45A/N: ty for the reviews, unforgiveable curse caster, Avis, kristen, Frenchie 283, SlytheringRules, and Twilight 016. -heart- luv you all -
Disclaimer: HP and the wonderful bunch all belong to J.K. Rowling. -sobs- me want shiny. credits to mugglenet for references.
Vampire's Doll
Chapter 5: Escape to Diagon Alley
Main PoV:
Lucius Malfoy was quite suprised, in fact so shocked, that he leaned against the wall for a few moments of silence before registering the slowly dimishing feeling of dissapointment and rage. He nodded to Serverus and motioned for him to follow the running Harry Potter.
Harry just ran, as fast as he could. Hell, death eaters were on his tail, attacked his relatives (horrid relatives, but still relatives), invaded a muggle place, and chasing him. What was he to do?
Harry slipped on his shoes, a feeling of panic. What if they had caught him? How would he escape? Why did they come to find him? He opened the door and dashed out, not bothering to close it. He ran, thoughts racing across his mind. Where would he go now? How long did he have..? The wizards could have easily apparated in front of him... quickly, he drew out his wand of phoenix feather, and waved it across the street. No one was watching, everyone was in their houses, sheilded from the raging summer heat...
Time seemed to freeze as Harry recognized that whirling gust of wind. He stepped back, leaning towards the sidewalk, and watched the sky grow temporarily dark. Almost too suddenly, a large bus came out of nowhere and opened its door. Harry had remembered this from third year.. how familiar the knight bus was. His last resort...
Harry climbed onto the bus and breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed and sped its driver wasn't Stan Shunpike (for he was sent to Azkaban on a flimsy evidence of Dark activity), but a rather grouchy wizard who refused to mention his name. He looked a lot like Mad-eye-Moody, except for the electric-blue moving eye, the peg-legg, and the sharp crook on the nose. This driver had glasses and a strange style of hair, which Harry couldn't help but be reminded of one of Tonk's ...interesting hair alterations.
"Diagon Alley," Harry muttered, hiding his head from the driver, hoping not to be recognized for the sun still shone from the windows although the curtains were down in the passenger's section. He dropped a few galeons on the little tray and quietly made his way to a seat. Once again, that queasy feeling when the bus started accelerating speed. Like the whole world was being squeezed over and over again, the being doing so not achieving any satisfication in its work. It was as if gravity had changed course and split, a heavy pressure pushing towards the core of the earth while the other section pushed residents towards the dark endless area called space.
Harry was sure he had fallen asleep, for the next thing he had remembered was being shaken by someone. He blinked and adjusted his glasses, before realizing that he add to get off. Muttering a quick thanks to the person who had woke him up (who looked eerily like Urquhart from the Slytherin Quidditch team), he sprinted out of the bus, glad to be rid of the squished uncomfiness.
What coicidence it must have been, for he found himself right next to his destination of the inn. Giving an inner smile that the world was kind to him for once, Harry went inside, appreciating the magically-altered cooler temperature. He spotted Tom immediately, for the elder wizard was running back and forth, apparently making sure that he was attending to all of the customers.
"Is it possible to have the usual room?" Harry asked, as soon as he saw Tom breathing a sigh of relief before the next load of people would come.
"Oh, what brings you here?" Tom smiled pleasantly, satisfied to see a familiar face; he dropped a key into Harry's hand, "and yes, I have the room reserved for you."
"Thanks," Harry clenched the small silver key, making his way to the room. "Long story short, death eater chase."
"Ah, I see," Tom nodded thoughtfully, knowing better than to pester the boy about his actions. "Do be careful, enjoy your stay."
"Thanks," Harry mumbled, making his way to the room. He inserted the key and opened the door, stepping inside to the familiar carpet and cozy atmosphere that was currently, just like the lobby, magically tempered to be cool in the raging heat. The bed was a comftorable twin-sized one with an intricate decoration of merpeople carved from presumably the finest redwood. The lights were pretty elaborate, swirling little procleain auguerys magically flying in circles around the lightbulb. There was the usual built-in kitchen, a wardrobe, shelf, and a small coffe/dinning table that was supported by a lush Nifflerskin rug (which also supported the mirror next to a chair). Closing the door and locking it, he felt a sense of safeness. (The authoress would like to say that she doesn't care whether or not safeness is a word, it just sounds nice). Alohomora could not open the door, for only Tom could come in with the spare key. Breathing a sigh of relief, the whole situation just slammed down on him, like an anvill that was following him around.
He was in a inn in diagon alley. He was being chased by two wizards. He was the victim of two death eaters. His old residence was no longer safe. Living amongst muggles was no longer safe. He was told of a vampiric heritage.
All of those, Harry could deal with. Except the last, which he still did not believe was true. It was not possible to become a vampire overnight, so he dismissed the fact as a late April fool's. Sighing, Harry enlarged his suitcase and placed everything in the drawers. There was some food in the fridge, and a pitcher of fruit punch. Harry graciously took both out and began his brunch. The grilled cheese sandwich tasted a bit plain, which confused him. The cheese flavor was not that strong, and the bread tasted of paper. Tom's dishes were usually fabulous, so he wondered if there was some newly-hired cook or house elf. Shrugging, he ate the bland-tasting chicken wings and cleared the table. Nothing new.
