A/N: I started writing this for a girl I liked. it's set int he Harry potter universe, but it's also a Dracula crossover and deals witch very few 'Harry Potter' characters.
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There are countless misconceptions about vampires that I have encountered over the years. Some are thoroughly understandable, but some are just ridiculous.
I care little about the beginnings of things, thought they are not without merit. Many of the myths that I may find so ridiculous perhaps stem from our nefarious beginnings.
Some argue the roots of vampires originate in Egypt, others come from dubious ramblings about mad impalers from Walachia, demonic baroness’ that bathe in the blood of virgins, perhaps something darker from before Rome invaded the bitter north.
The main point of this, however, is that vampires exist.
Vampires are possibly the strangest of all magical beings. To boil it down to the most bare-bones description, we are animated corpses: zombies.
Technically, we are dead, we cannot age, our hair cannot grow, nor can our fingernails, we cannot procreate and so the basic rules of a walking corps go on. We can, however, regenerate if something is lost or if we obtain injuries that would be fatal to a living being. The process of regeneration requires us to have the ability to transform into mist, then re-compose ourselves back into a fully healed form. Even for the oldest, most experienced vampires this takes a great deal of energy.
We, of course, possess the power to Turn people by exchanging blood. Turning someone is not difficult, but a full Turning takes about a decade and a half to complete, and the consequences for choosing the wrong person are dire. Not just anyone can be a vampire, and if an unfit victim is chosen, not only are they turned into a ghoul, but the vampire who turned them is left in a weakened state until they can manage another Death. In this situation, I was lucky to have chosen a victim of strong spirit and mind to Turn, thought I credit my luck more to impulse than to any kind of cleverness.
I feel the necessity, before I go on, to talk a little bit about myself and my beginnings. As a general rule, it is probably for the best that I provide a little more context for my tale and a reason for my actions.
I am still a very young vampire and I have not yet met many of my kind, save for a select few, the majority of whom I met shortly after I began working for the Ministry of Magic back in 1952, my ‘Master’ excluded, of course. Many Vampires were wiped out by the infamous Van Hellsing before the turn of the 20th century.
I was a sixth-year student at Hogwarts when I was Turned. The year was 1943, the Nazi’s were bombing London; the war was on, and Hogwarts was hell for me.
I was not a particularly pretty girl, often considered gaunt due to the unfortunate genetics of the Black family, nor was I the brightest, or of any specific talent. I was bland, I was average, perhaps a little below. I was, of course, in Slytherin house, hating every minute of it and resenting the prefect, an insufferable muggle-born boy named Tom Riddle. I never liked those charming rakes, especially not the power-hungry ones like him.
I never spoke to anyone, avoiding trouble and keeping to myself. It was the easiest way for me to simply survive. Even though the mysterious attacks that occurred throughout that year, I still walked in silence and loneliness through those near empty halls. Despite my façade, I was breaking on the inside. I used to cry myself to sleep almost nightly, my heart aching for some kind of human companionship.
I had one professor that seemed to sense it, as if hearing my silent pleas of desperation from the back of the Transfiguration classroom. Albus Dumbledore was immeasurably kind to everyone, though he would occasionally take pity on me specifically and invite me in for tea under the guise of discussing my progress. He quickly became the only person I felt I could count as a friend, though I didn’t fully trust him yet, in spite of his kindness.
My family is not the trusting sort, but I digress.
Tom Riddle is the one I must blame, or thank, for my Turning.
You see, he and Professor Dumbledore never quite saw eye to eye, and Riddle was not pleased with my newfound companionship. At first, he tried to scream ‘scandal’, but it rolled off of Dumbledore’s back, miraculously. Riddle then dedicated himself to making life hell for me as much as he could, when he wasn’t pouring over his little black diary.
Admittedly, I was an easy egg to crack. I tried, and failed, to kill myself, which only furthered my melancholic state, and made Professor Dumbledore ever more watchful over me.
One night in early December, I was ‘caught cheating’, and as punishment, I was sent into the Forbidden Forest, the purpose of this unusual and sadistic form of punishment vastly unknown to me.
Nonetheless, I found myself hopelessly trapped by my own mind more so than any of the ‘dark creatures’ that dwelled in the forest. I was a girl of High-London, the forgotten daughter of my father’s travesty of a second marriage to an Oriental tempest, and I knew almost nothing of the world of a wintry night in the forest. I suppose Riddle planned this in all his cruel cunningness.
A city girl I may have been, but I knew what hypothermia felt like. I wasn’t going to last another hour if someone didn’t find me, and at this rate, I would never be found. All around me I could hear the sound of wolves closing in, the crunch of their padded feet on the frozen duff. The trees were so close together overhead that scarce blue moonlight leaked through. I was tired, I had lost my wand some time ago, along with my scarf. Terrified as I was, I had no choice but to embrace the fact that I was going to die here.
I found a clearing in the moonlight and sat down on a twisting tree-root, facing death with stubborn pride, and patiently waited for sleep to claim me.
I must have drifted off, but I awoke soon after to the smell of blood and the sight of a raven-haired man clad in velvet and black grappling with a werewolf. Looking at the man, I knew what he was instantly. He was beautiful in his own right, with strong, handsome features and gentle dark eyes despite their current glint of rage at the werewolf. There was blood staining the white snow of the clearing, and I was trembling with fear, though too cold to move fast enough.
I don’t remember the details, save for the feeling of fear and crawling on my hands and knees in the snow. I don’t know when, but there had been a wolf on top of me, bearing down on me as it’s jaws sank into my shoulder. I was going to be eaten alive.
The weight was lifted off of me with great force, care being taken not to demolish my shoulder. A warm, wet rain of crimson surrounded me and I heard the man hiss. Of course, I was prey. They had been fighting over food.
Suddenly, the wolf’s weight was replaced instead with the man pressing his body firmly against my back, his steel armor pressing hard against my thin Hogwarts uniform. I cried out in surprise more than anything, but I was quickly silenced when he turned my head with those icy fingers, exposing my throat in the crystalline moonlight. His face held an expression if the deepest tenderness, caring. Fear gripped me, making my eyes well with tears. What was he going to do to me?
“Try to relax, love, it will not hurt anymore…” He whispered in a heavily accented voice, the bristles of his well-trimmed beard prickling my neck as he spoke. His raven hair fell around us, obscuring my vision. His lips seemed to brush against the sensitive skin of my neck in a gentle kiss before I felt his teeth sink into my flesh, tearing at my jugular vein. I wanted to scream from the pain, my body twitching as I felt him draining the blood out of me. My heart was slowing and I was shaking uncontrollably from pain and fear, death closing in on me as the werewolves had minutes before. Suddenly, he drew back, his pale skin dripping bloody black rubies in the moonlight as he loosed the gleaming gorget from around his neck, letting go of me in the process.
“Now, my love.” He whispered, tilting his head back to expose his own fair neck. “Drink your fill or die here.”
If it weren’t for the pain and fear that only added to my dizziness form the heavy blood loss, I would have laughed at him. I was being given a choice to live or die? Me, who saw no future, no value in her own life? I fought to voice this cruel comedy, but he’d severed my vocal cords in the process of tearing a hole in my neck so I was at a loss. The Vampire seemed to guess my thoughts, casting me a charming, smooth smile.
“My dear, you do not want to know what happens if I allow you to just lie here.” His lips hadn’t moved that time, but I was too dazed to notice.
With neither will nor warning, I struggled to rise from my snowy grave. He opened his arms to me and I tore into his neck with a slight degree of hesitation to my still living mind, the concept of human flesh was slightly repulsive. As I drank the tangy, metallic fluid form his veins, I felt a sudden warmth fill me as he placed his hands gently on my back. Slowly, my pain subsided and I licked gingerly at the quickly closing wound on his neck. He seemed pleased by this, pulling me away from himself and smiling kindly, flashing his pronounced canines. I still felt desperately hungry for blood, leaning in and licking at his lips to get the last drops. It was a very familiar gesture, as a lover would do, but for some reason I felt no shame around him, as if he had been a friend and companion through all of my dark years.
My action drew a deep chuckle from his chest and he pulled me away, wrapping me in his black wool cloak.
“My dear Integra.” He said gently, rising from the spot in an unnaturally graceful manner and kissing my forehead in an almost paternal gesture. Gently, he lifted me bridal-style in his icy arms. “There will be time for blood later…but now, you have reason to live. I will never abandon you.”
An hour later, we emerged on the edge of the dark forest, Hogwarts’ gleaming lights cutting through the cerulean night. Professor Dumbledore was coming through us through the trees, his illuminated wand held high and his half-moon spectacles aglow in the dim light.
“Earl Tepes…You found her?” I heard Dumbledore’s concerned voice cutting clear and strong through the mist. “Integra Black?”
“I did what I could to save her.” Earl Tepes said, coming closer and bringing me into the wand-light. I felt weak at this point, and simply peered at my auburn-haired professor from behind my black bangs. “Unfortunately, she did not survive.”
Of course this made sense, though at the time I did not fully understand.
“We can’t take her back into the castle. It’s too big of a risk for other students at this point.”
“I’ll take her into my care. She’s approaching her First Death. You may want to write her family and tell them she’s deceased. I will be taking her into my care. I am her Master now.”
Hours later, I lay in a dark crypt beneath the cemetery in Hogsmead. It was forbidden by the Ministry of magic for a magical creature to own any possession, but Earl Tepes had made a comfortable, almost lavish, din in the silence of the cemetery.
It was here in Hogsmead I experienced my First Death, strangely comfortable, warm and silent with the Earl sitting solemnly by my side.

----------

Here I am, once again at Hogwarts, alone, and despite the 67 years I have been on this earth, terrified. Professor Dumbledore is headmaster now, and I find most of the faculty to be to my liking. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, seems to be on to me, but I can easily fool even the most cunning mortal. Even so, vampires and werewolves never have gotten along well, though he was less dull than most and quite kind despite his subtle distrust of me.
I am not here without reason, however. I am not, nor have I ever, been one to do things on a whim since the Earl Turned me. He helped my realized the effect and necessity of my actions, for which I am ever in debt to his memory.
I forced myself to return here to these dank halls to finish my education, granted mercifully by Dumbledore, who remembered me with a fondness I don’t feel I deserve. It is no longer enough that The Ministry has a vampire on their side, for vampires can easily be felled if one encounters a ‘Van Hellsing’ of sorts. Professional vampire hunters have long ago been banned under the ‘Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans, section 12: treatment of Vampires’.
But that does not mean that we are not hunted by those who break the laws.
I needed to finish my education, to learn to fight off these veritable ‘Van Hellsings’, should they become more aggressive again. Thirteen years before, they had unmercifully claimed my ‘Master’ with their unholy fire. I was not about to resign myself to the same fate. I was the Ministry’s ‘Secret Weapon’ against any uprisings of magical creatures. I was what they feared the most, and I was what they could not control fully. At least here at Hogwarts, I felt considerably less fear of them deciding I was ‘no longer useful’, and committing me to the fire. I knew of the Ministry’s less than honest tactics since shortly after going to work there.
It was easy to place me back into Slytherin house. Most of the girls didn’t even notice. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had been too busy catching rats with their teeth.
If anyone did raise a question, I relied on my family name and a flashing pair of angry eyes, to which they quieted down. Perhaps Voldemort had been good for something after all.
It is quite true that my father’s name was Sirius Black. I conveniently left out the fact he was born in 1877, and died in 1952, and that my family had a habit of recycling names. My half-brother, Arcturus Black’s son, Orion, had a son named Sirius who was currently locked away in Azkaban and conveniently served as a cover for ‘my father’. Dumbledore seemed hesitant for me to use this, but eventually complied, insisting that the ruse only be used in emergencies, and even so, in great moderation.
But a week in to my stay at Hogwarts, my schoolmates regarded me with a sort of intrigued and almost reverent fear, something I was beginning to enjoy with much amusement.


