A Vampire's Soul

Ok, you talked me into it. :) You guys are great! Thanks for the replies!!

A Vampire’s Soul, chapter seventeen

Pairings: Harry/Draco, slight Harry/Ron/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, slight Harry/Ron, Harry/others, other male/male

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Vampires, so there’s blood mentioned; Slash; some Het, and multi-partners. ALSO, there will be a few OC’s from here on out, only because I need them for the story/plotline, but Proudfoot is a name mentioned in book six.

Words: About 5,350

Notes:. Post-HBP. So far, nothing has changed from the original plot.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, nor do I own anything from Dracula. I do own all the other characters in this story that isn’t in the Potter books.

Chapter written: May 24th, 2007

.-.

Saturday, and it was getting close to dusk. Harry was looking out the window of his bedroom, Hedwig sitting in her perch next to him. All day there had been people coming and going from Grimmauld Place, some carrying news of how things were going in both the Ministry and the outside world. The war was still raging on, and many witches and wizards were asking just where their savior, Harry Potter, was and when he was going to get on with it and destroy Voldemort already.

Right now, Harry had another pressing matter to deal with. Vampires, especially those that weren’t wizards before they’d been bitten, didn’t use owls to communicate back and forth with one another. Some magical folks that were Turned did keep their owls, even though the majority of the vampire population used other means of sending letters back and forth.

The use of their means was introduced to Harry that morning. He thought that it was an owl that had tapped his window, but it wasn’t. It was a raven. Nonetheless, Harry let it in. It had a small, elegant looking scroll tied to its leg. It cawed noisily at him when it hopped in; its beady, black eyes seemed to be staring straight into his soul.

Hedwig didn’t care much for the raven and hooted in a way that Harry could only guess was untrustworthy. Harry really had no choice but to take the scroll from the raven’s leg. He slid the red ribbon off, unraveled it carefully, and read it.

At first, Harry wasn’t sure what to think. The handwriting was done gracefully, and some words were written in the old English. It took a while for Harry to read it, but he got the gist of it. The letter was from the head vampire himself, and he was asking, in a very polite but stern manner, that Harry come to his castle at once so that he may initiate him into the Daywalker’s Order.

At the bottom of the letter, right below Vlad the thirteenth’s signature, was a stamped logo of the Order of the Dragon. It was a dragon on a cross. Harry stared at it for a moment before bringing his gaze back to Vlad’s signature. What did he have to do now, write back? Or was he expected to just go to the assigned meeting?

Just as Harry was about to make up his mind, the raven gave him no warning and pecked his hand. Harry let out a small hiss and sucked on his injured finger, glaring at the raven. Maybe it was waiting for him to reply, but the second Harry got out his quill, the raven flew out the window. Harry huffed indignantly and slammed the window shut.

Now, it was dusk, and he knew he had no choice but to respond to the head vampire’s request (or was it an order?). Besides, he already said that he was going to join the Order of the Dragon, so he might as well get it over with. He wondered if Vlad was like Dumbledore to those in the Order of the Dragon.

When he walked into the sitting room, everyone looked up. They’d been sitting on the couch around the fireplace, talking about what to do about the war or something, Harry wasn’t sure. When his eyes landed on Remus, Remus stood up and smiled.

“Harry, how’re you feeling? Any better? I was thinking that maybe you should take someone’s blood, just in case.”

Harry didn’t believe what he was hearing. It was so tempting that he opened his mouth to say, “Yeah, I’d like that…” but instead he said, “I’m sorry. I have an appointment to keep with the head vampire.”

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Tonks stood up, looking defiant. Harry didn’t know why they had to be; it was his choice to go.

“You shouldn’t have to go just because some hundred year old vampire tells you to!” said Hermione, puffing up like an agitated owl.

“Yes, I do, Hermione. I said during the meeting I was going, remember? By the way, he’s a hundred and ten.”

“I don’t care about his exact age!” she cried. “I care about YOU. What if you join them and then decide that we don’t matter anymore and that you’d rather spend all your time with your kind!”

Harry blinked. He had no idea that Hermione felt this way. He thought that she knew that he was doing the right thing. “My kind?” he said, perplexed. “I thought all of you were my kind?”

“You are, but…” Hermione flustered.

“I’m not going to leave you guys, just because I’m getting initiated into another Order. I know that I’m doing the right thing.”

Ron looked as if he wanted to say something, but then he closed his mouth and shook his head. Remus walked over and placed a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, giving him a smile that was both reassuring and loving.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Harry. But if you need anything, come back straightaway.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” said Harry. “I won’t get killed. I’m one of them, remember?”

