A Vampire's Soul

A Vampire’s Soul, chapter nineteen

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

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Vampires, so there’s blood mentioned; violence; Slash; slight Het, multi-partners, and a touch non-con but not really. ALSO, there will be a few OCs, only because I need them for the story/plotline, but Proudfoot is a name mentioned in book six.

Words: About 4,400

Notes: I got a bit into my Original Characters here, and I apologize, but I will keep them as minimum as possible. Harry’s role in the Daywalkers’ world is growing, thus there needs to be Daywalker characters (as well as other Werewolves). Post-HBP.

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

.-.

If Worple’s wand was here, that must mean that Worple wasn’t too far away. Yet, Worple could have dropped it as he tried fleeing the soulless vampires. Harry sighed; he was both annoyed and amused. Eldred Worple had lived with vampires for years; still he managed to drop his only means of defending himself against the evil type. Worple should have known better and should have used a strong sunlight spell against them, but he didn’t. It was sad, really.

“He might be near,” whispered Proudfoot. Harry was amazed that the werewolf was still with him. Although Proudfoot admitted to being a Slytherin back when he went to Hogwarts, Harry noticed that he did have some bravery in him. Perhaps he was feeling safer because he was with Harry.

“It’s possible,” Harry replied. He stood completely still as he opened his senses to the max and tried to hear, smell, and feel just where Worple was or had been. After a while, when he couldn’t get even a hint of Worple, he transformed into a wolf. Proudfoot gaped at his sudden change but didn’t move from his spot. That was good, because Harry needed him to be quiet as he used his wolf senses.

Finally picking up the scent, Harry let out a howl as he ran in the direction of his target. Proudfoot pocketed Worple’s wand and ran after Harry; he wished, in a way, that he could also transform just to keep up with him.

The scent became stronger and stronger until it smelled like he was standing right on top of it. He was close; the scent was above him.

“Look out!” Proudfoot yelled and tried to dive at Harry to push him out of the way, but he didn’t get there in time. Something jumped onto Harry’s back from a very high branch and latched on tightly. Harry bucked and kicked like a wild bull, but whatever it was that was on his back wouldn’t let go.

Then, the scent of death filled Harry’s nostrils, and by his knowledge there was only one thing that had that smell, apart from Inferi: it was a soulless vampire. But it didn’t make any sense; soulless ones didn’t usually travel alone. So, did this mean there were more? Harry couldn’t sense any others, and as he zigzagged around, trying to knock the soulless one off him, he recognized the smell that also came with the usual one of a soulless vampire.

“No, it can’t be…” he thought. He couldn’t believe it, but there was no denying it. He knew who the soulless vampire was.

Just as Harry was transforming back, he suddenly heard a snarl and then the soulless one went flying off him and crashed into a nearby tree.

“Are you all right?” Proudfoot asked, helping Harry to his feet. Proudfoot had just charged the soulless vampire and possibly saved Harry.

Harry gratefully took his hand and pulled himself up. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Proudfoot blushed, and Harry found that it was a very becoming look on him. “You’re welcome.”

The soulless vampire stirred and it brought them back to the situation at hand.

Proudfoot gasped. “Wait… is that?”

Harry nodded. “It is.”

“Oh, Merciful Moon… Worple.”

Indeed, it was Eldred Worple. The robe that Worple had been wearing was so torn it looked as if it had gone through a paper shredder, and there were scratches and bruises littering his body. The worse part to look at on him was his eyes; they no longer seemed human. The old adage was true: the eyes were the windows to the soul, and there didn’t seem to be a soul in Worple any more—the body was nothing more than an empty shell bent on flesh and blood.

“He would have been better off dead,” said Harry sadly. Proudfoot looked as if he wanted to leave, and if he did, Harry wouldn’t blame him.

“What’re we going to do?” Proudfoot said quickly as Worple started to find his bearing. “We can’t just leave him like this… but we can’t stay here and let him bite us either…”

“What’re you worried about?” said Harry. “Your blood will taste awful to him.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t really know that right now, does he? He’ll just keep attacking until he gets his jaws fixed into me and he’ll let me bleed to death…” Proudfoot whimpered.

