Four Months Earlier:
The man was one of many in a sea of black cloaks and white masks. He kept his eyes forward, although he, like the rest of his kind, could not help but flick them towards their guest for that evening. A very beautiful and voluptuous woman idly stretched herself, revealing a generous portion of her assets as the soft, slinky dress ran over her creamy skin. Smoky blue eyes flickered with an inner darkness, a fiery tinge of red-yellow flashing through them every so often and a self-satisfied smirk crossed over her face as she listened.
“So, we are agreed…?” A voice hissed and the man shuddered. He was not cold, despite the icy wind that had shot through the small gathering, but the sound of his Master's voice always brought a wave of fresh fear, something his Master found terribly amusing. Despite himself, the man glanced past the woman and gazed upon his Master's form.
Crimson eyes flared as the Dark Lord absently twirled his wand in his spindly, pale hands. The Dark Lord's slit-like nostrils flared as another breeze howled past the spiked and jagged rocks and his pale, bald head automatically swivelled to the right as a seagull let out a sorrowful cry. The man shuddered again, this time at the memory of the horrible events of the Third Task. He had thought that the Dark Lord would not survive such terrible injuries. However, it seemed that the Heir of Slytherin possessed many powers that the man could only dream of and now, two months later, the Dark lord was recover and quickly coming closer to regaining his former power.
“We are agreed,” The woman said in a soft voice, licking her lips and smiling coldly. She took the Dark Lord by the hand and his crimson eyes flashed as she sensually rubbed her thumb over it, her voice lowering and becoming husky as she continued. “Working together, Lord Voldemort, we will be unstoppable. Working together, those who dare to oppose us will fall beneath our feet. Working together…
“Harry Potter will die!” The Dark Lord hissed and suddenly the sea of Death Eater's were cheering and applauding. Figures lurked in the background and the man swallowed nervously, his applause dieing out as he caught the glimpse of a horrible, lion-like creature with glowing yellow eyes. He quickly swung his eyes back at his Master, noting that there was almost a tangible field of dark magic hovering around the two leaders as the Dark Lord and the Denarian Queen finalised their alliance….
“Son of a…” Harry gasped and shot up from his bed. He opened his eyes and groaned, quickly shutting them as his body let him know that this interruption to its sleep cycle was not appreciated. “What the hell was that?”
'That, beloved, was both very interesting and very disturbing,' Came the smooth, melodious voice of his Fallen. Meciel's presence within his mind seemed to throb with anxiety as she sent tendrils of warmth shooting through his body, driving away his fatigue in a single blast. 'I recognised that woman.'
“Of course you did,” Harry muttered and gave a tired yawn. He sleepily glanced at a cheap wind-up clock resting on his wall and scowled. “Oh, for the love of….it's six in the morning! I tell you, somebody's balls are going to get busted for this.”
'Of course, beloved,' Meciel said patiently. 'Although I thought that you might be a little more interested in the reason behind that vision you just experienced.'
“What, that was a vision?” Harry asked, a curious expression washing over his face. “Why the hell did I have a vision? Hey, am I seer? And if I can, is there anyway I can somehow get next week's lottery numbers?”
'No, beloved, you are not a seer,' Meciel explained. Harry felt a cool sensation brushing against his left cheek, from chin to brow. Harry knew without looking in a mirror that a wicked-looking scar had been carved there, courtesy of a Death Eater no less than two months ago. He frowned and touched the scar with his fingers, blinking in surprise as a slither of pain ran through him. 'It came from this scar.'
“The scar?” Harry said sceptically.
'The scar,' Meciel agreed. 'It is a curse scar, much like the one on your forehead. I naturally block that scar to ensure your safety but I will admit that I was not prepared to defend against this intrusion until it had already started, and by then I realised just what I was looking at.'
“Wait,” Harry said slowly, a frown appearing on his face. “I got a vision…because some shithead gave me a scar? Is that even possible?”