“You’re also one of us,” said Hermione dutifully. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

Harry stared. Then, as if someone had poked them both with a prod, Harry and Hermione embraced. Her arms around him were strong, but Harry couldn’t tell.

“Just you come back to us, Harry Potter,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Harry chuckled softly. “Hermione, I’m immortal!”

“Yes,” she said, pulling away from him softly. “Still…”

Ron clapped Harry on the back. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. You’ll blow all those other vampires away with how great you are.”

Harry was embarrassed, but there was barely any color going through his cheeks. “Thanks, Ron. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He looked at each one in turn. “I promise.”

.-.

He was using the directions that Sanguini gave him just before they left. Harry was halfway there already. He thought about using his broom, but decided that turning into a wolf was better. It had been a while since he’d been a wolf anyway. Scents and sounds were increased as a wolf, and he enjoyed being able to have these heightened senses. He did wish that he took Remus up on his offer, though, because he was feeling a bit weak and very thirsty. He stopped at a stream to have some water, but for some weird reason, he couldn’t stomach much. He wondered if not having enough human blood was having a bad effect on him.

Finally at the castle, Harry sat and looked up. The old Dracula castle wasn’t as magnificent as Hogwarts, but it was still amazing. Harry expected there to be bats flying around, but the only thing flying on the breeze were dead leaves. Harry’s nostrils flared, and he could just barely make out the scents of other Daywalkers. Back on all four paws, Harry carefully made his way to the front gate, nose to the ground and ears erect.

Just as he got to the gate, a sound startled him so much that he transformed back into his human form. Instinctively, he took out his wand and pointed it at the source of the noise.

“Easy there,” said the stranger. “I won’t hurt you.” He slowly came out of the shadows, arms raised in surrender. When the moonlight finally hit his face, Harry could only stare. The man was a bit off color, and he had shiny, black hair, a triangular face, and bright blue eyes. “That was remarkable,” the man continued. “I didn’t think you heard me.”

“Is that such a surprise?” Harry asked evenly.

The man smiled, showing off his long fangs. Harry felt compelled to show off his own fangs, but squashed that thought once he realized that it was the monster in him that wanted to. Normally, Harry wasn’t one to show off if he could help it, but seeing the other vampire made him want to, and to prove himself.

The other vampire put his hands down just as Harry lowered his wand. He kept it out, though—just in case.

“You must be Harry Potter,” said the vampire.

Harry was so used to everyone knowing him that he just shrugged the obvious statement off.

“I am Neal Corvus,” the vampire said, holding out a hand. Harry glanced down at the offered hand and then back up to his face. “I assure you, I’m a friend. I was told that you’d be coming, so I thought I’d meet you at the entrance.” When Harry still didn’t take his hand, Neal said, “I know your Sire.”

Harry’s eyes flashed and his jaw set. “Do you?” he said tightly.

The corner of Neal’s lips curved slightly, barely a smirk. “Yes . . . . He is my Fledgling.”

A shiver slithered up and down Harry’s spine. Meeting his Sire’s Sire was quite an honor… that was what he felt anyway. Harry nodded, and then took Neal’s offered hand.

“A-an honor to meet you…” he said, his throat tightening.

“And you, Mr. Potter.”

“You—you can call me Harry,” said Harry quickly, surprising himself.

Neal bowed, eyes fixed on Harry’s. For a second, Harry thought Neal was going to kiss his hand, but he brought his head back up. He was just bowing out of respect, but it felt wrong to Harry for some reason. The Sire and his Sire wasn’t supposed to bow to him, was he?

“Why are you bowing? It doesn’t seem right…” Harry blushed, and there was actual color in his cheeks this time.

“I know that it’s rare”—Harry’s stomach jolted—“but it is custom for us Daywalkers to bow to those that we respect.”

Harry’s mouth opened in a small O-shape. He wasn’t sure if he should try correcting Neal and tell him that he was no one special and that he didn’t need to bow to him, but it also felt good to know that his Sire’s Sire respects him. After getting over the shock, all he could do was smile.

Neal got closer, almost nose-to-nose with him, and Harry stood his ground. He wasn’t sure if what Neal was doing was a Daywalker custom or that he just wanted to… get close. Harry stayed still, staring into Neal’s deep blue eyes.

“Yes. I see.”