.oOo.

You must be wondering about how I set about the castle during the day if I am a Vampire. A Vampire’s allergy to sunlight is a myth, albeit an understandable one. Vampires can, if desired, walk about in sunlight, though it is very hard on their eyes.
After thousands of years of hunting through the night, our eyes micro-evolved to suit our needs, so they are very sensitive to light. Standing in a well lit room, everything seems washed out and over bright to me, and if I go outside on a sunny day, the entire world looks as if it is aflame with light. I am thankful that, in these times, sunglasses have become easy to obtain. Even if I do look ridiculous.
But once again, I find myself divagating from the tale I set out to tell.
It was the second week in September, I believe, in the charms classroom that her story began. Slytherin had Charms with Ravenclaw, and gratefully, no one from Slytherin had the nerve to sit next to me. I enjoyed my solitude. Since Tepes had passed away, I had become even more of a loner than before. My heart was still aching from his death.
But she, she sat down next to me almost immediately. I still recall most of my Slytherin class snickering behind their hands as her brazenness, which eventually became endearing, though at the time, I found it annoying.
Her name was Annabelle Le Croux
She confessed that she sat beside me because I have a Vampire badge on my book bag, and that she, too, had a ‘love for Vampires’. I was annoyed and slightly confused. Vampires were not to be loved.
I hadn’t fully looked at her until a few days later, but when I did, I found myself at a loss for words.
Her hair was a dark shade of blond, bordering on light brown and fell past her shoulders and turned to curls at the end, and her eyes were a pale shade of green that seemed to pierce your very soul. Somehow, her eyelashes were darker than her hair, which made her look all the more striking to me. Her skin was smooth and fair, with blooms of faint pink in her cheeks that made her look full of life. I did not understand, at the time, why I felt so moved by her appearance.
But it was Anna’s sharp wit and humor that drew me to her. She had a dry, cutting sense of humor which she would often use to chastise her classmates without them even knowing she had done so. After a week, we would hang back after class and chatter about whatever came to mind. She would walk with me to my next class, for hers had just ended for the day, and we would ‘socialize‘. It was heavenly to have someone to share my thoughts with again.
She spoke in a soft Cockney accent that was only truly prevalent when she was pressed, something that made me smile inwardly. Anna tried so hard to be dignified, but every once in a while she would lose her composure. She was, perhaps, the most striking when she was angry.
After knowing each other for several weeks, Anna reluctantly explained to me that she was born into a family of Muggles, and had two brothers that made life difficult for her. Most Slytherins would have been repulsed by this, but I was intrigued. I was curious about Muggles and always had been. They were the ones I hunted most, and now, for the first time, I felt a small amount of shame for doing so.
Vampires are well known for the ability to charm the living. I myself had never been very good at this, but could use it to urge someone’s opinion one way or the other. Most of my relationships with the Living, as sparing as they were, were based off of this ability.
Perhaps this is what made my friendship with Anna so important to me. I had never once relied on this ability with her, and she still was willing to be my friend, even after seeing some of my ugliest behavior. It only occurred once, when cornered by one Harry Potter, in the Library, on the subject of my ‘father’, Sirius Black.
By the end of this encounter, I had to forcibly drag Anna away from the unfortunate boy by lifting her up and carrying her out, much to the dismay of her and everyone in attendance. Our mutual embarrassment was a small price to pay for the preservation of ‘The Boy Who Lived’s precious untouched eyes and the attempted murder charges I’m certain Anna would have received had she succeeded.
Our friendship grew quickly, and showed no signs of slowing or breaking. I had heard, and witnessed, the Living and the transient concept of bonds: friends who swore ‘forever’ would be over once the relationship had ceased being beneficial.
Vampires have a history of promising forever, even if it means their demise. We are faithful and loyal to the end, and perhaps beyond if such a place were to exist. Anna seemed to share this ideal with me.
Even in her Living state, she was a splendid example of a Vampire.

It was a dark day in late October when Anna asked me about my family once again. I fell silent for a long time as we sat beside the lake, the murky waters reflecting the low clouds. Up until now, I had done such a perfect job of deflecting the question, but I could see there was no escape this time. My occupation being what it is, I know when I am cornered.
“It’s complicated.” I said finally, hoping to deflect her interest once and for all. I know Anna better than this. She’s as naturally curious about everything as she is cynical and jaded.
“We have time. It’s Saturday.” Anna said, closing her Muggle book and looking at me patiently with those intoxicating eyes. I sighed as I watched the Dementors moving in the distance. I knew she couldn’t see them with her Living eyes, so I diverted my attention to the sky.
“Do you have siblings?”
“Half-siblings, they are much older than I.” I said, watching a snowflake drift slowly down. “ We have a different mother.”
“You’re not fully English, right?”
“Hmm? No…I’m not. My mother was from Japan.”
“Oooh, I thought so!” Anna said, sitting up a little straighter, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I love Japan! Back at home, I watch anime all the time.”
I smiled slightly, careful not to expose my canines. “Really? I wish I knew more about it, or what anime is... In the Wizarding world, we don’t have much for international studies.”
Anna began to rummage in her bag, handing me a book. “This one is my favorite. You can read it if you like.”
I took the muggle book from her. As were all her books, it was pristine, carefully treated with the utmost respect. She was such an endearing bibliophile.
“The Pillowbook of Sei Shonnagan.” I read with a smile. “I’ve never read a muggle book before.”
I was glad to have diverted the conversation from my family. My mother had been taken away by the men from St. Mungus’ when I was seven. It wasn’t particularly painful to me, we had never been close, but it was not something you discuss. Ever.
We sat in blissful silence, watching the clouds crashing into the mountains as snowflakes fell softly around us. I glanced over at her for some reason, and I felt something stir in my chest. A desire to protect her from all the terrible things in my world and hers, and a desire to protect her from myself as well. She was, after all, Living, and I Dead. In any other situation, she would have simply been my prey, but it left me wondering what camaraderie I had been missing out on all this time.
She was beautiful and precious to me in all ways.
Be my powers damned or divine, I would use them to protect her.

.oOo.

November passed in monotonous succession and I was at odds with myself over Anna.
On one hand, I knew that my feelings for her were useless. No only as a vampire, but as another girl.
She and I both blatantly checked out boys, giggled over them in the hallways in our own quiet way, even pursued a few of them in our idle time.
I don’t know if I seemed distant, I never had a head for that, especially in regards to boys, but they didn‘t appreciate my flirtations as much as they did Anna‘s, as cruel as hers came across.
But on the other hand, Anna got less amusement from their attention than I did, usually reading a book instead.
I think I pursued boys so much to prove to myself that I didn’t really feel this way about Anna, but I found no true joy in the pursuit, mostly because I spent so much time looking for The Earl in each of them.
I didn’t expect to find him, but I enjoyed giving in to the self-illusion that I would.
Somehow, Anna was exempt from this search. Perhaps it was due to gender, or perhaps it was because she bore a semblance to him in spirit, either way I felt no less confused by the end of November as I was at the beginning.
On the 28th, I received a letter from the Ministry, giving me my orders for Winter break.
Anna was with me in the hallway when I read the letter. My face must have become quite changed, because she asked me what was wrong, but I said nothing.
I just hoped the Ministry was misinformed.
.oOo.

It was the first of December, quickly approaching the anniversary of my Turning, a blanket of pure white snow covering the grounds of Hogwarts like a blanket of down.
There is one thing that people must understand about 12th century Gothic castles, and that is that they are, without exception, drafty and cold in the winter. Yes, even parts of Hogwarts are so.
I, of course, stopped feeling small fluctuations in temperature when I Died, so I wasn’t as sensitive to it as Anna, who walked irresolutely beside me in her charmingly stubborn way, despite the cloud of breath that hung before her face like a sliver veil.
“How the bloody hell do you do it?” She asked, rubbing her gloved hands together as I opened the door to the Charms classroom.
“Do what?” I muttered, my mind still dwelling on the letter I had received just days before.
“You’re completely unaffected by the cold…” Anna said with a tone of bitter humor, slamming her book bag down on the desk and tightening her blue and bronze striped scarf. I loved it when she wore blue. It made her face seem even more delicate.
“You seem happy.” I said, dropping my bag on the floor with the same mercy she had shown hers. For me, this was normal behavior, but for her…her precious books were in there…
Anna heaved a heavy sigh, more silvery breath gathering around her face. She sat down, digging in her bag and producing an envelope. I took it from her, casually pulling out the letter. It was from her parents.
“They’re going on holiday to New York.” She said bitterly. I frowned, handing her the letter back.
I felt sad for her. I knew that this was an important holiday for Muggles, centered around family. I could see the hurt in her eyes, I could almost feel it. I knew that feeling of rejection.
“I wish I could do something.”
“Will you be staying here over Holiday?”
I frowned. “Sorry…wish I was…” I muttered darkly. I couldn’t leave her here alone, it wasn’t what a friend would do. But I couldn’t just let the Sanguarians of Rome run rampant, especially since the situation down there was getting out of hand. It was my job. Taking her with me would have been too dangerous…
Professor Flitwick entered, and we were forced to pause our conversation until the end of class. I could not focus on my lessons that day: my mind moving at the speed of light, ever searching for a solution to Anna’s problem.
By the end of class, Anna looked as if she had sank further into despair, and by extension, so was I. Though she walked with a straight back and her normal, slightly haughty expression, there was a hidden look of loss in her beautiful green eyes.
I vowed that If I made it back from Rome alive, I would surprise her.

.oOo.

A few days later, I stole away form Hogwarts, scattering Dementors like shadows form sunlight as I swooped past them, flying through the still December air on my great webbed wings. For a small time, I was a monster, I was a true Vampire. I was free.
I hadn’t visited the crypt in Hogsmead since the Earl had been murdered by Death Eaters, and setting foot in that cemetery nearly broke my heart anew. The cemetery had not changed much over the years, the old headstones looking like broken black teeth sticking out of the snow. It was silent, save for the hooting of an owl and the occasional, distant howl from a wolf. The crypt stood silent, the tree that grew beside it having grown considerably since I had last been here.
I entered it, descending the stairs in deferential silence, remembering all the times I had gone down those stairs with the Earl, our lips wet with blood and our veins full from the hunt. Those had been comfortable times, beautiful, charming times…
I entered the large burial chamber, it’s once elaborate velvet draping now riddled with mold and dust. In the gloom, I could make out the tarnished silver chalices we had once drank blood from, everywhere I looked a forgotten extravagance. I felt remorse as I sat silently in one of the plush chintz chairs, leaning melancholically on one arm, my eyes falling across the stone lid of what used to be the Earl Tepes’ coffin. Of course it was empty, I myself had scattered his ashes at a crossroads to put his soul to rest.
But the untouched nature of the crypt made me want to go open it, expecting to see him inside, his eyes closed in peaceful slumber, his lips turned up at the corners in his ever-gentle manner of smiling.
I would never forgive myself for not making it in time to save him.
I stood up, tears of blood forming in my eyes as I touched his coffin, running my fingers along the carved effigy of his face. I leaned down, kissing the granite lips gently, tears falling freely form my eyes and running down the frozen stone face of Vlad, Count of Tepes.
I hadn’t wept like this before, not even when the Death Eaters had killed him. It was only now, on the 51st anniversary of my turning, that I wept bitterly for him.

.oOo.

