Disclaimer: I don't own "Harry Potter" or "Vampire The Masquerade" series. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction... those trademarks and non-original characters are owned by "J.K Rowling" "Raincoast Books" and "White Wolf Games Studio"

Author's Notes: This is the unbetaed version of the chapter. When it's done I'll upload the edited one, meanwhile, try to enjoy this one. Sorry for the lateness.

The Blood of the Gods

CHAPTER 2: The Hunger of the Beast

There was a dark haired girl, smiling, happy, dancing and singing around her father in the garden while her mother was inside the house looking at them through the window, laughing. The girl came to a halt suddenly, noticing that her father had, once again, stopped paying attention to her and had resumed his reading. He was always reading, always studying, always writing.

There was a black haired boy, a sad-looking boy. He sat in his cupboard wondering why he wasn't able to go out today. His eyes were puffy and his cheeks red. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? His uncle had only called him a "freak" once more and closed the door without letting him explain. And his cousin... his cousin always lied.

Dark red velvet covered the walls in her father's study, and there were shelves, loads of shelves full of all kinds of books. The books had always fascinated her, specially her father's. They always talked about mysterious potions, strange concotions and weird ingredients, about the secrets of ancient magics and about creatures that, had she been alone in the room while reading them, would've given her nightmares. She sat there, reading yet another book, with the sound of her father's quill scratching parchment and his cauldron boiling easing her thoughts and soothing her wild imagination.

It had been a good day, he decided. Sure, his aunt and uncle were angry at him, but he didn't care. His cousin deserved it, after all, he had been mean to Mrs. Snake. When the glass disappeared and his cousin had fallen inside the water tank, he laughed. He laughed hard. He remembered the moment with mirth, watching the city pass by as a blur from inside the car, as his cousin was glaring holes through the back of his skull. Truth be told, he was also a little scared. Scared, not of Mrs. Snake, or his uncle, but of himself. When the snake had coiled around his cousin's plump body, he had also felt something he didn't know he could. He had experienced a strong surge of hatred, and deep down inside, wished for the fat boy to die, for his bones to be crushed and his lungs squeezed under the snake's pressure. He dared not think further.

Her father had come home distressed, his face ashen, shaking like a leaf in the wind. She saw, hidden behind the door, how her mother had slapped him and hugged him right after the blow. After that day, he had been avoiding her, he did not dare look at her. Was it because she could do no magic? Everything else remained the same, though. He still spent his days in his study. She still spent hours with him, even if he didn't notice, engrossed in his experiments. After all, he was her father.

Divination was not his favourite subject, that was for sure. Looking back, he couldn't decide what made him take it over the other options. Maybe the urge of staying with his best friend and the possibility to get an easy "Owl". He told himself that, as mad as she was, maybe the teacher had been right and he did not possess 'the sight' needed to see into the future. The future scared him, always had. The uncertainty of what would come tomorrow. After all, if something bad had to happen, he preferred not to know. He made his destiny through his actions, not through the conditioning of another. But if he lacked 'the sight', if he was scared of the future, how could he experience those visions? He had seen things, signs of something he could not grasp, something that made his nights restless and his mind uneasy. The grim, the black feathers, the snake... those would haunt him for years to come.

One day, a man had come into their house with her father. Her mother had eyed him warily, with distrust and fear, but said nothing. The man was tall, lanky, dressed in dark, fine robes with red lining, strangely decorated robes. She asked her mother if he was to be her betrothed, her mother denied it with a sad smile. She said that the man was her father's guest, and that he would help with his fathers investigations. She did not like the man, he scared her. The man kept coming into their home, and like him, more began to arrive. All of them strange and dark, but extremely polite. She didn't like them. They discussed about the intricacies of ancient magics, about the complexity of the human soul, about the mysteries of the night. From time to time, they discussed about her. Each time, when those men would leave her home, they would eye her and give her a smile. She did not like those smiles. The smiles were cold, dead. She did not like them at all.

The boy, a young man now, looked at the destruction in front of him. The battle had brought nothing but death. That was not what he wanted, that was not what he sought. His accomplishments, his preparations had brought nothing but the death of the ones he cared for the most, his adopted family, his mentor, his mother, his father... A black shadow was looming over him, observing, although he still didn't know it at the time. What would he do? Continue fighting? Seek revenge? The shadow consumed him.