Harry gave him a questioning look, but Neal didn’t explain himself. It was as if he were searching for something when he was looking into his eyes. Maybe Neal was an Occlumens.

“Walk this way,” said Neal, and he led Harry toward the double doors of the castle. A funny skit from a certain film popped in his head when Neal said that, but he kept it to himself.

Neal grabbed one of the large knockers on the door and banged it. Another skit from the film popped into his head, but he shook it clear. He didn’t have time to be thinking about Muggle things right now; he was about to meet the head vampire.

.-.

“Where’s Potter?” said Malfoy when he walked into the sitting room. The only ones in the room were Remus, Tonks, Ron, and Hermione. They stayed on the couch (Remus in the armchair), waiting patiently for Harry to return. Hermione had tears in her eyes when she looked up.

“He’s gone to meet the head vampire,” said Remus.

Malfoy stared at them with shock and horror. “He did what?”

“He’ll be fine,” said Ron, sounding almost as if he was trying to tell himself that. “Seriously, he’ll be fine.”

“How do you know?” said Malfoy. He wanted to sit, but the only other empty place was next to Tonks, and he didn’t feel like sitting next to her. She tried being a loving cousin to him this past week, but he was having none of it.

“Because he’s Harry,” said Ron simply. “And because there’s no reason why the head vampire would want to hurt Harry.”

“Why’d he go?” Malfoy asked.

“Because the head vampire, Vlad the thirteenth, asked him to join the Order of the Dragon,” said Remus. “And because Harry decided to.”

Malfoy began to pace. “Wonderful… just bloody peachy…”

“Why’re you so worried?” said Ron. “You don’t like him.”

Malfoy stopped pacing and turned to face Ron. “I never said… well, I don’t hate Potter.”

“And he’s your soulmate,” smiled Hermione knowingly. “So you can’t help being worried.”

Malfoy glared. “Shut up.”

But he knew that what Granger was saying was true. Sure, he didn’t care that much for the stubborn, annoying, goodie-goodie Gryffindor, but he was worried about his health and what was to become of him. Malfoy had heard stories about what happened when the head vampire called you to his castle. So what if Potter was already a vampire. Vlad the thirteenth was worse than Potter, and much more powerful. If Potter put a toe out of line just once, Potter would be served up as the head vampire’s main meal. That, or he’d have Potter beheaded and then have his head put on a spike while he sat outside his patio and watched the whole scene. He knew those from Dracula’s family line all turned out to be nutters.

“Being worried is normal,” said Remus. “But we must remember that Harry’s no longer a child and he’s been through tougher things than this. We just have to have more faith in him.”

Draco wanted to believe Lupin… he really did.

.-.

“This way to the main hall,” said Neal. The inside of the castle was nothing like Harry ever seen before. In a way it did look like the kind of castle that you’d see in a horror film, but in another way it was very exotic. There were so many strange and wonderful things to see; statues, busts, paintings (some move, some don’t), suits of armor, exotic plants and flowers, glass cases with antique and expensive looking objects inside, book shelves, large walk-in cupboards, and all sort of things that a witch or wizard would have in their own home. There was even an umbrella stand that looked similar to the one at Grimmauld Place.

When they arrived at the door to the head vampire’s room (which could probably be called a throne room), Neal knocked gently. Harry could understand why, too, because the sound of the knock really traveled throughout the castle. Then the door seemed to open all on its own, and if Harry were still mortal that would have frightened the socks off him.

There was no sound at first, but then when Neal opened the door further, he could hear a faint organ playing in the background. “Wait here,” said Neal. Harry didn’t think it wise to argue, so he just nodded his head and stayed standing in front of the doors. Neal was inside, but he kept one hand halfway on the other side of the door, and faced the front of the throne room. It was a bit muffled, but Harry could just make out Neal asking someone if he should let Harry in. The organ music stopped. Then, the door opened again.

“He’s ready to see you,” said Neal, opening the door all the way.

Harry stepped forward. The room definitely looked like a throne room, and there before him, was Vlad Tepes the thirteenth—the head vampire.

He wasn’t as terrifying as he thought he’d be; although eerie, most of Harry’s uneasiness was from awe and anxiety for finally getting to meet the head vampire himself. Only a quarter of the anxiety he felt was from fear—fear that he might make an ass of himself.

“Come closer,” said Vlad. Harry’s breathing sped up, and if his heart was still working, it would be beating out of his chest. Harry obeyed, stepping as close as he dared until he arrived at the foot of the steps that led up to the dais in which the throne was sitting on. Instinct compelled him to lower himself to his knees, onto the first step, and bow until his forehead touched the middle of the stairs.