'Normally, for wounds such as this then no,' Meciel explained. 'In fact, I have never heard of such a detailed vision appearing before in all of my experience.'
“So, what gives?” Harry asked slowly.
'I am unsure, beloved. I can speculate, if you wish me to,' Meciel answered.
“Speculate away,” grumbled Harry, sighing and shaking his head dejectedly. A moment later he jumped out of bed, wincing with his bare feet hit the cold ground. An instant later the cold sensation disappeared as Meciel numbed his feet. Harry shuffled out of his bedroom and towards the kitchen, his eyes glazed over as he listened.
'Considering the nature of the wound, as a necessary ingredient in a powerful ritual, it is not impossible that the normal residual link has…mutated,' Meciel said slowly. 'As you are aware, Curse Scars are the result of residual dark magic forming a connection of sorts between the victim and the attacker. Depending on the severity of the curse, this connection will normally dissipate after a period of time, say, from mere seconds to a few hours after the attack. However, there have been reports when victims of dark curses have formed a permanent link with their attacker. The victims report that there are times when the curse scar will cause them pain when their attacker is nearby and feeling a very strong emotion. There have been a few cases where the victim once saw flashes of that their attacker was doing at one particular moment.'
“This was a little more than a flash, Meciel,” Harry said, absently grabbing a chipped bowl from the cupboard and reaching for the box of cereal. “A flash is like when an actress pulls a 'nipple-slip' on TV. This was like an actress releasing an entire homemade sex-tape.”
'I am astounded in your ability to steer every subject back towards sex,' Meciel said dryly. 'You are right, though. This was far greater than anything I have heard about. Like I said, it is possible that this connection has grown far greater than it normally would have because of the situations that surround its creation. There was a lot of raw, dark magic in the graveyard that night.”
“So I have a link with that Death Eater, what's-his-face, Tapeworm or wombtail or something?” Harry asked, shuffling the cereal box and pouring it into his bowl.
'I believe his name was Wormtail,' Meciel remarked in amusement.
“So, what did you think of the vision?” Harry asked, frowning and absently squashing a cockroach that had been hiding in his cereal. He looked at the rest of it in distaste and sighed. “Fucking hell, I can't even get a decent breakfast.”
'The woman who was allying herself with Voldemort, she is a Denarian,' Meciel answered and a flash of hatred swept through Harry, who raised his eyebrows in interest. 'It is Vesper, one of the most powerful of the Denarian Warlords.'
“Useful information,” Harry remarked as he emptied the bowl of cereal into the bin. “What should we do about this link?”
'I can maintain a constant block on it and you will never receive another vision again,' Meciel offered. 'However, if you wish, I can maintain the block but allow any tangible vision to filter through. Like you said, we can learn some very useful information here.'
“Eh, just block it and tell me if something useful comes up,” Harry shrugged and took a deep breath, his eyes scanning his shelves for something else to eat. “So, why does Vesper want me dead?”
'Vesper and I have never been allies,' Meciel remarked and Harry sensed a streak of cruel satisfaction coming from her. 'She is a rival, for lack of a better word. With Nicodemus dead, I assume that the Order of Blackened Denarius is in turmoil, with the most powerful Denarian's fighting for the right to rule. Vesper would naturally want to kill the competition, especially considering that we defeated Nicodemus.'
“Is she powerful?”
'Quite,' Meciel answered. 'But not to the level of Nicodemus, the Drakon or Azzeh. You yourself will far outstrip her as you grow further into your powers. I believe that you could hold your own if you were to encounter her.'
“Great, just fucking great.” Harry sighed in annoyance, rolling his eyes. “Another enemy.”
'I believe that you will have quite the advantage over her,' Meciel murmured and Harry's eyes were drawn to his living room. He had eventually replaced most of the furniture he had smashed upon his return and had chipped in for a small, cheap mantelpiece. Lying on this mantelpiece was a gleaming polished walking stick. Harry knew from experience that the head of the walking stick was actually the hilt of a cleverly disguised sword.
