hotel? Why would that
make me hate you?” she asked. Harry didn't smile.

“Because that night, I became a vampire,” he said, pulling down his collar to show the twin
scars on his neck. Hermione gasped in shock, and Harry stood up to walk away.

“Harry, wait,” she said, grabbing his hand, and gasped when his hand felt cold. She stood up and
wrapped Harry in a gentle hug. “You're my best friend, Harry, my first friend. And you're
still Harry, nothing can change that, and nothing could make me hate you,” she whispered into his
ear. Harry started tearing up himself.

“Now you know why I don't want the Order to find me,” Harry said.

“Harry, where are you going to go now? It's not safe here anymore,” Hermione said
worriedly.

“I found a book with the Fidelius charm in it, it's on the table in the library. Albus said
that if I used someone who already knew the secret, I could reset the Fidelius. I was thinking
tomorrow or something, we could renew it.” Hermione looked at Harry, confused.

“How did you talk with Professor Dumbledore?” she asked. Harry adopted a guilty look.

“You see, I kind of, sort of…broke into Professor McGonnagal's office,” he whispered.

“You *what*?!” she shouted, scandalized.

“It was necessary!” Harry justified. “Besides, I have a photo of him, so I won't have to do
it again.” At this, Hermione's temper deflated. “Come on, I'll take you to your room.”
After leading Hermione to her room, he turned to face her. “Thanks for coming tonight. `Night,” he
said, hesitating for a moment before kissing her cheek before entering his room. As he closed his
door, Hermione held a hand up to her cheek where his cold lips had touched it.

----

And that's chapter 3. Originally, it was going to go on a bit longer, but it just seemed out
of place, so I removed it.

Don't forget to read and review!

P.S. I saw *Transformers* yesterday, excellent movie!

-->



4. Chapter 4
------------



I'm too brain-dead to think of some witty comment. Move along.

I don't own Harry Potter. I just own the plot and whatever unusual quirks that vampires
have. I don't own *Green Eggs and Ham* either.

----

*Thump.*

*Thump.*

*Thump*.

Hermione stirred in her sleep. Groaning as she cracked one eye open, she heard a faint rhythmic
thumping from the story above her, like someone stomping their feet around the house.

*Thump.*

*Thump.*

*Thump*.

After putting on a pair of sweat pants and vainly trying to tame her wild hair, she walked
upstairs to figure out what was making the sound. She followed the thumping as it got louder, and
she could feel the floor vibrating beneath her feet. She reached a door where the sound was
loudest, and it sounded less like a *thump* and more like a muffled *boom*. She
hesitantly twisted the doorknob and cracked the door open.

Inside, she saw Harry casually send a twisting jab at a training dummy, and with a loud bang, it
was thrown back and shattered. An equally casual right-handed upward swish later, and the mannequin
had repaired itself, only to be obliterated again seconds later. The amazing thing was, Harry was
doing it all silently. Harry seemed to notice her presence, as he repaired the training dummy one
last time before setting his wand down.

“You can come in, you know,” he said casually as he sat down on a chair in the corner of the
room. Hermione walked into the room and silently sat down in the chair next to him.

“When could you do nonverbal magic so well, Harry?” she asked, knowing full well how Harry had
struggled with the subject the year before. Harry just shrugged in confusion.

“I don't know; I was reading something and I got hungry, so I summoned myself a drink. A
couple of minutes later, I realized I didn't say anything, so I tried to levitate a book
without speaking, and it worked. So I spent the past couple of hours practicing my nonverbal magic,
and it all seems…different.” Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion.

“What do you mean by `different?'” she asked. Again, Harry shrugged.

“I don't know. It's like last year, my mind was completely jumbled, and I just
couldn't do much of anything, but now, everything seems so clear that I feel like such an idiot
for not figuring it out sooner.” Hermione seemed lost in thought for a moment before grabbing
Harry's wand and handing it to him.

“Can you show me more?” she asked. Harry just waved his wand to make a chair on the other side
of the room, and flicked his wand towards him to slowly make the chair drift over until it was in
front of them, where it gently dropped to the floor and Harry propped his feet on it, grinning
smugly. Hermione just stuck her tongue out childishly at him, and they both laughed until
Hermione's stomach interrupted them with hungry rumbling.

“I guess we should go make breakfast,” Harry chuckled. Hermione chuckled sheepishly as they
walked downstairs into the kitchen. Harry grabbed eggs, tomatoes and green onions while Hermione
put a pan on the stove and pulled out a knife. While Harry cracked the eggs, Hermione was chopping
the vegetables.

“Ouch! Damn it!” Harry heard Hermione gasp, and he spun around to see her clutching her thumb,
and a drop of blood on the knife she was using. “Just give me a second, Merlin that hurts.” Still
clutching her thumb, she ran over to the sink and ran it under water, sighing in relief. “Harry,
could you wash the knife for me please?”

“Okay,” Harry said, picking up the knife. He looked at the droplet of blood on the blade, and a
wave of hunger coursed through him. He looked up and saw that Hermione was still tending to her
wounded digit. *She's not looking, what harm could it do*, he though as he wiped the blood
off the blade and sucked it off of his finger. Harry walked over to the sink and started wiping the
blade in soapy water when he was struck by a memory.

*He was sitting in a man's lap, and was very young, no older than four or five. The man
had curly brown hair and blue eyes, and was reading a book to him.*

*“Not in a boat, not in a plane, not in a car, not in a train. I do not like green eggs and
ham, I do not like you, Sam I Am,” the man read.*

*“This is my favorite story, Daddy,” Harry said, but his voice was very high pitched, even for
a little child.*

*“That's good, sweetheart,” “Daddy” said, kissing Harry on the top of the head.*

*“I love you, Daddy.”*

*“I love you too, Hermione.”*

Suddenly, Harry snapped back into reality, a rag in one hand, a half-cleaned knife in the other.
He turned his head to see that Hermione had found the first-aid kit and was currently taping a
piece of gauze to her thumb. Shaking his head, Harry cleaned and rinsed the knife before returning
to the kitchen counter.

“Maybe I should keep a hold of this knife, missy,” Harry said teasingly. “You might hurt
yourself again.” Hermione snorted as she grabbed a fork and began beating the eggs. Five minutes
later, Hermione was eating an omelet with toast while Harry sat out of her field of vision, sipping
a container of pig's blood, pondering what happened earlier. *How had he gotten one of
Hermione's memories? Was it from drinking her blood?* Harry shook his head; this was
something he could ponder later.

After breakfast, Hermione went to the library to study up on the Fidelius charm, while Harry
went to the training room to practice some more nonverbal magic. Two hours later, Hermione knocked
on the door, and Harry ceased his assault by water jet on the poor battered training dummy.

“I know how to do it, but because of our situation, you need to learn it too,” she said, holding
the relevant book. “How it's done is the caster asks the secret keeper if he'll protect the
location of whatever they're trying to hide, but in this case, since you're the secret
keeper, only you can say the address in full, which is what's required, which means that you
*have* to do the ritual.” Harry sighed.

“I didn't see that part when I found it, but okay,” he said as he opened the book and
started reading the relevant passages. A few hours and wand movement perfections later, and they
were ready to begin. They sat in the sitting room with a gold plate and knife lay on a table with
three white candles lit around it.

Hermione picked up the knife and pricked her finger with it and dropped one, two, three drops of
blood onto the plate, and it took all that Harry had not to grab the piece of metal and lick the
blood clean off. With a hint of lamentation, Harry waved his wand and watched as the three drops
caught fire.

“Do you, Hermione Jane Granger, so vow to hold the location of 12 Grimmauld Place within you
until your dying breath?” he asked, as rehearsed.

“I do,” Hermione said mechanically.

“Do you so vow to withhold the secret from those who would wish harm, and share it only to those
of utmost confidence?” Harry recited.

“I do.” Harry gulped at the next question.

“Do you so vow to protect those who would dwell within your secret, even under pain of
death?”

“I do.”

“So mote it be.” Waving his wand to make a lazy infinity sign in the air, Harry began to chant
the final portion of the charm. “*Reus* *ut specialis, r**eus ut fides. Reus* *ut
specialis, r**eus ut fides. Reus* *ut specialis, r**eus ut fides*.” The air
hummed as an unearthly wind blew Hermione's hair around as she glew faintly golden. After
several seconds, the wind snuffed out the flames and disappeared, and Hermione's glow faded
away. Suddenly, Harry looked around in confusion.

“Where are we, Hermione?” he asked, confused. He knew that he came here yesterday, but he
couldn't remember the address for the life of him. Strangely, Hermione just grinned at him.


“Excellent, it worked then.” Then she leaned over to him and whispered softly into his ear. “You
can find sanctuary at 12 Grimmauld Place.” A feeling of revelation coursed through Harry and he
realized that the Fidelius charm was renewed.

A few hours later, Harry was reading a book in the Black library when he noticed that Hermione
had left her seat at the table. Setting his book down, he looked around the house, and he
eventually found her looking through his clothes.

“I haven't been stealing your knickers, if that's what you're looking for,” Harry
said, his eyebrow cocked. Hermione shot up and plastered an innocent smile on her face, shoving the
drawer closed. “Any particular reason as to why you were looking through my clothes drawer?”
Hermione looked down as her face turned pink in embarrassment.

“I was going to get you some clothes for your birthday, but I realized that I didn't know
your measurements.” They both started laughing at that point.

“If you wanted that, you could have just asked,” Harry said between chuckles. “I wear size 26-30
pants, a men's medium shirt and size 9-1/2 shoes.”

“I didn't ask you because it was meant to be a surprise,” Hermione muttered, still blushing.
Harry walked over and draped his arm over her shoulder.

“Don't worry about it,” he said. “As long as you don't go through my underwear drawer,
all is good.” This time, Hermione cocked her eyebrow.

“Oh? Is there something you're hiding from me, Mister Potter?” she asked coyly. If Harry
could blush, he would have, but instead he settled for a flat “No.” Hermione laughed and pinched
Harry's cheek. “Oh, you know I'm only teasing you, Harry.” Harry said nothing and merely
pouted.

Later that night, they Apparated into Diagon Alley, which at that hour was largely abandoned.
Hermione walked into Madam Malkin's right before closing, while Harry hung around nervously
outside, looking for anyone who could recognize him, as well as any Death Eaters. Half an hour
later, Hermione came out with a large box under her arm. When they Apparated back to Grimmauld
Place, she gave Harry the box.

“Happy belated birthday, Harry,” she said before walking out.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked. Trying not to blush, Hermione turned around and cocked an
eyebrow at him.

“If you wanted me to see you half-naked, Potter, all you had to do was ask,” she said teasingly.
It took a moment for Harry to figure out what she said, and by then she ran off laughing. Rolling
his eyes, he opened the box to see several articles of black cloth and leather, with a note on top
of it.

*Happy belated birthday, Harry!*

*I hope that the clothes are to your liking. I would have gotten them sooner, but I didn't
know your measurements and have been kind of busy lately.*

*The shirt and pants are made out of Acromantula silk. The rest are made of Hungarian Horntail
hide, dyed black, obviously. Both materials have shielding charms that will block most spells and
curses, and are tear-resistant. They are also charmed to repel dirt and dust, so they don't get
dirty.*

*The wand holster also has anti-summoning charms on it, and is invisible to all but the
wearer.*

*You can never get too much protection.*

*Love,*

*Hermione*.

Harry chuckled at the practicality of the gift, and began to strip down to his socks and
underwear before putting on his battle gear.

Five minutes later, he finished lacing his boots and transfigured a chair into a full-length
mirror and was impressed by what he saw. He was wearing a dragon hide vest over his shirt, and had
dragon hide leg guards and a belt tied onto his pants, as well as dragon hide boots. He also wore
dragon hide gloves and a dragon hide trench coat that went almost down to his ankles. All in all,
Harry thought he looked rather intimidating. He stepped out to find Hermione reading in the library
and knocked on the table to get her attention.

“Well, how do I look?” he asked, twirling around. Giggling, she walked over to him and
straightened out his coat.

“Intimidating,” she said. “Spray paint a skull on your chest, and you'll look like the
Punisher.” Harry's expression turned from gleeful to blank when Hermione made the reference.
“It's an old American comic book. One of the characters dressed a lot like you are now.” Harry
nodded, still not quite understanding it but accepting Hermione's word on it. “You remember
that the wedding is tomorrow, right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “They probably would delay it for us, but…we need to see them sometime, we
can't keep my…condition from them forever.” Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand.
“We'll go tomorrow night.”

“Okay,” Hermione said.

At eight `o clock the next night, Harry was dressed in his new clothes that Hermione got him,
while Hermione dressed in a green sweater and jeans. Concentrating on the back yard of the Burrow,
they spun around and Apparated with a crack. But when he opened his eyes, Harry found himself in
the middle of a battlefield, and Hermione nowhere to be found.

“Hermione!” he shouted as he shot stunners at the Death Eaters. “Hermione, where are you?”

“I'm outside the grounds!” he heard her shout. “There's an anti-apparation ward up!”

“Damn it,” Harry swore to himself as he banished a Death Eater away from him, knocking his head
against a table. Harry turned around to see a Death Eater revive his stunned companion. *Okay,
stunners are out, time for something a bit more destructive*, Harry thought, sending a silent
*reducto* to them, smashing the ground beneath them and sending them flying. Harry heard a
blood-curdling scream and he spun around to see Ginny Weasley being held under the *cruciatus*
curse by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange. Upon seeing her, Harry was filled with rage and ran
towards her, tackling her and breaking the spell.

“Looks like wee baby Potter's gone Muggle on us,” Bellatrix cooed in her annoying baby
voice, cackling madly. Her laughing was immediately traded with a look of horror when Harry hissed,
baring his fangs.

“Wee baby Potter's got a few new tricks up his sleeve,” he snarled, pulling her head back to
expose her neck. Panicking, Bellatrix shot him with the first spell she could think of.

“*Avada kedavra*!” she screamed, but the green spell impacted his chest uselessly. Ignoring
the attack, he bent down and bit down on Bellatrix's jugular, reveling in the tangy, metallic
taste as it poured down his throat.

As he drank, memories flashed through his mind. Images of being endlessly doted upon as a child,
making fun of and beating other children, of torturing other students during Hogwarts, and of
torturing and killing wizards and Muggles alike under Voldemort's rule.

As Harry stood up and wiped his mouth, he looked around to see Death Eaters Apparating away, and
Hermione popped beside him, before looking at Bellatrix's corpse and gasping in horror. Harry
looked up to see the Weasley and Delacour family looking at him in shock and horror. Feeling a hint
of shame in his heart, he prepared to Apparate away when several cracks were heard behind him.

“Freeze!” a voice yelled. “Drop your wand and get put your hands up, right now!” Ignoring the
auror's voice, Harry just Apparated back into the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place and ran
into the bathroom. He ran the water and rinsed his hands and face of the blood, but could not help
but feel dirty about what had happened. Properly cleaned, he crawled into a corner of the room and
started crying softly.

For a moment, Hermione was too shocked to move, but she quickly realized that Harry was probably
tearing himself up about this, and prepared to Apparate when a voice called her.

“Hermione!” a voice shouted. She turned around to see Mrs. Weasley standing, tears in her eyes.
“Where are you going?”

“To help Harry,” she said simply. “He needs me now.” Before anyone could respond, she spun
around and disappeared with a crack. When she reappeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, she
started looking through the places that he would most likely be. The library? Nothing. The training
room? Still nothing. She tried the master bedroom, and found it locked. She pressed her ear to the
door and heard quiet sobbing on the other side.

“Harry, can you let me in?” she asked, knocking on the door. The sobbing quieted and a few
seconds later, the door swung open, tear streaks running down Harry's pale cheeks. They just
stared at each other wordlessly before he stepped aside to allow her entry. When she stepped
inside, she carefully wrapped her arms around Harry and pulled him close.

“I killed her,” he whispered hoarsely. “I killed someone.” When the tears returned, Hermione
could do nothing but pull him down onto the floor and rub his back soothingly.

“Harry, she deserved it. In killing her, you saved hundreds of innocent lives. You acted on your
impulses, as usual.” This just made him sob harder.

“How? How can you stand to be near me? Near a monster?” She lifted his head up so that she could
see his face.

“Harry, look at me. You're not a monster. Would you bite me? Or Ron, or Professor Lupin, or
any of your friends?” Sniffling, Harry shook his head weakly. “You're a good person, Harry, and
you can control this.”

“That's not the only thing,” Harry whispered. “When I was feeding, I saw her memories. I saw
everything that she had ever did. I know I didn't do it, but I can't help but feel as if
it's a part of me now, and I'm scared. I'm scared of what I've turned into.”

“You'll be okay, Harry,” Hermione cooed soothingly, kissing the top of Harry's head
softly. “You'll be okay.” Several hours later, after all of his tears had been cried, they
drifted to sleep there, leaning on the wall in each other's arms.

----

Now we know what happens when vampires drink human blood. One question answered.

For those of you who read my *Adventures of Harry Black* series, I have NOT abandoned it;
I'm just a little dry on ideas. I've got just over a page of text for chapter 4 of *Harry
Black* written out so far, so it should be up soon.

I still want to know what you think the vampire genesis is, as it seems I won't be revealing
it for a while.

Don't forget to read and review!

-->



5. Chapter 5
------------



Only six more days until Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows comes out. I'm hoping beyond
hope that it has a Harmonious ending. If not, well, who knows what might happen.

As usual, I don't own Harry Potter. I just own the plot, Darknight, and any other original
ideas and characters that may show up.

----

John Witter liked his job as an auror, with the exception of today. Being a seventh year during
Harry Potter's fourth, he always liked the kid. John rooted for Harry during the Tri-Wizard
tournament and was one of the few who didn't believe the Ministry of Magic's public smear
campaign against him the following year. But tonight, John was called on his first mission, a
response to an attack at Ottery St. Catchpole. When he arrived, he saw a figure dressed in black
leather standing away from them. He caught a glimpse of the guy's face before he Disapparated,
and was shocked to see that it was Harry Potter's, smeared with blood. Upon examining the body
of Bellatrix Lestrange, it was confirmed that she died from a vampire bite. Now it fell on John to
tell the head auror that their vampire was probably Harry Potter. If he were a gambling man,
he'd wager ten galleons that there would be a warrant for the arrest and probable extermination
of Harry by the end of the day. Sighing, John poked his head into the head auror's office.

“I hate to disturb you, sir, but I've got some good news and some bad news.”

John Witter really hated his job tonight.

Hermione stirred, and she cracked one eye to see that she was tucked into the master bed. She
looked at her watch to see that it was almost 9:30 in the morning. She also noticed that she was
alone. Quietly slipping out of bed, she walked out of the room to find Harry. When she passed the
library, she saw that the door was open, and looked inside to see Harry sitting at the table,
clutching his head in apparent discomfort. She gently rapped her fingernails against the wall and
he looked up.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said quietly. Smiling slightly, she walked in and pulled herself a
chair to sit down next to him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him. Harry let his head drop back into his hands, groaning.