The girl, a young woman now, looked at her mother with sadness in her eyes. She was crying, she didn't want to go with them. Her father told her it was a necessary evil, that it would make everybody happier, that it was needed for his discoveries, that if she did it, they could be always together. She did not believe it. Something was wrong and she knew it. With tears flowing down her cheeks, she looked at the black shadow looming over her, and full with sadness, full with regret and anger, she embraced it for her father's sake. The shadow consumed her.

The two of them met in the darkness. They stood, looking at each other, scrutinizing every detail of the figure facing them. The young woman extended her hand, offering it in a friendly gesture. Her face was neutral, devoid of emotion, blue eyes shining in a frightening cold mass of black. He stood long, looking at the offered hand, then at the hand's owner. Hesitating he took it in his his own, and a sinister smile crept up her face.

Suddenly, everything became red. A high-pitched shriek boomed inside his head, and with surprising strength, she pulled him to her, capturing him between her arms. With glowing eyes, the young woman hypnotized the young man, seduced her victim until his will was gone, subdued. Trapped in her arms he realized that the only thing he could do was to let go.

When he stopped struggling, when the fear went away, she caressed him in a gentle and caring manner. The young man fell prey of her charms, melting away in her arms, and when he thought everything passed, she smiled, showing him her fangs for the first time, pointy, frightening. Before he had ay chance to start struggling again, the young woman's fangs sank into his flesh, penetrated into his skin drawing blood with brutal force.

He screamed in pain, until his scream turned into a moan of delight and acceptance of what was to come. Bright spots of light appeared before his eyes, making him blind to the rest of the world. Instead of resuming his struggle, the boy grabbed her with the little strength he had, not letting go of his predator. A kiss was his reward, like anything he had tasted until that. She detached herself from his flesh and locked her lips with his own passionately, giving him the greatest pleasure he had ever felt, administering him her ambrosia. He drank eagerly. While reveling in the taste of his own life essence, mixed with something strange, primal and powerful, he could have sworn that he heard his greatest foe laugh, his presence a mere shadow of what it had been before, and repeat what was once said to him:

"You're a fool, Harry Potter, and you will lose everything"


I woke up suddenly, disoriented and terrified. I was wet, probably from sweating, and the sheets clung to me like a second skin. The images of the dream still lingered in my head while I was still trying to process without much success my current situation. I was naked, I noted with a slight pang of embarrassment, and laid in a bed not my own. A four-poster bed comfortable and smooth, antique-looking, with satin covers and a silk sheet, that, had not been damp, would have been as light as a feather to the touch.

The bed rustled as I tried to move with increasing difficulty and the satin sheet stopped caressing my body, cascading down to the ground instead. The wooden structure squeaked in protest as my body shifted its weight over the mattress, breaking for a moment the silence in the room. My feet felt the ground, and strangely enough, it was warm to the touch. With some effort I moved the curtains aside, failing a couple of times, and took into the view that greeted me.

It was a pretty big bedroom, luxurious, with big windows on one side and a fireplace at the other. It was dark, probably late in the night, but the moonlight crept in through the windows, caressing the bed and the rich couches resting opposite from me, in front of the fireplace. Strangely, I could see clearly as if it was midday. On the walls, hung enormous pictures of strangely sinister people, a few coats of arms and numerous tapestries. Between the couches, just in the middle, rested a wooden, small table. On top of it a single book, open, waited to be read, separated from its companions resting in the opulent, tall shelves just behind the couches. Keeping the book company were a tall crystal glass and an uncorked, old-looking bottle of wine.

I checked myself next. I felt odd, a bit ill, and I was naked from head to toe but other than that, I was perfectly fine. Or so I thought.

At my side I noticed a small chair with folded clothes on it and a little note.

"Dress yourself" it read.

I obeyed, as I wasn't very fond of my nakedness. A dress shirt and trousers, all in black, and a pair of black formal shoes. The shoes were a little tight-fitting, but I wasn't gong to complain, not that there was anyone to complain to, at least for the moment.