“Rise, Harry Potter,” said Vlad. “You do not need to bow that low to me.”

Harry stood up shakingly. Looking up into the head vampire’s face, Harry finally got to see his features better. Long white hair, slightly wrinkled, pale skin, and eyes that glowed when the light hit them just right—Vlad was an awesome and powerful sight to behold, and Harry felt his knees begin to shake from just being this near to him.

“Sir—Master?” Harry stuttered. “You sent for me?”

Vlad stood from his throne in one sweeping motion, and Harry backed away reflexively. As Vlad descended the dais, Harry felt the urge to take a few steps back, but remembering his manners, he didn’t want the head vampire to think he was repulsed. Harry stood his ground the best he could, his knees almost knocking together.

“I have, indeed,” Vlad said courteously. “I do hope that my raven, Edgar, didn’t bite you. He has the tendency to do that to strangers.”

Harry lowered his eyes. “Actually, he did…”

Vlad made a disapproving noise and shook his head. “I apologize for that, Harry Potter. I will have words with him.”

“You can just call me Harry . . . sir.”

Vlad stood in front of Harry and brought his face down to peer more closely into his eyes. The head vampire was a head taller than Harry, and Harry was feeling such awe of him as he craned his head up to meet Vlad’s eyes.

“Small in stature, but a grand soul. I can see why everyone both fears and loves you. You’re powerful.”

Harry’s cheeks tinted crimson. “I—I don’t think…” he started.

“You don’t think you’re powerful?” Vlad finished. He placed a hand under Harry’s chin and raised his head up so that he’d look at him. “You are wrong in not trusting your own power, Harry . . . you have a rare gift, even for a Daywalker. You must learn to harness this power.”

“M-my Sire was going to help train me,” Harry prattled hastily, without thinking. “But he hadn’t had the time…”

Vlad’s eyes glowed and he let go of Harry’s face. “Yes . . . Rufus is a busy person. It’s understandable.”

He turned away and started to walk toward a door on the other side of the throne room. Harry wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow or not, so he stayed there, staring after him. Vlad halted and looked back at Harry for a moment, and then faced forward again.

“You may follow me,” he said. “I would like to continue our conversation elsewhere.”

“Of course, Master…” Harry said, and forced his feet to move forward. He had to widen his strides to catch up to the longer-legged and fast-paced head vampire.

“I normally require that all Fledglings and Youths call me Master, but it doesn’t settle well with me for you to call me that. You can call me ‘sir’ if you wish, but you can also call me Prince Vlad. It seems right, seeing as you have allowed me to call you Harry.”

Harry nodded respectively. “Yes, sir… Prince Vlad… I understand.”

Prince Vlad patted Harry’s shoulder warmly. “Good lad. I am sure that you’ve learned quite a few things about vampires and Daywalkers these passed couple months, have you not?”

“Yes, I have, sir,” Harry replied more calmly. Walking alongside the head Daywalker down the old corridors was helping him feel more at ease. “Possibly not everything.”

“No, not everything,” said Vlad. “You’re correct in assuming that. There is much for you to learn. I will explain to you of our ancestry. . . as much as I’m able to recall, at any rate…

“Count Dracula, as many people had called him back then, was born in 1431 in Transylvania into a noble family. At the time, there was no wizard blood running through the family’s veins until sometime later when a descendant married one. They called him Count, but he was really a prince, and later a ruler over his homeland and Walachia. Twice he had lost and reclaimed the throne, once by fighting his own brother, Radu. His father was called ‘Dracul’, meaning ‘dragon’, which I’m sure you knew, because he belonged to the Order of the Dragon, which his great-grandfather founded.

“He lived in a time of war, fighting the Muslim Ottoman Empire. Twice he’d been imprisoned, first by the Turks, who hauled him away in chains, and later by the Hungarians. Dracula’s father was murdered, while his older brother, Mircea, was blinded with red-hot iron stakes and buried alive.”

Harry shivered. “How horrible.”

“Yes, but it was a horrible war; many people died for their cause and religions. The Muggles believed that he was a monster that enjoyed killing others, but he believed what he did was right in the name of victory. Of course, I don’t do the things he had done so many years ago. Some don’t believe that I don’t take after my ancestor and have tried destroying my castle . . . that is why it is here, in England, and not in Transylvania anymore; for I have moved it.”

“Magic?” Harry asked.