It had only been a few months since Harry had been deemed as worthy enough to be blessed as a Knight of the Cross. Harry still wasn't sure if this was one of God's fucked up version of humour of if somebody up there had made a really bad administration error. Either way, Harry found the sword both useful and at the same time, very annoying. The former because the sword was without doubt one of the most powerful weapon's he had ever used. It was capable of reflecting or negating all magical-based attacks, could flare up silver flames and gave him the ability to avoid attacks in the most uncanny of manners. There was a time when Harry had slammed the sword down on chair and a piece of the shrapnel had actually hit a bullet that had been aimed at him, veering it off course just enough to save his life. Of course, there were some drawbacks. Harry had to wear gloves before he could even touch the sword. As a Denarian, his exposed flesh had a tendency to sizzle, blister and burn whenever his bare skin came into contact with any part of the holy weapon. The second drawback of owning the sword was occurring at that very moment.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Harry growled angrily. He glared at the sword in the most petulant manner he could muster. “No! Not today, not before I've had breakfast. Go call one of the other Knight's! I've got better things to do!”
Harry turned away as something tugged at his heart, knowing that it had nothing to do with his emotions. Every once in a while, Harry would get these feelings, as if was vitally important that be somewhere. The first time, Harry had ignored it for four days straight before he had inadvertently stumbled onto the very scene he was trying to avoid, just in time to stop a homeless man being eaten alive by a Troll under a bridge. It was almost as if the sword knew how long it would take for him to relent and sent the warnings in advance.
“I said no,” Harry snapped at the sword, crossing his arms and heaving with a frustrated sigh.
'I don't think the sword can understand you, beloved,' Meciel said, partly in amusement and partly in wariness. She had been unable to block these feelings Harry was having, much to her disgust. 'It is, after all, an inanimate object.'
“Hey, there are inanimate objects that are smarter than the people I know,” Harry muttered with a scowl on his face. “Hell, a most of them are a lot more attractive.”
'That's not very nice,' Meciel said and paused. 'Of course, it sounds accurate.'
“Remember the last time that stupid sword dragged me out,” Harry grumbled, throwing the sword a dirty look. “That prostitute I saved had the face of a frog, slimy and bulbous.”
The tugging at his heart continued, more intently this time, and Harry sighed.
'Remember,' Meciel remarked dryly. 'God's power is matched only by his stubbornness. I had an argument with him once and he threw out and hasn't talked to me since.'
Harry ignored her as he pulled his wand out of his pocket. With a sharp flick, one of the battered armchairs soared from the corner of the living room. Harry flicked his wand again and summoned a book from the one and only bookshelf. It landed in his hands and Harry glanced at the title 'Transfiguration: Why Owls become Toads' and sat down.
After a few minutes of browsing the book, Harry finally growled and slammed the book down onto the ground, a furious expression on his face.
“Alright, alright,” He snarled, standing up and glaring at the sword. “I'm going, I'm going, just give me a fucking break already.”
Instantaneously, the tugging at his heart stopped and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he was tempted to shout something along the lines of 'sucker' and sit back down again but he knew from personal experience that the summons would only return in full force.
“I should find a way to destroy the bloody thing,” Harry muttered curtly under his breath as he strode into his bedroom. In a few moments he was dressed in his clothes, long black coat and all, and he walked out of the bedroom and over to the mantelpiece, his eyes glittering with annoyance.
'You did say that the power of this weapon would be worth the occasional side-trip,' Meciel reminded him as he took a deep breath and, with gloved hands, took hold of the sword. Instantly, a location flashed in his mind, somewhere he had never been before but somewhere where he would somehow be able to apparate there perfectly.
“Yeah, that was a month ago,” Harry remarked sourly. “Having been killed nearly seven times since then, I reserve the right to change my mind.”
'Well, it's a bit late for that now, isn't it?' Meciel asked and Harry felt a flash of smugness radiate from her presence.