“Now so well,” he muttered. “Bellatrix's memories are starting to give me a headache.” Harry
rubbed his temples to emphasize his point before continuing. “I did find something, though.
Apparently, Bellatrix was the one assigned to watch Hufflepuff's cup.” Hermione visibly
brightened at this news.

“That's great, Harry!” she said excitedly. Harry just shook his head, not looking up at
her.

“Not really,” he said. “All I remember is that it's in a dark, nondescript room. I have no
idea where it is or what defenses it has around it. Right now, I'm trying to pick through her
memories to see if it's there.” Hermione's face adopted a saddened expression, and she
rubbed Harry's shoulder sympathetically.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked. Harry didn't immediately respond, but after
a minute he looked up at her.

“Do you think you can perform legilimency?” he asked. Hermione could only gape at him, shocked.
“With you poking through my head, this'll probably go faster,” Harry explained. He reached over
and held her hand. “Hermione, I trust you; I know you won't mind-rape me like…” Harry paused;
he couldn't bring himself to address Snape by name. “…I trust you.” With Harry's
declaration of trust in her, Hermione reluctantly nodded her head. Drawing her wand, they scooted
their chairs a few more inches away from each other, before Hermione aimed her wand at Harry.

“*Legilimens*,” she said. Harry immediately felt a presence worming its way through his
mind and instinctively slammed mental shields he didn't even know he had down on it, knocking
Hermione back slightly.

“I'm sorry, I just reacted,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Give me a moment to prepare.”
After a few seconds, he nodded, and Hermione took aim again.

“*Legilimens*.” Again, Harry felt the foreign presence creeping through his mind, but
struggled to keep himself from slamming his shields down again. As Hermione dug deeper into
Harry's subconscious, the more she felt like she was drifting out of her own body. Staring into
Harry's pale green eyes, she saw her world go black. A moment later, her vision returned, and
she saw herself standing in a small bedroom with clothes and other miscellaneous junk strewn about.
“This place is a dump,” she thought out loud.

“That hurt, Granger,” a voice said. Hermione spun around to see Harry clutching his chest
dramatically. “I'll have you know that there's a method to all my chaos.” Hermione
couldn't help but snort in skepticism. Harry just rolled his eyes and opened a drawer randomly.
Inside were several photo albums, not unlike the one where he held the pictures of his friends and
parents. He grabbed the top one and opened it to the first page, and the photo played a scene from
when he was eleven and vanished the glass pane from the boa constrictor exhibit prior to receiving
his first Hogwarts letter. After flipping through the entire album and not finding anything
important, he tossed it aside and grabbed another one.

Harry did not know how much time had passed when Hermione called him. He walked over and she
pointed at a photo. They watched as in the dead of night, Bellatrix Lestrange Apparated right
outside of a building Harry recognized as the orphanage that Voldemort grew up in. They watched as
she walked inside the building in obvious disgust and walked through a trap door in the floor. They
watched as she pulled a glowing green emerald from her pocket and entered a secret chamber, where
Hufflepuff's cup stood on a lone pedestal. After inspecting the area for a few minutes, she
left back the way she came. Finding what they were looking for, Hermione released the connection,
and she found herself in her own body.

“That was…weird,” she said. She stood up and swayed slightly as she regained her bearings.
Shaking his head to rid himself of the remaining fuzziness in his head, Harry also stood up.

“But at least we know where the cup is,” Harry said excitedly. Hermione grinned at his newfound
enthusiasm, but it quickly faded.

“There's just one problem, Harry: Bellatrix was carrying a ward stone. That crystal renders
the holder immune to whatever traps Voldemort happened to lay down, so we know absolutely nothing
about what could be waiting for us down there.” Harry's smile immediately disappeared. “I think
we're going to need Bill Weasley's help.” It immediately dawned on Harry how difficult it
would be to attain help from said Weasley, considering the display he showed the night before.

“Oh, damn,” he muttered.

Meanwhile, at the rickety house known as the Burrow, Arthur Weasley was nursing a glass of
firewhiskey. He had dark circles under his eyes, but to be fair, no one in that house had slept
well the past few nights. First with Harry's disappearance, then Hermione's, and now with
the revelation that Harry was a vampire, sleep was the last thing on everyone's minds now.

Right after the attack, the Order assembled to discuss it, and Arthur told the others about
Harry's vampirism, and it hit them hard. After recovering from the initial shock, Moody
suggested that they shove a stake in his heart, a suggestion that nearly had the ex-auror mobbed by
almost the entire Order. Professor McGonnagal was so shocked Arthur was afraid she would have heart
failure, and if it weren't for Tonks, Remus probably would have completely snapped. His own
wife was so fraught with worry that she passed out from exhaustion. He didn't know how his
children reacted, for they immediately locked themselves in their rooms, only coming out to use the
loo, and not speaking to anyone during those times.

Personally, Arthur didn't know what to think. On the one hand, Harry was almost like another
son to him. He was kind, gentle, polite, and a good friend to his son Ron. On the other hand, he
was a vampire now, one of the darkest creatures known to mankind. He shuddered at the thought of
what he could do to Hermione if his hunger took over. With his confusion and conflictions
threatening to tear him in two, he did the only thing he could think of.

He poured himself another glass and slammed it down.

Back at Grimmauld Place, Hermione finished the illegal Portkey that she would use to bring Bill
over to them. After finding a ring that - after much scrutiny, proved harmless - Hermione enchanted
it and slipped it on her right index finger, the opal glinting off her finger.

“You know, I'm not so fond of kidnapping Bill,” she said, twirling the ring.

“I know,” Harry said, “but I doubt that there's anything we could say that would make him
come willingly.” Harry walked up behind her and looked down at the ring. “It looks nice,” he
said.

“Thanks,” Hermione replied. Harry quietly wrapped his arms around Hermione, pulling her close to
him.

“Hermione, if things start going south tonight, I want you to get out of there.” Hermione turned
around in his arms and glared at him.

“If you even *think* I'm going to abandon you--!” she started to rant.

“*Please*, Hermione!” Harry practically begged. “Please don't argue with me, not this
time. I don't want anything to happen to you.” Hermione sighed in exasperation.

“Harry, if this is just your `saving people thing' kicking in again, I can take care of
myself, and you know that.” Harry's somber look only became gloomier, and Hermione frowned in
concern. “It's not just that, is it?” Harry shook his head negatively. “What is it then?” Harry
stepped back so he was holding Hermione at arms length.

“I'm scared, Hermione,” he said softly. “I'm scared of losing you. I know that it'll
happen eventually, as I'm immortal and you're not, but I want you to live the longest life
possible, not to die because of some trap Voldemort laid down. I don't want to feel that
heartache so soon.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Ironic, since we seem to be founded by heartache,” he
added bitterly. Hermione brought one hand up to cup Harry's cheek.

“What do you mean?” Hermione whispered. Harry shook his head and grabbed her hand, gently
pulling her to the sitting room, where they both sat on the sofa.

“Do you know how the vampires were created?” he asked, looking at Hermione. When she shook her
head, he looked away. “I didn't think so, it's not something I would want published.” Harry
sighed deeply as he began to tell his story. “Centuries ago, before the founding of Hogwarts, there
was a young woman, her name lost in the sands of time, whose lover had died in battle. She asked a
wizard to bring him back, and the wizard brought her to a cave. The wizard told her that if she
could go into the cave and find her lover, she could bring him back, so she went in.

“She searched for Merlin knows how long. Her food began stale and dusty and her water ran dry.
She would be attacked by bats, who would draw her blood from her flesh. Eventually, she began
drinking the blood of rats and other vermin to keep herself watered. Occasionally, she would find
other people who were on similar quests. Sometimes, she was so maddened by hunger that she slit
their throats and drank their blood from the wounds.” Harry paused to collect himself while
Hermione made a gagging sound. “No one knows how long she was down there, but eventually, she saw
no other option but to give up, and return to the surface. But when she arose, the sunlight burned
her, and she had to wait until nighttime to leave.

“When she finally arose from that cursed abyss, she was changed. Her teeth had grown into fangs
like the bats who feasted on her blood. Her skin had grown gray, and her flesh had gone cold, like
that of a corpse. And when she felt her chest, her broken heart would no longer beat.

“She later found out that everyone she had ever known and loved had died decades before, and she
was all alone. Driven by her hunger and grief, she sought to change others, to condemn them to the
same curse that she had, to make others share her heartache that comes with watching all that you
know, all that you love wither away, and you are left behind.” Harry turned to Hermione, tears
threatening to fall from his eyes. “Now you know my reasons, so promise me that you'll keep
yourself safe. *Please*.” Her own eyes filling with tears, she reached up to kiss Harry on the
top of the head before pulling him into a hug.

“I promise,” she whispered into his ear. For the next several hours, they simply sat there
holding each other, no words being spoken between them.

That afternoon, Hermione Apparated into Diagon Alley and walked into the tall white building
that was Gringotts. After waiting in line for almost fifteen minutes, she walked up to the goblin
clerk.

“State your business,” it growled. Gulping, Hermione stood a little straighter.

“I need to speak with Bill Weasley,” she said confidently. The goblin eyed her suspiciously.

“Do you have an appointment?” it snarled.

“No, but it's really urgent that I speak to him,” Hermione said, thinking of some sort of
excuse to give to the goblin. “It's a family emergency.” The goblin considered it for a minute
before scribbling something down on a piece of parchment and snapping its fingers, making the
parchment disappear. Within minutes, Bill came dashing out into the lobby.

“I got a message about a family emergen—Hermione!” Bill panted. He pulled Hermione into a hug
which she awkwardly returned. “Mum and Dad have been going spare over you! What's the
emergency?” Hermione glanced around nervously.

“I'll tell you outside,” she said quickly. Nodding, Bill ran outside the building as if
Death Eaters were chasing him. “I'm really sorry, Bill, *activus*,” she muttered under her
breath, activating the Portkey. When she walked outside, Bill looked like he was about to rip his
hair out.

“What's going on, Hermione?” he asked anxiously. Instead of answering, she slapped Bill on
the shoulder, activating the Portkey and taking them back to Grimmauld Place. “Where are we?” he
asked, confused.

“The most noble and ancient house of Black,” a voice said behind him. Bill spun around to see
Harry leaning on a wall. “Former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and my current hiding
spot,” he continued. Bill reached for his wand, but he couldn't find it. He turned around to
see Hermione twirling it in her hand.

“What do you want from me?” Bill asked, trying to sound brave, but Harry could detect the fear
in his voice.

“Your help, actually,” Harry said. “You see, Hermione and I are on a little quest, but it seems
that at least one of our objectives is guarded by traps of unknown amount and nature. You need your
expertise as a curse breaker to get to it. Interested?” Bill thought about what Harry said.

“Why should I trust you, after you kidnapped me?” he spat. Harry simply shrugged.

“Was there anything either of us could have said that would have made you come willingly?” he
asked. Bill realized that he was right; he probably wouldn't have even considered the
possibility of doing this willingly.

“What do I get out of this?” he asked. Again, Harry shrugged.

“What do you want to get out of this?” Bill considered his answer. He quickly came to the
conclusion that nothing mattered more than his family.

“You leave my family alone,” Bill said. Harry nodded in acceptance.

“That I can do. Though it pains me to see that you would think so little of me because of my
condition, I guess I can understand it. We leave at nine tonight. Help yourself to the food in the
pantry.” Nothing more needing to be said, Harry turned around and walked away. Hermione handed Bill
back his wand.

“Can we trust him, Hermione?” Bill asked quietly. “I mean, he *is* a vampire after all.”
Hermione glared at Bill.

“Yes, we can trust him, Bill. He may be a vampire, but he's still Harry. And besides,
you're a werewolf now; between that and your social status, you should know what it's like
being on the wrong end of prejudices.” With a huff, Hermione stormed off, leaving Bill standing in
the middle of the sitting room. “And don't try to Apparate out!” Hermione called out as she
left.

That night, after Harry had lowered the anti-Apparation wards around Grimmauld Place, the three
of them Apparated to the orphanage that Voldemort used to live in, now little more than an
abandoned building. Bill checked the front door for any curses or booby traps and, finding none,
they walked in. Apparently, it had been a while since Bellatrix had last inspected the horcrux, as
her footprints were almost completely covered by a new layer of dust.

“Here,” Harry said, pointing to where the trap door was. Bill pulled out his wand and pointed it
at the trap door.

“*Periculosus revelio*,” he chanted, and the door glowed blue, indicating that there were
no traps. Harry lifted the door up and walked down, Bill and Hermione following. When they reached
the bottom of the stairs, Harry moved aside for Bill to cast the spell again. This time, from about
six inches away from the pedestal, the ground glowed red, and four lines reached to the corners of
the room, highlighting four small crystals. “*Demonstro*,” Bill cast, and he watched as
details of the trap scrolled across his vision, unseen by the other two people in his company.
“This is a lightning trap. You step on the rigged area, and it shoots electricity at you and burns
you to a crisp. I saw a few of these in Egypt, they're not that hard.” A few quick
counter-spells later, and the area was successfully disarmed.

“It's strange that Voldemort—” Bill shuddered when Harry said the name. “You're almost
thirty, Bill, grow a backbone. Anyway, isn't it strange that Voldemort would have such a simple
spell guarding something as important as this?” Hermione shrugged in confusion.

“The only thing I can think of is between its out-of-the-way location, the lethality of the
trap, and that very few people know what exactly this is, I guess he didn't feel the need.”
Bill looked back and forth between the two young adults.

“Okay, what the hell is this, and why is it so important?” he asked. Harry looked straight at
Bill.

“It's Hufflepuff's cup,” Harry said. “It is also a very dangerous object, the nature of
which you cannot know.” Harry walked over to the cup and carefully picked it up off its pedestal.
After realizing that no boulders or painful spells were coming his way, he pulled a folded
pillowcase out of his pocket and dropped the cup inside it, tying it off. “I'll be back,” he
said before disappearing with a crack.

Harry Apparated inside the Chamber of Secrets underneath Hogwarts. Grabbing a stray rock, Harry
transfigured it into a large oak table and placed the cursed chalice on top of it before
Disapparating, the crack echoing within the large, empty chamber.

Hermione and Bill fidgeted nervously while waiting for Harry, even though he was only gone less
than two minutes. When Harry reappeared, he turned to Bill.

“Thanks for the help, Bill,” Harry said, patting the older man on the shoulder. “We really
appreciate the help.” Bill could only stare dumbly at Harry.

“Umm…thanks,” he said, unsure how to react.

“I hope the wedding goes well,” Hermione said. Bill suddenly looked very nervous.

“Umm, yeah, about the wedding…” he said hesitantly. “Between the two of you disappearing, Mum
decided to postpone the wedding.” This shocked both Harry and Hermione.

“What?!” they shouted simultaneously.

“That's not fair to you or Fleur!” Hermione exclaimed. “This wedding is about *you*,
and you shouldn't delay it just because of us.” Bill shrugged helplessly.

“I tried to tell her that you wouldn't want us to delay the wedding on your part, but you
know how she is,” he said. Hermione suddenly got an idea.

“Elope,” she simply said. Bill just looked at her, not understanding. “You and Fleur find the
pastor or whoever is wedding you, maybe grab a couple of close family members for witnesses and
elope! You two should have your happiness while you can.” Bill thought about it, and nodded his
head.

“Fleur and I joked about that when Mum was preparing the wedding, but now…now I think that's
probably the best idea,” he said. He bent down and gave Hermione a hug. “Thanks.” He let go and
after a moment of consideration, gave Harry a handshake. “Next time you need to break into
somewhere, you know where to find me,” he said. Nodding, patted Bill on the arm before they walked
out of the building and went their separate ways. When Harry and Hermione Apparated back to
Grimmauld Place, Harry adopted a pensive look.

“What's on your mind, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Just a bit ashamed that we're the reason why Bill and Fleur aren't married yet,” Harry
said simply. Hermione sighed in dejection.

“Yeah, so am I, but at least they'll have their happiness now.” They simply stood in silence
for a moment before Hermione broke it again. “Are you tired yet?” Harry shook his head.

“Nope. Not time for that, and even if it was, I'm too excited that we got a horcrux. Now all
we need to do is get Nagini, something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's, and
Slytherin's…locket,” he trailed off, looking at the Black family tapestry. Specifically, the
bottom where it said “Regulus Black.” Harry noticed that it didn't have a middle name, and
cursed himself for disposing of Mrs. Black so eagerly, when he remembered something.

“Kreacher!” Harry yelled. With a pop, the filthy pig-nosed house elf popped in front of him.

“What does blood-sucking master wish?” Kreacher asked with a whimper. “And his mudblood wench,
oh how my mistress would be ashamed,” he added in a sotto that Harry could hear as clearly as if
the elf had shouted it.

“Tell me the full name of Regulus Black,” Harry said. Kreacher didn't answer right away, but
instead whimpered. “Tell me!” Unable to defy a direct order from his master, Kreacher relented.

“Regulus Arcturus Black,” he muttered. Harry nodded in satisfaction.

“Did Regulus bring a locket with an ornate `S' on it before he died?” Harry asked. Kreacher
growled; he did not like where this conversation was going.

“Yes,” he admitted sullenly.

“Do you know where it is?” Kreacher grumbled to himself, but he nodded his head. “Bring it to
me.” With a look of contempt, Kreacher popped away to reappear seconds later with a silver locket,
one that Harry recognized as one that no one could open from the purging of the house two years
before. Taking the surprisingly heavy locket from the house elf, he looked down at the being. “Do
you remember your previous orders?” he asked.

“Work at Hogwarts, don't talk or make writing or make signals or nothing to anyone else,”
Kreacher grumbled.

“That's correct,” Harry said. “You are to fall back on those orders until I summon you
again. Dismissed.” Bowing, Kreacher disappeared with a crack. Harry Apparated back to the Chamber
of Secrets to place the locket next to the cup and returned to Grimmauld Place and pulled Hermione
into a hug. “Two horcruxes in one night, I never thought I'd be so lucky,” he said joyously.
Laughing lightly, she patted him on the back and he let go.

“So, what do you want to do until we get tired?” she asked. Harry shrugged.

“Exploding snap? I have a deck in my trunk.” Hermione, for once, didn't really feel like
studying, so she nodded in acceptance. Harry ran into his room to get his deck, and they played
exploding snap until almost five in the morning.

----

Wow, over ten pages, my longest one yet.

FINALLY, I got the origin of the vampires out in the open. I hope you liked it.

I hope you enjoyed that chapter.

Don't forget to read and review!

-->



6. Chapter 6
------------



Well, I got Deathly Hallows yesterday, and even though I've only read twelve chapters, I can
already tell I'm going to be disappointed. The dialogue is horrible, the trio is ridiculously
OOC, and it just reads like a bad fanfiction to me. There was one scene in particular that made my
blood boil (I think it's in chapter six…you know the one). Harry acts like a spoiled brat,
Hermione is a nagging bitch (and if a die-hard H/Hr shipper like myself can say that, well…I
can't really blame Emma for wanting to quit), and Ron is…well, I don't know what Ron is,
but it ain't good.