The situation was strange, I know, but there wasn't much else I could do. Maybe I could have tried to escape, but I didn't even know where I was, much less how I got there. I preferred not to panic and rationalize my state. Maybe someone had rescued and taken care of me. I was relatively unharmed and definitely unrestrained. I didn't know if my little patience would get the best of me later, but I decided to wait at least for a bit and see who my host was and what were their motives.

I paced through the room, exploring it and taking in every detail. Although I still felt the illness and my palms were a tad sweaty, the darkness and the moonlight were comforting, calming. They felt right. I could somewhat 'feel' the night, notice its time fading with every step I took. As I approached the wooden table, just in front of the fireplace, my palms felt sweatier, the sickness came stronger and coldness overtook me. I realized I was shaking, and I didn't know why.

It wasn't just the sickness, though, there were far more primal instincts that awoke inside me, feeding those sensations. Fear and Hunger. Suddenly my stomach felt empty, as If I had never had eaten in my life and fear spread rapidly through me. As the flames danced before my eyes, the need to fill the emptiness in my stomach increased with every second.

My vision became blurry and the fear in me increased by the minute almost rendering me useless. I tried to walk back, but with every movement, I felt weaker and more light-headed. The need also became more demanding, a strong need for something, to replenish a pool lost in the translation to my new state. It would help me regain control, yes, it would. I struggled to maintain my mind, but the more time I spent looking at those flames, the worse everything got. Now I felt cold all over, and in desperation, my body moved on its own with speed I didn't know I had while my brain was trying to regain control of the situation.

Before I could realize what happened, I noticed I had crawled through the floor and found refuge in one dark corner. Everything seemed different now, the room had changed, it had grown tall and menacing. I felt like an animal in a forest, trying to avoid harm at all costs. My eyes were darting across, looking through the space for threats while my body demanded just one thing.

I didn't know what was happening. From what I knew, I could've even been drugged. There are plenty of spells and potions giving some of the side-effects I was feeling, and most of those methods were easily usable on an unconscious wizard. It could have been a modified confundus charm, or maybe a ritual.

Whatever it was, it had taken control of me. I could no longer control myself, and with horror, I could only watch as someone else was operating my body for me. It couldn't be Voldemort, no. This wasn't external, this was in me. Part of me. It was natural…

"You must feed, quickly!" I stilled. 'What was that?'

It stirred inside of my head, and once more whispered behind my ears; "Aren't you hungry, Harry?"

I looked around and saw nothing, without time to feel relieved to have had gained control over my actions again. The room was still, silent, albeit menacing.

"Feed, feeed, feeeeed…"

I grabbed my head in pain as the volume got louder and the hunger returned at full force. It took control over me again. I couldn't resist its strength, impulsive, raw, primal… It was like a part of me that had been abandoned long ago. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing aside the hunger gripping my insides with a force I had never felt.

The hunger was everything, and my eyes could only watch in horror as my body moved on its own, tearing everything on is way to find whatever it was craving for. I was scratching myself, biting my fingers and arms, drawing blood. The sight of red only made the monster inside of stronger. It had completely taken over me, and like a beast, stomped through everything in the way of its craving.

The room had become a prison which the animal controlling me wanted to escape. It would stop at nothing…

Suddenly, it stilled. I stilled. I couldn't hear anything, but a cold dread spilled over the beast I had become. Something else was in the room, something strong, something that presence inside me registered as superior.

It looked up, submissive, to see in-between the blurriness of my vision, a strangely familiar face staring down at me, with a mixture of amusement and disgust. The beast hissed like a terrorized cat inside of my head.

"It'ss herrrrr… the one who made usssss… we mussssst…." It became weaker. Weak enough for me to regain control of my extremities and crawl pathetically to the newcomer.

Whoever it was, I realized by the wailing of that disgusting thing inside of me, it was the one who had done this to me. Who had put me in this… in this state.

"You're strong. Not many could have resisted the Frenzy and Rotschreck for so long, specially as a neonate and without feeding. I'm sure our time together will be, to say the least, interesting…" She was muttering to herself more than she was saying it outright to me, but it was as if she intended me to hear. "Most curious indeed"

"What did you do to me?" I uttered through clenched teeth, trying to grab one of her legs. With little effort she moved to the side avoiding my hands and crouched beside me. She looked down at me without saying anything, she just stared with annoyance and grabbed me from the chin to look into my eyes.