It was strange indeed, since Tom had told him that he was going to run the inn alone with a few friends, not hire people. His friend's cooking were all spice and pepper-filled dishes that made him drink more water. However, lunch was just plain bland and tasteless. Sighing, he sat on the little chair positioned right next to his bed. Leaning foward, he took a sip of the fruit punch, savoring the sweet taste. At least something had decent flavor to it, he thought, why, this tastes delicious. He noticed, though, that fruit punch was not supposed to be...thick. It did not taste this sweet, it did not taste a bit salty at all. Perhaps this was a special? Harry sipped the drink contently, like a cat lapping at milk. It tasted wonderful, and he had a warm feeling inside. The same warm feeling one has when they consume alchool of any type. It was as if he could melt in how wonderful it tasted.
Finishing the glass too quickly for his satisfaction, he then drank the entire pitcher. What ever it was, Harry just had to ask for the secret recipie. Washing up the used silverware and glass, he heard a small knock on his wooden door. He knew it was Tom, he just had the strangest feeling that it was.
"Come in," he called out, scrubbing the plate. He was allowed to use magic, but it was just too much of a habit to manually clean things after use.
"Hello Harry," Tom came in, closing the door and locking it behind him with the duplicate of the small silver key he had given the burnette.
"Tom, nice to see you again," Harry nodded, quickly finishing up the dishes and wondering how he had known it was the innkeeper...
MEANWHILE
"Mother, where has Father gone off to?" Draco Malfoy asked, wondering just where the highly-respected man (of the Dark Lord) ran off to. He was supposed to take Draco to Diagon Alley and purchase him a Firebolt, after that rant about how Potter always defeated him in quidditch since he had the latest edition in broomsticks.
"He's out with your godfather for mission business." Narcissa responded, quite glad that the man was out of the house. Her husband was always dissatisfied with their son, not noticing the fact that he was trying his best. If it weren't for the rule of arranged marriages between purebloods, they would have been seperate for the longest time possible.
"Oh, that sucks," Draco pouted. He was fine with removing the mask for his mother, one of the few people in the world that he trusted with his life. Her, and his two best friends- Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. He would not express any emotion other than negative ones to anyone else.. except occasionally to Moaning Myrtle who haunts the bathrooms for the sake of ranting, and Peeves the Poltergeist to scare him off. Ah yes, it was fun indeed.
"I heard he was supposed to take you shopping for a Firebolt today?" Narcissa smiled with amusement, putting some eggnog on her son's plate. "It's too bad, really, I just recieved an owl that he would not be back soon."
"That's not fair," Draco sighed, pushing the eggnog on his plate with the Malfoy-crested fork. Taking an occasional bite, he stared at the clock.
"Tell you what, I'll take you to Diagon, if that's all right with you." Narcissa said, quite entertained at the fact that he had made a snitch-resemblance by pushing his eggnog around.
"Really?" Draco's eyes widened, dropping the fork on the plate with a loud clatter, as the eggnog snitch recieved a giant dent of silver. Before waiting for her answer, he smiled happily and hugged her, muttering a "thank you."
All of you readers may wonder if Malfoy went insane or terribly OOC. The authoress just stares at you and tells you not to mind, for this is her mind of craziness and insanity.
MEANWHILE
"It's nice to see you again too, Harry." Tom nodded curtly, glancing around the room. "I take it that everything's in order?"
"Indeed," Harry agreed, "is that all?"
"I suppose so," Tom got up with a small apology, "sorry, there are so many customers trying to escape the raging heat outside."
"It's quite alright, I understand," Harry noted.
"When will you expect dinner?"
"Roughly seven, if that's all right with you."
"Yes, of course. That's fine with me." Tom opened the door and was in the process of closing it when he opened it a small bit again, "and what would you like? If it's something that will require an amount of time I shall start now,"
"Oh, nothing much." Harry smiled, "just a sandwich, preferrably ham and lettuce if you will please. And some of that delicious fruit punch, or what ever drink it was."
"All right then, I'll have it prepared and sent up by seven." Tom nodded once more, closing the door slowly. Before the door fully shut, he noted, "and that was not fruit punch, or any interesting mixture at all. It was just a pitcher of blood," before closing the door and walking towards the lobby.
Harry blinked. Why was everyone playing the same joke on him? It was really getting kind of old. Rolling his eyes, he jumped on the bed and pulled out one of the packets of "blood" that Sirius had given him. It looked the same...
... but it probably wasn't blood. Shrugging, he tore open the package and started to drink his fill. It tasted so wonderful, and he felt like flying, airy, without restrainments of gravity. It was like the wind blowing across one's face during quidditch, the rush of excitement. He finised the small bag all too quickly for his liking, and decided to read his family book with a boerd expression. Might as well learn something before school starts.
"Contrary to popular belief, Harry James Potter is not a half-blood wizard, but rather a full blood with vampiri inheritance. His father (deceased approximately years of sixteen ago under wand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) was a pureblood wizard, descent from Gordric Gryffindor himself. Mother Lily Potter (Evans), deceased approximately the same time for same cause, was an inherited vampire and descendent of Salazar Slytherin from the side of Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Suspenseful music.. daum daum daum, to be continued.