Harry Potter and the Vampire's Castle

* This is a Harry Potter fanfic. I actually love the series a lot, so don't get any wrong ideas reading this story. The characters, places and trademark words all belong to JK Rowling [duh!].....only the ideas are my own. So go ahead if u want to read.....and I know u want to read, so quit kidding around. I'll use the three Unforgivable curses on u if u don't comment at the end. Say what? Yeah, .....;-D

* Disclaimer- The author is not responsible for any physical or mental reactions that might occur after reading this story. So don't sue.

                                      Harry Potter and the Vampire’s Castle

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                                                 Chapter 1: The Howler

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The night was balmy- the weatherman had predicted it so, and for a change he was bang on target. The sky was a dirty canvas of purple with greyish clouds splashed across its length and breadth. The winds howled like bratty children chastised by their mothers, tearing through the streets at a leisurely, surly pace. The trees waved their branches at the occasional passing car and cat. A street lamp winked and blinked steadily, as if to warn the dog relieving itself against its pole from defiling it.

Harry Potter snuck through the door of Number 4, Privet Drive and clicked it shut. He tiptoed upto his first floor room, the stairs creaking and groaning under his skinny legs, prompting a loud whisper or two from within the bedroom shared by his uncle and aunt. He hurried into his room and shut the door, dropping to the floor beside it and heaving a sigh of relief, the scrapping noise concealing the faint sound of gas he passed as a reflex.

His head was paining…it had been paining for quite some time now. He fished out the wad of chewing gum he had stuffed into his jeans pocket, struggled to pull it out, drawing lots of sticky pink strawberry tendrils. Who the hell puts chewing gum in their pockets after having chewed them? he thought, highly irritated.

Then he remembered he had himself done it as he couldn’t find a clean enough place to stick it while he did what he had snuck out of the house at that unearthly hour to do. He rolled his eyes, reached out to grab a mirror off the floor beside his pile of course books, and rolled his eyes at the bespectacled, pale boy of fourteen in the mirror, with his unruly hair and a lightning shaped scar sticking out like a sore thumb on his forehead.

Pulling out a thick strand from the chewing gum lump, he cast it like a fishing line at the study table near the window. The smaller lump at the end of the strand stuck to one of the several painkiller-filled prescription bottles arranged on the table. He reeled in the bottle, the latter making a scratchy noise as it scraped against the floor. Opening it, Harry popped in a couple of pills and swallowed. He had coated all the bitter pills with powdered sugar beforehand, so they didn’t taste…well, bitter.

The night’s exertions had tired him. The headache compounded his woes. To top it all, his jeans legs were torn and tattered.

He still couldn’t believe he had lost the match.

“Bloody dogs!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the floor. There was a squishing sound. He lifted up his hand to inspect it.

It was a dead spider- squashed beyond all return.

He wiped it off on the wall and got up. Slumping down on his bed, he contemplated the night’s proceedings.

He had been winning.

They were never a match for him. And he didn’t have to use any magic.

Then it had arrived.

And it all went downhill from there onwards.

He was out on the top of their neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Feeny’s shed, howling at the top of his lungs. The dogs of the neighbourhood had become perplexed to hear a nondescript call, and had been hesitant at first to join in, lest it turned out to be a false alarm. But their curiosity had got the better of them- even though they weren’t cats- and had joined in, trying to outdo him in a game that they regarded as their own.

It had been an intense contest- man vs beast.

And man, who was actually a boy, Harry Potter- the Boy Who Lived- was coming out on top.

Their howls rend the air for miles around. The winds howled with them, as if to show their solidarity, support and wild carefree attitude. Harry had howled like he had howled never before. It had felt so refreshing, so emancipating,… so sexually exciting. His pubescent hormones were on overdrive. He was determined to make the dogs eat dirt- or bones; he had not been clear about the appropriate phrase. The winds blowing through his hair making it more untidy than ever and through Dudley’s billowing clothes had made him feel…supernatural. The only things missing were lightning bolts and thunder.

And then it happened.

It completely changed the course of what might have been.

A high pedigree white poodle came out of nowhere, right onto the shed on which Harry was perched. It went into a barking frenzy, so vicious, so emasculating, so persistent, that Harry’s head felt like it would burst.

Unable to take in the dog’s sadistic decibels any longer, Harry fell off the shed, hitting his head on the bag of manure kept beside the shed. The headache was splitting, but nothing compared to the splitting of his jeans as the poodle launched itself on him and wouldn’t let go of his jeans leg.

Other dogs alerted to the change in fortunes joined the poodle- their vicious little leader for the night- in ripping out Harry’s Dudley-brand jeans.

It was with great difficulty that he had managed to escape. Having spent so many years trying to dodge Dudley and his gang of bullies had made it a necessity for Harry to know all the streets and alleys, all the shortcuts and garbage bins where he could hide in around the neighbourhood.

The poodle had ruined it all for him. The malevolent, wicked little thing.

Suddenly Harry realized something. The pain from the fall on the manure bag had put the pain from his scar on hold. His scar had been hurting for some time now, but he had been too engrossed in his contemplations to have noticed it.

“Bring it on,” he murmured, staring into the mirror.

 

* Commentez you? If non, then I depressez !!! ;-D