It was then that I saw her clearly; She was a woman probably in her mid-thirties, with Mediterranean features. The woman wasn't particularly beautiful, but she was more than easy on the eyes. Her nose was a bit pointed and prominent, but it suited her heart-shaped face. Her cheeks were a bit full, making her look youthful, but her eyes, blue and expressive, almond-shaped, betrayed that sensation, showing experience beyond her apparent age. Her hair, dark brown, almost black, was styled in an old-fashioned way, but it seemed to fit her. She was wearing some sort of red, velvet tunic, like a robe, with golden embroidery, over a suit that seemed pulled straight out of the 1940's, all in black with a black, wide, pin-striped trousers and a white button-up shirt open at the neck. Hanging there was a strange amulet, a locker, golden with a single black stone.

Overall she couldn't have been taller than the average woman, but she looked like a giant to me. She had an air of strangeness over her, like something was out of place, and while seemingly normal, if you looked hard enough, you could see details on her that weren't possible in a normal muggle or wizard, like her skin, totally devoid of colour and almost grey in appearance.

"Pitiful" She muttered while she let go of my head and rose from the ground. "This is a sight I could've gone without" She exclaimed, moving to the centre of the room and grabbing the bottle of wine. As she was approaching me, a shrill alarm sounded through the room. I recoiled while she picked up a small phone from one of the pockets in her outfit and started talking. Her demeanour seemed to change for a moment, and with her back turned to me, started talking.

"...ourse I will... It shall be done My Lord... ...No, has just awaken... ...I know his abilities are of utmost importance, that's why I'll be taking him out to... ...yes... ...of course, gladly... ...If I may ask, why so soon with him?... ...I'm afraid, My Lord, that isn't possible... ...Yes, I know that! But I'm his Sire, and I don't think he'll be ready for another two months! ...Of course, that wasn't necessary, nor my place to say, forgive me... ...I believe the Prince will have no problems with those decisions... ...of course... ... I respect your authority... ...I understand... ...As you wish..."

I could hear most of the conversation, but my mind was far too affected by what had just happened to pay attention to it. She hung up and came to me slowly, deliberately.

"What did you do to me?" I repeated, looking up at her. "What did you do to me!"

Kneeling down beside me, bottle in hand, she ignored my question and forced my chin up with a strong grip. As the bottle was coming to my lips the anger returned, and that disgusting beast resumed its control at full force, fuelling rage through my body once again.

"WHAT DID YOU DO!" I screamed at her, struggling against her hold.

With strength I didn't know she could possibly have she pinned me to the ground with her arm, but I wasn't defeated. My hand flew to her face, and she reacted avoiding it, albeit too late to prevent the bottle from being hit. It went to the ground, without breaking, but its contents spilled over the floor, staining it dark red.

I became transfixed at the sight of that liquid, and didn't see what was coming next.

Faster than my eyes could follow, she backhanded me and sent me face-first on the floor, a couple of meters away from where I had been just seconds ago. That voice, that 'beast' inside of me receded upon the impact, giving me, once more, full control of my body.

She grabbed the bottle and came to me once more. "I am your Sire and the Regent of this Chantry, and to me you're nothing more than a worm. You don't hold much more value at this point. I'm in control here. You will show me the respect that you owe me, is that clear?" I avoided looking at her. "LOOK AT ME!"

Instantly, I looked at her from the ground and I felt a fear that I had felt only twice before. The first time in the presence of the Dark Lord, upon his resurrection. The second, at the time, had been not long ago. She looked like an angered banshee, a giantess. She stood, dark, apart from the rest of the room like a fire in the night, her presence hid a dark and menacing force, now used at its full potential against me.

It made me shiver.

"Here" She offered, passing me the bottle. "Drink this. It will make you feel better, for now, and make you calm enough to pay attention"

Meekly, afraid of her reaction, I took the bottle and downed its remaining contents through my throat.

When the first drop of that liquid touched my tongue, the world exploded, and a flurry of sensations overcame me. Pleasure like I had never felt invaded my senses and all my worries went away. Like the sweetest brand of liquor, like my new, personal favourite drug. I drank, and drank a bit more, and I felt strong. I felt I was at the top of the world while the hunger inside me was satiated in way any need I had ever had, hadn't ever been satiated.