I slept for many days afterwards, cutting class. No one in my dormitory noticed, but I didn’t mind. The only guilt for this I felt was that Anna didn’t know what had become of me.
It was only thoughts of her that forced me to get up, wipe the blood from my eyes, and go to class.
She spoke sharply to me when I appeared in the hallway outside the classroom, but there was relief in her eyes. I wanted to embrace her, but instead a stood awkwardly before her, keeping back more bloody tears.
“Where have you been?“ Anna muttered, her voice smiling.
“Funny you should ask that. I got lost in a wardrobe.” I said with a laugh, referencing another muggle book she’d lent me. Her soft green eyes flashed with amusement and we both laughed.

oOo.

One of the most annoying myths about Vampires is that we cannot cross running water. Like the ‘rule’ about religious symbols, it’s only as strong as the faith that is attached. If I were, or had ever been, a God-fearing Vampire, I would not have made it very far at all.
I knew I should have reported to the Ministry immediately upon my return to London, but instead, I took the Knight Bus to Highgate cemetery. I will never forget the look on the attendant’s face when I asked for the legendary cemetery.
It first went pale behind his gratuitous acne, he then narrowed his eyes. I smiled at him politely before finding a seat. He knew full well what I was by now. Most adults wizards knew what I was at first glance. It was much easier to fool muggles.
As the bus swayed back and fourth, I found this to be a frightening thought. There would come a day when I could no longer fool Anna, and it troubled me. Anna had a love for vampires, it was true, but loving stories and concepts of something is not that same thing as loving the actual thing. Would she still accept me if she knew?
These thoughts plagued me as I got off the bus, bidding the driver and attendant a good evening in the most stereotypic manner I could manage. The Living ate up the novelty ‘Dracula’ act.
The gates were shut and locked, but I was able to break the chains without too much trouble, save for a chip in the black lacquer Anna had put on my fingernails earlier that week.
“Well if it isn’t the Vampire Integra.” I heard a voice call from inside the cemetery. “Where have you been? Hunting Ghouls in Budapest again? Or playing with the kids from Hogwarts?”
I shut the gate behind me and looked calmly through the shadows despite the obvious distain in the male Vampire’s voice.
“I just came back for a few hours, Sanguini.”
A gaunt man in a set of pinstriped robes came through the shadows, his feet making no sound as he strode brazenly on the path. His black hair was slicked back, and he had an amused expression on his face.
“There are kids are in the cemetery again. We could use your help around here, you know. We rarely had this problem when you were here.” Sanguini said as I cut past him, my black cloak trailing in my wake. It was strange to see Sanguini without his Living counterpart, Eldred Worple, but I raised no questions.
“I know. I am sorry for being gone all the time.” I replied, darting noiselessly through the graves with him in tow. “It’s not for much longer, a year and a half if I’m lucky…”
“And when you finish your education, then what?”
“Then nothing, nothing will change save for being able to legally use magic to defend us. No more explosives, no more guns. It‘ll be safer for everyone involved.” I said quietly, reaching the entrance to Egyptian avenue. There, I could see the glow of flashlights and the voices of teenagers shouting and whispering, clearly searching for some sign of the Vampires of Highgate.
“Oh, this is ridiculous.” I said, watching them. “Why don’t you just scare them off.”
“Because.” Sanguini said carefully, pulling me into the shadows of a large mausoleum. “They wear the mark of the Illuminati.”
Had I still drawn breath, the color would have drained form my face: the Illuminati was an organization the infamous Van Hellsing was said to have belonged to. But they were now defunct, correct? Van Hellsing was supposed to be the last one, and my darling Count Vlad was said to have eliminated him.
“That’s ridiculous.” I scoffed, squaring my shoulders. “You are a logical man, the Illuminati-” I stopped. I could see in the deep crimson of his eyes that there was considerable concern. Sanguini was much older and wiser than I, and for him to be concerned then there must have been some base to his concern. And it made sense, though I didn’t want it to. Where there were Sanguarians running rampant, there were surely Illuminati to follow.
“We’re hiding out in the mausoleum here until they are gone.” He said, opening the door and leading me inside.
“I can’t stay here…” I said, taking a step back. “I have to leave for Rome soon.” I snapped, my thoughts still very much on Anna. I wonder if he sensed this.
“Then go quickly and quietly. If you are seen, then this cemetery will be crawling with Vampire Hunters.” He said, looking around wearily. “And be careful in Rome. The living can be just as evil as the dead.”
I nodded, slipping down the stone steps in silence and scaling the wall of Egyptian Avenue and climbing through the barren tree branches like a wild animal. This behavior had become, unfortunately, old hat for me in my work at the Ministry. The branches tore at my clothes and hair, but I forced my way through the obstacle, slipping silently down into the place I called home.
Outside I could hear the kids moving along, which forced me to remain as silent as a vampire can. Dust lay thick on my rosewood coffin, but everything was just as I had left it in the summer.
I felt a slight flame to my anger: I should not be treated as an intruder in my own house, but I had no other choice. Sanguini’s fear had been legitimate.
My silent search turned up my treasured gun. I had stashed it snugly behind a loose stone in the wall, and when I pulled it out, I knew it would need cleaning badly before it was fit to fire.
A gun is a strange thing for someone within the Wizarding world to carry, but my gun had special significance. As beneficial as it would be for the Ministry to get a hold of it, I could never let that happen.
The Earl had retrieved it from the hands of Van Hellsing himself, and for the past forty-some years, I had used it to kill other Vampires. My gun was more notorious than I was, something that seemed ironic.
I caressed the delicate silver barrel of the sleek weapon, my fingertips curling around the filigreed handle before I tucked it into my bag. I could hear the sounds of the teenagers coming closer, so I quickened my pace, quickly exiting my tomb and running out into the frosty night.
I don’t know if they saw me, but I could hear them as if they were perusing me. I ran through the field of graves, pushing past the briers and the bramble that stood in my way. My clothing was torn and rent, my skin scratched in some places and oozing stale blood. I would have to feed before I reported to the Ministry, and the state of my clothing would only further Cornelius Fudge’s smug sense of ‘Human’ superiority.
I tripped on a tree branch, my heart racing as I scramble upwards. I couldn’t use my powers here and risk exposing the other Vampires, as tempting as it was to eliminate these kids.
After what felt like hours of running, I reached the West end of the cemetery, scaling the wall and landing in an almost empty street full of small shops and a few pubs and coffee houses.
I spotted a Muggle about my size and age smoking on a street corner, oblivious to my sudden appearance. She was wearing loose-fitting, baggy pants and a black tank-top. Her hair was shaved into a Mohawk, which had been dyed bright pink, and spiked leather collars adorned her neck and wrists. She was decorated from head to toe in chains and spikes and lace, what a Muggle would call a ‘punk’, I suppose. She looked like a relatively easy target.
I gripped my bag tighter and took a deep breath, crossing the street.
“Excuse me, can you tell me the directions to Kings Cross?” I asked the girl, looking around for any other Muggles who might see me.
After a few moments of talking back and fourth, I struck, sinking my teeth into her neck. She didn’t fight, but rather, went calmly, with a small cry and very little fuss. I was thankful, because when a victim fights, it only makes it more painful for them, and adrenaline makes the blood taste sour.
I hid her body back in the cemetery and went on my way, the chains swinging loudly on my hips. It made me feel dark and mysterious, perhaps more like a Vampire should. I had had enough of velvet and lace for a while. People didn’t seem to cast me a second glance as they had before, my pale skin and black hair fitting in with the rest of the people in this district.
I could have fed for hours on these people and their street culture, but one was enough. I did not like to glut myself on blood as many Vampires did. It was pointless to take a life for such a stupid and arrogant reason.
I settled myself on a rooftop overlooking the streets of London, my shining gun balanced on my knee in the moonlight and my gun-cleaning kit beside me.
An hour later, I was striding across the Atrium, past the Fountain of Magical Brethren inside the Ministry‘s headquarters.
Much to the dismay of several people, Cornelius Fudge included, I strode right into the Minister of Magic’s office without warrant or warning. It was something I had never dreamt of before I met Anna, but something about her sheer existence gave me the courage to face down my ‘oppressors’: the men who had turned my afterlife into a mere tool.
“Good evening, Monsieur Fudge.” I said with a smile, placing my hands on his desk palms-down and smiling at him from behind my black bangs. “What’s this I hear about the Illuminati?”
“Ah, Miss Black…” the older man stammered, scooting away from me slightly, which only served to widen my smile. I’d never seen him this flustered. “Illuminati?”
“Surely you know as well as I do that where there is a concentration of Sanguarians, there will be an Illuminati or two…It’s Vampire 101. I’d hate to think that you were sending me into a situation I couldn’t handle…”
“Of course not!” Fudge bit at me, straightening his robes and tossing a file onto the desk. “I have full confidence that you can handle this...”
“There were kids in the cemetery tonight, they were wearing signs of the Illuminati…”
“You know…muggle kids…” Fudge stammered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his chair. “Obsessed with the occult…like that girl you’ve been hanging out with…Annabelle Le Croux…”
I pretended not to be bothered by him using her name. Fudge thought that he had played his trump card, and the truth was, he had.
I tried not to shift, to let my smile fall, but a slow smirk spread across his face.
“The Illuminati. The Sanguarians. What is going on in Rome?” I asked with a startling shortness.
“War, my dear Integra, an all out war.” Fudge said, tapping his papers on the desk. “I’m sending you down to deal with negotiations…”
“What makes you think they will listen to me?”
Fudge smirked and turned away, grabbing a file from his pile and handing it to me. “It seems in your stay at Hogwarts, you have forgotten who you are. Vampires fear you as they feared Van Hellsing, the Illuminati will recognize your fame.”
“You said you knew nothing about the Illuminati…”
“I never said that, my dear.”
I stood up, crossing my arms, careful of my spiked wrists. He had a point, much as I didn’t want to admit it, but it led me to wonder what and how much of it he wasn’t telling me.

.oOo.