While it is far from the worst story I've read (I've seen some pretty horrible
fanfiction floating around), it is far from the best. Nevertheless, there were some ideas that
intrigued me, and will be integrated into this story.

As usual, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, Gin-bitch would be dead, the horcruxes
wouldn't exist, and Harmony would have been established a long time ago!

----

Remus was, simply put, falling apart. In the past week, he had gotten maybe a couple hours of
sleep and spent the rest of the time worrying over what may have happened to Harry. Then Hermione
disappears, and the entire Order is in a panic. Then he finds out that Harry is a vampire, and to
top it all off, the wizarding world was all but under Voldemort's rule now. He was certain that
if it weren't for his new and pregnant wife, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, he would have snapped long
ago. Remus idly fiddled with his gold wedding band, lost in his thoughts, when he heard a soft
padding behind him.

“Remus, you can't keep beating yourself up like this,” Tonks said tiredly. “Harry
wouldn't want you to get yourself killed because you're too tired to even walk straight.”
Remus sighed as he stood up from his chair.

“I can't sleep, Dora, not with everything that's been going on,” Remus groaned, running
his fingers through his graying hair. “I can't sleep knowing that Harry and Hermione are doing
Merlin knows what, and I can't be there to help them. I can't sleep knowing that I failed
Lily and James…again.” Tears welling up in her eyes, Tonks strode over to her husband and wrapped
him in a tight hug.

“You didn't fail them, babe, there was nothing you could have done,” she whispered. “Right
now, the best thing you can do right now is come to bed and get a decent night's sleep.” She
pulled back and looked into Remus' gray, watery eyes. “If you won't do it for yourself,
then do it for me,” she continued, taking his hands and placing one on her cheek, placing the other
on her abdomen. “Do it for our baby.” Slowly, Remus nodded and bent down to kiss Tonks softly on
the lips.

“I'm sorry, Dora,” he whispered, pulling her close. “I love you.” Tonks sniffled into his
shoulder, unable to hold the tears back any longer.

“I love you too, Remy,” she said. Together, they walked back to their bedroom and held each
other through the long, dark night.

The next night, Harry, Hermione and the photo of Albus Dumbledore were gathered together,
discussing possible ways to destroy the Horcruxes.

“Blast it?” Harry offered. Hermione shook her head.

“I doubt that Voldemort would have made his Horcruxes that easy to destroy,” she countered.
Harry thought of a different tactic.

“Melt it?” Harry suggested. Hermione considered it, and then shook her head.

“We don't have a furnace here that can get hot enough to melt the metal, and if we used an
acid, we'd need one that's on the level of basilisk venom in potency, which is very
dangerous to acquire and handle.”

“And the only basilisk we have has been dead for five years, and the venom is all dried out,”
Harry added, closing his eyes and dropping his head on the table in frustration. “Damn it,
we're screwed.”

“Come now, Harry, wars were never won on the words `I give up'. You'll figure something
out,” Albus' image said reassuringly. Harry lifted his head up and glared at the photo.

“I don't see you coming up with any ideas,” he said darkly. “To that point, you never told
me how you destroyed Gaunt's ring.” Albus suddenly looked very nervous.

“As I told you before, Harry, I'm simply a copy, I don't hold all the memories of the
original,” he said calmly, but he had no twinkle in his eyes. Harry narrowed his eyes at the
portrait.

“You're lying, I know you are,” Harry growled, ignoring Hermione's gasp of outrage. “We
may both be immortal, Albus, but I have neither the time nor the patience to wait for you to fess
up, so tell me how you did it, or I'll take you to a Muggle office supply store and feed you
into a paper shredder,” he continued. Albus merely looked at him nonplussed.

“I can merely return to my portrait hanging in the Headmaster's office, Harry, you know
that,” he said.

“And I can Apparate into Hogwarts, so it's no real feat of difficulty for me to pop in, rip
your portrait off the wall, and pop out. So again, how did you destroy Gaunt's ring?” Albus
sighed in defeat at Harry's persistence and straightened up to tell him.

“I put it on,” he said simply. Both young adults stared at the photo, shocked.

“You put the ring on,” Hermione repeated softly.

“That's it?!” Harry yelled. “You just slipped it on your finger?”

“And as you saw, I lost my right hand in the process, Harry,” Albus said firmly. “That is
precisely why I didn't tell you that procedure. Activating a Horcrux and destroying it while
the soul inside is trying to stop you is very dangerous. The Chamber of Secrets fiasco is a prime
example.” Harry clenched his hands on the edge of the table, his anger slowly slipping away.

“I'm sorry, Albus, but as you no doubt know, I'm sick and tired of having secrets kept
from me.” Harry cast a glance at the silver chalice sitting innocently on the table. “But now I
know what to do with this,” he added, snatching the cup and walking away.

“Where are you going?” Hermione called after him.

“To get a drink,” Harry yelled back. It didn't immediately register to Hermione what he
said, but when it did, she took off after him in a mad dash. She ran into the kitchen to see Harry
pouring the last remnants of a container of blood into the now full cup.

“Harry, don't do it! We'll think of something else,” she pleaded. Harry just looked at
her with a look of resolution in his eyes.

“Don't come in until you hear silence,” he said. He flicked his wand, and she was knocked
down on her back and sliding across the floor. He flicked his wand again, and the door closed and
locked itself with a sickening squelch. She got back on her feet and banged on the kitchen door
with her hands.

“Harry! Harry, don't do this! Harry!” She screamed, but Harry ignored her. He transfigured a
knife into a large axe, and squashing away any fear he had, drank the blood in the cup. The
normally smooth and sweet blood now poured down his throat rough and hot, but Harry kept drinking,
until every last drop was swallowed. Searing hot pain rushed through his body, and he dropped the
cup as he fell to the floor, curling into a fetal position, screaming in anguish. He opened his
eyes to see a ghostly green mist swirling out of the badger engraved on the cup, and it coalesced
into the form of Tom Riddle, somewhere in his twenties. Riddle opened his eyes and looked around in
confusion.

“What is this place? Who are you?” he sneered at the crumpled form of Harry. With a visible
amount of pain, Harry managed to pull himself back onto his feet.

“That's not important,” Harry said, grabbing the axe. “What is important that you're
going to be destroyed.” With a yell, Harry swung the axe at Riddle, who in his surprise did not
dodge it. However, instead of blood and gore, only a bright white light shone from the wound, which
quickly sealed. After realizing what happened, Riddle emitted a cold, humorless laugh.

“You can't kill me that way, fool,” he chuckled. Harry just grinned patronizingly.

“I know,” he said. “But I can this way,” he continued, swinging the axe down on the cup, which
gave a resonating gong, but was otherwise unaffected.

“*No*!” Riddle screamed, realizing what Harry was trying to do. He tried to wrench the axe
out of Harry's hands, but the young vampire kicked Riddle in the stomach, knocking him down.
Harry brought the axe down on the cup again, and this time, a small split appeared on the edge, and
Riddle's body began to disintegrate. Struck with agonizing pain, the Horcrux soul could not
move to stop Harry, so he continued to bring the axe down on the cup. Slowly, the split in the
metal grew, until with a mighty swing, the cup was split in two.

Harry tiredly threw the axe down, ignoring the screams from Riddle's soul behind him. But as
he drew his wand to unlock the door, Riddle's soul exploded behind him, sending him flying
through the door, smashing it. The last thing he saw before his world went black was Hermione
kneeling over him with a look of panic on her face.

Hermione normally prided herself on being very level-headed in times of crisus, but when Harry
locked the door to battle the Horcrux, she panicked. Forgetting that she had left her wand
upstairs, or that she even had one, she began banging on the door with her fists to get it to open,
and then tried to kick it when that failed. After several minutes of beating the door vainly, she
suddenly remembered that she had a wand, and ran back into her room to retrieve it like Voldemort
himself was chasing her. She ran back to the doorway just in time to see Harry being thrown through
the door. Screaming, she dropped down onto her knees, watching as Harry went unconscious. Quickly
brushing off the splinters on Harry's body, she grabbed him from under the arms and dragged him
to the nearest bedroom, where she struggled to haul him onto the bed. She immediately began taking
off Harry's thick, protective clothes to inspect his body for damage. When she pulled his
T-shirt off, she normally would have blushed at Harry's well-toned body, but now was not the
time to be bashful. She carefully ran her fingers down his arms, chest and back, but could find no
evidence of damage. Evidently, his dragon hide armor had done its job. But there was the issue of
Harry's catatonic state. Not knowing anything about vampire physiology, all she could do was
bring the blanket up to his armpits to protect his modesty and summon a rag and bowl of water to
begin cleaning the ash off of Harry's face.

Harry groaned as he slowly cracked one eye open, and then the other, but he felt strange. He
felt…weightless. When he tried to move, he found that he couldn't. He took in his surroundings
and saw that he was in a dark room, surrounded by people in black robes and silver masks. He also
saw a young woman hovering before him, utter fear in her eyes.

“Severus,” Harry hissed, gesturing to a Death Eater to his right. “Would you care to do the
honors?” As Snape raised his wand, white-hot hatred for his former potions master welled up inside
of him, that his host raised his hand. “Wait.”

Lord Voldemort was in a good mood today. He had just put all the pieces into position to take
over the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts, and he was going to watch the execution of a particularly
annoying Mudblood to boot. “Severus, would you care to do the honors?” he offered. Unable to see
his face behind his mask, Snape raised his wand and prepared to fire the killing curse, when
Voldemort felt a vaguely familiar feeling in his mind. He suddenly felt intense hatred for his
follower. “Wait,” Voldemort said, raising his hand. Snape stopped mid-curse and stared at his
master in confusion. He could see a growing look of frustration on Voldemort's face as the
barely-human dark lord glared at an invisible object. Suddenly, the thin, pale man stood up from
his throne.

“I have urgent business to attend to; send the Mudblood back to her cell and return to your
tasks.” With quiet grumbles of disappointment, two Death Eaters violently grabbed the woman and
dragged her back to her cell while Voldemort returned to his quarters. Voldemort laid his hands on
either side of the wall where a mirror hung and glared into his reflection. “Who are you?” he
snarled to himself. Seeing no way out of his predicament, Harry answered back mentally, *Take a
guess*. Voldemort smiled nastily at the answer. “Ahh, Harry, now nice of you to join me.
It's been a while since we've last spoken. How's Dumbledore? Oh wait, he's dead
now, isn't he? My mistake.” Harry was unamused by Voldemort's sarcasm, and if he had eyes,
he would roll them. “But I'm afraid that you're on private property, now *leave*!”
Voldemort sent a Legilimency probe at Harry, who instinctively raised his Occlumency shields. To
their mutual surprise, Harry successfully managed to completely block Voldemort's attack.

“Ahh, so you learned a few new tricks, I see. Well, let's see how long you last!” Again,
Voldemort unleashed a vicious mental attack against Harry, who successfully blocked it again.
*Bring it on*, Harry thought smugly.

For almost two weeks, Voldemort locked himself in his room, not allowing anyone inside except
the house elf that brought his food and water. For every minute of those weeks, he was locked in
mental combat with Harry, not sparing even a moment's rest, and it was showing. While Harry,
even though he could feel the fatigue and hunger from not eating or sleeping for weeks, he could
tell that Voldemort was much worse off. Voldemort's attacks were becoming so weak, Harry could
barely feel them anymore. Suddenly coming up with an idea, Harry pushed his way through
Voldemort's weakened mental shields and pushed his consciousness down, possessing his body.

Harry slowly clenched his hands and walked around to gain a feel for his new body. He heard a
crack behind him and instinctively spun around, brandishing his wand, to see a terrified house elf
carrying a tray of food.

“Bring me the one named Wormtail,” Harry ordered the elf. Nodding fearfully, the house elf
vanished with a pop, only to appear a second later with Wormtail in tow. “You may leave us,” Harry
told the elf. Bowing, the house elf disappeared again, leaving the two men alone.

“Wormtail,” Harry hissed to the balding, cowering man before him. “I have a task for you.”
Shuddering in fear, Wormtail only nodded. “Firstly, you are to find Snape and the Malfoy boy and
tell them I require their presence. After that, you are to release the prisoners.” Wormtail looked
up in confusion at the second order.

“Which ones, my lord?” he whimpered.

“All of them, alive and unharmed,” Harry said simply. Wormtail didn't understand his
master's reasoning, but knew better than to ask, so he scurried out of the room to find Snape
and Malfoy. After Wormtail had left, Voldemort tried to regain control of his body, but the
currently superior Harry knocked him back down. Several minutes later, Snape and Malfoy entered
Voldemort's chambers.

“You summoned us, my lord?” Snape said as they both bowed. Flicking the door closed with his
wand, Harry looked down at them, resisting the urge to kill them immediately.

“Yes, I did,” Harry hissed emotionlessly. “I have a task for you two, but first, I require your
wands.” Snape and Malfoy looked at each other nervously, but they handed Harry their wands, which
he set down. “Now, take a nap,” Harry said, quickly stunning the both of them. Taking a couple
pieces of spare parchment and turning them into portkeys, he bound them and sent them to Grimmauld
Place. Suddenly, Harry felt his control over Voldemort's body as his hunger came back with a
vengance.

For two weeks, Hermione has tended to Harry's comatose form. But after cleaning his face,
there was nothing she could do except sit by him and hope that he would wake up. Hermione heard a
thump come from the floor below, and she grabbed her wand to investigate. She carefully walked down
the stairs and into the kitchen to see the unconscious and rope-bound forms of Severus Snape and
Draco Malfoy. After stunning them again for good measure, she levitated them to a bedroom and
dropped them down.

“Dobby?” she asked, and the excitable little house elf popped in, many colorful hats balancing
on his head.

“Dobby come for Harry Potter's miss!” Dobby said joyfully. Not commenting as to how she was
“Harry's miss,” she smiled kindly down at Dobby.

“Dobby, could you watch these two while I set the anti-Apparation wards, please? And also, could
you change their clothes and confiscate any items on their person? That'd be great.” Dobby
shook his head vigorously, his hats flying everywhere.


“Dobby will watch bad master and slimy man for Harry Potter's miss!” Shaking her head, she
closed the door and left the house elf to his guard duty while she set the wards to not allow any
Apparation into or out of that room. Her job finished, she returned to the room, where the two
unconscious Death Eaters had been changed into no doubt the filthiest clothes that Dobby could
find.

“Dobby, when they wake up, can you take care of them?” Dobby spun around, his tennis-ball-like
eyes threatening to pop out of his head. “By no means do you have to treat them well, but we need
them alive for now.” Reluctantly, Dobby nodded, and resumed staring resolutely at his two wards.
Hermione simply closed the door and walked back up to Harry's room, where he laid still as
always.

“You wouldn't believe our luck, Harry,” Hermione whispered, stroking Harry's hair.
“Someone stunned Snape and Malfoy and brought them here. Dobby's watching them now, and they
didn't have their wands, so I think we're safe.” Hermione sat quietly, lightly tracing his
scar. “Please wake up, Harry. I miss you.” Slowly, she bent over and softly pressed her warm lips
to his cold ones. *He'll never know*, she thought as she kissed him. When she sat up, she
heard Harry groan softly.

“Hermione?” he mumbled. Joyfully, Hermione leaned closer to him.

“I'm here, Harry,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. Instead of responding, she
heard a bestial growl coming from Harry's throat. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and he lunged
to her. Before she could react or even scream, she felt a sharp pain in her neck as Harry plunged
his fangs into her.

----

Hmm…. This is a rather gloomy turn of events. Oh, what will happen next?

Don't forget to read and review!

-->



7. Chapter 7
------------



Well, all you reviewers who asked me whether Hermione would become a vampire or not will finally
have a definitive answer.

I don't own Harry Potter. I own Darknight, any future original characters, and some
physiological aspects of vampirism.

----

As Hermione's blood flowed smoothly down Harry's throat, his mind, once twisted and
addled with hunger, soon became clear, and memories began flashing across his vision, like a poorly
edited film.

*A six-year-old girl, wobbling slightly as she attempted to ride a bicycle for the first
time.*

*A seven-year-old, crying while other kids laughed and kicked her bag of books around.*

*A twelve-year-old, picking up an envelope addressed to her, with a strange seal stamped on
the back. A seal with a lion, a badger, an eagle and a serpent.*

*The same twelve-year-old, sitting nervously on a stool as a large pointed hat is placed on
her head.*

*The twelve-year-old, sitting on a toilet lid, curled into a ball while crying softly.*

*A fourteen-year-old, accepting a strange golden necklace from an older woman.*

*A sixteen-year-old, standing in a dark, filthy pub in front of a large group of other
students.*

*A seventeen-year-old, sending shrieking yellow canaries towards a tall-redheaded boy.*

*An eighteen-year-old, kissing a pale boy softly on the lips while he slept.*

Harry threw himself off of Hermione, gasping. Hermione fell on the bed, clutching her throat as
she continued to bleed. Panicking, Harry hastily tore off a section of the bed sheet and wadded
into a ball, pressing it against the wound on her throat.

“I'm so sorry, Hermione,” Harry sobbed as he pressed the wad of cloth against her neck,
trying to stop the bleeding. “Please forgive me, I'm so sorry.”

“Harry...” Hermione gasped, feeling her life slipping away. “I...I...” she stuttered, but her
mind was going fuzzy from the blood loss.

“Everything's going to be okay, Hermione, just hold on!” Harry said, wracking his brain to
try and remember a healing spell, but he couldn't remember.

“Harry, I...lo...I lo...” she whispered as her eyes began to flutter. Harry gasped as she saw
how far gone she was, and knew he had only one way to save her.

“I'm sorry, Hermione,” he said as he pulled his wand out. “Diffindo,” he chanted, hissing in
pain as he sliced a gash into his wrist, and held the wound to her lips, where she began to suck
greedily. She drank until her eyes fluttered closed, and she completely collapsed onto the bed.
Tearing off a fresh piece of sheet, he wrapped the rag around his wrist to seal the wound, and
cleaned the blood off of Hermione's neck and mouth, before picking her up and Apparating to
another bedroom, where he gently set her down. Harry looked down at Hermione's slumbering form,
before hesitantly kissing her on the forehead. “Forgive me,” he whispered again as he stood up and
quietly walked out and closed the door behind him. As Harry walked out, he idly wondered if a
vampire could get drunk.

Harry dug into the pantry and pulled out a large, amber bottle of Odgen's firewhiskey.
Instead of pouring it into a glass, Harry pulled the cap off and took a gulp straight from the
bottle, nearly gagging as the alcohol burned his throat on its way down. As soon as the firewhiskey
passed through his esophagus and into his stomach, a searing pain shot through Harry's body,
emanating from his abdomen, feeling like his stomach had caught fire. Harry fell to his knees
before projectile vomiting all over the kitchen, the floor splattered by thin, red liquid. Harry
groaned in pain while he flicked his wand, cleaning the mess that he had made.