“Then just don’t stand there,” Harry shouted as the soulless one, once Worple, lunged at them. “Fight!”

Proudfoot let out a high-pitched cry when Worple came at them and he dodged, but Harry stood his ground. As Worple’s outstretched claws came at Harry from above, Harry brought his hands up to stop them, and they ended up locking hands in what seemed to be a test of strength. Their supernatural strength seemed to be equal, but Harry had the advantage of still having his soul (and a sane mind). Harry swept his foot under Worple and tripped him, and Worple crashed to the ground, shrieking.

It was heartbreaking to see Worple this way, but Harry knew what must be done in order to let Worple truly rest in peace. Harry struggled to get at his wand while Worple leaped from the ground and started to wrestle with him. Just as he got hold of his wand’s handle, Worple climbed onto his back, arms wrapped around his neck, and tried to bite him. Harry snarled the wickedest he’d ever sounded as he whipped out his wand from his robe and raised it over his head.

Unfortunately, Worple found an opportunity to sink his fangs into Harry’s neck. What startled Harry the most wasn’t the feel of those teeth puncturing him, it was the fact that Worple wasn’t sucking… he was injecting.

“AHHH!” Harry screamed, pain filling his head and chest, and the area where he was being bitten burned intensely. “LUMUS SOLEM!”

Sunlight illuminated brightly from Harry’s wand, bathing them completely in it. The power behind the spell offered no escape route for the soulless Worple, and with a scream, Worple was nothing more than a pile of black ash.

Weary, Harry fell to his knees, clutching his wand tightly. The last time he’d felt this kind of white-hot pain was when the basilisk had poisoned him. He shook his head, strands of hair brushing wetly against his clammy skin. He tried to regain his bearings as he knelt there in the dirt, vision fading in and out.

“Harry?” said Proudfoot weakly beside him. “Are you all right? You look really peaked. I mean, more peaked than usual.”

“I’ll—I’ll be fine,” Harry said, although he knew it wasn’t true. “We must find…”

“This?” said Proudfoot, flourishing a sapphire and amethyst quill in Harry’s face. “Got ya covered, mate.”

“The quill,” croaked Harry. He could just barely crack a smile at Proudfoot as he took it from him. “Thank you.”

Proudfoot laid a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It was no problem. But next time, bring a wooden stake, will you?”

“I’ll remember that,” said Harry, pocketing the quill with a shaky hand.

.-.

“Master,” said Vega, going on one knee and bowing his head. “I’m sorry to tell you, but the young Daywalker, Harry Potter, said that he had some urgent business to take care of and he won’t be back for a while.”

Prince Vlad stood from his throne, a shadow falling over half his face. “What happened? Do you know something, Vega?”

Vega couldn’t meet his Master’s face. He shook softly as he tried to get the words out. “He went after Eldred Worple. He was in trouble…”

“Interesting,” said Vlad. He began to pace in front of Vega and Betelgeuse in silence for a few moments. “So he sensed that Worple was in danger?”

“Er, no, he…” Betelgeuse nudged Vega, and catching on, Vega changed his answer. “I mean, yes. Yes, he did.”

However, Vlad wasn’t fooled.

“You lie,” he sneered, and Vega and Betelgeuse jerked back as if slapped in the face. “Tell me the truth, or you’re to be locked in the cell with only animal blood to drink.”

Betelgeuse cracked.

“Forgive us, Master, but we didn’t want you to know that it was the werewolf that Vega and I attacked that Potter sensed and came to rescue.”

Prince Vlad raised an eyebrow. “You were attacking Remus Lupin?”

They shook their heads. “No, Master…” said Vega. “It wasn’t Lupin.”

“It had to have been. Remus Lupin is the only werewolf that Harry is close to in that way, therefore he could have been the only one he’d Scented.”

“I-It was odd, Master,” said Vega. “After Potter saved the pup, they began sniffing each other and then they both said that they could smell Remus on the other. I suppose the other werewolf is close to Remus; that was why Potter could smell him on the pup.”

