Feel my Fangs
Chapter One – Symptoms
Harry did not know when he was bitten or who had bitten him. In fact, Harry didn't even know he had been bitten. It was a gradual change, one that could go unnoticed for weeks on end.
He had been feeling strange for the better part of a week before his first symptoms manifested themselves.
Harry first developed an acute sensitivity to sunlight. His skin, translucent to the point of freakishness, burned atrociously fast and often. Harry stopped going outside during the day.
The second change occurred overnight. He woke up one cloudy morning and felt decidedly healthy. He flexed his arms and was surprised to find them muscled and taut. He was still a skinny rod, but his body felt strong and flexible. Harry rationalized that he must have had a growth spurt.
When Harry's eyesight cleared, he began to feel wary of the changes. Eyesight wasn't supposed to get better with time. Something was happening to him and Harry did not have the slightest beginning of a clue. Was Dumbledore keeping something about him from him again? Harry paced and paced in the house's smallest bedroom.
The day Harry went down for breakfast in the Dursley house and discovered that the three Dursleys' necks looked more appetizing than his eggs and bacon, Harry was sure that something was profoundly wrong with him. Harry was hungry, but not for food.
It was while watching Vernon savor medium-cooked steak that Harry realized what he was lusting for. As he watched the red liquid wet Vernon's tongue and slither down the fat man's dumpy throat, Harry knew exactly what his need was. Harry was wanting blood. Harry stayed in his smallest bedroom from then on.
When his hunger began to feel unmanageable, Harry let Hedwig go, fearing he'd sink his teeth in her in a moment of weakness.
It was harder to get the Dursley's to leave the house. And Harry knew that if he denied himself blood any longer, he would lose what remaining consciousness he had and instinctively attack whatever warm-blooded mammal he met.
Harry tried to control himself. He prepared to leave the Dursley house. But by then, it was too late.
Four weeks after he had been bitten—though he did not know that himself—Harry Potter's hunger took precedence over his reason, over his morals and over his consciousness. Driven by blood lust, the vampire attacked the three Dursleys. In the dead of the night and behind their back. He enjoyed every drop of red liquid and sucked them dry.
Harry stood over the three corpses. Vernon had been the first to die and Petunia the second. Dudley had been dessert, his life-liquid, thick and sweet.
Harry was not sorry to see them dead. But he was sorry that he had not been able to control his instincts. The difference between the human and the animal is thin. It was all a matter of control. Either the mind is in control or the instincts are in control. Harry had crossed that thin line but he did not want to be an animal.
Next time, he would not wait until the last minute to feed; he had learned better. And yes, there would be a next time. Harry knew it deep down.
He passed the tip of his tongue over the flakes of dried blood on his lower lip. He would have to dispose of the bodies.
Harry took his wand, his invisibility cloak and his broom.
He transfigured the three bodies into three bones and threw them over the fence. The neighbor's dog was only too happy to hide them with his stash of other bones.
Wearing his invisibility cloak, Harry threw a leg over his firebolt and flew off into the night, minutes before the letter from the office of improper use of magic reached the Dursley house.