Harry crawled into the pantry and pulled out a container of pig's blood and drained the
entire container to satiate his newborn hunger. His stomach filled once more, Harry pulled himself
to his feet and walked out of the kitchen. Harry thought about interrogating Snape and Malfoy, but
decided against it since between his anger towards the two of them combined with the anger he was
feeling towards himself, he might fly into a rage and kill them before he could glean any useful
information from them. So Harry levitated a sofa so that it sat in front of the fireplace, started
a fire and levitated a log into the blaze, and finally sat down and stared into the fire, watching
the log wither away into ash.

Hermione stirred from her slumber, groaning as she stretched. Where am I? she thought groggily.
She remembered Snape and Malfoy's unconscious forms appearing, ordering Dobby to watch them,
and then she returned to Harry….

And Harry bit her.

Hermione shot straight up as she remembered what happened. She felt her neck, and felt two small
puncture scars where her jugular was. She ran to the nearest bathroom and stared at her reflection
in the mirror. She looked mostly the same, aside from her bloody clothes, but her once slightly
tanned skin had gone pale, and her eyes, once dark, murky brown, had become lighter, an almost
honey color. She bared her teeth, and saw that her canines had grown to become two long fangs.
Tears started welling up in her eyes, but she quickly patted them away with a towel. After going
back to her room and changing into new clothes, as well as disposing of the old ones, she walked
down the stairs to see Harry sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the last few embers
flicker away.

“I never should have written to you,” Harry said as she approached, even though he didn't
look in her direction. “I never should have asked you to join me. I'm cursed; everyone I care
about seems to get hurt or die nowadays. My parents, Cedric, Sirius, Albus, and now you. When is it
going to stop?” he asked, mostly to himself. Instead of answering, Hermione just walked over to the
sofa and sat silently next to him.

“Their deaths weren't your fault, Harry,” Hermione said, placing a hand on his arm. “There
was nothing you could do for Cedric. Sirius, Dumbledore, your parents, they all died to protect
you.”


“And you?” Harry asked, not looking at her. “Whose fault is it that you're a vampire now?”
Hermione swallowed quietly before answering.

“Mine,” she said simply. Harry quickly turned his head to her in confusion, and she saw that he
seemed to have been crying for some time. “I never should have hovered over you like that. It was
stupid of me. You were in a coma for two weeks; I should have known that you would be hungry after
not feeding for that long.” Hermione paused as she wiped away a tear. “In a strange, twisted sense,
I'm kind of glad that you turned me,” she continued, shocking Harry. “The truth is I was
scared. I was scared to die. I would never abandon you for my own ambitions, but there's still
so much I want to do. I wanted to graduate, maybe expand S.P.E.W., or maybe become a healer, or go
to a Muggle university, or something. I wanted to fall in love, get married, and have children.” By
now, tears were freely rolling down Hermione's cheeks. “I mean yes, part of me is angry,
because now I'll never be able to have any of that, but another part of me is glad that I
didn't die…I just don't know why yet.” For several moments, they just sat silently, until
Harry reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand.

“I'm sorry for taking all that away from you,” he whispered. “No one should be condemned to
this life, but I panicked, and I couldn't lose you, so I did the first thing I could think of.”
Harry chuckled darkly. “I guess this just blew any chance you had with Ron,” he said casually.
Hermione gaped at him.

“What would possess you to think that I liked Ron?” she gasped. Harry suddenly looked very
nervous.

“Erm…the way that Ron reacted at the Yule Ball, it was pretty obvious that he fancied you, and
the way you acted all jealous last year, I figured you fancied him too. And then there was the
funeral,” he said. Hermione just shook her head at him.

“I don't fancy him, Harry. Sure, I might have thought about it, but I quickly realized that
with all the bickering we do, we'd likely be at each others' throats all the time. And the
funeral? Ron was just a convenient shoulder to cry on. And besides, I kind of…fancied someone
else.” Harry cocked his eyebrow at her.

“Oh? Is it someone I know?” he asked teasingly. Hermione laughed, even though inside, she was
beyond terrified that he had figured it out.


“Maybe,” she said evasively. Harry stroked an imaginary goatee as he thought about it.

“It is a bloke that you fancy, right?” he asked, which earned him a hard slap in the arm. “Okay,
okay, I was just checking. Is it McLaggen?” he asked, throwing in the first name he thought of.
Hermione scrunched her nose in disgust.

“Why the hell would I fancy that egotistical prat?” she asked.

“I guess that means you don't fancy Malfoy then?” If Hermione were drinking something, she
would have sprayed it all over the room. As it was, she merely cast a withering glare at him.

“You would have to be on some pretty powerful drugs to think that I would ever fancy Draco
Malfoy,” she growled. Harry grinned cheekily.

“Who said anything about Draco? I was talking about Lucius.” With a shriek, Hermione tackled
Harry to the ground, where they wrestled on the floor, laughing like little children. When they
stopped, they both realized that they were in a very compromising position, with Hermione
straddling Harry's waist and her face mere inches from his. Unable to blush, she got off of him
and pulled him up, both with stupid grins on their faces.

“Thanks for that, Hermione,” Harry said as he stood beside her. “It felt good to laugh again.”
He bent down to kiss her on the cheek, but didn't see Hermione turn her head.

“You're welcome, Ha—” she started as she turned her head, but was cut off when Harry's
lips unexpectedly pressed into hers. They simply stood there, too stunned to move, before they
separated.

“Sorry,” she said quickly as she turned to leave. But as she started to walk away, Harry
suddenly remembered something.

“Hermione, wait,” he said, and she stopped, fearing the worst. “Why did you kiss me?” Hermione
gulped nervously.

“It was just an accident, Harry, it was nothing,” she said, not turning to face him.

“Not that; yesterday, you kissed me while I was still in a coma. Why?” Hermione was glad that
she was facing away from him, for her tears began to fall again.

“Don't make me answer that, Harry,” she said in a barely audible whisper. She gasped as she
felt Harry laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Hermione,” he whispered. “The boy you fancy…is it me?” Hermione could finally contain it no
longer.

“Yes! Yes, I fancy you!” she shouted, turning to face him. “It's been you since the end of
second year! I watched and I waited and I hoped for four years that you would notice me, but that
day never came,” she sobbed as she collapsed into Harry's arms. Harry pulled her closer as she
cried all her sorrows, all her heartache into his shoulder. When her sobbing had descended into
sniffles, he carefully pulled her away and lifted her head.

“Hermione,” he whispered, wiping away the stray tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “I want
you to know that Ginny and I are through. I may have broken up with her to keep her safe, but
now…now I don't feel anything when I think of her.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Hermione whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. Harry gulped
nervously as he stared down into hers.

“Because, even though any potential feelings I have for you, or anyone has been rather low on my
priority list, considering all that's happened, it tears me up to see you hurting like this. I
can't honestly say whether I fancy you or not, but…I'm willing to give us a try.” Hermione
fought to keep new tears from forming at these words.

“And if we don't work out? What if we end up having a bitter break-up and hating each other
forever?” she gasped.

“I could never hate you, and you have said twice that you could never hate me, so we'll
cross that bridge when we get there,” Harry assured. He hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“Hermione, will you be my girlfriend?” Hermione nodded her head softly.

“Yes, I'll be your girlfriend,” she whispered. Harry pulled her back onto the sofa and
pulled her into his arms, and they sat like that for hours. No kisses, no small talk, just holding
each other tightly.

That night, Hermione waved her wand one last time over a letter before folding it and stuffing
it in an envelope and sealing it.

“Done,” she said, handing Harry the envelope.

“Thanks, I just hope we're not too late,” Harry said, mostly to himself, before
Disapparating with a crack. He appeared a few meters away from the Burrow, the living place of the
enormous Weasley family. Needing to contact on of its members, Harry pulled a pebble out of the
dirt and flung it as hard as he could.

The Weasley family was currently enjoying its weekly family dinner with a new addition, Fleur
Delacour Weasley. It took over a week of near-constant arguing with his mother, but Bill had
managed to continue the wedding without Harry and Hermione, saying that that's what they would
have wanted. They were currently laughing at a joke that the twins had told when they heard a
tapping on the window.

“Bill, could you be a darling and check to see what that is?” Molly asked. Bill obediently stood
up and looked outside the window. He blanched when he saw a pale figure in black clothes standing
out in the fields, pointing away from the house before walking away.

“It's just a gnome throwing rocks around, Mum, I'll go get rid of it,” he said quickly,
rushing out the door. He bent over by the window for a few seconds to make the impression that he
was digging for the gnome, then ran in the direction that Harry had went, yelling profanities to
the imaginary garden gnome.

When Bill arrived at where Harry was waiting, he was covered in dirt and gasping for breath.

“I thought I told you not to bother my family,” he snapped, although the image of him with his
hands on his knees, panting had destroyed the image of intimidation.

“I'm not bothering them; I'm bothering you,” Harry said simply, drawing an envelope out
of his pocket. “I need you to send this to Remus and Tonks for me, since this is too sensitive to
send by owl. Make sure that no one else knows about this.” Bill nodded his head and took the
envelope, folding it and stuffing it deep enough in his back pocket that it didn't stick out.
“Good luck catching that gnome,” Harry said cheekily before Disapparating. Muttering words that he
wouldn't dare repeat to his mother, Bill walked back to the Burrow.

“Well, I had to chase that little bas - bugger halfway across the property, but I got it,” Bill
said, triumphantly dusting his hands. “I'm going to go wash up, and I just remembered I needed
to ask Remus something, so I'll be back.” As the twins waved good-bye dramatically, Bill dashed
to the nearest bathroom to clean his face and hands, then walked to the Floo and fire-called
Remus.

“Bill, what's going on?” Remus asked, frowning in concern. After looking around to make sure
no one was looking, Bill reached into his pocket and withdrew the letter.

“I ran into Harry a few minutes ago, and he told me to give you this,” he whispered, passing
Remus the envelope through the flames.

“Harry? Is he okay?” Remus asked, taking the letter. Bill shrugged.

“He seemed fine, or as fine as he can be,” Bill said. “I might as well ask this while I'm
here,” he muttered. “So Remus,” he said in a normal tone. “From one bloke to another, what should I
do when Fleur gets pregnant? Just for future reference?” Remus smiled knowingly.

“Just nod your head and say, `Yes, dear', no matter how absurd the request,” Remus said in a
slightly louder than necessary voice, before cutting off the connection. Bill sighed as he stood up
and walked down to finish enjoying his mother's cooking.

Remus stood up from the fireplace and looked at the letter in his hand, addressed to himself and
Tonks in Harry's messy scrawl. After calling his wife down, who had just begun showing her
pregnancy, they opened the letter and read it together.

Dear Remus and Tonks,

You're probably worrying about us, and I'm sorry for that, but things have been a bit
hectic here. I can't really say too much more about it, but I want to let you know that
we're fine, and hope that you are as well.

Cheers,


Harry.

Below the letter was a postscript written in Hermione's neat handwriting.

P.S. If you ever need sanctuary, you can find it at Number 12 Grimmauld Place

P.S.S. Destroy this letter after you read it.

Remus and Tonks were shocked, but were both relieved that they were okay. As they placed the
letter on a plate and burned it, Remus held Tonks close.

“We can go tomorrow night,” he told his wife. “I still need to wrap my mind around this.” Tonks
merely grunted in agreement before snuggling next to her husband, watching the paper wither
away.

----

Man, this chapter was difficult to write, particularly pretty much everything before Harry
giving Bill the letter. I hope you liked it.

Don't forget to read and review!

EDIT 8/09/07: Due to a bug that caused most of the fic to appear in italics, I have reposted
this.

-->



8. Chapter 8
------------



Okay, I'm back with another chapter. And for those of you who are fans of Darknight (you
know who you are), he will reappear in this chapter.

I own Darknight and the plot. Everything else belongs to J. K. Rowling…unfortunately.

----

Voldemort growled menacingly as he gulped down the third headache potion the course of a few
hours. His mental battle with the Potter brat had left him physically exhausted, and when he awoke,
he had a headache so strong he could barely see straight. A soft knocking emanated from his
door.

“What?!” he snapped. The door creaked open to show a young Death Eater whose name he
couldn't remember at the moment.

“I have information on Harry Potter, my lord,” the young servant said nervously. “I heard that
Harry Potter is suspected to be a vampire, and was probably the one who killed Bellatrix Lestrange,
something that the other members of her strike team could not say for certain. The Ministry has
issued an arrest and/or elimination warrant for him.” The Death Eater gulped before adding, “this
was two weeks ago.” Clutching his head, Voldemort beckoned the shaking Death Eater closer. When the
man was halfway into the room, Voldemort whipped out his wand and cast a *Cruciatus* curse on
the unfortunate servant, who writhed on the floor in anguish.

“Why did you not tell me this before?!” Voldemort roared, instantly regretting it as the pain in
his skull intensified.

“I am sorry, my lord,” the Death Eater gasped. “I planned to tell you after the Mudblood's
execution, but you had fallen ill, and this was the first opportunity I had to speak to you.”
Voldemort growled, but was too pained to do anything more, and waved the Death Eater away. So,
Potter was a vampire now, eh? That would explain his greater than normal Occlumency shields; no
wizard save Dumbledore could have resisted his mental attacks. A hunch gnawed in the back of the
dark lord's mind.

It was time to summon a recent acquaintance for a meeting.

In a cave in some far distant land, where it was dark most of the year and the ground was
covered by snow and ice for just as long, a cloaked figure watched as another one finished tying a
string around a square package, shrinking it and placing it inside a pocket.

“Okay, that part's done,” the second figure said, before turning to the first figure. “I
don't like Riddle any more than most people, but why did we need to turn the boy? What good can
he do?” The first figure sighed tiredly.

“The boy was charged by fate to be the one to vanquish Tom Riddle. Unfortunately, his mentor
failed to give him the necessary tools to accomplish such a task. Our curse is not one I would
bestow upon anyone lightly, but I felt it was necessary at the time.” The second figure raised his
eyebrow.

“And now?” he inquired.

“And now, although it pains me greatly, I feel that it is still necessary.” A soft vibrating
coming from the pocket of the second figure interrupted their conversation. The figure pulled out a
small pendant cast in the shape of a serpent, vibrating and glowing red.

“I am sorry, but I must leave,” the second figure said before Disapparating with a crack.

“So basically, we tried to do the task that Dumbledore told us to do, but we got jumped by a
vampire. I chased it off, but not before it bit you, I panicked and turned you. Is that correct?”
Harry asked, pacing nervously.

“Yes, Harry,” Hermione said. They had no doubt that Remus and Tonks would inquire as to why
Hermione was a vampire, and spent the day fabricating and rehearsing a cover story. After all, they
didn't need to know that Harry was the one who turned her. They both glanced anxiously at the
clock, which read 7:42. Ten minutes later, they heard a rapid knock coming from the front door.
Harry walked over and was about to open it when he realized that there was a small possibility that
it wasn't them.

“What did my boggart turn into back in third year?” Harry asked through the door.

“It was a dementor, because of the memories of your parents' deaths that they brought out,”
a muffled voice said from the other side. “What did I give you when we first met?”

“A piece of chocolate. You had to assure me that it wasn't poisoned before I would eat it,”
Harry said, opening the door, showing a tired-looking Remus Lupin and green-haired Nymphadora
Tonks. Harry noticed that she seemed larger than the last time they met. Harry stepped aside to let
them in before closing and locking the door. For a moment, the four people just stood in place,
staring at each other awkwardly, before Remus slowly extended his hand. Harry carefully took it,
and Remus pulled the younger man into a hug.

“Thank Merlin you're okay, Harry,” Remus whispered, tears falling from his eyes. Seeing that
the relationship between the two men was still intact, Hermione and Tonks hugged each other, but
Tonks tensed at Hermione's touch.

“You're a lot colder than I remember, Hermione,” the older woman said, rubbing her arms to
warm them up. Hermione laughed awkwardly, rubbing her neck where the bite scars were.

“Yeah, we ran into some...complications,” she said evasively. Tonks grunted in discomfort as she
straightened her back, and Hermione squealed in delight when she saw Tonks' swollen belly. The
two men instinctively whipped their wands out to their position, but saw Hermione pulling Tonks
into another hug.

“What was that about?” Harry asked, sheathing his wand.

“She's pregnant, Harry!” Hermione said excitedly. Harry looked at Tonks closely, and saw
that her belly was larger than normal, but he thought it was just his imagination.

“Congratulations, old man,” Harry said, clapping Remus on the shoulder. “It *is* yours,
right?” he added.

“Of course it's his,” Tonks said, grabbing Remus by the hand and pulling towards her. “I
swear, the man makes lo—” she began, but was interrupted by Harry and Hermione.

“Too much information!” they shouted simultaneously.

“So, how's the rest of the world been since we've been gone?” Harry asked as they sat
down and Hermione brought them water. Immediately, Remus and Tonks' smiles faded.

“Not good, Harry,” Remus said. “Scrimgeour was killed and replaced with one of Voldemort's
puppets. Now, all Muggleborns must register at the Ministry of Magic, with Umbridge at the helm.”
Hermione looked ready to explode, but Harry held her hand, and her anger simmered down. “Voldemort
has also taken over Hogwarts, with Snape acting as Headmaster.” Harry and Hermione shared a knowing
glance with each other. Remus looked between the two vampires.

“Is there something I should know about?” Remus asked.

“Well, Snape won't be running Hogwarts, because...well, come with us,” Hermione said,
beckoning the others to follow her. When they reached the room that Snape and Malfoy were being
kept in, she opened the door. Dobby heard the door open and turned his head to them.

“Greetings, miss - AAAAAHHHH!!!” the house elf screamed as he saw the two vampires standing in
the doorway.

“Dobby, it's okay, it's us,” Hermione assured the frightened house elf. A few more words
of comfort, and Dobby calmed himself down enough to continue guarding the two prisoners. Harry
glanced to Remus to see a murderous look on his face.

“If I put you two in the same room, will you promise me you won't kill him?” Harry asked.
“We haven't interrogated him yet, and it wouldn't do for you to kill him before we get all
we can from him.” Remus took a few deep, calming breaths, and nodded. Harry turned to Dobby.
“Dobby, can you move Malfoy to a separate room for a while, please?” Nodding, the house elf snapped
his fingers, and he and Malfoy vanished into thin air. As he, Hermione and Tonks left the room,
Harry turned to Remus. “Remember, we need him alive. Have fun,” he said before closing the door.
Remus cast a locking charm on the door and revived Snape. The greasy man seemed disoriented for a
moment, but quickly got his bearings, and glared hatefully at Remus.

“Lupin,” Snape spat. Remus flashed an uncharacteristically malicious smirk as he approached
him.

“I've been waiting a long time for this, *Snivellus*...” Remus growled, cracking his
knuckles threateningly.

While Remus “talked” to Snape, the other three walked back down to the common room of Grimmauld
Place.

“So, has *anything* good happened?” Harry asked as they sat back down.

“Actually, yeah,” Tonks said thoughtfully. “The other day, we found a bunch of Voldemort's
prisoners standing out in a field. One of them was one of our new guys, Charity Burbage.” Hermione
gave a gasp of shock.

“Professor Burbage? The Muggle Studies professor?” she gasped, nearly in tears. Tonks simply
nodded.

