Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Memories in my Blood
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 is 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.
"Remus, Moody, 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 bedroom. 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 towards 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 could not 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 had not done since her first year at Hogwarts.
She locked herself into a bathroom and cried.
--
Meanwhile, at the hotel that he was staying in, 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 inside.
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 did not 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, lowering 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'll be revealing the origin of the vampires in a few chapters. Until then, I want your theories about how they came to be, to see how close they are to my own idea.
Don't forget to read and review!
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 is 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.
"Remus, Moody, 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 bedroom. 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 towards 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 could not 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 had not done since her first year at Hogwarts.
She locked herself into a bathroom and cried.
--
Meanwhile, at the hotel that he was staying in, 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 inside.
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 did not 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, lowering 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'll be revealing the origin of the vampires in a few chapters. Until then, I want your theories about how they came to be, to see how close they are to my own idea.
Don't forget to read and review!
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