Words cannot describe how much I hate traveling via portkey. While I must confess they are terribly clever inventions, they were designed for the use of the Living, and I found out the hard way about four years ago that I must first transform into my vampire form before using one. I am not entirely certain what happened or why, but my unfortunate discovery resulted in my spending a week inside my beloved coffin, recuperating.
Not only is the use of a portkey potentially painful for Vampires, there is very little romance to it. Unlike traveling by train, broom, beast, or foot, you vanish from one place and are sucked into another. Yes, it’s handy, but there’s some charm lost in it.
I arrived in Rome just hours before dawns bitter light broke over the high temple rooftops.
There was something cold about the city of Rome, some looming sense of dread that frayed on the edge of my subconscious as I watched the moon sink behind the voluminous clouds, now turning pink with fresh sunlight.
I was tired from using the portkey, my energy already running low from barely getting any sleep in the days before. I had been too obsessed with saying goodbye to Anna. The memory of her face as I pulled away on the Hogwarts Express was almost painful. I would have gladly taken her with me, had this mission not wreaked of danger. She was far to precious to risk…
I stumbled down the alley between a church and a bakery, my stomach twisting into knots as I did so. I felt the taste of stale blood in my mouth and wretched behind a dumpster, clutching the wall of the church for support.
I made a mental note that portkey’s were now only to be used in emergencies.
Still in my vampire form, I slipped along the shadows of the street, sleep pulling at my eyes.
I feel right now I must take a moment to comment on Vampires and Vampire form. Much like werewolves, regrettably, our physical being and senses are much changed.
Describing the physical assets we posses, our bodies are thicker, more muscular, and a little taller and rather gruesome in appearance. Our skin is a mottled dark bluish-grey, almost black in some places, and we have large, bat-like wings that are unfortunately quite cumbersome when walking on foot. Our hair grows wiry and black and in extreme cases it takes on a very mane-like appearance. Perhaps the most striking and disturbing thing to me is our absence of external reproductive areas, though the females, such as myself, still have some semblance of breasts.
Our senses are heightened beyond mortal capacity. On a clear night, we can see for miles in minute detail, and our hearing is just as good, albeit painful on occasions. We are stronger and faster than any living soul, and as fast as the wind itself when the desire so moves us. Our sense of touch, however, is greatly lessened due to the thick, armor like quality of our skin.
The full form can take decades to master, if one is a slow learner like myself. I myself have only half mastered it, so I apparently resemble some kind of grotesque hybrid, though my senses are uncanny. I slipped behind a dumpster, clutching the wall for support as I changed painfully back into my human form, barely having time to dress properly before I heard something at the end of the alley.
On this night, it was not easy to miss the scent of fresh blood and smoke, and I had every reason to be paranoid.
I peered around the side of the dumpster and spotted a dark figure standing at the end of the ally. I fell silent, taking a deep breath as I called upon every ounce of my energy. My fingers curled around my gun inside my backpack, my fingers dancing across it’s etched barrel. It’s make was Winchester, but from what I understood, it was one of a set of six special-made revolvers commissioned in the late 1800’s by a man named Quincy Morris, especially crafted to fight off vampires...
“Stai bene? Signorina Vampiro? È che voi?”
My gun was out and loaded no sooner than the sentence had been finished, aimed directly at the dark haired young man in black and silver robes. He raised his hands nervously, dropping his wand at his feet. I may be worn out, but my reflexes are still faster than humans.
“British Ministero della Magia, sì? Signorina Black?”
I didn’t lower my gun, but eyed him wearily, subconsciously growling slightly.
“Who is asking? Do you speak the Queen’s English?”
“Si, I was waiting you farther down the road, Signorina Black. I am Dante Esposito.” He strode towards me, his black and silver robes swirling around him. I eyed him wearily as I lowered my gun, un-cocking it and placing it back into my bag.
“Pleased to meet you.” I said stiffly, offering my hand. He took it in a sweeping, familiar gesture that only Tepes had been allowed to show me many years before. He pressed my cold hand against his lips, his dark eyes peering into mine as he whispered, velvet lips brushing over my skin. “The pleasure is complete mine, signorina.”
He made me feel uneasy on the inside, but he appeared to be honest, leading me into the back of a delicatessen that served as the main portal to their Ministry’s Headquarters. I spoke very briefly with the Italian Minister of Magic, a portly man in green velvet robes whom had a great, black mustache and a taste for fine wine.
I was leery, but polite as he explained the situation. I pressed many questions to him, and the more wine that passed his thick lips the more easily the answers slipped out until finally he confessed the truth.
“My dear signorina, the Sanguarians are not as refined as the Nosferatu such as yourself. They are dirty, conniving creatures without a since of respect or loyalty…” I could see tears forming in his drunken eyes as he spoke, dissolving into sobs. “We sought out the Illuminati to rid Rome of them once and for all, but when the Sanguarians discovered this…” He was positively wiling by now. I sat frozen, unsure of what to do to console him. I patted his hand stiffly, offering an attempt at a warm smile.
“There there, Minister De Lombardi…” I muttered, leaning forward. “Go on, I’ll see what I can do…”
“Oh Thank you, than you, Signorina! Grazie Mille!” He dissolved into garbled Italian as he gripped my hand firmly. “ My wife, my wife…she is a vampire now. Mi familia…”
I closed my other hand around his, knitting my eyebrows. “This is revenge from the Sanguarians for hiring the Illuminati? And what of the Illuminati?”
This only produced more sobs from the minister. “Signorina, you are so kind, so kind, it’s such a shame…Sei molto bella…”
“Please, sir, just…tell me of the Illuminati?”
“They wage war continuously…” He sobbed. “Every night the burning, the scent of flesh…my son, oh my eldest son…they killed him without mercy…”
“Your son was turned into a vampire, then?” I asked, forcing a softness to my voce.
“Si, si…Signorina, please…you are the only one that can put an end to this, they tell me. You are the liaison between life and death, si?”
I shook me head. Now he was just uttering nonsense.
“Just tell me what needs to be done.”

XxX

I could hear screams echoing down the long corridors as Dante led me noiselessly through the damp darkness. I could hear Dante’s breathing, hindered slightly by the scent of mold, his black ponytail shining dimly in the pale light. His wand cast a dim light across the dark expanse as he counted the cells, a set of ancient keys jingling in his pale fingers.
In the back of my mind there was a sense of dread, like I was coming to some great and terrible fat down here, like a prisoner to their execution or a lamb to the slaughter. My thoughts traveled to Anna, and if I was to die in this place, what would become of her, what would she think of me?
Dante stopped suddenly, his black boots making a slight scuffing sound on the stones as he turned to speak to me over the din of loud wailing beyond the door.
“In here, Signorina.” he said softly, his key at ready. I drew my gun, loading the copper-cased bullets into the small chambers.
He shoved the key into the lock, his slender hands shaking slightly as he struggled to lift the heavy handle. Already I could smell the stale blood, my heart dreading what awaited beyond that doorway.
It swung open to a surprisingly well lit chamber, the skeletal frame of a woman pinioned to the wall with large manacles. Her hair had once been dark, curly, well-groomed, her skin once a deep shade of olive, round and plump with beauty and grace.
She lifted her head when we entered, her face full and voluptuous despite her wretched body. Her full, red lips curved into a smile, though her crimson eyes reflected a look of sheer hatred.
“Intega Black…” She sneered in a thick, Italian accent, her sharp teeth positively glinting in the binding light. “the British Ministry’s housepet…”
I pointedly cocked my gun, her voice sending chills down my spine. I took a deep breath, unsure of how to answer such a comment, if I should answer.
“Signorina, do not waist your breath on this monster.” Dante said, his dark eyes flicking over to her, his voice raising to deliberately, as if to enflame her anger.
“Nothing is wasted, Mr. Esposito, I assure you.” I said stiffly. Part of me wondered if perhaps her being a monster had been subtly aimed at myself, but I was also aware of the differences in the two races of vampires and it was true: Sanguarians were not as evolved as Nosferatu.
The woman seemed to guess at my thoughts, for her smile widened. “You will find no friends in the men of Italy.”
I raised my gun and looked at her, drawing the barrel level with her heart. “I don’t expect to, my dear. It’s just business.” and overwhelming feeling came over me as her crimson eyes peered into mine. it felt as if she were probing my mind, prying it open for the world to see…
I struggled not to think of Anna, to keep my thoughts and feeling locked away, but it felt as if she were tearing at them, digging them up to the surface where they began to bloom like flowers.
A name stuck out above the blur of dark, despairing thoughts:
Lillith, Lilith…LILLITH!
The woman’s smile widened grotesquely, as if she were attempting to show me all of her disgusting teeth. I shuddered inwardly, my hands shaking as my feelings morphed into thoughts and ideas, into visions, as if telling me the future. I closed my eyes as the visions swam before me like black ink swirling in clear water.
Anna…
What was this cruel power?
Now laughter, the chamber was filled with laughter and Dante fell to his knees, his hands over his head and his face contorted into a wince that was the epitome of internal pain.
“Nosferatu, If you shoot me, if you kill me, you will-” she didn’t have time to finish the sentence before I squeezed the trigger.
The shot rang out, followed promptly by the sound of organic material spattering the flagstone.
“Burn her body, scatter the ashes at a crossroads…” I instructed harshly , wiping some of the crimson blowback from my brow as I looked down at my gun.
“S-Si….” Dante whispered, trembling as he stared at the remains of the woman in horror. “Is…is she truthfully gone?”
“Yes.” I put my gun away, placing one hand on Dante’s back and the other on his arm, pulling him up. His face was wet with blood and tears and he looked stunned.
“Come…I’m sure the Minister will let you rest. I’ll make the report…”
“No…” Dante waved his trembling hand to dismissed the thought. “No, Signorina Black, I…The Minister needs to hear from me. She was mother…”
“Mr. Esposito…?” I was shocked enough to nearly let go of him, though he hung on my neck like a small child. It made no sense. De Lombardi? Esposito? “Come…the sooner we’re…” I stopped, gasping out of habit rather than need of air. Over the scent of blood, I smelled something else, something so distinctive that It made me recoil slightly. Dante sensed this, and his wet black eyes looked up at me.
“Dante, tell me truthfully, I beg you…”
“I don’t know them…” He said, his shaking body straightening up a little as he pushed his way in front of me, his dark eyes peering into the hallway.
I grabbed him back, throwing him into the corner as a burst of fire permeated the small room. I covered him foolishly, the searing heat scorching my back as I shivered from the pain. He trembled beneath me as I felt tears of pain leaving their bloody trails down my face.
“Signorina Integra!” I felt him push me back, his dark robes covering my face. I felt a familiar sensation tearing a hole behind my navel, jerking me painfully into oblivion. Moment’s later, I landed on the floor of Mr. De Lombardi’s office, our entwined limbs akimbo as we struggled to right ourselves.
I smelled men, their dark cloaks strangely damp and wreaking of incence. Dante shoved me out of the way as I felt a wooden stake narrowly miss my shoulder, impaling the young man’s hand instead. Dante let out a cry, his black eyes streaming tears.
I could smell blood. I wanted blood. My body thirsted for the life-fluid…and Dante’s…sweet, virgin blood…
“What is going on?” He cried as I grabbed him about the chest, running towards the wide, velvet lined windows. I felt spells singing past us, my own energy draining quickly. Two portkey’s in one day…I gasped as a voice rose high above the rest.
“Signorina Integra Wilhelmina Bellatrix Black, you are wanted for the murder of Signora Luchia Maria De Lombardi and Signor Dante Augustine Esposito.”
With one last heave, I put two and two together, as, I am certain, did Dante, and he and I leapt together through the window, the glass tearing at our flesh. We only had moments to react as the ground raced towards us.
I felt great, black wings rip through my clothing as they unfurled, my arms gripping Dante close as he fired off spells over my shoulders. I could smell his blood all over me, like sweet candy. It was intoxicating, but I had to maintain a clear head.
“Dome is protected by magic.” He cautioned as I neared the hole in the tope that owls were allowed to escape through.
Without another word, I thrust him up, through the hole, circling around for a moment after I was certain he was through. The Italian officials advanced on broomsticks, firing spells, many of which I either dodged or my thick, vampire skin absorbed. I had to time this right…
I swooped back towards the hole, grasping Dante’s good hand and using the very last of my energy to transform back. I could see Dante’s black, almond eyes full of fear and determination, his hand slick with sweat and blood as he struggled to pull me through the hole.
“Come, Signorina, hold tightly…” His voice rose in panic as I struggled against the edges of the hole.
I had barely enough time to squeeze myself through the hole before one of the wizards had the sense to seal it. Upon reaching the bright sunlight outside, Dante and I found ourselves sitting on a rooftop overlooking the city.
“Come, we have no time left.” I said, pulling him up as my knees buckled slightly. “We have to get back to England and explain the situation.”
“Si, Signorina.”