“She disappeared a few weeks ago,” Tonks continued. “After we calmed her down, she said that she
was about to be executed, by *Snape* of all people,” Tonks said, spitting at Snape's name.
“But right before he could do the deed, Voldemort suddenly started acting strange, and sent her
back to her cell. A couple weeks later, the Death Eaters just let her and all the other prisoners
free without explanation.”

Before she could continue, they heard a rhythmic thumping on the window. Harry walked over to
the window and opened the curtains to see a bat repeatedly banging against the window, holding a
large package awkwardly in its mouth. Harry opened the window, and the bat came tumbling into the
house, finally crashing onto the table. Hermione and Tonks inspected the downed bat while Harry
grabbed the package.

“It's fine Harry, just a little dizzy from hitting itself,” Hermione said. Nodding in
understanding, Harry untied the string and ripped the paper off of the package to reveal a simple
wood box with a letter on top. Setting aside the letter, he opened the box to reveal a small tiara,
elaborately designed and covered with small blue sapphires. Hermione looked into the box and
gasped. “Harry, that's...that's Ravenclaw's diadem!”

In the main meeting chamber of Riddle Manor, Voldemort was tapping his foot impatiently, waiting
for his acquaintance to appear, and he did not like to wait. The dark lord heard several
high-pitched screeches coming from the shadows, and a pale form dressed in black robes walked into
the pale moonlight, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

“So, Darknight, you have finally saw fit to appear,” Voldemort snarled. Darknight flashed
Voldemort a patronizing smile.

“I would have appeared sooner, Lord Voldemort, but unfortunately, I had other things to attend
to. Contrary to popular belief, we vampires *do* have lives, you know.” Voldemort's hand
instinctively twitched towards his wand. Normally he would punish people with such flippancy, but
he found out during their first meeting that vampires were immune to his favorite method of
torture, as well as his favorite curse of all time, the killing curse.

“I have heard from my sources that my nemesis, Harry Potter has been turned into a vampire,”
Voldemort growled. “I demand to know who was responsible for it.” Darknight simply shrugged
innocently.

“This is news to me,” the vampire lied smoothly. “I am but one vampire among thousands, and not
even the highest level one. Surely you cannot expect me to take account of everyone's actions,”
he continued. Darknight's casualness only served to infuriate Voldemort even more.

“Then if you will not tell me that, then I demand that you give me an answer about our
alliance!” he yelled.

“Your proposal is interesting, but my master needs more time to consider it,” Darknight said
simply. “After all, my master has only my people's best interests at heart. I am afraid that
you will have to wait a while longer.”

“Eight years I have waited!” Voldemort roared. “I demand an answer! *Avada Kedavra*!” In
his anger, Voldemort instinctively cast the killing curse at Darknight, which impacted him with no
effect.

“We are immortal, Lord Voldemort, as are you,” Darknight said, continuing as if he had never
been shot. *Although not for much longer*, he added mentally, “and Britain will not disappear
tomorrow. So I ask you, what is your hurry? I will return when you're not in such a grouchy
mood,” he continued. Accessing one of the few magical skills he gained as a vampire, Darknight
dissolved his body into a swarm of bats, which flew away into the night through the open windows.
With no one to torture, Voldemort could only scream in rage.

Lord Voldemort was in a very bad mood.

----

All right, that's chapter eight for you. I hope you enjoyed it.

Harry and Hermione getting the diadem through the post may seem kind of too easy, but I
don't know how they got it in *Deathly Hallows* (and probably never will). But it seems
apparent that Darknight has been looking for them too, since he seems to want Voldemort dead as
much as everybody else does.

Don't forget to read and review!

-->



9. Chapter 9
------------



After flicking through the Harry Potter Lexicon (I refuse to taint my eyes with the foulness
within Deathly Hallows pages) and finding nothing conclusive as to why Rowena Ravenclaw posessed a
diadem, I will retcon my own reason.

For those who have been wondering when I'm going to show Ron and Ginny's reactions to
Harry being a vampire, you'll get part of your answer here. And be warned, I'm back to my
usual Ginny-hating self.

I don't own Harry Potter. Never have and never will.

----

“What?” Harry asked dumbly as he looked at the silver tiara glittering innocently from within
its box. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation.

“Honestly, Harry, one of these days, can you at least try to read *Hogwarts, A History*?”
she asked testily.

“Why can I when I have you around?” Harry replied, shrugging innocently. Hermione rolled her
eyes again before Apparating away. Harry looked up to see Tonks standing awkwardly.

“I'll…just go check on Remus,” she said, walking past him and climbing up the stairs.
Seconds later, Hermione popped back to her place beside Harry, a heavy book in her arms. She set
the book onto the table with a bang, making the still mostly stunned messenger bat twitch
reflexively. Hermione opened the book to show an entry with a moving portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw.
Hermione pointed to Ravenclaw's forehead, and Harry peered down at the drawing, squinting until
he saw a tiara perched on her head.

“Rowena Ravenclaw was descended from a royal family, and the diadem was given to her as a
wedding gift from her mother,” Hermione explained. Whether she was reciting it from memory, or
reading it from the text, Harry did not know, for he was too busy staring at the miniscule image of
Ravenclaw. “When Rowena was older, she enchanted the diadem with all her knowledge, so that anyone
who wore it would be granted all her wisdom until it was removed from their heads. It says here
that it was stolen, but it doesn't say why or by whom,” she continued, frowning. Harry reached
into the box and pulled out the diadem, and immediately felt a chill run down his spine.

“Yup, it's a horcrux, alright,” Harry said, looking at the large sapphire in the center.
“Maybe I should put this away,” he added.

“Put what away?” a voice behind them asked. Harry and Hermione both jumped and spun around to
see Tonks holding a small jar and Remus, who was nursing a bruised knuckle looking at them in
confusion.

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, hiding the diadem behind his back. Remus glared at the two
vampires, smiling innocently.

“You know, your father used to say `nothing' in that tone whenever he was planning
something,” Remus said dryly as Tonks rubbed held his wounded knuckle with one hand and gently
rubbed some sort of ointment with the other, the jar floating in mid-air. “So, if it's
`nothing,' as you call it, then what are you hiding behind your back?” he continued, wincing in
discomfort.

“Who said we were hiding anything?” Hermione asked, smiling nervously.

“How did your conversation with Snape go?” Harry asked quickly and loudly, hoping to change the
subject before they dug themselves any deeper. Remus glared at Harry suspiciously for changing the
subject, but decided to let it drop for now.

“As well as one could expect,” Remus said with a shrug. “Snape demanded where he was, I swung a
few punches. He made some anti-werewolf comments, I swung some more punches. Then he started
screaming that he killed Dumbledore on his own orders. Of course, I didn't believe him, so I
kept swinging. Eventually, my hand got sore, so I stopped.”

“And we don't know if he was telling the truth because *somebody* refused to use
veritaserum,” Tonks scolded as she capped the jar of ointment and conjured some bandages to wrap
around Remus' well-lubricated hand.

“I have over twenty years of anger for that man, veritaserum wasn't going to cut it,” Remus
said, shrugging innocently. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I didn't take you for a violent person, Remus,” he said, slowly dropping the diadem back
into its box and covering it.

“A lot of people from my school days think I was the most docile of the Marauders, that nothing
could affect me,” Remus said casually. “The truth was, the insults that the Slytherins and
especially Snape threw out cut me just as deeply as James or Sirius, I just kept my temper in check
better than they did.” As Remus and Tonks stood up and walked back upstairs, the werewolf looked
back. “You know, if what you're hiding has to do with whatever Dumbledore had you do last year,
you could have just said so,” he said, leaving two embarrassed vampires in his wake.

“I am going to take this to the Chamber,” Harry said, holding up the diadem and disappearing
with a crack. He reappeared seconds later, his hands empty. “I feel like having a talk with Snape
myself, actually,” Harry continued, mostly to himself as he walked upstairs, Hermione following
him. Before they entered the room that Snape was being held in, they went into the potions room and
grabbed a bottle of veritaserum.

“I thought I'd at least give him a choice,” Harry said as he grabbed the vial of water-like
elixir. Together, they walked into Snape's prison and turned on the lights, revealing that the
potion master's face was now bruised and bloody. Harry also noticed that Hermione seemed to
have a slightly dazed look on her face. He nudged her softly, and she shook her head to bring
herself back into reality.

“How's your stay been so far, Snape?” Harry asked as he transfigured two pillows into chairs
and sat down on one. Hermione, curiosity getting the best of her, wiped a finger across Snape's
bloody brow and licked her finger, shuddering at the memory of him being hung upside-down during
fifth year merging itself with her own memories.

“How do you think I've been, Potter?” Snape spat at Harry before coughing violently.

“You look like you've seen better days,” Harry said, shrugging. “But a murderer like you
deserves no less.” Snape scoffed at Harry's comment.

“That's rather hypocritical for you to say, vampire,” he sneered, although his split lip
couldn't curl nearly as much as it could when he was well. Harry began to respond, but was
interrupted by Hermione.

“That's where you're wrong,” she said, displaying an amazing level of hatred for her
former potions teacher. “We vampires kill to survive, you and your Death Eater buddies kill for
pleasure.” Both Snape and Harry were shocked at Hermione's display; she had never stood up to a
figure of authority before.

“I don't know how things work under Voldemort's employment,” Harry said, regaining
control of the conversation, “but we good guys like to at least give our prisoners a chance before
we off them, so you have two options: the slow way or the quick way. The slow way, we feed you with
veritaserum every few days until we get all the information we need, after which we either ship you
to the proper authorities or we kill you. And the quick way, we both bite you now and drain you of
your blood, and you die a slow and painful death. It's your choice, but choose quick; we're
both a bit peckish.” Snape gulped nervously, for once feeling genuine fear for his life, for he
didn't have to be a Legilimens to know that Harry would no doubt carry out his threat.

“Actually, Harry, there's a third option,” Hermione suggested before turning to Snape. “You
take a Wizard's Oath, swear on your life and magic that you will tell us the truth and only the
truth. Is that satisfactory?” Truth be told, what would truly satisfy Snape would be to be
released, but seeing that that was unlikely to happen, he bowed his head.

“I swear on my life and my magic, that when you ask of me, I will respond with only the truth,” he
chanted, and a soft white light enveloped him for a moment, confirming the Oath.

“Where is Voldemort?” Harry asked immediately.

“He is at Riddle Manor, I believe,” Snape replied tonelessly. “He has placed various wards
around the property so that it is all but inaccessible, except that he does not trust another
enough to cast a Fidelius on the property.” Harry and Hermione shared a glance. Without a Fidelius
in place, it was likely that they could walk straight through the wards with nothing to stop
them.

“What sort of defenses are there?” Hermione asked.

“There are Death Eaters wandering the mansion and its grounds, but the Dark Lord is confident
that his wards will weed out any trespassers, and did not feel the need to lay down any traps or
obstacles,” Snape answered dully.

“Anything else interesting going on lately?” Harry asked vaguely.

“Yes,” Snape responded. “For some time, the Dark Lord has been negotiating an alliance between
himself and the vampires.” Harry and Hermione looked at each other in surprise. “I do not know the
extent of these meetings, for they always take place in private, but I do know that they do not
seem to be going well for the Dark Lord, for he seems increasingly agitated with each meeting.”
Harry thought about this new information. He probably tried to bargain with the vampires as another
attempt to gain immortality, but they seemed to be stonewalling him for some reason. He decided to
think about it later and continued with the interrogation.

“Why did you kill Albus Dumbledore?” Harry asked.

“My reasons are twofold,” Snape replied darkly. “Narcissa Malfoy made me take an Unbreakable Vow
to assassinate Dumbledore should Draco fail. When I told him of this, he said to follow through
with it, for he felt that my life was far more valuable than his.”

“I have my doubts about that,” Harry muttered so Snape wouldn't hear him. “Fine, you'll
get to live for now. We'll continue this discussion later.” Harry and Hermione stood up and
walked out of the room, leaving Snape alone with his thoughts.

------

Bill Weasley was getting worried about his two youngest siblings. Ever since they had discovered
that Harry was a vampire, they had taken to locking themselves in their rooms, leaving only to eat
and go to the bathroom, and rarely spoke during those times. The fact that Hermione was nowhere to
be found only made things worse. He walked past Ginny's room and heard soft sobbing behind the
door.

“Ginny?” Bill asked as he knocked on the door. “It's Bill. Can I come in?” Bill heard a soft
sliding click to signify that the door was unlocked, and he opened the door to see Ginny sitting on
her bed, her arms around her knees. “Are you alright?” Bill asked as he sat down next to her,
rubbing her back. She shook her head, tears falling down her face.

“It's not fair,” she sobbed. “It wasn't supposed to be like this. Harry was supposed to
come back and ask me to be his girlfriend again.” Bill frowned as Ginny continued. “He was supposed
to defeat Voldemort, then he and I would get married, and Ron and Hermione. We were supposed to
have a family together, and it supposed to be happily ever after. But now he's a monster, my
dream is gone forever.” Bill stood up and glared at his sister in anger.

“Harry is *not* a monster,” Bill snapped. “He is still the young man that we've always
known, and I for one can't believe that you would be so petty. Harry has the weight of the
entire world on his shoulders, in addition to his affliction, and all you can think about is how
you can't be his girlfriend anymore?!” Bill shook his head in disgust and disappointment. “I
don't know what he was thinking when he decided to ask you out, but he deserves better than
you, and I am ashamed to have a sister so petty and selfish.” Bill spun around and walked out,
closing the door behind him.

------

Harry and Hermione stared at golden locket sitting innocently on the table. They had decided
that it would be best to destroy another Horcrux, and so they took Slytherin's locket into the
same room that Harry had destroyed Hufflepuff's cup in and charmed the door to be unbreakable.
They had also ordered Dobby that if they were rendered unconscious by the ordeal, to bring them a
pig each when they stirred.

“You sure you want to do this?” Harry asked as he held up a large metal hammer. “I mean, we
don't know what'll happen with two people in the room.” Hermione rolled her eyes as she set
down a hammer of her own.

“Yes, I'm sure, Harry,” she said exasperatedly. “The last time you did this alone,
*this* happened,” she said, pointing to her neck where her bite scar was. “I'm not going
to allow you to run that risk with Remus or Tonks, so I'm going to watch your pasty arse while
you smash the Horcrux.”

“Hey!” Harry yelled, feigning offense. “My arse is *not* pasty!” Hermione laughed as she
picked her hammer back up.

“You keep telling yourself that, Potter,” she said sarcastically. Rolling his eyes, Harry bent
down so he was close to the locket and could the see the ornate serpent on the face clearly.

“*Open*,” Harry hissed in Parseltongue. Harry backed away as the locket clicked open and
Voldemort's soul fragment drifted out in a black cloud. Harry and Hermione drew their wands,
holding their hammers in their other hands. The cloud hovered over the locket, drifting left and
right, like it was looking at them, before it rushed forward and into Hermione, quicker than either
of them could react. Hermione's grip on her hammer loosened, and it fell to the floor with a
clunk. She shook her head and looked around in confusion.

“What happened?” she asked. Harry stepped forward, his grip tightening around his wand.

“Hermione, are you okay?” he asked carefully, holding out his hand. Hermione looked at him and
smiled sweetly.

“I'm just fine, Harry...” she trailed off ominously before raising her wand and blasting
Harry across the room. “YOU BASTARD!” she screamed as Harry dodged another curse. “You ruined me!”
Hermione continued to scream as she shot curse after curse at Harry, who was barely managing to
dodge them. “You took everything from me! My career, my family, my future! I hate you!” Harry dove
to avoid an explosive curse, instead blowing a sizable crater into the wall behind him. Harry got
back onto his feet and dashed towards Hermione, tackling her to the ground. Harry wrenched
Hermione's wand out of her hand as she struggled underneath him. She managed to wriggle one of
her legs between his and brought it into his groin as hard as she could. Harry bit back a scream as
he discovered that Undeath did not eliminate that particular weakness, and rolled off of Hermione,
instinctively curling into a fetal position.

As Harry clutched himself in pain, Hermione grabbed her wand and conjured a silver dagger, which
she wielded menacingly. She got onto her knees and, wrapping one hand around Harry's throat,
raised the dagger above her. Harry struggled against her grip and caught her hand as she brought
the dagger down, the point hovering above his heart. He threw the dagger across the room and shoved
her off, crawling up to the table. Harry grabbed a hammer and was poised to bring it down on the
locket when he was pulled back down onto the floor. Hermione conjured another dagger and raised it
up when Harry kicked her in the face, forcing her away from him.

Pulling himself back up, he grabbed the hammer and swiftly brought it down on the locket.
Hermione screamed in pain and writhed on the floor as the soul fragment possessing her became
damaged. Trying to tune out her anguished screams, Harry brought the hammer down against the locket
again, and black smoke began to trickle out of Hermione's mouth and nostrils. Harry brought the
hammer down again and again, until the two halves of the locket snapped at the hinge. The cloud
that had gathered above Hermione's now still body gave one final unearthly shriek before
exploding, sending Harry tumbling over the table.

Harry felt his strength slipping quickly. Groaning in pain, he dragged himself across the room
to Hermione's side. He reached his hand out and slipped it into hers before his world went dark
once more.

----

Four Horcruxes down, two more to go!

Don't forget to read and review!

-->



10. Chapter 10
--------------



Twelve days and counting until I get my hands on *Halo 3*!

I don't own Harry Potter. That privilege belongs to J. K. Rowling. I do own any OC's
that pop up though.

----

Harry groaned in discomfort. The last thing he remembered, he was getting his ass handed to him
by a Riddle-possessed Hermione, then destroying the Horcrux, and finally being at the epicenter of
yet another explosion. *Wait a minute*.... Harry opened his eyes to see himself in an
unfamiliar room, torturing a Death Eater. His gaze flickered downwards, and he saw a pale, bony
hand that was not his own holding a familiar yew wand. *Ah, damn it. I'm in Voldemort's
head* **again**. Sighing in defeat, Harry decided to “sit back” and wait for the show to
end.

The dark lord Voldemort was most unpleased. He was no closer to locating Harry Potter, his
alliance with the vampires was going nowhere, and to top it all off, the vampires found it amusing
to feed on several of his junior Death Eaters. With no one else around to torture, Voldemort
decided to cast his Cruciatus on the messenger before him. He had held the curse for almost fifteen
minutes when he felt a familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. He released the curse and
sent away his minion, before retreating to his quarters and locking the door.

“So Harry, you've decided to walk into my mind uninvited once again, have you?” Voldemort
asked the empty room.

*Something like that*, Harry responded neutrally. *It was so comfortable in here that I
couldn't resist coming back. You might want to put some furniture in here, though, I can hear
myself echoing in here. You might want to hire a maid too; this place is filthy*! Voldemort
scowled angrily as Harry insulted his intelligence.

“I know what you are, Potter, so I won't make the mistake of trying to attack you mentally
like last time, and I know that you do not have the strength to attack me head-on and succeed,”
Voldemort said triumphantly.

*Yeah, unfortunately*, Harry “sighed” mentally. Suddenly, the young vampire was struck with
an idea. *However, I* **can** *make your life living hell for two weeks*, he continued
smugly. This caught Voldemort off guard.