“Just who is this pup you keep speaking of?”

“I think his name is Proudfoot,” said Vega.

Prince Vlad nodded. “Of course. I’ve heard of Proudfoot. I believe Remus does know him, but I didn’t think he knew him like that.”

“Master, what shall we do? Potter went after Worple with Proudfoot all because of some quill.”

“Quill?” said Vlad, feeling even more confused. “What do you mean? What is so special about a quill?”

“I don’t know, but it must be important enough for Worple to risk his life to give it to Potter.”

Prince Vlad stared up at one of the small windows. Light from the moon and the stars were flooding in. “And Proudfoot risked his life to give Harry the message?”

Vega and Betelgeuse nodded, looking guilty.

Prince Vlad swept his cloak around him as he turned and walked back to his throne. Silently, he sat, and the other two Daywalkers stayed on their knees and waited. They were used to their Masters sudden quiet moments; they knew he was thinking so they didn’t dare interrupt him.

Finally, Vlad said, “Thank you for informing me. You may go.”

Considering themselves lucky, Vega and Betelgeuse bowed and left the throne room swiftly.

.-.

“We need to get you out of here, Harry,” said Proudfoot anxiously as he tugged Harry up from the ground. “Come on.”

The burning in his brain and neck hadn’t stopped, but his vision was beginning to clear. With Proudfoot’s help he was able to stand, though a bit shakily. He grasped Proudfoot’s shoulder with one hand as he rubbed at his temples with the other. He vaguely wondered if he was poisoned and slowly dying, and if so, what should he do now? Should he give Proudfoot the quill and tell him to give it to Ron and Hermione, or should he try Apparating there and see if Snape had a remedy he could take?

However, Proudfoot made up his mind for him.

“Hold on to me… I can Apparate, and I think I know where the entrance to Castle Dracula is…”

Harry didn’t have a chance to reply, because he was suddenly being transported via side-along Apparation and the usual squeezing sensation stopped any words from coming out of his mouth. Once the sight of the castle was before him, he vaguely thought about Proudfoot’s safety before passing out.

Daywalkers emerged from the shadows; some held wands in their hands, some had crossbows with silver tipped arrows. Any other time the sight would have scared Proudfoot, but his thoughts were only on Harry and getting him to Asa Nodes as quickly as possible.

“Stay right where you are, werewolf,” said one of the Daywalkers coolly.

“You must get Asa,” Proudfoot pleaded. “It’s Harry, he’s been badly bitten by a soulless vampire.”

Being bitten by a soulless one was serious business, and all Daywalkers knew it. The Daywalker put his wand away immediately and moved forward to help Proudfoot carry Harry into the castle. The other Daywalkers gathered around, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do.

“Get Asa,” ordered the Daywalker that was helping Proudfoot with Harry. “Now. You know how much our Master respects Potter.”

Three Daywalkers ran to get Asa. The Daywalker and Proudfoot placed Harry on the nearest divan; the Daywalker examined the bite marks on Harry’s neck and let out a disappointed sigh.

“Who are you?” Proudfoot asked as politely as he could, though his mind was screaming at him to run far away from this large assembly of vampires.

“Nicholas Chambers,” said the Daywalker softly, still staring at Harry’s bite marks. Proudfoot stared at him; Nicholas looked to be about his age, maybe older, but he knew that appearances could be deceiving. A Daywalker usually kept their youthful looks when they’ve been Turned, especially if they’re a magic user. Nicholas was handsome, that much Proudfoot could see. He had brown fringe with black roots and very light brown eyes, and he had slight Asian features (1). Nicholas also seemed to have this soothing air about him and it helped Proudfoot to relax.

“Nice to meet you,” Proudfoot said, voice cracking. He cleared it before he continued speaking. “I’m Proudfoot.”

“I know,” said Nicholas, and then he turned his head and their eyes locked. Proudfoot couldn’t look away no matter how hard he tried. All concern and fear left him, and he felt compelled to close the gap between them, but he found that he was rooted to the spot. It was almost as if Nicholas was hypnotizing him, but he knew that he wasn’t. A calm feeling was filling his mind, soul… and heart.

