The Bad First DarkFic
He heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked — it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him... They were going back..."
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Chapter twenty-four, Pg. 669
Prologue
They stared at the tablet, those eyes of gold. But even as they stared simple actions such as looking would not help them understand the meaning of the riddle before them. Several before had come and had yet to decipher it, but they stared anyway, drawn like moth to flame.
The tablet was old, centuries old. Vines clung to it in layers, forcing them to cut them away to be able to read the words carved upon it. It was stained with dried blood and stood upon a pedestal of cracked and crumbling marble.
But they could care less about what it looked like. It was the words that interested them.
Moon and shadow, sky blood red
Flowing freely like tears shed
Cloak and dagger black as night
Shall for dark or shall for light
Prince of darkness make your stand
Life or death lies in your hands
Choose thee wisely or shall you wrought
Upon this world destruction's draught
One chance left and shall soon be gone
Triumph or fail on crimson dawn
Chapter One
The usual din of the Great Hall was lower than normal. Although the start-of-term feast was on, no one felt like celebrating. There was none of the usual laughing and yelling as people caught each other up about their summer, nor any senseless bantering between housemates.
There was a sense of fear and anxiety hovering above them all. The reason for it was simple and could be summed up in two simple words: Lord Voldemort.
For the past two years since his resurrection, something horrible always happened on three pivotal dates; September first, October thirty-first, and June twenty-forth. Whether it was mass murder of an unsuspecting muggle town or surprise attack on a wary wizard village. Just last June it had been Hogsmeade that was the victim — a warning to Hogwarts.
They wondered what it would be this year, hoping that he would break his ritual just once — just once — so they would not have to fear for their families. But of course not. Voldemort lived for fear and destruction and death. Why would he dent his ritual just to placate their silly fears?
And even if he did, the sight of the Great Hall depressed them even more. There hung black banners all year round, in memory of the children who had died, the families that had suffered. And, most of all, they were there for two persons in particular, gone for three long years: Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter.
When Harry and Cedric had disappeared from the Third Task maze, everyone was confused. Was this part of the task? Was it supposed to have happened? Where did they go?
Their question were answered not long later as a certain Mad-Eye Moody escaped from his imprisonment within his own trunk and revealed whom they all thought was the Defense teacher to be really Barty Crouch Junior, a Death Eater in league with Voldemort. The truth came out behind the two boy's disappearance.
Barty had cursed the goblet of fire and entered Harry into the tournament. He turned the Triwizard Cup into a portkey to take Harry, it's intended target, to where his Master, the Dark Lord Voldemort, was waiting for him as soon as the boy touched it... So that the Dark Lord could finally be rid of him...
But they both touched the Cup. And so both were taken.
When they finally learned where the Portkey's destination was, the Ministry sent Aurors to possibly help, but they all knew it would be too late. Much too late, and they were right. When they finally arrived, the last of the Death Eaters were Disapperating and the only person there was the cold, lifeless body of Cedric Diggory. And of Harry Potter...
All that was left was his wand, badly scorched, with a single feather showing itself through splintered wood…
And so they assumed he was dead. And with the knowledge of Voldemort's rise of terror, they had nothing left to do but hope that things would come to a positive end.
As the feast ended, Dumbledore stood. The usual twinkle had disappeared that night many years ago and age seemed to have caught up with him. But still he stood strong, he had to. Too many people depended on him for him to succumb to his own despair.
"May I welcome you all back for another year at Hogwarts," he began. "The usual start of term notices still stand, but I shall repeat them for those who might have forgotten. The forest on the school grounds is strictly forbidden to all students. Students must be inside of Hogwarts by six o'clock and into their Commons by seven. Any students caught wandering around after those times will be dealt with accordingly. As well, the new corridor off the entrance hall is forbidden and students who ignore this warning will be responsible for whatever unfortunate happening that may befall them.
"The Aurors stationed in the school would like it to be known that the eighth floor is still off limits to all students who do not have the required permission.
"I would like to remind you that no magic is to be used in the halls and Mr. Filch has added several new items to his list of things forbidden on school grounds. The list is in his office, should any like to know what they are." He gave them a jovial smile, but it did not reach his eyes.
"And now I would have liked to introduce our new Advance Dueling professor, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to make it tonight as he had other pressing matters to attend to. I will, however, be able to introduce him tomorrow evening.
"And now, off to bed!"
The students trickled slowly out of the hall to their respective houses, dreading the news that would arrive in the Daily Prophet in the morning.