The following few days were touch and go. Initially, we hid in a small orchard, Dante putting up a small protection charm while I rested. He was startlingly kind to me, and I to him, and it became clear that his situation had been similar to mine. Dante was the bastard son of his mother’s relations to an unnamed wizard, his mother later marrying the Minister when Dante was still in school. Minister De Lombardi had not been and unkind stepfather to Dante, but Dante had always felt he was an intrusion in his mother’s ‘new life‘, especially after his younger brother was born.
He explained that after school, his mother had implored Mr. De Lombardi to take Dante on as his personal assistant, and Mr. De Lombardi had reluctantly agreed.
Then the War of Vampires came. It seemed that what Mr. De Lombardi had told me was true, for Dante’s story confirmed it, though Dante implied that they had hired Illuminati to purge Rome.
When asked him why he had complied to leading me to his mother’s death, he was silent for a long time, his face clearly troubled.
“She was not a woman I knew. She was different from when she was alive.” He looked up at me with those sad black eyes. “I do not know what occurs when one becomes a vampire, but it was not my mother.”
His eyes were upon me, as if he expected me to hold the answer to his mother’s fate, but I held my tongue, reluctant to speak of something I did not fully understand.
We traveled using any means possible, reaching the border of France in less than twenty four hours. It was a difficult journey over cliffs, rocks, and rivers, and Dante knew nothing about healing his injuries, so he crudely bandaged his hand and tried to limp through. Three days later, I forced him to stop and rest, expressing concern over the infection that was beginning in his hand.
“It would seem that the entire world is ready to be purged of vampires.” I said thoughtfully one night as we looked over the hills of eastern France, the countryside bathed in the dying sunlight. Dante shivered slightly, his body close to mine as if expecting warmth. I could smell the growing infection in his hand, but he was reluctant to let me look at it. Dante remained silent for a long time, his face troubled as he wrapped himself tighter in his cloak.
“Integra, I am sorry for this happening to you.” He spoke slowly in his charming, slightly broken English.
I looked up at him from beneath my bangs, raising one eyebrow. “What is happening to me?”
“I did not think that vampires were like you before. I see now that…it is possible for humans and vampires to exist in the same. Now we are both hunted like animals.”
I shook me head at the nonsense of his words as I struggled to decode it. “It is nothing new. Vampires and humans always struggled for dominance: Vampires hunt humans, humans hunt vampires. It is a cycle that will never end so long as the two races exist. Article 12 can only do so much for us, and still, it‘s seen as a mere suggestion by many, not a law…”
His black eyes followed me, his mind slowly comprehending the English. It was now one of those times that I wished for some of Anna’s talent for foreign languages.
“Do you ever wonder about how vampires beginnings?”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I think. I wonder if vampires origins can make us exist together.”
I smiled slightly at his pipe dream. “You should get some rest, Dante. The infection is spreading to your brain, I believe.”
He nodded slowly, rolling in his cloak and clasping his slender fingers in the fine black velvet. He looked thin and fatigued in his sleep, and I stood to go search for food for both he and I. I knew the infection was slowing him down, but he refused to do anything about it, clearly concerned for our mutual safety above his own comfort. I explained to him that it would be useless to return to Britain with a corps, but he remained adamant that he would be fine, though I could sense the doubt in his mind.
As I left our hiding place, I paused, looking back. There was something about him that was like Anna, though lacking the poisonous fire that she possessed, he was strong, stubborn and relentless about those he assumed friendships with.
I went into the small town, using a fair amount of energy to transform myself into mist, hoping to avoid the watchful eye of any wizards that may inhabit the village.
I waited silently in the shadows, waiting for some feeble, waking human to fall pray to my technique: vampires cannot enter houses uninvited. As I have stated before, I can use a small amount of manipulation, the weaker the mind the more effective I am.
This was, perhaps, the fist time I have truly felt like a monster, preying on the weak out of desperation. I told myself that it was for Dante’s safety as well, but then I found myself asking why I cared so much. It went, it seemed, beyond the selfish wish to prove my innocence, as if I were bringing him to England for a higher purpose that I had yet to understand.
It was a series of questions I could not immediately answer, but had come up many times during our week-long travels from Italy to Northern France.
I found a small shop that was still open, taking a few blankets, some food, and what I suspected, and hoped, due to my extremely limited French, was some antibacterial salve.
Outside, I walked openly in the shadows, my senses ablaze. My sense of smell was useless in a town full of strangers, the scent of pumping blood fresh in the air, thus I fell upon my keen hearing and sight to aid in my hunt. I came across a drunk laying in the ally and stopped to ply him with questions and perhaps lure him into being my next victim.
He looked up at me wearily from beneath two great, grey eyebrows, and spoke in slurred, angry French, telling me get out. I backed away as he rose, my eyes wide. He took a swing at me, and I spotted an Illuminati pendant hanging about his neck. My body went rigid as he pulled out a gun.
“I have found you.” He snarled in a thick, Dutch accent. “You filthy abomination.”
I nearly dropped the blankets, backing away. I couldn’t run off to Dante, I couldn’t lead them to him…
“Ye have been judged and found wanting, oh child of darkness. Ye forsaken child of God.”
I pulled out my Winchester, shooting him in the shoulder to delay him as I retreated onto the rooftops.
I could sense others moving around me, a man in a long coat leaping onto the rooftop.
“Ze Bride of Vladislav Dracula, ve meet for ze first time, und ze last.” The man said in a dark, German accent.
“Sayonara.” I said suddenly, backing almost directly into one of the men that surrounded me, my hand grasping the pendant around his neck. I yanked him forward, using him a a human shield as the chain snapped, rosary beads bouncing on the hard rooftop. The rest of the Illuminati that had gathered there opened fire on their comrade, but I disappeared into the night, my body becoming one with the low clouds that hung over. I was untraceable as a cloud of mist, save for the supplies I had to carry back to Dante. I swooped into our hiding place to find Dante trapped in a restless sleep. I wrapped him in the blankets, rousing him and forcing him to eat.
“We have to get out of here. I’m certain they’ve got an eye on the English channel…”
“What now will you do?” He asked, offering me a chunk of bread.
“I don’t know. You have the ability to apparate, but my hands are tied…” I said hurriedly, cleaning up the encampment. “I should have…” I heaved a sigh, looking up at him and tossing him the salve. “My judgment hasn’t been the best of late, and I’m sorry for getting you into this situation.”
He looked down at the salve in bewilderment, then casting me a nervous look.
“Integra…” He raised the tube to get a clearer look at it. “What is this for?”
“Your hand.” I said thoughtlessly, looking around. “You need to head to England…I’ll meet you in the churchyard in the village of Chedder…” I stopped, my senses ablaze as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. There was another vampire here….

XxX

Dante disappeared, but I remained in that place for a little longer, as if daring the vampire to make itself known.
I could feel and smell it just beyond the edge of the clearing, circling as if I were it’s prey but always remaining hidden from sight.
I cocked my gun, raising it in the vampires direction. I didn’t want to shoot if it wasn’t required, as it would alert the Illuminati to my exact location.
I heard a voice, gentle and lilting singing to me in a slightly mocking tone in a language I did not know, the song tugging at a unkempt memory of a man softly crooning to himself.
“Who goes there? Reveal yourself, you undead maggot!”
Nothing.
“Have you ever drank the blood of another Vampire?” The voice was smooth and deep, making my body recoil slightly as a face appeared between the branches of the trees that bordered the forest that had surrounding Dante and I’s hiding place. I had never seen a face like this man’s before.
It was as smooth and flawless as a porcelain mask, it’s eyes blank and black. At first, I thought it was one of the porcelain Noh-masks I’d seen in pictures of Japanese theater, but I didn’t have enough time to discern otherwise before I felt it behind me, it’s hand on my neck and arms, holding me down. I felt my body stiffen, the vampire’s lips brushing against my neck as I suddenly had a flashback to the Clearing in 1943, the count’s icy lips on my skin, the feel of his beard tingling against my throat moments before he tore into the flesh. But the tearing feeling didn’t come.
I felt tears of sorrow and joy leaking form my eyes, staining the collar of my shirt crimson.
“Angels weep tears of blood…” He muttered, craning his neck to lick my cheek with his long, surprisingly red tongue. “My dear, our meeting is not by chance.”
“Release me.” I hissed. I hated this, I hated him. I had never before had anyone hold such forceful power over me as he did in this clearing.
I felt his teeth sink into my neck, but never rip away. I cried out: the pain was excruciating, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Why was it so painful for me dead but not living?
“Stop!” I began to fight against him, my strength draining with my blood as my flesh ripped away in the struggle.
“As you wish, my darling, but be swift, for the Dogs of Hell nip at thine heels and the Bastions of Heaven seek to clip thine wings…” He muttered, touching my cheek one last time before disappearing into mist.
I do not know for how long he had held me under his power, but by the time he released me, the sun was turning the sky a soft shade of pink and I could hear dogs barking nearby, the sounds of voices calling in the hunt and heavy boots crunching through the underbrush, breaking the sacred silence. I could still feel the vampire’s presence, though it was dispersed all around me like the shadows.
I clutched my neck as I struggled to transform, blood gushing forth in great bursts. I wanted to lay down and rest for a moment, but the baying of the dogs and the sound of men drawing near forced me to struggle to my feet.
“Go. I will protect you from here.”
I let out a keening wail: that voice! It was too much like…
“Just go, you foolish girl!”
Without another thought, I took flight, spreading my great black wings into the morning sky. Below, I could hear the singing of bullets, the vampire’s voice ringing in my head. It felt as if I were being torn asunder from within, fire burning at my heart.
It was a voice I had never thought I’d hear again, and now that I had, I burned with anger at it’s mocking use. But surely no one could so closely mimic the way the Count had held me, but alas, it was impossible.
I had disposed of his body myself.
They next few days I was on the run, heading east into Germany, my body shriveled and shrunken from the loss of blood. The wound on my neck remained open, for I lacked the strength to close it. Some poor hausfrau lost a clean bedsheet to me, but someone’s darling lost a lot more as I overtook a victim within the same hour. I had never hunted with as much savage desperation as I did now, chasing the poor man down and ally and sucking him dry. I was not as careful as I usually was, and I felt pity, for the young man’s death was not as swift and clean as I usually hope.
Once I had a little blood in me, I felt I had the time to rest, sitting quietly with the gargoyles upon the top of the small villages church. It was times like this that made me thankful to live in England, my lifestyle now seeming cushy in retrospect, and it made me think of Anna.
More than once, I had tempted the thought of Turning her, of having her by my side for all eternity, even if it was only someone to pass the idle hours with.
But now, it seemed, that It was something I should never do under any extreme circumstance.

XxX

It took me an extra four days to return to England, which was done via a merchant ship named the ‘Czarina Catharine III’. I was able to pass for one of the Living, a wide scarf wrapped around my neck to hide my unexplainably still unhealed wound. No one cast me a second glance, due to the cold.
When we reached England, and I immediately set out for Cheddar, fearing the worst of Dante. He was a tough guy, deep down, but the infection in his hand had been bad enough that I held cause for concern.
He was well enough, though, I did not find him in the churchyard, I found him at a small Wizarding inn nearby, where the innkeeper had been kind enough to put him up under the premise of work.
Dante looked right at home serving drinks from a large barrel, a white towel slung over his arm.
I don’t know if he recognized me at first, but his face paled upon the realization that I was there.
“Signorina, you appear terribly! Are you ill?” He instinctively put his hand to my forehead, withdrawing it with a wince as he sat down, his face concerned. “You are icy.”
“I’m always like that…”
“You look as death has touched you.”
I looked at him reluctantly. “It may have. How is your hand? Were you followed?”
He sat down, shaking his head. “Not followed, no. I am safe here, I believe.” He held out his hand, showing me the extent of his injury, which still wreaked of infection. “I can cover this with gloves, people believe me. England is such a wonderful place!”
“That’s good. That’s very good.” I said, looking around. In the shadows opposite to us, I could make out a man through the thick smoke, his eyes following our every movement. “Dante, I need an owl, can you get that for me?”
“Si, friend-Integra. It is no problem.” He rose up and left, and I took out a piece of parchment and a quill form my backpack, scribbling a quick note to Dumbledore, giving a vague explanation of the events in Rome, and the promise of explaining more once I reached the sanctity of Hogwarts. By the time I had finished, Dante had brought me the owl.
The owl soared off into the starry night as the last drunk crawled out of the pub. Dante and the innkeeper’s daughters were closing up, but it seemed they didn’t notice the man that still sat in the shadows.
I signaled discreetly to one of the girls, a fair haired, cherub faced teen with a sadly foul temperament. I recognized her as a third year Slytherin girl whom often doled out trouble without hesitation.
“What?”
“I’m sorry for bothering you, but that man over there…”
The girl looked at me as if I had just spat poison at her feet. “There’s no one over there except for the dog.”
I sat back with a frown, excusing myself as politely as possible.
“The light must have played tricks on my eyes, my apologies.”
“Indeed.” the girl said rudely, taking the full glass of water off of my table. Dante excused himself from the girls’ company, leading me outside a few steps before stopping.
“Let us be swift, I do not know if they will be dropping the roof.” He said with a shiver, a silver halo of breath clinging around his olive-skinned face as soft snowflakes fell around us.
I nodded once I realized he meant ‘eavesdropping‘, leaning closer and dropping my voice. “As soon as the owl gets back, we will leave immediately…”
“That won’t be until the daytime.”
“That is fine. I’ll hide in the cemetery until then. Tell no one where I am under any circumstances…” I glanced over at the open pub door, where a large black dog stood silhouetted against the amber lights. The black dog was simply staring at up, it’s doleful eyes burning with unreadable emotion.
“Dante…come find me as soon as the owl returns with a reply, not a moment later, and be ready to leave here at once.”
“I understand…won‘t you be more uncomfortable inside?”
It took me a second to register what he had said, but I nodded. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. And Dante…be very careful of that dog.”