“I…”

“I’m here!” shouted Asa, bringing Proudfoot back from his daze. “Where is he?”

“Right here,” said Nicholas.

Asa ignored Proudfoot and knelt to examine Harry. After studying the bite marks on his neck, she placed two fingers on his temple and two other fingers on his arm. A silent minute passed, and then Asa took her fingers off Harry and took out her wand.

“I’m just going to give him what healing I can, but anything else would require a potion…”

“Is there a potion that could alter the effects of the poison running through his system?”

“I think so, but it might take two months to brew, but by then it might be too late.”

“Will he die?” said Proudfoot, frowning deeply.

Asa looked up at the sound of his voice and stared, eyes flashing. “It’s been a while, Proudfoot.”

Proudfoot gave her a half-smile. “Yes, it has. Still working at St. Mungo’s?”

Asa nodded, still waving her wand about over Harry’s body. “Yes. And they still don’t know that I’m a Daywalker.”

“Strange,” said Nicholas. “You’d think they’d figure it out by now.”

Other Daywalkers hung around, looking nervous and curious. Some tried craning their necks to see how Harry was, but other than that they stayed a few feet away from them. Proudfoot was only a little worried about being around so many Daywalkers, but Nicholas’ presence was keeping him calm and levelheaded.

Then the throne room’s doors opened and light spilled onto the carpet. There was a hush around the room as Prince Vlad stepped out and made his way toward them.

“How is he?” Vlad asked.

“I don’t know, Master,” said Asa, looking ashamed. “It might be too late to save his soul…”

“NO, I will not hear of it!” Vlad boomed. “Harry Potter’s soul must not die. The world needs him more than ever right now. He must—who are you?” he suddenly snapped, pointing a skinny, gnarled finger at Proudfoot.

“This is Proudfoot, Master,” said Nicholas.

Prince Vlad nodded in understanding. “Yes, of course. You’re the one that Harry Scented.”

Blushing, Proudfoot nodded. “He saved me from…” he paused, not sure it would be right to tell the head vampire that two of his kind attacked him and he was rescued by another.

“Yes, I know,” said Vlad kindly. “You are lucky to escape with your limbs intact.”

Proudfoot looked away, biting his lower lip.

“Sir, if I may,” said Nicholas. “We should concentrate on Harry.”

“You’re right, Nicholas,” said Vlad. He swept around the room and looked at those that were gathered about. “All of you don’t need to be here, especially since there’s a werewolf present. Some of you do not have enough control over your urges and you might attack him, making Harry’s sacrifice be in vain.”

“Are you saying that we should… protect this werewolf?” sneered a Daywalker.

Prince Vlad rounded on him, and immediately he went down on his knees in forgiveness.

“Yes, Ethan, that is what I’m saying. There is something special about this werewolf; otherwise, Harry would not have Scented him. I ask that all Youths and those inexperienced with werewolves leave the room.”

He walked around the crowd slowly, and as he met their eyes, they bowed in respect. “I will pick those that will stay with Harry and care for him.” He pointed to each one he chose, calling out their names and the reason why he chose them. “Donald Moon, eldest in the room after me; Patrick Mizar, one of the noblest Daywalkers in my clan; Nicholas Chambers, most even-tempered and possessor of the Calming Demeanor (2); Neal Corvus, Sire to Harry’s Sire; Asa Nodes, Healer and Werewolf sympathizer; and…” he paused when two more Daywalkers entered the room. He looked into the eyes of one of them and then pointed at him. “Vega Manns, Near Bond (3) to Proudfoot.”

Shocked, everyone stared at Vega. Vega stared back, not believing his ears.

“Excuse me?”

Prince Vlad faced him, eyes glowing. Vega cringed only a little as he tried to keep a neutral expression.

“The sexual urges you felt toward Proudfoot may have been unavoidable, but you did not have sex with him in hatred. There was an emotional surge between you two, though it wasn’t significant enough to become a full Bond.”

“But I tried to kill him,” Vega protested, eyes dilating and breathing escalating. “Surely you know this?”

