A/N: We thank you for the reviews! We hope you enjoy this chapter. '00000' mean a scene change.

The Concept of Good

Chapter 1

Hermione finished making her bed, a yawn halfway out of her mouth. She was already fully clothed and her hair was brushed unusually flat. A thunderous bang and a few loud, muffled jeers could be heard from the pub below. Hermione sighed; her mother had warned her about moving into an apartment above a pub. But her longing for independence in order to help her best friend Harry Potter in the fight against Lord Voldemort was too strong, and so she found herself here in a half-furnished home. Also, Hermione was clever enough to know that she would play an intricate role in the battle to come. She was protecting everyone she loved by leaving them.

That damn noise is getting louder, Hermione thought as she walked out to her sitting room. Before she could stomp her feet at the noise, as was her customary course of action, she noticed she had a guest. Harry's snowy white owl, Hedwig, sat contently beside a brown packaged parcel. Hermione smiled and handed the owl a treat. Hedwig nipped affectionately at her and took flight out the open window that she had apparently entered from. On top of the left behind parcel was a folded piece of parchment addressed to her.

It read:

Dear Hermione,

If you've opened the package before reading this letter, you're probably wondering why I sent you a broken mirror. It was a gift from Sirius before he died. In my anger at this loss, I broke it. However, I realize now that mementos may be all that I'm left with. I could think of no one better to fix it than you. If you would, please do restore it and send it back to me.



P.S. Ron says "Hi".

Hermione raised an eyebrow, finding he note odd, and opened the parcel. Indeed, Harry was not lying. A mirror shattered into several large pieces fitting into their frame like a jagged jigsaw puzzle lay before her.


Two cloaked figures apparated to the outside of an unmarked tomb located somewhere in the wilds of Transylvanian. One of the two figures—the taller, broader of the two—stepped forward to open the door. However, the other one caught his arm.

"Are you sure we want to do this, Goyle?" he asked.

The man addresses as Goyle jerked his arm out his companion's grasp.

"We had no choice, Crabbe," he whispered.

Crabbe nodded in defeat, and Goyle pushed open the tomb's door.


The loud scraping noise brought back to consciousness the tomb's contents. Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes, better known as Alucard, listened to two muffled voices outside his sarcophagus. Suddenly the grinding sound of stone on stone filled his ears, and even with his eyes closed, he was aware of a bright light in his face. His intruder's intent was obvious. His eyes flew open and he caught the hand that held a stake before his chest. Screams filled the tomb before Alucard laid his first blow.

Alucard leapt out of his resting place, sword in hand. He was somewhat surprised to find that his tomb held only two intruders and that neither were hunters. In fact, if he was not mistaken, both held wizard's wands. The two wizards recovered from their fright soon enough, and Alucard dodged a blast of red light. Two steps and his sword had slid through the shortest wizard's neck.

"Crabbe!" the other wizard cried, raising his wand.

Alucard turned, eyes filled with rage. He sliced the wizard's wand in two with the tip of his blade. The wizard turned to run, not realizing that his time for cowardice had long passed. Alucard's palm cupped the man's chin from behind. Alucard made one fluid movement with his wrist, and the wizard's lifeless body fell in a heap before him.

Alucard wiped his beloved sword off with the edge of the dead wizard's robe and sheathed it. He stepped over the body, staring down at this first bloody mess. When he looked up, his eyes met a surprising sight—his mother and himself, together, happy. He turned away, blinking sharply.

"I had forgotten," he whispered. "Dumbledore's mirror."

He looked back slowly, ignoring the reflection in the Mirror of Erised. Even without its mystic charm, the mirror's grandeur could draw the attention of even the most ignorant visitor. With this in mind, Alucard found it odd that the wizards laying about his tomb passed up such a prize. Obviously they were there for the soul purpose of murdering the half-vampire in his slumber, but who would underestimate Alucard enough to send only two wizards to do the job?

Alucard approached the first body, already knowing the answer. He pulled up the wizard's sleeve. There on his left forearm was a tattoo of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. The Dark Mark—Lord Voldemort's symbol.

"The Mirror is not in its nature an evil thing," Dumbledore's voice said within Alucard's memory. "Innocent souls can merely be drawn in, but in Evil's hands the results can be altogether different."

"So? What has that got to do with me?" the half-vampire had asked.

"I need you to watch it. Keep it for me."

"Why can't you keep it?"

"Because I am going to die."

Alucard had not inquired further. Now, he approached the mirror.


It was a typical bounty for D. A vampire lord was terrorizing a nearby village, and the village council had hired D. They had informed this dhampire that this evil resided in a large castle to the north.

Now he sat astride his cyborg horse in front of this large, black castle that lay half in ruin. He dismounted, his long black hair and cape catching the slight breeze as he lowered himself.

"I don't like it," came the voice of the parasite that infested D's left hand, aptly named Left Hand. "It's too quiet. There's not even a bat around."

D made no verbal reply, but, inwardly, he agreed with Left Hand. He unsheathed his long sword and began the cautious trek inside the castle.

"I heard that this vampire is actually a powerful magician," Left Hand whispered.

"Hush," D replied.

Now the only sound that filled the black marble halls of this castle was the click of D's boots. The villagers had told D of this lord's apparent dabbling in sorcery. He turned at the junction in the present hall and came face to face with a door. Without hesitation, he pushed he door open. A strange and eerie sight unfolded in front of him.

It was a hall lined up and down both sides by veiled passage ways. A breeze that made birth from nowhere forced the gray, ragged veils to meet in the middle of the hall in a ghostly rendezvous. As he began to walk toward the end of the hall, he could hear voices. . . .whispered voices coming from within the veils.