“Oh, shut up with the 'I told you so',” Harry muttered and took a deep breath readying himself to apparate. His eyes flickered to the roof of the house and he glowered. “Watch yourself, big-man, or one day I might burn down St Peter's Cathedral, just for fun.”
Without another word, Harry twirled on his feet and disapparated from the apartment with a small pop.
He reappeared in a small, dark alleyway somewhere in a large city. Buildings loomed above and around his head, giant towers of twinkling lights in the darkness. Wherever he was, it was the middle of the night. As soon as he had arrived, a small crack had shot through the alleyway and gained the attention of the three other occupants, including one terrified-looking man clad in an expensive suit and two handsome blonde men looming above him. The two blonde men sprung around, their eyes narrowed as they took in the newcomer while the man in the suit staggered backwards, trying unsuccessfully to find a way out of the dead-end alley.
“Well, well, well,” One of the men drawled, his blue eyes flickering over Harry. He was dressed in casual but expensive clothes. “What do we have here, brother?”
“Where did you come from, little boy?” The other man demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he stared at Harry. Harry blinked and stared back at him, assessing both men carefully. He gripped both his cane and his wand under his coat and prepared himself.
“Never mind that, brother,” The other man cut in smoothly, smiling politely and showing gleaming white teeth. “We were just about to eat. Would you care to join us?”
Harry smiled back, his face a picture of cheerfulness, but his words were cold and curt. “Yeah, it'll be a cold day in hell before I let a Red Court Vampire take a nibble on my neck.”
The man's smile disappeared and his eyes widened in astonishment, while his brother bared his suddenly long teeth and curved his suddenly sharp nails. Harry made a loud scoffing noise and looked unimpressed as he pulled out cane and wand.
"Argentum telum!" Harry barked and oily smoke rose from the glowing runes on his wand as a piercing bolt of glowing silver formed into the shape of an arrowhead and shot forward with the force of a bullet.
A normal human being would have been instantly killed but these two men were no mere humans and both of them dived to the side, moving as a blur. The spell glanced one of their shoulders and suddenly the air was filled with an eerie screech of pain. The injured vampire fell to the ground, thrashing and clutching his bloodied shoulder, where a large chunk seemed to have been scooped out.
For a moment the vampire's skin rippled and it was as if he was literally wearing the skin of a human. Harry got glimpses of a creature of darkness, with oily, saggy skin and thing, bony arms, before the other vampire rushed towards him, jumping forward with incredible speed and power and covering a dozen metres in a mere second.
“Evertoxuro!” Harry barked out, thrusting his wand forward. Billowing clouds of smoke flooded into the air as a torrent of flames exploded from his wand, sweeping forward and burning everything in sight. The vampire, however, ducked under the flames and launched itself at Harry.
'Look out!'
Harry moved faster than he would have thought possible, sidestepping and bringing the cane up above his head. As the Vampire sailed past, Harry slammed the wooden sheath down on the vampires back and gave a dark smile as he heard the creature give a grunt of pain and staggered to the ground. With a twist of his wrist, the sword fell out of the sheath and suddenly the alley was bathed with silver light. With a snarl of anger, Harry slammed the holy sword down into the vampire's exposed back, his eyes glittering as the vampire screeched in pain and exploded in a flash of silver flames.
Suddenly the other vampire was there, his face contorting and twisting as the inner beast of the vampire raged at the death of its companion. Harry grunted as the vampire slammed his fist down on Harry's arm and his muscles reflexively convulsed, the sword dropping from his hands. The vampire moved in a single blurred movement and Harry's vision exploded with light as a fist with superhuman strength slammed into his jaw.
The next thing Harry knew, he was lying on the ground with a snarling creature dressed in human skin on top of him. Blazing anger and icy cold fear rushed through him as he gritted his teeth. His wand was thrown from his hand and the vampire bared its elongated teeth, its eyes completely black.
“I will enjoy feeding on you, wizard!” It snarled in obvious pleasure.