“In the heat of the moment, perhaps, but I think you would have succeeded only because Betelgeuse was with. If it had been just you, you would have only injured him. Perhaps your Bond might have become complete.”

Vega flushed and his mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. Betelgeuse looked surprised at first, but now he was glaring heatedly at Vega as if he were betrayed. Proudfoot knelt there; face a brilliant pink, unable to believe what he was hearing. A Bond with Vega, whom almost killed him? It was unthinkable. Yet, when they had connected, he’d felt… something. But, as he glanced at Nicholas, there was something about this other Daywalker that made his face burn. Was he so attracted to Nicholas that he couldn’t comprehend his so-called Bond with Vega? Or was this normal?

“Shall we alert you when he wakes?” Neal asked Prince Vlad.

“Yes,” said Prince Vlad. He waved a hand at the others. “The rest of you, please leave.”

His order was carried out immediately. He turned back to stare wretchedly at Harry’s body, his throat tightening at the thought of what he knew will happen in the near future if Harry was unable to be cured.

“Patrick, please fetch a few wooden stakes and silver crosses from the weapons room.”

Obediently, Patrick bowed. “Of course, Master.” He left.

“You can’t be serious,” gasped Proudfoot.

“Alas, it is unavoidable. Harry’s soul will slowly corrupt and he’ll become one of those soulless creatures. When it happens, there’s no other alternative but to destroy him.”

“But if you do that, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will win!”

Prince Vlad patted Proudfoot on the shoulder. “I am sorry, but we have no other choice.”

.-.

Draco had enough waiting. His chest ached so badly he nearly wrote a letter to Rufus Scrimgeour asking for him to bite him. He felt as if he were slowly going insane.

“Draco, where are you going?” Remus demanded, grabbing Malfoy’s sleeve.

Malfoy tried to shake him free. “Potter’s been gone way too long, and you idiots aren’t doing a thing about it. I’m going to find him.”

“You shouldn’t leave Grimmauld Place,” Remus said, trying to reason with him. “If a Death Eater finds you, you’re as good as dead. I thought you wanted to avoid getting killed?”

“I do,” said Malfoy, looking torn. “But this pain in my chest is telling me that if I don’t find Potter soon, I’ll die! So, either way, my life is in danger.”

That was true, thought Remus. But he couldn’t just let Malfoy go off on his own to find Harry. He had a feeling he’d have to come with. He rubbed at his temples. “All right, I’m worried about him too, so I’ll go with you.”

“What about Snape?” said Malfoy. “Why can’t he come with?”

“If he’s not busy, I suppose he could. I’ll ask him.”

“You better tell him you need your potion too,” reminded Draco. “It’s nearly the full moon.”

Remus nodded. “I know that, Draco. I plan to.”

.-.

“Master,” Neal called out. “Harry’s waking!”

They gathered around Harry as they watched his eyes slowly open. Some Daywalkers were armed with wooden stakes, some with silver crosses, but Harry was oblivious to them. When he looked around and saw that he was surrounded by Daywalkers, he snarled in warning, and when they didn’t back off, Harry sat up from the divan and hissed.

“Get back!” Vlad ordered. They all took a few steps back to allow Harry some room.

“Harry?” said Neal as comforting as possible. “How’re you feeling?”

Harry’s eyes, which were now glowing ominously, turned toward him. Neal couldn’t help gulping nervously, hoping that Harry wasn’t already long gone.

“…Hungry,” snarled Harry. He eyeballed them all as if trying to decide just whom he’d like to bite first.

“Harry…” said Asa carefully. “A soulless vampire has poisoned you. It’s only a matter of time before you become like one of them. That is why most of us are holding wooden stakes.”

Harry looked around at them all, seeing that what she said was true. Deep in his soul, at this very moment, he understood what was happening to him and he knew he was powerless to stop it. He moaned, as if in pain, and buried his face into his hands.

“Couldn’t we give him some of your blood, Master?” Patrick asked. “It could sustain him.”