"This. . . is . . . creepy," Left Hand stated.

D ignored him. As the end of the hall came into view, he could see a cloth gray in color and similar to the veils covering up what D could only assume to be a door. It seemed unaffected by the breeze for it lay unmoved.

Suddenly, a glint of gold caught his eye. D knelt before the motionless veil, his eye not on it but instead resting on the object at his feet. It was a gold framed hand mirror. He looked around. The veils had stopped moving and the whispering seemed to be coming from one passage to his right. D found it odd that this innocent little object lay in the middle of this strange hall.

That feeling was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he picked it up. The mirror itself was not shattered; however, it appeared as if it were only loosely fitted chunks of glass. But that was not all the mirror showed.

A girl, who could've only been of seventeen years or less, with bushy brown hair and shocked-wide brown eyes stared back at him. D lifted the mirror and held it straight in front of him. The girl opened her mouth and appeared to form the word "who". It was apparent that she could see him as well.

Her hand lifted toward the glass to touch it, but she pulled back suddenly. A ruby red drop of blood fell from the finger she had cut on the broken counterpart to D's mirror. It fell onto the shattered glass of her mirror and. . . rolled down the frame onto D's hand!

"What magic is this?" Left Hand asked in wonder.

"Check it out," D said as he lifted his left hand and shoved it face-first through the mirror.


"Merlin's beard!" Hermione exclaimed as she fell back.

A hand, with all the features of a face in its palm, was rising out of Harry's broken mirror.

"Hiya, sweetheart," it said.

"Ahhhh!" she screeched, reaching for her wand.

But in a panicked state of mind, no spells came. In fact, she wasn't even holding her wand the right way. Frantically, she beat the odd appendage with the handle-end of the wand.

"Ow! Ow!" it cried as it descended back into the mirror.

As she caught her breath, Hermione picked up the mirror and flipped it, empting the shards onto the table. Then she said aloud the only word in her mind.



"Well, that worked beautifully!" Left Hand snapped, wincing.

D ignored him. He was staring at the hand mirror. The girl was gone and only his reflection glared back at him. He poked the glass with Left Hand, causing the appendage to release a stream of swear words, but the glassy surface was solid. D pulled a strap of cloth from his bag, wrapped the strange mirror, and pocketed it.

Left Hand was still fuming. "You're keeping it. Hello! Does the word 'cursed' mean anything to you?"

"I noticed its magical qualities, yes," D replied. "I don't collect idle keepsakes. This one may be of use."

Left Hand snorted. "Guess it could rake in some cash."

D took a step forward. The veiled door stood only a few feet from him. He reached out toward the gray cloth. He had no plans for the battle with the sorcerer vampire he was soon to confront. He had always allowed his perfected intuition to guide him in the past, and his blood told him that he could defeat the vampire who stood behind this. . . .Mirror?

D gasped, a queer noise from this half-vampire's mouth, but he could not force himself to move. Before him stood the grandest mirror he had ever seen. It was framed in gold and silver, intertwined with rubies nesting between the metals. But the riches the common man would imagine at such a find meant nothing at that moment. D did not study the exquisiteness of the frame but the reflection in the mirror. His hand touched the small mirror in his pocket. Could this be coincidence? Two mirrors of magic; mirrors that showed him people, real people.

"No," he said aloud. "You don't exist."

D knew that his words were lies. This man in the mirror could very well exist, but not in his world. No person could look that much like his father. No person but. . .



"My brother."

Alucard stepped closer to the mirror. Before him stood another half-vampire that he had never seen before but new automatically, nevertheless. The other dhampire's blood was practically calling out to him; he knew beyond all doubt that this could only be his brother.

Alucard's eyes caught movement from above his head. His eyes widened when he realized that the Latin phrase on the mirror's frame was changing, words and language. It's message was shorter now, and it was directed to Alucard alone.

"Give life to receive your desire."

Though no voice spoke, he could hear the words as loudly as a beating human heart. There meaning was clear to any vampire. Alucard knew his desire. Now, he only had to give life. He grasped his own wrist pressed his thumb against the skin until the pale surface broke and crimson flooded freely. He held his bloody fingers to the mirror and smeared the glassy vision with his 'life'.

Alucard stepped back. The dhampire on the other side of the mirror stepped forward, a hand reaching out toward Alucard. His hand slipped into Alucard's world. A foot followed. A gorgeous, raven haired dhampire stood before Alucard less than a second later.

"My name is D."

Alucard nodded, as if the half-vampire had instead given him a rational explanation. "I am Alucard." There was a moment of silence. "Welcome," he added.

"Yeah! Let's just go about our polite little introductions like everything's fine. Hell, let's break out the tea and scone's while we're at it!" shouted Left Hand.

"Your hand is speaking," Alucard said, brow raised.

"Well, aren't we the smart one!" the appendage snapped and turned back to his 'owner'. "What's wrong with you, D? I haven't seen you this transfixed since that last run in with a succubus. And what were you whispering about a brother?"

D and Alucard stared at one another.

"I assume our meeting is not chance," D said.

Alucard nodded. "A great evil has arisen, that much I am sure. A wizard named Voldemort sent men to kill me earlier. He is a threat, but he is not that darkness I felt when I awoke from my slumber." The fair haired dhampire's stare intensified. "I fear my. . . our father has arisen again."

D grimaced. "Dracula."

End Notes: Hope that chapter wasn't too confusing. We apologize for the many POV changes, but we hope you were better able to grasp the characters through them. Thank you, and please review!