I was thankful of the silence of Cheddar’s Cemetery, it’s perfectly trimmed trees dotting around the headstones, providing sufficient shadows in the moonlight.
There is something to vampires about their native soil that lends them strength, be it mentally or physically I do not know.
The caves here had long ago been the hiding places of the Wizarding community during the times when wizards and witches were hunted and burned.
I wasn’t certain how I felt about this, now being an international fugitive in the Wizarding community, but the fact that I had Dante out there, alive and doubtably well would certainly shed light on the truth of what had transpired in Italy.
I trudged through the thick snow that lay on the dark path. In the town itself, there had been a soft halo of pinkish orange to illuminate the way, but out here is was lessened to a deep blue-black, which made it easier for my eyes to focus on the wintry world around me.
I could hear the soft whispering of the trees, the night birds inside them startled by the sudden and silent appearance of an intruder. I found a raised tomb, sitting back against the cold granite and looking up into the low clouds. How had things gone so ill so fast, and why?
As I sat in silent contemplation, I smelled he scent of the dog from the inn drawing near and withdrew farther into the shadows of the snowy overhang. I felt a sudden burning sensation from the open wound in my neck, the heavy knitted wool from my scarf scraping against the raw opening.
It was sniffing me out, drawing nearer and nearer to me as I pulled farther into the snowy overhang. I thought out my situation carefully. There was no doubt in my mind the ‘dog’ was an animagus.
I sprang out of the shadows, my gun drawn and loaded, pinning the dog to the ground, burying the barrel in the shaggy fur on it’s head. I felt two hands around my neck, cold fingers plunging into the open wound, making me cry out in pain and shock. I squeezed the trigger impulsively, but missed his head and fired straight into he snow-covered ground.
I looked down into the face of a wild, shaggy haired man who’s hollowed dark eyes were staring up into mine.
“Stop it. If you shoot again, this entire cemetery will full of muggle and wizard police…neither of us want that.”
“Sirius Black.”
“Integra Black.”
I pushed the barrel of my gun against his forehead and he tightened his grip on my neck.
“I’d hoped that the rumors weren’t true. I’d hoped you weren’t a vampire.” He said quietly, dropping his hands and wiping the stale blood off on his striped prison robes. I didn’t relent, still pressing the barrel of my gun into his skin. His voice was gravely and horse from disuse, and his face gaunt, though he was smiling.
“What do you want, you filthy maggot?” I snarled, cocking the gun for another shot.
“I just wanted to see the daughter I never knew.”
I hissed, shifting the gun. “You…” I trailed off, suddenly laughing. He looked up bewildered, though It took me a few minutes to recover.
“It’ strange, I think I would have remembered your mother…”
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but you are mistaken. I am the daughter of Sirius Black, but my bastard of a father died in 1952. You are not the first to make that mistake.”
I had never seen a man look so crushed in his life, but despite this, he was still a criminal, and may well be my ticket to freedom…
“Now…it’s time for you to die you dirty dog…”
“Signorina Integra!” I heard footsteps coming towards me and I felt a hand grip the back of my coat, yanking me back. I looked up into the face of Dante, and back at Sirius, who was laying sprawled on his back, staring at me from over his chest.
“I cannot let you do that, Integra, and this is why, I tell you.” Dante held up one finger on his undamaged hand. In the dim light, his eyes were a twinkle. “Because I will help you prove your innocence, as will Signor Dumbledore!” He held up a piece of parchment. “Your owl came. It is quite useless for you to kill a person, now, in England.”
“Let go of me, Dante!” I snarled as Sirius Black scrambled away, his shadowed eyes fading to a faint glow. I was angry on so many levels, at Sirius for interrupting my planned routine and further injuring me, and at Dante for interrupting me. I could have used Sirius’s head as a bargaining tool…
Perhaps that is what led up to the ‘Incident’, I don’t know how or why it happened. I still feel guilt for it, even thought Dante has assured me that he doesn’t hold me guilty.
The gun had gone off in my hand, rupturing Dante’s side. I smelled the blood before I had even realized what had happened, before I felt the wetness of his blood saturating my clothes. I don’t quite know what came over me, but I felt my teeth sink into Dante’s flesh.
I heard a scream, I felt his hands pushing against me, I felt the flesh rip away as Sirius pulled him back, stepping between us, pressing an upturned wooden grave marker into my breasts until I felt a sharp jab in my flesh. Dante’s blood was in my mouth, running down my face when I realized what I had done. I had never seen such a look of perfect horror on someone’s face, and Sirius’s fierce expression…he could have very well replaced me as a vampire hunter right there…
I backed up, falling in the snow. I had never done such a thing before. I had never been so impulsive, to attack a comrade without thinking, just because I was starved for blood…
What if it had been Anna?

XxX

Sirius, I can now say for certain, is a man who possesses a great gentleness in his heart of hearts, despite his fierce exterior. I do not believe that he did, or would ever, harbor the will to do a true wrong.
He is not a Black of the family I knew, for perhaps if I had met any family member such as he, I would not have been so dour in Life.
Miraculously, he was able to console Dante, who’s panicked and somewhat effeminate frenzy was unlike any I had seen, but even more miraculously, he was able to calm me long enough to get Dante the help he needed. I was afraid to use magic, technically being an ‘underage’ wizard, the Ministry could and would, no doubt, track me via my wand. I wouldn’t have put it past them, anyhow.
Surgeons are difficult to come by, especially in the small hours of the morning, but this was what Dante was in dire need of. I found a sleepy Muggle Veterinarian, whom I was able to enchant long enough to stop the bleeding and fix him up enough for me to get him to Hogwarts.
Dante was reluctant to go with me alone, but Sirius talked him into it. I asked Sirius to come with us, but he only let out a barking laugh.
“I think I’ve visited Hogwarts enough this month.” Was his only reply before waving us off on a stolen broomstick.
I was careful, bordering on paranoid, when traveling with Dante now. I didn’t want the frail, muggle stitches to tear open, nor was I certain when I would lose control over myself again. It scared me. Especially when I thought of Anna.
What if I couldn’t control myself? There were many times when we were together that her blood could be…
Riding with Dante, his blood so close and fresh, was maddening. I took every ounce of my patience and careful self-discipline to just be that close to him, let alone have him between my arms. It didn’t help that the muggle anesthetic was making him sleepy and dim. He was everything a vampire looked fro in a victim…
I shook my head as Dante and I dropped lower to the mountains, the trees rising to meet us. Hogsmead was drawing close…as was a horrible looking snowstorm. I dropped the broom lower to prevent getting caught up in the clouds.
“It’s cold here.” Dante murmured, his soft voice slurred softly.
“Just a bit longer, I promise…Madame Pomfrey will fix you up good as new…” I said with a forced cheer.
The tops of the trees were now literally touching our feet, and I was forced to pull up into the thin wisps of the clouds.
I circled the cemetery, spotting three ministry wizards hiding behind one of the mausoleum’s. I scoffed, redirecting my course to the Forbidden Forest.
I could hear the wolves howling below, the centaurs capering on their nightly hunt, and the presence of a dark familiarity as smooth and as dark as black velvet. I shuddered, swooping up towards the castle, it’s jewel-colored windows irradiant with warm light. Dante withdrew against me as I circled the Owlry, spotting Dumbledore holding a large, great horned owl in his left hand.
“Ah, Integra!” he called as I lighted down on the parapet, propping Dante up as carefully as I could. “I am pleased to see you have made it back with your head still attached. This must be Signor Esposito.”
“Si.” Dante slurred darkly from beneath the collar of his dark velvet robes. “Signore Dumbllly-dorrre….assume.” He offered the older man a hand, at which Dumbledore got a deep laugh, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.
“There was a terrible…” I stopped. I had almost said accident. It was no accident…I had deliberately gone after his blood. “Something terrible has happened…”
“There will be time to talk later, my dear Integra, but I see Signor Esposito is in need of medical attention.”

XxX

I sat quietly in Dumbledore’s office, staring up at the innumerable paintings of wizards and witches, many whispering quietly behind their hands as they stared back down at me. On Dumbledore’s desk sat a recent copy of the Daily Prophet. I sat back in the carved wooden chair I had seated myself in. As tempting as it was, I didn’t want to read whatever sordid lies the Ministry was spreading…
I heard the door open behind me, Dumbledore coming in looking more tired and drawn than I had ever seen him. I stood when he entered, folding my hands out of habit.
“So, how much damage is done? What is your body count?”
“Directly at my hand, there is only one: Mrs. De Lombardi…but Mr. Esposito and I were assaulted on the border of France and Germany by Illuminati. I had you use one as a human shield. I did not expect his comrades to disregard his life in such a crude way.”
Dumbledore made a sound, looking down at me, his eyebrows drawing together until they nearly met in the middle.
“And how many borders did you cross? Just Italy, France, and England?”
“No, I personally had to go into Germany to evade the Illuminati. I sent Dante ahead to Cheddar.”
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, stoking his beard absently. “I see, I see…”
“How is Dante?”
“He’s resting comfortably in the Hospital wing. I had to tell Madam Pomfrey what happened. She’s concerned now.”
“Are you concerned?”
Dumbledore stopped, looking at me patiently, resting a slender hand on my shoulder.
“Integra, I have known you for a very long time, and never have I assumed that you would be the sort to carry out a senseless attack such as this.” He gripped my scarf now, pulling at the end. I winced as it moved across the raw flesh, the knit fabric coming off in Dumbledore’s hands. “I do not believe that you intentionally injured our friend, Dante. But I have been wrong before.” He added as an afterthought, tilting my head up and brushing stiff, black hair away from my wound. He let out a sigh that seemed more sad than anything else. He handed the scarf back to me, sitting down at his desk. “I admit, it’s not looking good for you, though.”
There was a considerable silence, Dumbledore deep in thought as we both peered into the fire.
“It would seem that there is a rough road ahead of you, Integra. Dante has agreed to plead your case before the Ministry, as will I. You needn’t worry about that, but I wonder…that bite on your neck, the International Community’s willingness to get rid of vampires…to get rid of you…it makes me wonder if there is a missing piece to this puzzle.”
“Albus, if you know something that I don’t…” He held up his hand, a slight smile gracing his features.
“I am not saying that, but I am saying that there is something amiss, and something that does not seem quite right here, especially now that we have a Methuselah on our hands.”
“Do you really think that it was a Methuselah?” I asked, a prickle running down my skin as he spoke the old Hebrew name.
“Possibly, in fact, more possible than I would like it to be. It is possible that it was a vampire that can no longer sustain itself on human or animal blood and is thus reduced to drinking the blood of other vampires…or…” His silvery eyebrows knit together. “There is only one other vampire that I know of who engaged in this behavior, and I would like to think that he would be considerably less cruel…”
“You are acting as if is someone I know?”
Dumbledore looked at me from over the top of his spectacles. “Tell me everything that happened within the clearing.”
I sat back, crossing my knees as I recounted the tale, thinking deeply as I did so. Clearly, there was something within the tale that Dumbledore wanted me to see for myself. A heavy silence fell upon the room when I finished, my eyes falling on him. I knew now what impossible thing it was that he wanted me to see.
“I do not believe it was the Count.”
“Vladislav was the only vampire of which I am aware that could recover from what he went through, and drinking the blood of other vampires would certainly aid in his…”
I stood up, anger surging through my veins. “Listen here, Albus! It is simply impossible! Why would he have waited so long to return to me! Why would he keep me waiting, why would he victimize me in such a dire time! It cannot be! He would not do that!” My voice had risen with such passion that it left a ringing silence in it’s wake. Dumbledore was still patient, his eyes following me with sad kindness.
“It is something we cannot dismiss, though. As I said, I cannot imagine him being so cruel about it, not to you, anyway. He was a ruthless man and a bloodthirsty king, but he loved you, Integra. He would not be so cruel to you.”
I stood there, my arms shaking as I felt tears well up in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry, not here, and not now, anyway. Dumbledore’s expression softened and he sat down.
“I occasionally forget that you have the heart of a lady. Forgive me.”
There was a heavy silence that fell, leaving only the murmur of the portraits and the whirr of innumerable brass instruments in it’s wake. The fire popped, bringing me back to the present.
“How is Anna.” I said softly.
A merry smile spread across Dumbledore’s features at the change of subject.
“Ah, Miss Le Croux…I believe I have located her buried behind books over the course of the break…”
I nodded, placing my hands in the pockets of my tattered coat, looking down in hesitation.
“It is no sin, Integra, to feel the way you do. Annabelle is a charming young woman, her temper aside, there is very little about her that is not easy love.”
I looked up sheepishly. “Is it so obvious.”
Dumbledore’s twinkle was back, shining behind his half-moon spectacles. “Hardly.”
My eyes closed to him and I let out a habitual sigh. “What am I going to tell her?”
“The truth, I hope.”