I was still emptying the bottle greedily, lost in the sensation when she started to talk.

"I gave you a gift" She said

"Huh?" I commented dumbly still transfixed with my drink.

"I gave you a gift, Harry. Probably the best gift one can give."

Even though I was a tad disoriented, my face reflected the surprise. That, I did not expect. But it was just the tip of the iceberg. "Wh-What?"

"I'm answering your question" She said, nonchalantly. "You've asked me what have I done with you, have you not? I'm giving you an answer"

She walked over to me, slowly, like a predator, watching me squirm with every step. Suddenly she was over me and I felt a sharp tug on my head. She grabbed a fistful of hair, forcing me to look at her directly in the eye. The bottle slipped from my grasp and went rolling through the floor again.

Her sinister smile widened even more. "I gave you a chance, a new one. Don't you remember, Harry?"

Suddenly, as her eyes bored into mine, I remembered. Everything came to me like a hurricane of information, hitting my head, making my already grave case of nausea even worse.

The drinks, Hermione, the Dark Lord's plans, Hogsmeade, rain, the aurors, more rain, Proudfoot, the explosion, fire, death, water, death eaters, Tonks, Bellatrix, the back alleys, pain, Lucius Malfoy, blood, a strange woman, the bite...

My thoughts made me shrink in fear as I remembered the moments before I passed out. The crimson blood of the older Malfoy being coughed up violently between cries of agony. Nausea hit me again, but on the back of my mind, I could feel a needle of pleasure, attacking my conscience. I remembered her, how she appeared, her strength, terror grabbed a hold of me, tight, making me cower even more.

"What a-are you?"

"Not me, Harry" She said with a malicious smile.



She started stroking my hair, slowly, in a surprisingly gentle manner. Then, she brought her lips close to my ear, and with a whisper, she made me shiver.

"Last night, Harry, I saved you. Last night, Harry, I killed you."

I tried to move, to trash, to scream, but she was faster. Effortlessly, with strength she didn't seem to possess, the dark-haired woman held me in place.

"Surely you'll have lots of questions. You asked some before, not too kindly, but you'll receive your answers. You'll have to learn to listen, understand and judge correctly before assuming that you're not going to receive a response..."

She helped me up and slowly took me to the couches in front of the fireplace. She sat elegantly and looked at me as if ordering to follow her lead. I did. I still felt the fear, I still wished I could bolt out of her grasp, but a part of me wanted to continue that conversation. The dark part of me, wanted to know, no, needed to know.

"Arbitrium Vincit Omnia" She exclaimed. " It's the motto of our Clan. It's Latin. Do you know what it means?"

I motioned 'no' with my head. I was still scared witless, wondering what the hell a 'clan' was, and my Latin was a bit rusty. She looked at me in the eyes.

"Reason conquers all things. That's what it means. As I said, you have to learn to listen and to judge reasonably before drawing your conclusions. All I'm asking you is to listen to me. I've got a lot of things to say to you tonight, things that will probably destroy every perception you have about how you see the world. I'm not going to ask you to trust me, you should learn to trust no one. I'm asking you to listen, to learn."

She shifted her position and crossed her legs. With a movement of her hand, the fire at our side became lower and the light in the room diminished even more. She grabbed the book that had been resting on the table the whole time and passed it to me. It fell on my lap, startling me.

"My name is Angèle Ouvrard. I'm your sire, a valuable asset of Clan Tremere, and the Regent of this Chantry…"

She paused for a moment, assessing my reaction. Meanwhile, I had been looking at the old, dusty book resting heavily in my lap. On the cover it read: "Vampyr du Tremere". I looked at her and her gaze met mine, and with a predatory smile she continued, muttering the words that would change my world forever.

"… And I am a Vampire"

To be Continued…

Here, at last, an update. It's been a rough year for me, but I think it's not fair to let this story die. I'll go uploading what I have, and hope you still have some sort of interest for this story.

Anyway, It'd be great to have some feedback about how do you see the story, so leave comments and opinions in your reviews. Anything for the sake of improving this.

Thank you,

The Mysterious Nobody.