Harry snarled back at it wordlessly and lashed out with his hand, slamming his fist into the creature's face. The creature hissed but accepted the blow, its grin widening as the human skin contorted around its face. With a loud, hacking noise, the vampire spat a huge glob of saliva on Harry's face. The moment the saliva touched Harry's skin, he knew he was in trouble.
At one point, Harry had been subjugated to an extremely powerful compulsion charm called the Imperius Curse. Before Meciel had shielded him, Harry had felt a sensation of absolute bliss and carefree paradise, where there was no pain, no suffering and no anger. The venom of the Red Court vampire worked in much the same way, apart from two distinctions. Firstly, it worked on a purely biological basis. The sensations Harry was feeling now were because of a drug that made heroin look like vitamin C tablets. This was worse for Harry because, unlike the mental intrusion of a spell, it was much harder of Meciel to fight. Secondly, along with this sensation of bliss came with it a cascading wave of unending pleasure that threatened to drag Harry's mind down into its depths and surround him forever. It was little wonder why the Red Court vampire usually had very little trouble in capturing prey.
The sensations of bliss slammed into him with the subtlety of a tank, hurling itself at his mental barriers. Harry's groaned, partly in anger and partly in pleasure as his entire body began to tingle with extreme pleasure and he shuddered, a cold sensation crawling down his neck as the vampire laughed, sensing his opponent's weakness.
'Now!' Meciel commanded.
Suddenly the sensation that had threatened to overtake Harry lessened, much of it swept away in a blast of pure heat. At the same time as Meciel dispelled what she could of the venom's effects, Harry initiated the first stages of his demonic transformation. From his back came two dragon-like wings of sharp, ashen bone, which lanced forward and impaled the vampire on each shoulder. The vampire screamed in agony as Harry lifted the creature off his chest and suspended him in the air. He flicked his wrist, fury shining in his eyes, and his wand soared back into his outstretched hand.
"Frendo!" Harry hissed, Hellfire rushing through him, and a dark flash of purple light exploded from his wand with a deafening boom. The vampire disappeared under the powerful pulverising curse, turning into a light spray of red mist and a few chunks of steaming meat.
The fight was over.
Harry grimaced as he stood up, wiping the dribble of vampire saliva off his face and staring at it on his gloved hands. With a sigh of disgust, Harry bent down and wiped it on the ground as he picked up the sword, sliding it back into the wooden cane and standing back up.
'That was very close,' Meciel said grimly.
“Tell me about it,” Harry muttered and touched his face again, a disgusted expression on his face. “Did that guy seem like a rapist to you? He seemed like a rapist to me. I almost got raped by a vampire.”
“W-w-what the hell is g-going on?” Came a frightened and demanding voice from across the alley. Harry blinked and stared at the suited man who he had just saved.
“You know, vampire drool costs you extra,” He said grouchily and paused, lifting his eyes to the night sky as he mentally calculated something. When he was done, he gave a short assertive nod and stared at the man. “So, that's six hundred and fifty bucks you owe me.”
“W-what?” The man exploded in a mixture of fear, confusion and anger. “What for? What's going on? Who are you?”
“I saved your life from vampires,” Harry said slowly, as if the man were a touch slow in the head. “Hence, you owe me six hundred and fifty bucks. Cash, preferably.”
“Wha- vampires don't exist!” The man snapped, breathing harshly as he stared at Harry in fear. Harry got the feeling that he hadn't really seen much of what had just happened.
Pity. The sceptics were always cheapskates.
“Sure they do,” Harry said and prodded the meaty remains of one of the vampires with his shoe. “These were the classic Red Court vampire and you were the classic Red Court meal.”
“R-Red Court?” The man stumbled, looking even more lost. “What the hell are you talking about? What the hell is going on? What is the Red Court? Where did that fire come from? Where those two guys and…oh my God are, is that from a person!”
The man was staring down at the meaty remains with a horrified expression on his face. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed.