XxX

I walked quickly beside Dumbledore, struggling even as a vampire to match the tall man’s long strides. It seemed as if there was a new understanding between he and I, as if a new chapter of friendship had began. I was still a little emotionally raw form his bring up the Count, but I knew this would heal with time. For the time being, though, it seemed as though I was finally making the bonds I had never had as a living person. I found it disgustingly ironic, to say the least.
The door to the Infirmary opened and I saw naught but a blur before I felt something hard collide with my face, a light weight hitting my chest. I stumbled back in surprise, not expecting to be assaulted so weakly within the sanctuary of Hogwarts.
I looked up to see Anna’s green eyes narrow dangerously like a cats, glasses agleam in the bright light. Her jaw was set in a manner that drew her lips into a thin angry line, and her cheeks were blooming the palest shade of pink. Never had I seen such an expression of anger and love. With nothing better to do, I began to laugh, the pain in my neck surging despite my relief.
“You could have been killed!” Anna’s cockney accent was becoming more and more prevalent as each syllable fell from her lips.
I brushed myself off, standing up and glancing over at Dumbledore, who’s eyes were sparkling behind his spectacles.
“Anna, I have something very important to tell you.” I said, shying away from her slightly. I didn’t want to be around her, not because I didn’t like her, obviously, but because I was afraid of another outburst from me…
“Like hell you do! This Italian bloke is prattling nonsense about you being a vampire!”
“I’d like to make certain Dante is okay before anything else…” I said, raising my hands to lower her voice.
Dumbledore put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t forget.” he said sternly, unwrapping the heavy scarf around my neck.
Anna backed away in horror and Dumbledore’s jaw set firmly.
“How in bloody hell did you get that!” Anna, having quite forgotten her manners, was now pointing at the wound in my neck.
“Like I said, I’ll explain later. I just need…” I began quietly, glancing over at the sound of an opening door.
Madam Pomfrey was walking quickly towards us, her nurses uniform fluttering around her as she approached.
“What is all this commotion!” The older woman hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously. “First you bring me a half dead Italian, now he gets no rest?”
“My dear Integra is in need of some help.”
Madam Pomfrey’s jaw sat with scorn, looking at the wound in my neck. “I don’t heal Vampires.”
“Vampire!?” Anna hissed, her eyes flashing again as they fell on me.
“I just need blood, that’s all…I’ll be fine once I rest a little.” I said dismissively. “there’s a pretty good chunk missing, but…”
Anna was looking at me, my voice lost in my throat. This was not how I wanted to tell her. I had pictured it much different, and now…
“Madam Pomfrey, you are here to heal students of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Miss Black is in fact, a student of Hogwarts. You had no moral hesitation about healing Mr. Esposito, and he is, in fact, not a Hogwarts student…” Dumbledore said smoothly, helping me remove my coat. “It would be tragic if I had to re-examine your employment here…”
I could no longer look into Anna’s eyes as Madam Pomfrey let out a sigh, leading me into the infirmary. I spotted Dante resting quietly on a bed in the far end of the wing, but Madam Pomfrey led me into her office, Anna and Dumbledore in tow.
Madam Pomfrey reluctantly fixed me up, supplying me with a packet of blood to suck on while she stitched up the gaping hole.
My eyes remained on the floor through the whole thing. I didn’t want to look at Anna, I didn’t want to think about our ensuing conversation, of the deep betrayal of friendship I was certain she felt…
“Are you okay?” Anna asked quietly after Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore had left to have a small talk about Dante.
Reluctantly, I raised my eyes, looking into her soft green ones. Her brow furrowed slightly, but I nodded, smiling fully to reveal my sharpened teeth. She didn’t react.
“Quite. It’s nothing I haven’t endured before.”
I felt her fist collide with my face again, my chair rocking backwards and tipping over on the floor. I stared up at the paneled ceiling in shock, just laying there, the blood packet crinkling in my hand.
“Who are you, really! What kind of bollocks have you been feeding me all long?”
I rolled over, sitting up.
“I haven’t lied to you, at all. I wanted to protect you from the truth. I wanted to be your friend, and in case you haven’t noticed, Vampires are not exactly welcome in the Wizarding world. I was afraid you wouldn‘t want to have anything to do with me if you knew.”
Anna’s eyebrow raised as I stood up, correcting the chair.
“Allow me to explain, please…I owe you that much, along with an apology.”
“How long have you been a vampire?”
“Anna.”
“How. Long. Have. You. Been. A. Vampire.” Anna snarled tersely.
“Since 1943.” I said softly, hanging my head. “it’s not a new development…”
Anna stepped closer, her pale skin shining in the false light of madam Pomfrey’s office. It was as if I saw her in a new perspective, each contour of her face now in vivid and beautiful detail, from the soft rose-pink tint of her lips to the pale brown freckles that faintly peppered her skin beneath her eyes.
There was rage and grace behind her eyes as she recovered from her anger, gathering control over herself once again.
“I have so many questions…I can’t believe…my best friend is a vampire.”


XxX

The next few days were perhaps the most mentally trying experience I had encountered yet. I spent most of the time with Anna, or visiting Dante in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey made a few unkind remarks about having to send him to St. Mungo’s, but Dumbledore put a kibosh on this before he left to speak with Fudge.
I myself was concerned. He was growing paler by the hour, and when he spoke, I noticed that his gums were reddening, and his teeth were growing sharper. I was worried about the violation of the Ministry’s Cardinal rule of Vampires: do not make another vampire.
Dante was showing definite signs of vampirism…
On the other hand, I had never seen Anna look so happy, her face literally irradiant with glee, which made her look more beautiful than I had ever imagined. I have no doubt that Dante noticed, too. One hears rumors of Italian men being smooth talkers, and one would assume it is simply a stereotype. Unfortunately, Dante fit the stereotype a little too well, in my opinion.
Perhaps it was my growing apprehension about Dumbledore’s return, or perhaps it was my feelings for Anna, or a mix of the two, but every time Dante and Anna came in contact with one another, I felt a growing irritation.
But I felt a guilt and a duty to not be angry with him. Had it not been for me, he would not be in such a dire situation. Granted, had it not been for me he probably would have been dead at the hands of his stepfather, but had it not been for me, he wouldn’t be suffering as much as he quietly confessed to me one afternoon.
I was headed down to the hospital wing one evening when I spotted Anna, whom I’d given up looking for not moments before.
“Anna…”
She stopped, a slightly annoyed look crossing her face. “What?”
“I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment?”
“About what…?”
I pulled her aside as a gaggle of first years cut past, one of them casting us a weary look as they passed.
“It’s about Dante…”
Her lips pursed together into a thin line and her eyes flashed. “You think I’m falling for his smooth tongue? I have two brothers, I know his game…”
“No.” I said, dropping my voice lower and leaning closer as Snape swooped past, eyeing us wearily. I could smell her now more than ever, faintly of roses and old books with a hint of bittersweet blood…
“You know a great deal about vampires…”
Her eyes brightened considerably and her lips turned up at the corners in a smirk. “Not as much as you, probably.”
“I don’t know jack shit, except that I am one and how to kill them. What I’m asking you is how to prevent someone from becoming one.” I leaned even closer unintentionally, placing my hand on the doorjamb beside her head as I dropped my voice even lower yet. She didn’t shy away, simply looking directly into my eyes.
“Is Dante becoming a Vampire?”
“He’s showing signs of vampirism…it could mean trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” I was oddly relieved to see a look of concern cross her features and I pulled back slightly.
“I don’t want to say for now. It’s best not to, but I need to know…”
She leaned forward, our faces just inches from one another’s. My heart was pounding in my ears, like the toll of a churchyard bell, my head spinning as her lips moved. I could hardly concentrate on what she was saying, her breath was ghosting across my face as sweet as anything I had ever smelled…
“Integra, are you okay?”
I immediately broke from my trance, shivering slightly.
“Yeah, sorry…I’m just really…”
“Really what?”
“Worried.” I finished lamely, stepping back. I suddenly felt awkward as I stood there looking at Anna, her fair hair shining in the watery sunlight.
“Well, don’t worry, I we can counter this.” She said with an excited shiver, looking over her shoulder as she did so. “But I need to know the parameters of my work. You know what will work and what won’t, I assume.”
I heard a noise in the hallway close by and looked up as Anna passed me. Professor McGonagall was standing sternly silhouetted against the brilliant January sunset.
“Miss Black, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office.”
XxX