As owls flooded into the Hall the next morning, students were both relieved and saddened. Relieved because they would be spared the sorrow of losing a family member and saddened because it seemed Voldemort had indeed not broken his ritual. He had struck a school of magic in India and completely demolished it. There were no survivors to be accounted of.
No one cried. Their tears had been wrenched from them too often for them to be able to spare any for people they didn't know, however harsh that may sound. And so they began their day, weary and subdued.
By the time dinner arrived, the students were in a slightly better mood. As they entered the Great Hall for dinner and saw a new seat, and a new person sitting in that seat, at the head table, the previous night's speech was remembered.
And it was understandable that the students looked upon this new comer both suspiciously and warily as a black cloak hid their face from sight. Dumbledore stood and smiled in an attempt to relieve them though it did little good.
"May I introduce to you H'rasyn Damien, your new Advance Dueling professor." The man received no welcoming applause from anyone but the Headmaster.
And then he lowered his hood.
A shock of shoulder-length raven black hair streaked with blood red and pale silver framed a face paler than it should have been, as though it had never seen sunlight. Piercing gold eyes with silver cat-slit pupils and a red background instead of white stared evenly at them all from a handsome face despite its pallid, ivory look. Looking into those eyes made one feel decidedly uncomfortable and forced to look away lest their soul be bared for all to see. His face wore an expression of utter unconcern, hiding emotions even better than their witty Potions Master could ever hope to achieve, although there was a slight frown which showed off the tips of sharp, pearly whites.
The one word in everyone's mind was: Vampire.
But they were only half correct.
Dumbledore was once again speaking.
"Now, then. Do you have anything to say about yourself or your class, Professor?" Those strange, eerie eyes glanced over at him for a moment. But he spoke, sharp eyes roving over the students, voice soft as silk but as loud to them as if he had shouted.
"Pay attention and you won't die."
After that rather unusual statement students returned to their dinners discussing their new professor, glancing up at the head table every so often.
"He's obviously a vamp," said one girl haughtily at the Slytherin table. "I mean, look at those teeth."
"Look at his eyes!" remarked one of her friends.
"He's so pale," a Ravenclaw whispered.
"Think he's dangerous?" asked a Hufflepuff nervously.
"I don't know," answered his friend.
"Maybe he'll finish Snape off for us!" That came from the Gryffindor table. That received hisses from the table across from them and a glower from said Potions Master. The Gryffindor shrunk in his seat.
"Hey, Professor!" One brave, or perhaps foolish, seventh year student from Slytherin stood up, sneering disdainfully. No one hushed him. For three years the Slytherins had been able to get away with many things, for it was their presence, and Dumbledore's, that stayed Voldemort from attacking. Draco Malfoy smirked at a girl across from him and looked boldly at Professor Damien. "Are you a vampire?" The man stared unblinkingly at him with his crimson and gold eyes like a cat's. He tilted his head in a strange manner, as if he had never seen a boy before.
"Yes." The answer was simple and just as soft as before. Many people gasped, many more clapped hands over their mouths in shock, and Draco Malfoy looked smug. Professor Damien blinked finally, his cat-pupils dilating. "And no." Malfoy's superior smile faltered.
"What do you mean? You can't be both vampire and not!" The Malfoy heir demanded. The man looked unfazed and explained in his soft silky voice as though he were stating a simple fact that everyone should have known.
"A vampire is classified as a dark creature who roams by night killing innocent victims and drinking their life's fluid. They are immortal, the sun and wood and holy water is said to harm them, their nemesis is the werewolf, and their only powers are telepathy and a form flight, which is truly just weightlessness." He had the hall enraptured, including Malfoy.
"However, while I must drink blood, I am immortal, and I do share the power of telepathy, I do not kill innocent victims for my sustenance. I do not kill the innocent. I do not harm them. The sun does not harm me; put a piece of wood through my heart and it would be you whom shall perish; holy water, like the sun, has no effect; and I have met only a few werewolves I have wished to kill. My mind is far superior than a vampire's, my magic rivals any wizard's, and in a contest of brute strength only the Goliath could hope to win against me.
"I am a vampire, yes. But that is not all I am." Then he was silent, staring blankly at the glowing silver orb portrayed on the ceiling-sky.
"What are you, then?" Draco demanded. The man ignored him for a long while, the young man growing angrier every minute of ignorance. Then he turned back to him, eyes bearing slight annoyance.
"Do not ask me that again. I have killed for lesser insults, but as my presence here is merely a power tool, I have sworn not to unleash my temper. However… tempting," he sneered, "I find the situation calls for."