“No, it's from a vampire,” He snapped in irritation. “And the Red Court is a hierarchy for a specific type of vampire. They actually look like some kind of freaky bat-thing with wrinkly, black skin and a smell like you wouldn't believe, but they like to dress up in human glamour's, it makes it easier to catch their prey.”
“You…killed…vampires,” The man said slowly, staring at Harry as if he wasn't sure which one of them was the most insane. “Vampires are real. And you killed them.”
“Yes, I killed them, dumbarse,” Harry snapped and rolled his eyes. “They got the usual vampire things going for them. Sunlight, silver, holy water, garlic, fire. They're not to hard to kill when you can get them lined up in your sights.”
“I-I don't believe what I'm hearing,” The man said and shook his head in despair. He gave a desperate little chuckle and sank to his knees. “I'm cracked, I've finally cracked.”
“Oh, for the love of…” Harry snarled and fingered his wand, narrowing his eyes and wondering what curse he might apply to the moron in front of him. “My money. Give it to me.”
“Why?” The man asked in such a calm, frank tone that Harry blinked.
“Look, moron, everybody needs to earn their rent,” He snapped. “Robbing places is a bad idea for me at the moment, so I'm doing the whole hero thing, except I'm getting a little extra incentive on the side. Now, give me the wallet or I'll slam you over the head and take it from you.”
“Fine,” The man snorted and reached into his suit. He pulled out a small, leather-bound wallet and threw it at Harry. Harry snatched it from the air and opened it up. A frown appeared on his face as he pulled out all of the notes and he sighed in annoyance.
“This is two hundred and thirty two bucks,” Harry snapped with an annoyed glare. He swung his piercing green eyes over the man and stopped at the man's wrist. With a flick of his wand, Harry summoned the watch on the man's wrist to his hand.
“How did you…” The man started, before he blinked. “Right. Killer of vampires. Of course you have super powers.”
“Is this Swiss?” Harry asked in curiosity.
“Yeah,” The man mumbled, still staring at Harry in astonishment. “It was my anniversary parent from my kids.”
“This should pick up the extra cost,” Harry said and pocketed the money and the watch. He stared down at the man, who seemed as if he had just had a breakdown, and frowned. “I don't have to tell you not to tell anybody, because, frankly, who's going to believe you anyway? I mean, you could tell somebody if you have a thing for horse tranquilisers, the kind the give you in the nuthouse, if you catch my drift.”
The man blinked and stared at him as Harry motioned for him to stand. Slowly, the man climbed to his feet and staggered out of the alley with a dazed expression on his face. Harry watched him go and pursed his lips, shaking his head.
“That guy has problems,” he remarked.
The sword in his hand suddenly seemed to glow, basking Harry in a soft silvery light that throbbed in what he interpreted as a reproaching manner.
“Oh, stop your whining,” Harry scowled. “I saved his life, didn't I? Besides, I need to get something out of this, especially since you dragged me out here before seven in the morning.”
'So, beloved, what next?'
“That, Meciel, is an excellent question,” Harry said and tucked his wand and cane under his coat. “I was thinking some breakfast and then another twelve hours of sleep.”
'Don't forget that you have a meeting with a Harry Dresden today,' Meciel reminded him and Harry let out a sigh.
“Fuck,” He muttered and gave an annoyed sigh. “Welcome back sleep-deprivation, my very old friend. Mind the sore jaw, somebody punched me there today. Not that anybody cares.”
'I care, beloved.'
“Yeah, I know, I know,” Harry grumbled but an affectionate smile flickered across his face. “So, you up for some breakfast?”
'As long as we stay away from fried eggs,' Meciel said firmly.
“I don't understand why you don't like them,” Harry said with a puzzled expression. “I mean, all of your senses come through mine and I like them, so don't you have to like them by default or something?”
'This is going to be a long morning, isn't it?' Meciel asked with a weary sigh.
“If I'm awake before ten then count on it,” Harry said with a nasty smile.