When I reached Professor Dumbledore’s office, I was quite bewildered to discover he was nowhere to be seen, sensed, or smelt. On the table sat a pensive, radiating a liquid silver light from within it’s stone basin, the old man’s wand laying beside it. I didn’t dare get any closer, or pry into his private thoughts, for surely he was close by.
But I am unfortunately curious by nature, and due to the fact that I could not smell him, nor could I sense his presence close by, I leaned in over the bowl, my black hair swooping past my shoulders and dropping into the silvery white liquid.
I felt a yank forward, my own mother’s scolding voice echoing in my ears, reaching from the past and chastising me for being so impulsive as she had so often in my youth. The roots that held my hair fast to my head were aching dully as I was drawn into the stifling liquid. I felt like I was going to suffocate as the thoughts went over my head, submersing my shoulders as I went deeper until I was swallowed up entirely in Dumbledore‘s thoughts.
I fell farther and farther in, like Alice through the proverbial looking glass, pulled by my long hair with invisible hands as I landed into the water-colored world of Dumbledore’s pensive.
It took me a second to gather my thoughts as I landed hard on a cobbled street, darkness all around me. I could see the tops of high buildings, the glow of oil lamps through lace curtains, the scent of decay reaching my nose. In the shadows, I could make out the form of a man with red hair, cloaked in a deep, deep blue, watching the empty street wearily.
I looked at him blankly, his ice-blue eyes going right through me over his long, broken nose. He was young, in his mid to late twenties, his face taking on an uncharacteristically stern expression in his memory.
Behind him, I made out a pair of eyes glowing crimson, the shadow of a true monster looming benignly in the deepest shadows of the alleyway.
A low, hissing sound filled the air, sending chills up my spine. I could smell something drawing closer, ever closer, appearing in the fog that permeated these London streets. The feeling was overwhelming, like I was slowly going insane, and I realized that this was what Dumbledore had felt on that dark night as he crouched there in the shadows.
I walked calmly over to a stoop nearby, my skin prickling with goose pimples as I sat down in a horribly calm manner. These were Dumbledore’s memories, no harm would come to me…
I heard a soft whistling song on the putrid breeze, the crimson eyes in the alley behind Dumbledore flashing with glee as the grim song rang out in a heavy accent.
“Down among the dead men,
Down among the dead men let him lie.”
“Hush.” Dumbledore’s voice came out as softer than I had ever heard it, untouched by age. I could see his wand in the dim lights of the foggy street and I started slightly as I saw movement, a man drawing ever-near through the dim lights.
I sat up straight as the figure materialized in the darkness, Dumbledore stepping out to confront it. I saw the darkness around him, threatening to swallow up the street.
I knew what this was immediately, as did the young blond man whom Dumbledore was confronting.
“Gillert! The time for this nonsense ends now!”
Laughter rang out, the other young man’s wand raised in the air as the scene flickered slightly.
“Do you really think you can stop me, Albus?” The young man laughed. I stood up, clutching the wrought-iron railing for support as I watched the ensuing duel play out. I couldn’t help but think that there was something about this ‘Gillert’ that made me uncomfortable, perhaps it was his ear-to ear grin as he battled Dumbledore, perhaps it was the eerie familiarity in the man’s voice as he spoke poisonously sweet words to Dumbledore, who refused to raise a hand against the other young man.
There was blood, everywhere, all belonging to Dumbledore. I couldn’t help but feel concerned, though I knew that one or both of the young men would survive. I felt like I should do something to defend Dumbledore, who was bleeding heavily, but I knew my hands were tied, so I just leaned my hea don my hand and watched.
“How many?” Dumbledore shouted, his vice rising to a temper I had never heard before. “How many more women must die at your hand, Gillert?”
“As many as I need to better the world!” Gillert laughed, raising his wand and casting a well-aimed hex on Dumbledore, who stumbled forward, his tattered robes clinging to his lithe young form. Gillert’s strong hand shot out, gripping Dumbledore’s robes and pulling them so close that their faces nearly met.
“Do you remember our dream, Albus? Do you remember?”
I blinked, lifting my head up in disbelief of the scene that was playing out before me. I felt a white-hot shock run though my veins as Gillert kissed Dumbledore, who closed his eyes, a sad expression crossing his face. “We can have that again, you and I, together…just come with me….” Gillert’s voice was now soft and pleading, persuasive as he spoke against the other young man’s lips.
Dumbledore’s eyes opened and he looked up at the other man. “No.”
Gillert threw Dumbledore back against the cobbles, raising his wand. “Then you’ll have to die!”
I saw a dark shape appear between them, a cloud of bats solidifying between the duelists.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” I recognized the voice immediately, rising to my feet on the stoop as The Count appeared, a cruel, almost evil smile crossing his features. I didn’t recognize his face; he was clean-shaven, appearing quite young, though he retained his long, shaggy hair and amber-red eyes. He was dressed like a Victorian gentleman, as he did every once in a while when I knew him, clad in a Long black riding coat with the collar turned up, polished black boots up to the thigh, a bunch of lace gathered at his chin…
“Count Dracula…” I heard Gillert laugh with positive glee. “so the great Albus Dumbledore called in his great lapdog to nip at my heels! This is rich! I must inquire…how is Mrs. Harker? I am certain that she would look oh-so-lovely with her ears clipped like Miss. Eddowes, don’t you think?”
I had never in my entire experience with the count seen the expression The Count made upon hearing this. Pure hatred, his face contorted unlike anything I had seen before.
“You bastard! Don’t touch her!” The barrage that followed was a sight to behold, blood flying freely in all directions as Gillert let out a coughing laugh.
“Stop! Stop, I beg of you! Don’t kill him!” Dumbledore’s voice was barely audible above the fracas. “There must be another way!“
The Count let go of Gillert’s throat, dropping him to the ground without mercy.
“You’re a damned fool, Albus…a damned fool.”
The count made an angry sound, moving into an attack position, but Dumbledore called for him to stop as Gillert vanished with a telltale ‘pop’.
There was an aura of relief as the Count turned, kneeling before Dumbledore and bowing his head in an almost penitent gesture.
“Forgive me, my master…”
The vision vanished, and I was whisked erratically through a series of snippets that seemed petty, complete with irregular and non-sequential time skips, a blur of voices as they passed, thoughts detailing Albus’ relationship with Gillert, his relationship with the Count. Perhaps I was a little upset, for multiple reasons, so I didn’t pay the attention I should have, my thoughts on Mrs. Harker and the Count’s apparent ‘subservience’ to Dumbledore. It bothered me greatly, to say the least…
But there was some comfort in knowing a little more about Dumbledore, particularly in reguard to Gillert, something that we shared, and knowing that I was not alone.
I found myself again, standing in an office filled with whirring gadgets and various other otherwise obscure curios, I knew this office. It had been Dumbledore’s in the 1940’s. I spotted the tea set that we used to have tea out of, the well-loved books sitting at their usual odd angles in towering piles.
“Ah, where were we…?”
I looked down at the red chintz chair that I used to sit in, taking a step back at the sight of the Count, once more looking as if he were in his mid-forties, like a well-kempt medieval warrior, armor and all. He sat with his usual air of bored regality, his knees crossed and his cheek resting on his lightly closed fist. So much like Anna…
“The girl…the Japanese one…” He muttered, swirling a wine-glass in his hand and casually looking up at Dumbledore.
“Yes…I’m concerned about her…” Dumbledore said, resting his chin in his hands and looking squarely at the Count. “Vlad, you have witnessed the utmost discrimination throughout the years…you must empathize with her to some degree, even if she is Living.”
“I always make time for beautiful women.” He said with a sly smile, raising his glass to his lips. “Empathy or not.”
I felt deep embarrassment, shaking my head as the ridiculousness of it all. I was most certainly not considered beautiful, not in 1943, anyway, and definitely not by the English.
There was a spark of amusement in Dumbledore’s eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit…So you will keep an eye on her? I certainly cannot do it alone.”
The count’s tone suddenly changed to one of utmost seriousness. “Master, you must make up your mind. I can either trail Grindelwald or I can trail the Japanese girl. I cannot be two places at once…”
Dumbledore nodded, thinking for what felt like an eternity before he spoke again.
“As much as I hate to say this, Grindlewald is more important at the moment. I’ll keep an eye on Integra here, but you come back to me immediately when Gillert makes any kind of major move…”
The Count nodded, standing up. “We’ll meet at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, I presume?”
Dumbledore stood as well, shaking the counts hand. The count smiled serenely.
“Integra…”
I felt the world spin again, and in all my awkward embarrassment, I realized where I was, attempting to mentally and physically pull myself out of Dumbledore’s mind before I was caught. I managed to emerge on top of Dumbledore’s desk, nearly upsetting the pensive as I scrambled to get down, coming close to falling on my face in the process.
I felt upset, mentally an emotionally torn apart as I stood, habitually brushing my grey jumper off and smoothing my pleats, sitting down in the chair opposite of Dumbledore’s desk. I could smell him coming closer, faintly at first until I watched him emerge form the pensive with catlike grace.
I leaned on my elbow, forcing a smile through clenched teeth. Dumbledore smoothed his robes, looking at me from over the top of his spectacles.
“Ah, Integra, forgive me, I wasn’t expecting you so soon…I was just talking a walk down memory lane…”
“No worries…It gave me some time to…gather my own memories as well.” I said carefully, sitting up straighter and looking at him. I wanted to question him, and by the look he gave me, I expected that he knew about my adventure in ‘wonderland’, and guessed my thoughts.
He sat down and said nothing, clearly still thinking deeply. I had only once before seen such a look of deep sorrow on his face, and it was just moments ago inside the pensive when the Count had fought Gillert.
“You seem troubled.” I said softly.
“As do we all, my dear…” Dumbledore replied, taking a deep breath and exhaling. “The Ministry…they say that they do not hold you responsible for the attack. There is an inquiry to Dante‘s disappearance, and he will eventually have to speak with Fudge when he is feeling better. This whole thing is an international nightmare. The Italian Minister, De Lombardi, is under investigation now.”
My fingers curled around the armrests of the chair. “He did try to murder his stepson…the least they could do for Dante is give him diplomatic immunity or something…”
Dumbledore nodded, leaning back and sighing. “It looks as though Dante is going to have to go through the same procedures as anyone else entering the U.K. Needless to say, The Ministry is failing us yet again.” He muttered softly, eying an empty panting that hung on the wall in the corner. “They’ve gone so far as to cut off the blood supply to the castle…I think they’re trying to drive you into attacking. I have reason to believe you are being set up. I think they want an excuse to execute you.”
I looked it him, pressing my lips together, my sharpened teeth digging into the flesh of my mouth.
“Well, I have already done so, or in case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Esposito’s ribcage was almost torn out by me.”
“Don’t exaggerate, Integra!” Dumbledore said with a sudden sternness. “I know you attacked Dante. The regret is understandable, but…”
“I turned on him like a dog.” I said softly, my black bangs obscuring my eyes, my voice falling into a flat tone that hid my anger and frustration. “I mindlessly turned at the scent of blood and attacked a comrade like an animal. I didn’t even know what I was doing until it was almost too late…”
Dumbledore looked at me, a slight degree of hesitation in his eyes. “I understand what you are going through, but now is not the time for self-condemnation. You must believe you’re innocent, because if you don’t, they won’t.”
“Don’t sugar coat it, Albus. It‘s not that simple and we both know it.”
A silence fell on the office, our eyes locking. Dumbledore looked away, smiling slightly in an odd, sad sort of way.
“This is an ugly situation, Integra, and it will get uglier if you don‘t play the game correctly. Can you handle the steps that need to be taken?”
“I believe so. There is no point in becoming so impassioned over something you can’t control.”
Dumbledore nodded. “You shouldn’t sugar coat it, as well Integra. You are afraid, as am I, but you can control this.”
I sighed. “I guess we’ll take it as it comes, then. However, I am concerned about Dante.”
“Yes, his impending vampirism…I noted that when you brought him in. I have contacted someone who may be able to help…”
“As have I, though I doubt her resources are as broad.”
Dumbledore looked at me sternly. “I don’t advise you involve Miss Le Croux in this. It will end badly.”
I nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, the moment she elected to sit down beside me she became involved. The best I can do now is keep her informed and protect her the best I can from here on. You have told me many times before that ‘Knowledge is the ultimate power‘, and Anna is uncannily sharp. I think that if she were to walk down this path, she could be greater then Abraham Van Helsing.”
“I think you are right, but could you lead her down that dark path? Could your heart bear it?”
I looked at him with as much simple honesty as I could muster, my crimson eyes meeting his over the shining pensive light.
“For Anna, I would endure anything.”

XxX