Prince Vlad stopped, placing a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. They had stopped in front of what looked to be a portrait of Count Dracula himself; dressed nearly from head to toe in purple and gold. This painting didn’t move.

“Only a little,” Vlad said, answering Harry’s question. He looked up at Count Dracula’s painting, and Harry’s eyes followed. The man in the picture was sitting proudly on a throne, very regal looking. “Mostly it was moved the Muggle way, so as not to raise suspicion. The minute they notice anything out of the ordinary, they may come after us again, but with more than just fire and pitchforks.”

Harry nodded in understanding, but he had heard about one of the horrible things that this Dracula did during the war. He wasn’t sure if it was true, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Sir? I had heard of something that Count Dracula did that made him feared and infamous, and I was wondering if it was true.”

“What have you heard?”

“Well, like you said, he’d done some horrible things during the war, and one of the things I have heard was that he would eat a meal on a table set up outside among hundreds of impaled victims, and could be seen dipping his food in blood…”

Prince Vlad seemed far away as he stared at the painting. Harry was too afraid to interrupt him from his thoughts, so he just stood there and thought as well, also staring at the painting.

“He did, indeed, do that…” Vlad said after a while. Harry looked up at him in slight shock. “But,” Vlad continued. “Like I said, I don’t follow my ancestor’s behavior. This is a different kind of war the world is fighting now. It is not wise to come out of hiding from years of careful discretion.”

“Prince Vlad, how did Count Dracula die?”

Vlad bowed his head as if in pain, and then raised it again to stare at his ancestor’s portrait.

“While fighting the Turks near Bucharest, Romania… his head was severed and displayed in Constantinople.”

Harry gulped; the thought of what happened to Dracula became more of a picture in his mind. He had mockingly told Remus that that was what he thought everyone in the Order of the Phoenix wanted to do to him when they discovered that he was a vampire, but now he was relieved that they really didn’t want to do that.

“Well, I was hungry…”

Vlad’s eyes sparkled. “Indeed.” He swept his arm back, his velvet-black cape fluttering behind him, and they continued their stroll down the hall. He didn’t seem too disturbed by telling Harry that story, but then Harry thought maybe he’d been telling the story enough times to other Fledglings that it didn’t effect him much anymore.

There was one thing he still needed to know, however.

“When do I get initiated, sir?”

“Tonight,” Vlad said kindly.

.-.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Staring defiantly, Proudfoot didn’t say a thing. The two vampires circled him, pupils wide and nostrils flared. He was shorter than them—hair and eyes light brown and face still round-ish, as if he hadn’t lost any baby fat yet—but he didn’t want to look intimidated. His chief once told him that he needed to grow a bit more of a backbone.

“Looks like some puppy lost his way,” said the second vampire. One stopped in front of Proudfoot and the other behind.

“Looking for a scrap, pup?”

“Not necessarily,” said Proudfoot. “I’m actually looking for a certain Daywalker.”

The vampires snorted in amusement. “A werewolf, actually seeking a Daywalker? You’ve got to be joking.”

“This is no joke,” said Proudfoot. “This is serious.”

The vampire in front of him got into his face. “I think you’re looking for trouble, or making an excuse to get away. What do you think, Betelgeuse?”

“I think you’re right, Vega,” said Betelgeuse, stepping right behind Proudfoot, licking his fangs.

Proudfoot sneered, his instincts kicking in. He curled his hands into claws and glared as intimidating as he could. Betelgeuse looked bigger than Vega, but wasn’t what one considered fat, and Vega was taller by half a foot than Betelgeuse. They both had dark hair, but Vega’s eyes were a dazzling blue and Betelgeuse’s eyes were dark, like tunnels. Proudfoot could call Vega handsome, but he wasn’t sure about Betelgeuse. He really didn’t want to fight them, and not just because he was outnumbered, but also because staying alive right now was of the utmost importance.

“Look,” Proudfoot said, trying to make them understand. “I don’t have an owl to use to send a message, so it’s imperative that I find him. If not, I don’t know what will happen . . . . Our world will be in even more danger…”

Vega grabbed Proudfoot by his shirt collar and jerked him close to his face. Proudfoot gasped, his nose bumping into Vega’s. The feelings of lust and rage between them were inevitable, and Proudfoot didn’t know if Vega would let his desire override his urge to maim. He wouldn’t mind a shag, actually; it was the aftermath that scared him.

“Who are you trying to find?” Vega said, his top lip brushing against Proudfoot’s. “Maybe we’ll help you . . . but then, maybe we’ll just fuck you into the ground . . . and then make sure you stay there.”

