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For those of you who have been wondering (I reckon just about everybody), Ron's reaction to Harry's vampirism will finally appear in this chapter.
I don't own Harry Potter, blah, blah, blah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asked dumbly.

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

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

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

“I did, Mister Potter.”

I bet you all hate me right now, don't you?

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