“You may be right,” said Vlad. He inched toward Harry, licking his fangs. He was nervous, but he knew that this young one needed his help, and he wanted to try everything he could. “Harry, I’m going to try helping you. But I need your cooperation. Will you let me?”

Harry removed his hands from his face and looked up. His eyes were red, pupils glowing, and face a shade paler than usual. It was not a good sign.

Finally, Harry said, “Yes… go ahead.”

“Thank you, Harry,” said Vlad serenely. “Now, I want you to lie back and open your mouth. I’m going to feed you some of my blood.”

Almost instantly, Harry’s mouth watered. He remembered how Prince Vlad’s blood tasted, and he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to get a second taste. From what he heard, no other Daywalker had been able to get seconds.

Vlad knelt beside Harry and leaned over him; he swiped his tongue sharply over his fangs, and brought his mouth to Harry’s. Like a baby bird, Harry opened his mouth eagerly. They connected. Prince Vlad let his blood flow smoothly into Harry’s mouth, and when it was gone, Vlad swiped his tongue along his fangs again, giving even more of his blood to Harry.

Finished, Vlad pulled back to survey Harry. Harry’s eyes were looking more normal and his cheeks bloomed with color. He considered that a success.

“Just rest now,” he said to Harry, rubbing the middle of his chest. “We’ll do all we can to cure you.”

Harry slowly stuck his hand into his robes and pulled out a quill. Everyone stared in confusion.

“I need you to do me a favor,” said Harry softly. “I need you, or someone, to get this quill to my friends, Ron and Hermione. It’s very important.”

“Vega has told me that you considered it important, but what I don’t understand is why.”

Harry’s eyes closed for a moment, and Vlad thought he’d fallen asleep, but then they opened again, but only halfway. He twirled the quill around between two fingers.

“It’s important, because… it’s the way to destroying Voldemort.”

There was a quiet murmur throughout the room.

“A simple quill belonging to a Hogwarts founder is the way to Lord Voldemort’s downfall?” said Vlad.

Harry smirked, and it looked a little evil. “No, no… this is only one piece of the puzzle. I’m nearly there…”

“You can’t tell us, can you?” said Neal.

Harry shook his head. “No, I cannot.”

Vlad stood from the floor, still looking down at Harry. “Please rest now, Harry. We’ll do as you ask and get the quill to your friends. The other Daywalkers will be looking after you while you sleep, so that no one will try anything.”

Harry nodded. “Good idea… I am still exhausted… sleep sounds good…”

And he fell asleep, seven bodies standing guard over him.

TBC

(1) Nicholas Chambers looks very similar to the actor Nicholas Tse from the Jackie Chan movie New Police Story. I had his name already picked before I saw the movie, but I thought it was an interesting coincidence that he has the same name as one of my characters, and since I now have a crush on the actor, I made Chambers look like him (he was going to look a bit like Harry, but I decided on having him Asian).
(2) The Calming Demeanor: Also known as the Calming Effect. Nicholas Chambers was blessed with the unique power of keeping others calm. It is an uncommon Daywalker power that surrounds the vampire’s aura, emitting feelings of calm and contentment. Works on any creature, being, and magic user.
(3) Near Bond: Simply put, it is a Bond that hasn’t become a full-fledged Bond yet – Love or Sex. Sometimes a Near Bond doesn’t get completed.

Werewolf Sympathizer: This is easy enough to understand, but I figured I should talk about it anyway. It is a Daywalker that doesn’t hate and/or fear werewolves. There are only a few that are; Asa Nodes is one of them, although she is still unable to stay around a werewolf (mainly a more menacing one) without having the urge to attack them sooner or later.


My dear readers, thank you all for your kind replies! Because my work (the campus library) will be closed all next week, I will be unable to update this or any of my other fics. But the week after that I may be able to! Then the week after that, classes will start for me, and I’ll be very busy again. So, please be patient in waiting for the next chapter. If I could afford the internet at home, this wouldn’t be a problem. Alas, it is out of my control right now.
Until then, keep reading (and writing) those slash stories, and keep the faith!

PS: Thank you, Weasleywench, again, for your wonderful replies. My muse thanks you from the bottom of its heart.