Proudfoot opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a small gasp when he felt Betelgeuse behind him, gripping his waist. He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly—cock pressing hard against his trousers.

“Who are you trying to find?” repeated Betelgeuse into his ear. Proudfoot let out a needy mew.

“H-Harry Potter…” he finally groaned.

All at once, the vampires let go. Proudfoot gasped at the sudden freedom, his limbs feeling too lifeless to keep him standing, and he fell to his knees. Vega and Betelgeuse stared at him, shock evident in their eyes.

“Harry Potter?” said Vega, glancing at his partner anxiously. “Why are you looking for him?”

“I told you,” panted Proudfoot. “It’s urgent. I don’t know the entire story, but it has to do with… a quill…”

Vega and Betelgeuse stared at each other, confused.

“Run that by us again,” said Vega.

Proudfoot wobbily got to his feet, dusting off his trousers. “I don’t understand it myself, but Eldred Worple found this quill that was hidden in Borgin and Burkes that has a little eagle etched on the shaft. Apparently it’s something that Potter’s been searching for, and Worple was on his way to give it to Potter when he was attacked by a horde of soulless ones.”

The vampires’ eyes hardened at the mention of one of their worse enemies.

“Where is this quill now?” said Vega. “What happened to Worple?”

“Is he dead?” Betelgeuse asked.

Proudfoot shook his head, “I don’t know… I think Worple still has the quill, because I doubt the soulless ones know what it is. I’m not sure if Worple survived, to tell you the truth… he just saw me watching the attack from a tree and shouted at me to get Harry Potter, because he’s got the quill he was looking for, and then he described the quill to me, in case Potter doesn’t believe me when I tell him.”

“You just sat in your tree and watched the man get attacked?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Proudfoot huffed. “If I tried helping him, I probably would have been worse off. I had to get the hell out of there the minute Worple told me what he had and what to do.” Proudfoot shook his head sadly. “Poor Worple… there are times when he can be a real sleaze ball, but he fought bravely.”

“Why didn’t he Apparate?” Betelgeuse asked. “Is he that thick?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he can’t.”

“Or maybe he is that thick,” said Vega. “All right, we’ll take you to Potter. After you tell him everything, leave. Understand, pup?”

Proudfoot nodded, unable to believe his luck. “I understand.”

.-.

Harry bowed his head, chin touching his chest. The ceremony room was lit up with floating candles, and standing in a half circle around him and Vlad were the other vampire elders. They had just finished chanting something in a different language—possibly Gaelic—and Prince Vlad raised a goblet to eye level. Harry knew, without raising his head, what was inside that goblet.

“My Children – elders – Youths and Fledglings – I give you our newest member of the Order of the Dragon. He is the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, survivor of the Killing Curse, and Chosen One. My Children, I give you … Harry James Potter.”

Harry raised his head, eyes shining a brilliant green and illuminating the darkness around him. His fangs elongated to maximum length. As all watched silently, Harry took the goblet from Prince Vlad, and held it – just held it. Without having to bring his nose to the brim, he could already tell how powerful the blood in the goblet was.

“Drink, Harry Potter, and you will become one of us.”

Harry hesitated for only a moment on those words, but his mind had been made up already … he was going to join.

Staring into Prince Vlad’s face, Harry brought the goblet to his lips. The aroma wafting to his nose was his undoing; it was nothing he’d ever smelled before, and it was driving his senses into overload. Greedily, Harry drank. And drank. And drank… until the goblet was empty.

Finished, the goblet was taken from his hands. Harry’s body was humming, and he felt as if he could do anything and he wouldn’t run out of energy. He raised his chin with dignity, meeting his Master’s gaze.

“Take this ring,” Prince Vlad intoned. He grasped Harry’s left hand and raised it; Harry splayed his fingers to accept the ring, which was black with gold trimmings and their Order’s insignia carved into it. “It is a symbol of your devotion, your connection, and your allegiance to the Order of the Dragon. Keep it with you, always.”

“I will,” Harry said, bowing.

Prince Vlad brought Harry’s left hand up and gently placed a kiss right above the ring on Harry’s knuckle. Their eyes met, and a chill ran down Harry’s spine.

“Welcome to the Order of the Dragon, Harry Potter.”

TBC

AN: Just want to state that when I wrote this, I had already planned what the quill was. . . but I don’t want to give it away and ruin the fic for anyone. If there are any changes in the chapters, I will say so in the notes.