“What do you mean?” the snake-like man asked, genuinely confused.

*You'll find out*, Harry informed him cryptically*. Ten million bottles of beer on
the wall, ten million bottles of beer*, he began singing tunelessly, *take one down, pass it
around, ten million bottles of beer on the wall*.

“What are you doing?” Voldemort asked dryly. Harry didn't respond, instead continuing to
sing that inane song...and sing...and sing. For days, Harry sung without end: during meals, during
meetings, during trips to the loo. Voldemort eventually had to barricade himself within his
quarters again and have his meals brought to him via house elf. He could not even sleep because of
Harry's continual singing. After a week of absolutely no peace, Voldemort finally
snapped.

“What do I need to do to stop that infernal singing?!” Voldemort shouted angrily. The lack of sleep
was taking its toll on him, as large dark circles were developing under his eyes, and growing
larger by the day.

*Well, if you could be so kind as to kill your pet snake, and maybe yourself as well,
that'd be great*, Harry said, stopping his singing for the first time all week. Voldemort
gritted his teeth at Harry's ridiculous demands. There was no way that he would agree to
that!

“You must be out of your mind if you think I would ever agree to those demands, Potter,”
Voldemort spat angrily.

*Maybe*, Harry agreed mentally. *But I'm stuck in here for another week, and if
I'm lucky, I'll drag you down into insanity with me. Now where was I? Oh yeah,
seven-thousand-twenty-four bottles of beer on the wall*... Harry resumed singing.
Voldemort's roar of rage would send a chill down the spines of all Death Eaters who heard
it.

After two weeks of singing practically nonstop, Harry felt himself drifting out of
Voldemort's body and back into his own. But when he opened his eyes again, he remembered that
his hunger had taken over his body, and he was merely a powerless observer. With an animalistic
growl, Harry's body sat up and looked around the room. Looking to his left, Harry's eyes
fell on Hermione, who was similarly scanning the room. With a feral snarl, the two vampires pounced
at each other, viciously biting and scratching at each other in an attempt to satiate their
hunger.

Dobby sighed quietly to himself. Even though he was technically employed at Hogwarts, in his
mind, his master was Harry Potter, the wizard who freed him from the Malfoys. He was ordered to
watch Harry Potter and his friend, but there were other guests that needed to be attended to. As
Dobby brought sandwiches and tea to Remus and Tonks, a loud snarling was heard from upstairs,
followed by several crashes. Dobby quickly set the tray of food down on Remus' lap before
disappearing with a crack, unaware that the werewolf and metamorphagus that he had just served were
rushing up the stairs themselves.

When Dobby appeared in the master bedroom, he saw the two vampires wrestling violently with each
other, swiping and snapping at each other, smashing furniture as they threw each other across the
room. Remembering his orders, Dobby sealed the door shut so that they could not escape and harm
anyone else before Disapparating to a Muggle farm, where he grabbed two large pigs and popped back
to 12 Grimmauld Place. After depositing his payload, the house elf left the room before the
vampires decided to turn their attentions to him.

Hermione had managed to pin Harry down on the floor and was bending down to plunge her fangs
into his throat when a crack attracted their attention. They both looked to the direction of the
sound to see a pair of large pigs, sniffing around confusedly. Their feud with each other quickly
forgotten, the two vampires lunged forward and buried their fangs into the necks of the pigs,
ignorant of the animals' squeals of pain. The vampires sighed contently as the viscous, sweet
liquid pumped out of the pigs' arteries and slid smoothly down their throats. As they fed,
their bestial instincts diminished and they found themselves able to control themselves once
more.

His hunger abated for now, Harry threw the pig carcass aside and leaned back, sighing tiredly.
He looked to his side to see Hermione wrapping her arms around her knees, pig blood smeared on her
face, staring vacantly at the wall. Harry wordlessly crawled over to her and wrapped an arm around
her shoulders, holding her close. For hours, they simply sat together, neither saying a word.

“Sorry about kicking you in the face,” Harry said softly, the dried blood on his face cracking
from the movement. Hermione chuckled softly.

“Sorry about kicking you in the crotch,” she replied.


“You better be sorry, it really hurt,” Harry admonished lightly. “Come on, we'd better get
cleaned up,” he continued, pulling himself and Hermione up from the floor. Harry walked to the door
and tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn't turn. He rattled the doorknob briefly, but it still
wouldn't budge. Sighing, the two vampires decided to worry about the door later and simply
Apparated out of the room, startling the two people that were sitting down in front of the
door.


“What happened in there?” Remus asked as he stood up, helping his struggling wife to her feet.

“We had a...scuffle,” Harry said evasively. Remus looked at the blood staining Harry's face
and shirt with a raised eyebrow, then at Hermione. Waving his wand to wash away the blood, Harry
handed them back their wands.

“As long as you two are okay,” Remus said. “We tried getting in earlier, but I think Dobby
locked the door, because our unlocking spells didn't work,” he continued, gesturing at the
sealed door.

“So that's why we couldn't get out,” Harry said, glaring at the offending door.


“I'm going to go clean up the mess,” Hermione said, Apparating back into the bedroom.

“And I am going to go have a few words with Albus,” Harry added darkly as he walked away,
leaving Remus and Tonks alone.

“And I have to go to the loo,” Tonks said awkwardly, walking around her husband to find a
bathroom, leaving Remus alone in the hallway.

Harry walked into the empty office where he stored the photo of Albus Dumbledore and pulled it
out of the drawer where it was hidden.


“Okay, I give up, how was I *supposed* to destroy the Horcruxes?” Harry asked crossly, sitting
down in a chair and crossing his arms. “And I just woke up from a coma, so you better give me
straight answers, Albus,” he continued. The photo of Dumbledore sighed at Harry's
impatience.

“Harry, there are some things that you must discover for yourself,” he said cryptically. This
seemed to be the wrong thing to say as Harry stood up and threw his chair into a wall with a
crash.

“Enough with the riddles, Dumbledore!” Harry shouted, lapsing into calling his former headmaster
by his surname again. “I got all three of the Founders' items in a couple of days, one of which
was by post, mind you, and yet I spent most of the past month and a half in a coma because I
don't seem to be destroying them the way I'm supposed to. And in that month, people are
still dying out there, so I ask again, how was I supposed to destroy them?” he fumed, his infamous
temper rising to the surface again. Dumbledore did not answer, nor did he maintain eye contact with
Harry. “Is it Gryffindor's sword?” Harry asked. Dumbledore's silence all but confirmed the
answer for Harry. “Any reason why you didn't bring this up when I grabbed your photo?” he asked
in a forced calm.

“You didn't ask,” Dumbledore said simply, still avoiding Harry's gaze. Harry raised his
hands above his head in frustration.

“`I didn't ask,'” Harry repeated in exasperation. “Damn it, Dumbledore, for something
this important, I shouldn't *have* to ask!” Sighing irritably, Harry looked at the time on
his watch. “Four twenty-five,” he muttered to himself. “I'll be back,” he told Dumbledore
before Disapparating from the room.

Harry found himself back in the Hogwarts Headmaster's office, but it was different from when
he was last there. The room seemed so much larger now that all of Dumbledore's various
contraptions had been disposed of, leaving a decidedly bare room. Harry looked up at the shelves
above him and saw the case that held the sword of Godric Gryffindor. He also saw that the case was
empty. Growling in frustration, Harry Apparated back to the office in 12 Grimmauld Place where the
Dumbledore's photo was awaiting him.

“Where is the sword?” Harry asked through clenched teeth.

“I don't know,” Dumbledore said honestly, finally making eye contact with Harry. Harry
narrowed his eyes at the small photo suspiciously.

“But you know who does,” Harry stated evenly. When Dumbledore did not answer, Harry sighed
tiredly. “I think I know who it is too,” he said dully before placing the photo back in its drawer
and leaving the room. He walked back to the still closed door to the master bedroom and knocked on
the door. “How's the cleaning going?” Harry asked through the door.

“Almost done,” Hermione's muffled voice replied from the other side of the door. Several
seconds later, the door swung open to show Hermione and a newly cleaned room. “I asked Dobby to
unlock it,” she said, answering Harry's unanswered question. “What do you want?”

“Apparently, I was supposed to grab the sword of Gryffindor and use that to destroy the
Horcruxes, but Dumbledore neglected to inform me,” Harry said sourly, crossing his arms.

“Back on a last name basis?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I'm not very happy with him right now,” Harry grumbled. “When I popped over to Hogwarts,
the sword wasn't there, so I asked Dumbledore where it was. He said he didn't know, but he
seemed to know who does. Considering the amount of faith that he seems to place in that man,
I'm thinking that that `someone' is Snape. Is the Wizard's Oath you made him take a
couple of weeks ago still in effect?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, it should be,” Hermione confirmed. “Why, are you planning for another interrogation?”

“Yup,” Harry said simply before stepping out of the doorway, allowing Hermione to exit before
they both Apparated into the room where Snape was being held. Apparently, Dobby had allowed a few
basic luxuries, such as a bedpan, and the ability to be able to move, as the former Slytherin head
of house was no longer bound to a chair.

“Come to interrogate me again, Potter?” Snape sneered.

“Yep,” Harry said as he and Hermione transfigured pillows into chairs again. “You see, we're
in need of a certain sword, and we have reason to believe that you know where it is. Care to tell
us?”

“Where's Draco?” Snape asked, ignoring Harry's question.

“*Draco* is in a separate room. Now answer the damn question,” Harry said firmly. Snape
simply snorted and crossed his arms defiantly.

“I won't answer your questions unless I am allowed to see Draco,” the greasy man said with a
tone of finality. Sighing in frustration, Harry stood up and walked to the far end of the room,
Hermione behind him.

“I thought the Oath was supposed to make him tell the truth,” Harry whispered.

“It does,” Hermione whispered in response, “but it doesn't stop him from refusing to answer
us. Harry, I know how much you hate the two, but what he's asking for isn't much. It would
probably be easier on all of us if you just complied with his demand,” she suggested softly.
Sighing in defeat, Harry nodded his head minutely.


“Dobby,” Harry said, summoning the small house elf.

“Master Harry Potter Sir calls for Dobby?” he said excitedly. Rolling his eyes at being called
“master,” Harry looked down at the house elf.

“Dobby, could you bring Draco Malfoy in here with us, please?” Harry asked with a sour look on
his face. Dobby's ears drooped, and he nodded reluctantly. Without a word, Dobby disappeared,
only to reappear seconds later with a protesting Draco Malfoy in tow.

“...Get off of me, you filthy vermin!” Malfoy yelled at Dobby. Then the blonde-haired former
Slytherin looked around in confusion. When he laid his eyes on Harry and Hermione, he let out a
high-pitched scream. “Vampires!” he shrieked, running towards the door and rattled the doorknob in
vain trying to escape.

“Okay, I've brought Malfoy here,” Harry said, ignoring Malfoy's fearful whimpers as he
continued his attempts to escape, “now tell me, where is Gryffindor's sword?” Snape inhaled and
exhaled deeply several times before uncrossing his arms and turning to face his former
students.

“I can't tell you exactly, but I can take you there,” he said simply. Harry considered what
Snape had said for several moments before sighing and motioning for the older man to stand up.

“All right, let's go,” he said, before asking Dobby to unlock the door. As soon as the
enchantment had been lifted, Malfoy dashed towards the door, but Hermione grabbed him by the collar
of his robes and pulled him back. After conjuring a pair of manacles and locking Snape's hands
behind his back, the three of them walked out of 12 Grimmauld Place, leaving Malfoy alone in the
newly locked room.

Once Harry and Hermione had escorted Snape past the extent of the anti-apparation wards, Snape
closed his eyes and concentrated on their destination. With a crack, the three of them disappeared
from the streets of London and found themselves standing in front of a large lake in the middle of
a forest, the smooth surface of the water reflecting the pale moonlight.

“There's only a charm placed on the area to negate any bubble-head charms and a colony of
grindylows guarding the sword,” Snape informed his captors without prompting.

“I'll get it,” Hermione said automatically. When Harry opened his mouth to protest, she held
up a hand to silence him. “You destroyed the last two Horcruxes, the least I can do is this,”
Hermione said as she shrugged off her robe and kicked off her shoes. “Wish me luck,” she said as
she waded into the chilly water. Once she had waded deep enough that the water level had reached
her waist, she dove down into the depths.

Four minutes later, she still had not surfaced, and Harry was pacing nervously.

“Oh, will you sit down,” Snape snapped testily at Harry. “She's a vampire Potter, she
can't drown.”

“Shut it Snivellus,” Harry spat, continually pacing back and forth until he had formed a shallow
trench in the gravel. Almost a minute later, Hermione breached the surface, the glittering sword of
Godric Gryffindor in hand.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Hermione gasped as she dragged herself onto shore, her wet clothes
weighing her down. “I ran into a school of grindylows and had to fight them off without my wand.
I'm fine,” she added flippantly when Harry opened his mouth to ask if she was alright. Setting
the sword down and grabbing her wand out of her robe, Hermione cast a drying charm on herself
before sitting down to put her shoes back on.

After Hermione had finished redressing herself, the three figures Apparated back to the street
in front of 12 Grimmauld Place before walking in the front door and taking Snape back to his
room.

“Wait, after taking you to the sword, I'm still stuck in that infernal room?” Snape asked
incredulously as Harry and Hermione escorted him upstairs.

“Yes,” Harry replied shortly. “Despite that, you are still a prisoner, and I don't see that
changing anytime soon.” After releasing Snape's hands and throwing him back inside his room,
Harry and Hermione walked back into the room where the cup and locket Horcruxes had been destroyed
with their newly acquired sword. Setting the sword down onto the table, Harry Apparated to the
Chamber of Secrets and returned with Ravenclaw's diadem, the last of the material
Horcruxes.

“Together?” Harry asked, holding out the sword to Hermione. After considering for a moment,
Hermione wrapped her hand around Harry's, and together they brought the blade tip down on the
center jewel of the Horcrux. With a horrific screech that sounded like metal scraping against
metal, the tip of the sword slowly penetrated the large sapphire adorning the diadem. As the
Horcrux shuddered, Harry and Hermione gripped the sword with both hands to keep the sword steady.
Soon, a wisp of green and black smoke started drifting out of the crystal, giving an unearthly
scream before disappearing. After several minutes of trying to keep the sword in contact with the
diadem, any magical resistance they were fighting disappeared, and their combined strength sent
them sprawling onto the table and the sword and diadem flying into the wall. When it impacted, the
diadem broke and fell to the ground in two equal pieces, the jewel split cleanly in half. And the
best thing was there was no coma-inducing explosion accompanying it.

“We did it,” Hermione gasped, not really believing it. “We actually did it!” She reached over
and pulled Harry into a hug. Sharing her excitement, Harry instinctively kissed Hermione on the
cheek as she held him in her embrace.

“Only Nagini and Voldemort himself to go,” Harry whispered, not quite believing it himself. When
Hermione pulled away, Harry looked at his watch. Six forty-five, it read; the sun would be rising
soon. “Tomorrow night,” Harry whispered triumphantly. “Voldemort's reign of terror ends
tomorrow night.”

----

Whew! Eight pages! I think this is my longest chapter yet for this fic!

Only a couple more chapters until the end of Voldemort. I've got something else to throw at
them afterwards, though, so this story will extend a bit longer than that.

Don't forget to read and review!

-->



11. Chapter 11
--------------



Unless I manage to complete the next chapter of *Somewhere in Time* next Tuesday, this will
probably be the last update I will make before I leave.

And for those of you who have been wondering (I reckon just about everybody), Ron's reaction
to Harry's vampirism will finally appear in this chapter.

I have another question regarding *Light's Hope, Death's Hunters* on the bottom of
the chapter that I need answered.

I don't own Harry Potter, blah, blah, blah.

----

Ron Weasley had barely spoken in over a month. He also had lost much of his voracious appetite,
a cause for concern from his family. The shock of his best friend's vampirism, and his concern
for his other best friend had driven him into a state of shock, and then depression.

As he lay in his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, a knocking pulled Ron out of his trance.
He got up and opened the door to see Bill carrying a tray of food.

“Hey bro, I drew the short straw this time,” Bill said, nodding his head to the tray.

“Err, thanks, Bill,” Ron said, taking the tray and setting it aside. The eldest Weasley son
sighed and sat down on his younger brother's bed.

“Everyone's getting worried about you, Ron. Mum especially; she thinks you're wasting
away in here with as little as you're eating,” Bill said, chuckling slightly. “Are you thinking
about Harry and Hermione?” Ron quietly nodded and dropped onto the bed, next to his brother.

“It's just…this wasn't how things were supposed to happen, you know?” Ron said, finally
letting out his emotions. “I mean, none of this was supposed to happen. The three of us should be
out camping in some forest in the middle of nowhere trying to defeat You-Know-Who. Instead,
Harry's a vampire, Hermione is with him at who knows where, and here I am sitting in my room
brooding, barely getting out except the occasional meal and to use the loo.” Ron broke down and
began sobbing into his brother's shoulder. Bill comfortingly wrapped his arm around Ron's
shoulders and patted his brother on the arm. A few minutes later, Ron straightened up and made a
loud and disgusting snort to clear his sinuses.

“Feel better now?” Bill asked, raising his eyebrow at the disgusting action.

“Yeah,” Ron said, surprised. “Thanks, Bill, I really needed that.”

“No problem; what are brothers for?” Bill asked as he stood up and began walking out of the
room. “Now eat up; you're just skin and bones now,” he added, pointing at the tray of food. Ron
stuck his tongue out and made a rude gesture at Bill as the elder sibling walked out, laughing.

------

Harry sighed as he slid his wand into his pocket and tied Gryffindor's sword onto his belt.
He knew for at least two years that this day would come eventually, that he would have to face
Voldemort in combat, and ultimately, only one would emerge victorious. He felt the familiar chill
of fear course down his spine as he thought about it. He also felt a question nagging in the back
of his mind: What would happen if he were to emerge victorious? He would still be a vampire, an
outcast to society, and the Ministry would probably order his death the moment that it had
reestablished itself.

“It'll be okay,” a feminine voice said behind him. He turned around to see Hermione leaning
in the doorway. “You'll beat him, and everything will work itself out,” she continued
optimistically. Harry gave a pessimistic snort and put on his robes.

“If only it were so easy,” he muttered as he gave himself one final inspection in the mirror
before turning back to her. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Soon it'll all be over,” she continued, moving aside.

“Finally,” Harry said simply as they walked down into the sitting room.

------

“I demand that you cease your stonewalling and give me what I seek now!” Voldemort roared,
slamming his fist onto the armrest of his throne. Before him, Darknight stood, a bored expression
on his face.

“You have your Horcruxes and one of the Deathly Hallows, I really don't see why you need
this artifact as well,” the vampire said, inspecting his nails.

“Horcruxes can be destroyed and I have not defeated the last owner of the Elder Wand,” Voldemort
growled through gritted teeth, “but with what you offer me, I can become truly immortal. Now, I
have waited eight years for your `superiors' to decide whether they should give it to me or
not, now *hand it over*!” he continued, working himself into a rage.

