FicWad

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 sympathy 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 in acknowledgement, 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 bit expensive, but I do 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 could not 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 would not 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 would not 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?!

"Wow," Harry said to himself, "Hermione must be really mad if she's swearing."

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 something 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 origin 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 could not 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?!" Hermione shouted, scandalized.

"I didn't have a choice!" 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!