“Okay, okay,” Darknight said, trying to pacify the fuming Dark Lord. “My superiors decided to
give it to you anyway,” he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, ornate jewelry
box. Voldemort snapped his fingers, and an anonymous Death Eater flunky carefully took the box from
Darknight's hands, handling the box as if it were dangerously volatile. “Great, you have your
prize, my people aren't going to be decimated, negotiations are over, good night, I never want
to see this place again,” Darknight said quickly and then dissolved into a swarm of bats and exited
through various open windows before Voldemort could muster a response. Voldemort chuckled darkly as
the Death Eaters carefully carried the box out of the room. *Potter will be in for an unpleasant
surprise the next time we meet*, he thought evilly.

In Little Hangleton Cemetery, beyond the patrols around Riddle Manor, Darknight reconstituted
himself into his human form and struggled to keep himself from laughing out loud. *Oh Riddle,
you'll be in for an unpleasant surprise when you try that ritual*, the vampire thought
evilly as he drew a copy of the Daily Prophet and sat down on a headstone to read it.

------

Down in the sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place, Hermione and Tonks were saying their goodbyes
while Harry and Remus stood off to one corner, talking in hushed whispers.

“Harry, you know that I would fight and die for you,” Remus whispered as they stood away from
the women.

“I know that Remus,” Harry replied, “but I can't let you do that; there have been enough
casualties in this war.”


“You do know that I'll figure out some way to get out of here, don't you?” Remus asked,
crossing his arms over his chest.

“I've thought of that, and I've ordered Dobby to not let either you or Tonks out of the
house unless the house itself is collapsing around you,” Harry countered.

“So that's it then?” Remus asked sadly. “You're just going to lock me up like they did
to Sirius?” A flicker of hurt briefly appeared on Harry's face, before the young vampire made
his face unreadable.

“Like I said, Remus, there have been enough casualties in this war,” Harry repeated
emotionlessly as he stepped around Remus and took Hermione by the hand. “Are you ready?” he
whispered to her.

“Yeah,” she replied. Nodding in satisfaction, Harry turned to Remus and Tonks.

“See you in the morning,” Harry said before the two vampires Apparated, leaving the werewolf and
pregnant Metamorphagus alone in the room.

------

Voldemort grinned triumphantly at the display before him. A large room in the center of Riddle
Manor had been prepared according to an ancient ritual he had found before his first fall.

The text had demanded that a sacrifice of thirteen souls be paid to power a crystal guarded by
the vampires, a crystal that would grant him immortality and limitless power. As the sacrifices
moved into position, Voldemort unlatched the jewelry box and slowly lifted the lid, revealing a
glittering emerald the size of his eye. Taking the crystal and gently placing it on a pedestal
before waving his wand so that the ceiling disappeared, revealing the dark, starless sky hanging
over them.

Voldemort began chanting in a dead, archaic language, muttering words that had not touched the
ears of man for centuries. Soon the runes drawn on the floor began to glow, and the Death Eaters
gave shuddering gasps as they felt the life slipping from their bodies. The air crackled with power
as the energy coursed from the floor and onto the pedestal, creeping into the emerald, which had
begun to glow brightly with power.

As the last words left the shell of a man's lips, the stone shone as bright as a new star.
The moment the chanting had ended, a thin beam of light shot forth from the emerald and into the
sky, like a great beacon. Voldemort laughed triumphantly; soon unimaginable power would be his!

Several seconds later, the beam flickered and vanished. Voldemort furrowed his brow in concern.
He did not feel more powerful. In fact, he felt exactly the way he did when he started the ritual.
A foul stench invaded his senses, and he looked down at the pedestal to see a shriveled, smoldering
mound where the crystal once stood. Never before had Voldemort felt such hatred towards the
vampires as he let out a scream of rage.

------

Harry and Hermione felt the squeezing sensation of Apparation, and then found themselves
standing in the foggy, desolate graveyard in Little Hangleton. Harry suppressed a shudder as he
remembered what had transpired in this area three years before.

“Oh good, I didn't have to wait too long; I was afraid it would take a week or two for you
two to get here,” a voice said. They turned towards the direction of the sound to see Darknight
sitting on a headstone, tossing aside the *Daily Prophet* in his hand. Harry's brow
furrowed in concentration; this man's face and voice seemed familiar. Suddenly, it all clicked
in his head, and Harry charged at Darknight, ramming him into a headstone.

“You son of a bitch!” Harry yelled, swinging his fist at Darknight's face. “You did this to
me! You turned me into this!” Darknight managed to get his feet up in front of him and forcefully
pushed Harry off of him.

“Yeah, I turned you, so what?” Darknight spat as he stood up, his bruises healing and his broken
nose and teeth shifting back into place. “And you're hardly one to talk; less than two months,
and you've already turned someone yourself,” he added, gesturing towards Hermione.

“Leave her out of this,” Harry snarled angrily.

“Hey, I'm just stating a fact here,” Darknight said, raising his hands defensively. “And
just for your information, I didn't want to turn you; I did it under orders.”

“Whose orders?” Hermione asked, speaking for the first time since they had arrived.

“That's a secret,” Darknight said, smiling knowingly. Harry growled and drew his wand,
pointing it at the other vampire's head.

“Tell us who ordered you to turn us. No more secrets; no more lies,” Harry spat, raising his
wand until its tip was pointed between Darknight's eyes, “or I blow your head off.”

“Lies, Harry?” Darknight asked rhetorically. “You must have me confused with someone else,
because I have never lied to you. Everything I put in that letter you read when you first turned is
true. I sent you the diadem, and I said I wanted Voldemort dead as much as you do, and so I do. So
tell me, Harry, when have I ever lied to you?”

“Wait, you sent the diadem?” Hermione asked incredulously, also leveling her wand to him.

“Yes, I thought I'd spare you the trouble,” Darknight replied, not taking his eyes off of
Harry. “And as for it being my fault that she's a vampire, okay, two can play at that game. I
admit, it's my fault for turning you. But then you can blame the one who ordered me to turn
you, or the one who turned me. But then you'd have to blame the one that turned him, and the
one that turned him, and him, and him, and him, all the way up to the first vampire. Then you can
blame her for going into that cave. You can blame her lover for dying. You can blame whoever
brought them together for doing so.”

“Is there a point to all this?” Harry snapped impatiently.

“Yes,” Darknight said stiffly. “The point is, is that you can point fingers all you want, but in
the end, *you* sunk your fangs into her throat, *you* drank her blood and *you* fed
her your own in turn. You can scream and protest all you want, but at the end of the day, the fault
is yours and yours alone.” With a crack, Darknight Disapparated, reappearing sitting on the large
statue of the Angel of Death marking the graves of the Riddle family. “Now turn around, the light
show's about to start.”

“What light show?” Harry asked. Darknight just pointed into the distance, and the two teenagers
turned in time to see a green beam of light shoot up from a house over the hill and into the sky,
illuminating the cemetery. “Wow…” he muttered, completely entranced by the display. Soon, the light
faded away, and the cemetery grew dark again.

“What was that?” Hermione asked, shaking herself out of the stupor that staring at the light had
caused.

“That,” Darknight said, jumping off of the statue, “was Voldemort losing thirteen of his Death
Eaters.” Grinning smugly, the elder vampire turned to Harry. “How about a proposition: you kill
Voldemort, and everything will be explained to you. Maybe not by me, but things will get explained.
Do we have a deal?” Darknight asked, holding out a pale hand.

Harry did not accept right away. He considered the offer: an explanation for all that had
happened in exchange for doing something that he had come here to do anyway. He shifted his gaze to
Hermione, who shrugged slightly. Eventually, Harry grabbed Darknight's hand with his own and
shook.

“Deal.”

“Great,” Darknight said, releasing his hold on Harry's hand. “Riddle Manor is that house
over the hill, the big one,” Darknight said, pointing out the correct building. “I'd estimate
that there are sixty or seventy Death Eaters in and around the property, and about nine hours until
sunrise. I can call up a few associates of mine to help you clean out the grunts, but obviously,
you have to take out the boss yourself.” Darknight paused to look at the house again, then looked
down at his watch. “Give me ten minutes, and I can gather up a clean-up team for you two,” he said
before Disapparating with a crack. Left alone in the cemetery, Hermione laid a hand on Harry's
shoulder.

“We should get going, Harry,” Hermione said. “The manor looks at least half a mile away.”

“Yeah, we should,” he agreed, and they began running over the hill and towards the large
manor.

Five minutes later, the two vampires had ducked behind a tree standing on the edge of the
property line, carefully observing the three Death Eaters patrolling the area. Drawing their wands,
Harry and Hermione fired silent stunners at the three guards. After tying them up and snapping
their wands, they began searching for a way into the manor. Searching around the perimeter of the
house, they found a dingy window sitting slightly higher than them.

“Here, let me give you a boost,” Harry said, grabbing Hermione by the waist and lifting her up.
“Wow, you're a lot lighter than you look,” he said, surprised at how easily he had lifted
her.

“Thanks…I guess,” Hermione muttered as she wiped the grime off of the window so that she could
see through the glass. She peered through the window to see a room with several boxes stacked
inside, most likely a storage room. “It's clear,” she said, leaning away from the window.
“I'm going to Apparate us in,” she warned before they Apparated into the room, the crack
echoing against the walls.

“It'll be three minutes until Darknight shows up,” Harry said, looking at his watch.

“Maybe it would be best if we waited here until then,” Hermione said, sitting down on a box.
“After all, we don't know how he's going to attack, and it might be best to stay out of the
way.”

“Right,” Harry said as he pulled out a box to sit on, but he stopped. “Actually, we should
probably go back outside. For all we know, he could be planning to drop a bomb on this house.”
Hermione scoffed at the ridiculous idea.

“Really, Harry, how could he possibly get a bomb big enough to destroy this place without
getting caught by the military?” she asked, arms crossed in annoyance.

“He can do magic, I'm sure he'll figure something out,” Harry countered, crossing his
own arms. “Do we really want to be here if that is what happens?” Hermione held firm for a moment,
but quickly faltered.

“No,” she admitted, and they both Apparated back to the hill and sat down in silence, waiting
for whatever Darknight would to clear the manor.

------

“Tell me again what you're doing?” a blonde female vampire asked as Darknight was on his
knees shoving a crystal into the ground.

“I am creating a perimeter for an anti-portkey ward,” Darknight stated as he stood up and dusted
the dirt off of his trousers, turning to face the nine vampires that had been standing behind him.
“Voldemort probably has an emergency escape portkey on his person, and it wouldn't do for him
to disappear before the killing blow can be dealt.”

“Okay, next question: why the hell are we even bothering with this; it's the Ministry's
problem, why not let them figure it out?” the female vampire asked defiantly.

“Trust me, Alice, I feel your pain, and would love nothing more than to see the wizarding world
pay for their own foolishness, but the fact remains that once Voldemort has conquered wizarding
England, he'll turn his attentions elsewhere…like towards us, and I have been ordered to make
sure that doesn't happen.,” Darknight explained tiredly. “Remember that; it'll probably
apply when you bitch about the next dark lord that pops out of the woodwork in fifty years or so.”
He knelt down and tapped the crystal with his wand, and the stone began to glow a dull red color.
He pushed some dirt over it to mask the light and stood up, dusting his hands.

“I still don't understand why you were chosen,” a different vampire said, “you're not
exactly the most diplomatic type.”

“I know,” Darknight agreed, shaking his head in confusion. A soft beeping emanating from his
watch grabbed the vampire's attention. “Okay, it's time to get this show on the road,” he
said, turning the alarm off before lacing his fingers together and popping his knuckles. “I hope
you brought your appetites with you, kiddies, because it's going to be an all-you-can-eat
buffet tonight.” With a cheer, the squadron of vampires dissolved into a cloud of bats, screeching
and flying towards Riddle Manor.

------

Voldemort was currently holding a Cruciatus curse on one of his more incompetent minions when
the sound of glass shattering around him caused him to release the curse. Suddenly, the room was
filled with the screeching and flapping wings of dozens of bats, quickly joined by the screams of
the Death Eater that was being devoured by the creatures. Voldemort fired a curse into the swarm,
but the small creatures expertly dodged the attacks.

Voldemort's familiar and Horcrux vessel Nagini was delighted at all the potential food
swarming around her, so she snapped greedily at the bats flying around her, but they dodged her
strikes, infuriating her. Her hiss of anger turned into one of pain as several bats had buried
their fangs into her flesh, draining her of her blood. She thrashed around, trying to shake off the
parasites from her body, but they held firm, and her thrashing ceased, the inhuman shriek coming
from the disintegrating Horcrux drowned up by the screeching from the bats.

The swarm condensed itself into a pillar of small creatures and rammed into the door as one,
breaking it off of its hinges and flew deeper into the manor. Voldemort looked down at the dead
Death Eater lying in front of him, hundreds of puncture marks dotting his pale complexion.
Sneering, Voldemort turned and saw the large carcass of Nagini. Realizing what this signified,
Voldemort let out a scream of rage.

Down in the kitchens, the werewolf Fenrir Greyback was sitting down to enjoy a large, juicy slab
of extremely rare steak, when his improved senses picked up the sound of wings flapping in the
halls, and the smell of fresh blood. The sensations grew stronger, and soon the door was smashed
down, revealing a swarm of bats flying towards him.

Greyback reached for his wand, but the bats reached him first, knocking him down onto the ground
and buried their sharp fangs into his flesh, draining him of his blood. Minutes later, the bats
unlatched themselves from their prey and took flight again, leaving the drained corpse of Fenrir
Greyback lying on the floor, wand in one hand and fork in the other.

------

Harry and Hermione stood up and watched in awe as a cloud of bats smashed itself into the manor,
permeating itself throughout its levels. The sounds of the Death Eaters screaming in pain and
terror made them sick to their stomachs, but they waited on the hillside. Almost fifteen minutes
later, the screams had stopped, and the bats flew out the broken windows and into the night.

“Well, I guess that's our cue to go in,” Harry said awkwardly. Nodding wordlessly, Hermione
Apparated back into the storage room, Harry following suit. She opened the door and cautiously
walked into the hallway, wand at the ready.

In nearly every room they entered, there was at least one corpse lying inside it, pale as a
sheet and covered with small puncture wounds. It also seemed that they were caught completely by
surprise. Macnair was leaning against his enormous axe, a stone loosely cradled in his open hand.
Harry grinned in sadistic pleasure when he saw Lucius Malfoy leaning over his desk, shock and
terror frozen on his mutilated face. Hermione stared in grim satisfaction when she saw Antonin
Dolohov sitting in a bathtub, the water colored pink by what little blood the vampires had not
drawn from his flesh.

After what seemed like hours of searching, they had finally found Voldemort. Strangely, he
seemed to be simply sitting on his throne, despite the fact that the windows and door had been
completely destroyed.

“You know, you're making this almost too easy,” Harry snorted at the display. This caused
Voldemort to look up and twist his features into a malicious grin.

“Ahh, Potter, we meet again,” Voldemort said smoothly when he saw his nemesis. “I was simply
waiting for you to arrive; after all, how can I vanquish you when I am not here?” he continued
smugly, ignoring the fact that he could neither Apparate nor use his portkey to escape, and the
doorway and windows had some sort of enchantment on them to prevent him from simply walking out of
the room, effectively trapping him.

“Well, since we're here, ever consider surrendering?” Harry asked conversationally. “Last
chance, you know.” Voldemort snorted derisively.

“Not a chance, Potter,” the sorcerer spat before whipping out his wand, sending a curse flying
towards them. The two vampires jumped out of the way and shot their own spells at Voldemort, but he
pulled out a second wand and cast two shields simultaneously. Harry seethed with rage when he saw
Voldemort holding Dumbledore's wand. Voldemort shot two curses at Harry, and the young vampire
barely managed to dodge them while firing a bombardment hex at the dark lord, who deflected it.

“What's the matter, Tommy?” Harry taunted as he rolled away from another curse. “Can't
hit little ol' me? Your dear daddy would be so ashamed, Tom.”

“I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!” the enraged dark lord shouted, sending curse after curse in a wild flurry
towards Harry, completely forgetting about Hermione's presence. As Voldemort raised his wand to
cast another curse, he suddenly found himself unable to speak or even move. Hermione then walked
over to him and plucked both wands out of his hands, a smug look on her face.

“That's what you get for forgetting that there's more than one opponent here,” she said
triumphantly before stepping out of the way. Harry sheathed his wand and drew Gryffindor's
sword before taking hold of Voldemort's shoulder with one hand and pressing the tip of the
blade into the dark lord's chest.

“You know, this seems almost too easy,” Harry said to no one in particular. “*Almost*,” he
reiterated, before leaning over and whispering into Voldemort's ear. “Go to hell,” he hissed
before shoving the sword through Voldemort's heart, the tip poking out from the man's back.
Unable to scream in pain, Voldemort simply gasped and choked quietly before his eyes became blank
and lifeless. Harry extracted the sword from his slain foe's chest and Hermione canceled the
petrification charm, causing the corpse to collapse on the floor.

Suddenly, the doorway and windows seemed to glow with an aura before it disappeared, and a small
swarm of bats flew in, reconstituting themselves into Darknight, clapping his hands slowly.

“Bravo, bravo, well done,” he applauded them. “A bit anticlimactic, but it got the job
done.”

“Alright, I kept mine end of the bargain; I killed Voldemort, now I want answers,” Harry said as
he cleaned the blood off of Gryffindor's sword and sliding it back into its sheath.

“Okay,” Darknight said, “what do you want to know first?” Before Harry could respond, Hermione
spoke up.

“What was that green flash we saw earlier?” she inquired. Darknight chuckled and smiled
knowingly at her.

“Let's say that a few hundred years ago, a vampire told the dark lord of the time that there
was a crystal guarded by the vampires that, for the low, low price of thirteen human sacrifices,
could grant him unimaginable power, a crystal that didn't actually exist. Now let's say
that for one reason or another, the rest of vampire society didn't particularly like this dark
lord, so they decided to play along. And let's say that after this particular dark lord's
defeat, the vampires never got around to setting the record straight, if you know what I mean,” he
explained cryptically. Hermione had a look of comprehension on her face, but Harry's was one of
confusion.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

“It was a hoax,” Hermione explained to him. “The vampires created a fake dark object, and
Voldemort tried to use it, am I right?” she continued, turning to Darknight for her query.

“Right in one,” Darknight said. “Next question.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “Who ordered you to turn me?” Darknight smiled knowingly, but did not
answer. Instead, a voice behind them responded.

“I did, Mister Potter.”

----

Wow, at over 4,500 words, this is the longest chapter I've ever done. I hope you enjoyed
it.

Now, about Light's Hope: While I will be updating chronologically on HPFF, and can simply
shove new chapters in between old ones on FanFiction, I cannot do so on Portkey, so I was wondering
if or when I delete it (I haven't gotten around to confirming if I can post a “director's
cut” yet), do you want me to repost it all at one time when I'm done, or post the chapters one
at a time as I complete them, like I normally do? Because I plan to do a few retcons and at least
one major rewrite that would make it very difficult, if not impossible for me to just lump
everything into a “deleted scenes” file. Your answers will be greatly appreciated.

Don't forget to read and review!

-->



12. Chapter 12
--------------



Did you all like my little cliffhanger? I know I did.

This fic is almost done; I reckon one, maybe two more chapters left after this one. It's
been fun. There is also a lot of talking in this chapter.

I don't own Harry Potter.

----

Harry and Hermione turned to see who had spoken. Standing behind them was a woman in her
thirties, wearing an elegant black dress, like one might have worn to a ball in ages past. Her long
ebony hair was tied back in an elegant knot. Her smooth alabaster skin along with her pale blue
eyes came together to give her a haunting appearance.

“Who are you?” Harry asked, holding up his wand at her. The woman's gaze briefly shifted to
his wand and smiled understandingly.

“I understand your suspicions, Mister Potter, but I assure you, I mean you no harm,” she said,
smiling softly. Harry's wand drifted downwards slightly, but was still aimed at her. “Perhaps
it would be better if we sat down,” the woman continued before turning to Darknight. “Emmanuel, if
you could be so kind as to draw some seats for us?” Darknight visibly cringed at the name she had
addressed him with, but drew his wand and waved it, conjuring four comfortable chairs for them to
sit in. As they settled into their seats, the woman once again turned her attention to Harry. “As
for who I am, Mister Potter, I have been called many things throughout the centuries; but the most
enduring title that I possess is that of the vampire Matriarch.” Both Harry and Hermione stared at
the Matriarch in shock, while Darknight watched with a vacant, almost bored expression.

“Madam, maybe it would be better if you started from the beginning,” Darknight suggested to the
Matriarch.

“Of course, thank you, Emmanuel,” the Matriarch replied, either oblivious or disregarding
Darknight's apparent discomfort. “I also request that you do not interrupt me,” she said to
Harry and Hermione. When the two young vampires nodded, she began speaking. “We vampires were also
involved in the first war against Tom Riddle as well, although very few know it, if any,” she
explained, turning to Harry and Hermione. “We cared not for the state of the wizarding world; they
had created the monster that was Lord Voldemort, and we felt that it was there responsibility to
destroy him.” Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but the Matriarch held up her hand to silence
the younger vampire. “Nevertheless, we recognized that if he were to obtain control over the
people, it would only be a matter of time before Riddle would turn his gaze towards so-called
`sub-humans' such as us, so we spied on his followers, foiling their plans when we could. It
was during one of these incidents when one of my spies stumbled across a certain prophecy,” she
said, turning her gaze towards Harry, who shifted uncomfortably. “However, unlike the Death Eater
scum who attempted to eavesdrop on the telling, my spy was more skilled in stealth, and was able to
learn the entire contents of the prophecy.

“I knew the significance of this legitimate prophecy, so I sent two spies to watch over your
family, as well as the family of the Longbottom family. Of course, that became impossible once they
had fallen under the cloak of the Fidelius charm, so they had to abandon their missions. Later,
when I learned that the Potter family had fallen, and Riddle had been vanquished, I investigated
the site personally.

“I had arrived before your half-giant friend, so I did not fear being discovered. I saw you
lying in the rubble, miraculously unscathed, save for your scar,” she said, her gaze briefly
flickering towards Harry's forehead before she continued. “I covered you with a blanket and
tried to comfort you as much as I could, but you knew something had happened, something wrong.
While there, I also saw something that concerned me. Tell me, do either of you know what an oracle
is?” Harry turned to Hermione in confusion, who answered the Matriarch's question.

“An oracle is a kind of seer; they supposedly can see someone's future future just by
touching them,” she recited, as if from a textbook, a look of disdain on her face at the idea of
divination. “They were supposed to be very rare.”

“Indeed, they were, and once upon a time, I was one such seer,” the Matriarch said. “But unlike
most practitioners of divination, who believe that they can see a set order of events through the
interpretation of blurry images and incoherent mumbling, I see the future for what it really is: an
infinite number of possibilities in a constant state of flux, their very existence hinging on
individual choices. When I looked into young Mister Potter's future, I saw many things, most of
them boding ill for him. In many of the lifetimes I had witnessed for him, he had fallen to
Riddle's wand. In many more, I saw them both fall in a draw. Only in a scant few did I see
Mister Potter emerge victorious, but nearly all of them had left deep scars in the hearts of the
people, and many people close to him had fallen in the process.”

“It still doesn't explain why you ordered my turning,” Harry interjected, tapping his
fingers impatiently.

“I felt that it was the best course of action,” the Matriarch responded calmly. “It would have
ended the war the fastest, which was something that we both desired. The sparing of many of your
friends from death was simply a consequence of your swift vanquishing of Riddle. Believe me, it was
not a decision that I made lightly, but I felt it was for the best.” At this, Harry shot up from
his seat, his fists clenched in anger.

“`For the best?'” he repeated incredulously. “How could turning me into *this* be for
the best?!” he demanded, gesturing to himself.

“Perhaps I should amend myself,” the Matriarch said calmly, although the sharpness in her eyes
spoke of her own rising impatience. “I meant what was best for my people, which whether you desire
it or not includes both you and Miss Granger now. As I have stated before, I had no desire to
defend the wizarding world; it was through their fault that Lord Voldemort was born, and it was
their responsibility to defeat him, a task that they have failed at. However, I also knew what it
meant for my people should Riddle succeed, so I had to plan to intervene. So tell me, Mister
Potter, would you have performed any differently were you in my position?” she demanded. Harry
opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out when he realized that he had no response, so he
closed his mouth and sat down.

“You could have taken a more active role in the war, helped us fight the Death Eaters,” Hermione
suggested. “The war could have been over overnight if you had, and there would have been peace.”
Darknight snorted in amusement at that statement.

“If I may take this one, my lady?” Darknight asked politely. The Matriarch bowed her head in
affirmation, and Darknight turned to Harry and Hermione. “If we did that, that would have opened a
whole new can of worms that we didn't want to open. True, if we had taken a more active role in
the war, there would have been peace...for about two minutes. Then the ministry would simply turn
around and declare war on *us*.”

“That's not true!” Hermione shouted indignantly. “We wouldn't betray our allies like
that!”

“Is it?” Darknight asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow at Hermione. “The ministry, and the
people in general fear that which they perceive as dangerous. The purebloods would never admit this
out loud, but they discriminate against Muggleborns because they realize that the so-called
`Mudbloods' will be the future of the wizarding world, an inconceivable concept for them.
Werewolves are only dangerous for a few days out of the month, but as your friend Lupin can tell
you, they're only a bit above house elves in social status in the wizarding world. Now tell me,
how do you think they would react to vampires, so-called `monsters' that are dangerous at any
time?” Before either of the younger vampires could respond, Darknight continued. “They would have
hunted us and put us down like wild dogs. Kind of like the situation you would find yourself in
should you ever show your faces in the wizarding world again, come to think of it,” he continued,
scratching his chin in realization.

“But the war is over now; maybe we can make things so that you can have a place in society,”
Hermione continued. Darknight turned to the Matriarch and shrugged slightly.

“An admirable offer, Miss Granger,” the Matriarch said. “However, it will be a long and
difficult journey before that can be accomplished. If you do manage to bring a more fair age for us
to the wizarding world, then I commend you, but it will not matter to me if you cannot. Our society
has lived separate from the wizarding world for this long, and I imagine that it will continue to
last for many years to come. Are there any more questions you wish to ask me?”

“Yeah, if you can see the future, how come you didn't see yourself becoming a vampire?”
Hermione asked curiously. The Matriarch smiled sadly at her.

“Alas, the nature of my gift is that I require contact with a person in order to see their
future. Because of that, I am incapable of witnessing my own. If I could, then I would not have
made the decision I had made, and I would have joined my lover in time,” the elder vampire said.
With a sigh, she stood up from her chair. “If you will excuse me, I believe it is time that I take
my leave from here. Have a good night, Mister Potter, Miss Granger,” she continued, bowing her head
to Harry and Hermione before dissolving into a cloud of bats and disappearing into the night. With
a sigh and a grunt of effort, Darknight pulled himself up out of his own chair.

“Well, I have to wake up early tomorrow, so I'm going to call it a night,” he groaned,
stretching his arms out. “But before I leave, I've got to say something: even if you think that
because of your immortality you're going to lose everything you've ever loved, allow me to
remind you of something: you still have each other. You have a bond that not many people have.
Maybe you'll stay friends, maybe you'll be more, I don't know; I can't see the
future. But I do know that you have each other, and that's a lot more than most of us can say.”
As he twisted himself to begin an Apparation, Hermione cleared her throat.

“If your real name is Emmanuel,” Hermione asked, Darknight's eye twitching in annoyance,
“why do you go by `Darknight?'” As Darknight recalled the reason, he chuckled lightly to
himself.

“I was a Muggleborn boy born in the 1940's, and my idol was another man who spent a lot of
time around bats,” he responded cryptically before Disapparating, leaving Harry and Hermione
sitting alone in Riddle Manor. Hermione reached over and placed her hand on Harry's
shoulder.

“Are you okay, Harry?” she asked him with concern. Harry nodded numbly.

“Yeah, I'm fine, it's just a lot to take in. I need a couple of days to think,” he
muttered softly. Hermione stood up and held out a hand to Harry.

“We should go; Remus and Tonks are probably going spare over us,” she said. Harry took her hand
and pulled himself to his feet.

“Probably,” he agreed, and they both Apparated back to 12 Grimmauld Place, where they were
assaulted by a werewolf and a pregnant metamorphagus, both exclaiming how worried they were about
them.

“Remus, Tonks, we're fine,” Harry grunted in discomfort as Remus continued to crush him.
“Voldemort's dead now. We'll tell you all the juicy details...tomorrow,” he said, yawning
loudly. “Fighting dark lords really takes it out of you, good day,” he said as the young vampires
walked upstairs.

“I'm holding you to that, young man,” Remus shouted up the stairs, although he couldn't
help but smile widely. The reign of terror was finally over.

As Harry escorted Hermione to her bedroom, she turned to him, a look of determination on her
face.

“Harry, I know that technically we're boyfriend and girlfriend, even though it was during a
time of war, so we couldn't really do anything,” Hermione began, biting her lip nervously. “But
one day, we're going to talk about whether what we have is actually real, or whether it was
just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, before yawning again. “But not tonight, I'm beat.” Smiling briefly, he
bent down to kiss her cheek goodnight. Hermione turned her head at the last moment and their lips
accidentally brushed together. They lingered together for a moment before they realized their
position and broke the kiss, avoiding each other's gaze awkwardly. “Umm...good night,” Harry
said quickly.

“`Night,” Hermione mumbled as they went their separate ways. Harry shook his head, wondering
what had just happened. He looked down at his watch, which read nearly three in the morning.
*I'll worry about it tomorrow*, he thought to himself; *it's to early for
thinking*.

------

As Dolores Umbridge was preparing to end another day of exerting her superiority over the
Mudbloods plaguing the country, her door opened and a pale man dressed in black robes walked in
without knocking, parchment in one hand and his other hand behind his back.

“Can I help you?” Umbridge asked with forced calm.

“Yes, actually you can,” Darknight said, discreetly casting a silent locking and silencing charm
with the wand hidden behind his back. “You can help by signing these papers for me,” he continued,
dropping the parchment on her desk. She looked at them and scoffed.

“A pardon for Potter and Granger? A letter of resignation? Why would I possibly sign these?” she
asked incredulously. Darknight smiled mirthlessly and whipped out his wand, disarming Umbridge.

“Because I asked nicely, that's why,” he said casually. “Now the way I see it, you have two
options: you can cooperate, sign the papers and leave the country permanently, or I can force you
to sign them. You're choice.” Realizing that she was unarmed and in no position to make
demands, she slowly sat down and signed the parchment before folding them up and sending them
fluttering away. “It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Madam Umbridge,” Darknight
said, not lowering his wand, “*obliviate*.” As the memory-wiping spell sent Umbridge flying
and knocked her unconscious with the impact with the wall, Darknight sheathed his wand and dusted
off his hands. “I helped level the playing field, Potter,” he muttered to himself. “The next
move's yours.”

----

I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and hope that it answered any questions you might have
had.

Don't forget to read and review!

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13. Epilogue
------------



Well, this is it: the final chapter of *Memories in my Blood*. I hope that you enjoyed
reading my little contribution to the woefully low Vampire!H/Hr community (I checked; there are
less than 100 between here and FanFiction).

As usual, I don't own Harry Potter, just the plot and original characters.

----

Epilogue

Harry looked at the clock glowing dimly on the nightstand by his bed. For several minutes, he
had been lying there, unwilling to summon the will to get out of bed. Finally, he slowly slid out,
being careful not to awaken the other person in his bed, before donning a robe and walking over to
a blank wall. He waved his hand over a panel, and the wall in front of him shimmered and shifted
until it became like a giant window, showing an image of a towering metropolis, buildings
stretching far as the eye could see.

For obvious reasons, it was not an actual window, but merely a hologram showing a detailed image
of the outside world simulating a window. Harry quietly chuckled to himself; the Muggles had made
amazing advancements in technology in the past seven hundred years. Harry ran his fingers through
his messy black hair as he reminisced about the past several centuries.

------

After the fall of Voldemort, Harry and Hermione tried to figure out how they were going to enter
the Ministry of Magic without having every auror in the country bearing down on them. The two
vampires were surprised to find out that Umbridge had not only retired from the Ministry, but had
rescinded the arrest warrant out for them. With the pathed cleared for them, the two young vampires
arrived at the Ministry of Magic and appeared before the Wizengamot. While many of the members were
leery about them, they all knew that Harry had saved them from the greatest threat to Wizarding
Britain in recent memory, and gave him a chance to speak.

After a long night of discussion and negotiation, where very little was actually accomplished,
due to their nature and its associative status, Harry and Hermione returned to 12 Grimmauld Place
before dawn arrived. Even though they were both tired, they knew that they had to discuss the
position of their relationship soon, so they sat down and talked. They talked to each other about
their feelings, and where they went from there. They agreed to take their relationship one step at
a time. They were now immortal; they could afford to take their time with things.

Several months later, Tonks had given birth to a healthy baby boy, Theodore Harrison Lupin.
Harry and Hermione had agreed to be the godparents of the small infant. Remus and Tonks went on to
have two more children in their lives: Alexander James and Breanne Andromeda. Fortunately, none of
their children had inherited Remus' affliction, although they had also not inherited Tonks'
metamorphagus abilities.

Once, Harry and Hermione had used the pendant portkey that Harry had, to see where it would take
them. It ended up transporting them to a vampire community somewhere in the English countryside.
Their guide was a woman not much older in appearance than themselves, who gave a detailed tour of
the community. She explained how the community worked as a self-sustaining entity, approximately
half of the members raising livestock for their blood. She also explained how vampire wizards,
because of their abilities and their low population compared to vampires that were once Muggles,
they are held in higher social standing, even though they are technically equal in rank.

For years, Harry and Hermione had fought through politics and outdated traditions in an effort
to gain equality for all sentient beings. It took nearly four years just for them to gain a
position where their word would actually carry weight within the happenings of the Ministry. One of
the first things that Hermione had done was implement laws concerning house elf treatment and
employment, quickly followed by petitioning for equal rights for werewolves.

Though it pained him, Harry had kept his word to Bill, and had avoided contacting the Weasleys,
although he observed them from a distance. He watched as Fred and George's joke business boomed
beyond imagination; he watched as Ron became an auror like he had wanted; he had watched while
Ginny graduated and become a player for the Holyhead Harpies quidditch team. Harry watched while
they - and everyone he had ever known settled down with jobs and families, and eventually died and
faded away. Some fell in the line of duty, some died from some unfortunate accident, and many
simply fell before time's unforgiving passage, until Harry and Hermione were all that remained
of the time that he had came from.

The peace that had followed Voldemort's demise was long and good, but neither Harry nor
Hermione were delusional enough to think that it would last forever. Several decades after
Voldemort's fall, several pureblood-minded wizards from northern Eurasia had forged an alliance
with the Muggle terrorists, and had begun wreaking havoc on England and its allies from both
fronts. Unfortunately for the aurors, these new terrorists were smarter than the Death Eaters,
disappearing into a crowd quickly, and either obliviating or killing themselves if they were to be
caught. With world relations on a razor's edge, it seemed that another world war was imminent,
but a worldwide conflict was abated by an unconquerable force: Nature.

The Muggles had forseen it for years, even though many wizards had dismissed it as fantasy, but
the world was changing. The world was getting warmer, and the polar caps were beginning to melt. At
first, the effects were minor: slightly higher tides and warmer summers. But as time passed, the
effects became more severe. By the year 2075, floods and hurricanes containing winds over 130 miles
per hour were a common occurrence, particularly in coastal areas. By 2110, the pendulum began to
swing the other way: the winters would become longer, and colder. Massive amounts of snow would
fall over Eurasia and North America, covering the continents in a white blanket that would persist
throughout the summers, only to be covered by the following winter's snow. By 2150, much of the
northern hemisphere was covered by a thick blanket of snow and ice.

Unforunately, due to their incredibly long lifespans in comparison to Muggles, the prejudices
within the Wizarding world were slow to change, so while the Muggles heeded the warnings and fled
south before global warming consumed their homes, the magical folk remained, confident that their
wards would be powerful enough to weather this storm. However, even the mightiest barrier can
buckle underneath a strong enough force, and when the wards finally shattered under the strain of
holding up the world, ice and water crashed down on the wizards, thousands dying instantly by their
ignorance.

With thoughts of war driven from their minds in the face of their own survival, mankind began to
rebuild itself. Construction technology advanced in leaps and bounds in light of the growing
population, making buildings that reached higher than any monument before them. Colonies were also
built underneath the oceans and beneath the ice.

------

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by two slender arms wrapping around his waist and soft lips
pressing against his shoulder.

“Hey,” she whispered into his ear. Smiling, he turned around to face Hermione, his friend and
lover for all these years.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied, bending down to softly kiss her on the lips.

“What're you doing?” she asked as she laid her head on his chest.

“Just thinking,” Harry said as he ran his fingers through her curls, “about everything
that's happened these past few hundred years.”

“Nothing too depressing, I hope,” Hermione said, amused.

“Nah,” Harry said, shaking his head, “that's not till tomorrow.” They both laughed at his
little joke. “I was thinking we just stay in today, how's that sound?”

“Mmm, sounds great,” Hermione sighed softly as she released Harry from her hold. “You wait here
while I freshen up,” she said, winking at him before she turned around and walked to the bathroom,
swaying her hips seductively. Harry chuckled softly at her actions. Even after almost seven hundred
years, they still acted like young lovers.

Harry and Hermione had seen many things together, both good and bad. They fought in a war, and
nearly entered a second one; they watched as their friends and loved ones died one by one; they
watched as the Earth changed itself. But through it all, they still had each other, and their love
for one another.

And that made it all worth it.

----

And that's the end of it. I hope that you enjoyed it.

Now I just got to finish the rest of my fics….

Don't forget to review!

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