Here you have it, another chapter of Heir of Dracula! In this chapter, we reach the end! I hope you'll like it. If you don't... well, that kinda sucks...

–

"Sir!"

Harold looked back as he stood amidst the rubble that was once Manchester. A Scottish General approached him, saluting him.

"What is it, General?" Harold asked. "Can't you see that I am busy watching the show?" he said, gesturing for the scene he had just been watching. Thousands of people were currently being impaled and displayed for the whole world to see.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you wanted to be informed the second the castle was breached," the General said, still saluting him. "It has been."

Harold's eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise. He hadn't expected his castle to be found for at least another week. He supposed he had underestimated Voldemort.

"How many?"

"Twelve people, sir. It would seem that there are two groups, one group entering from behind, and another entering from the front. Shall I send the army back?"

"No, this whole thing will be over before they would make it," Harold said softly, a grin slowly spreading on his face. "I shall go, and I shall wait for them. The monsters who stayed behind are, I think, enough to keep them a bit occupied."

With a sweep of his cloak, Harold disappeared from sight, and reappeared in his throne room, where he sat down on the throne, crossed his legs, and interlaced his fingers in his lap.

Then, he waited...

Meanwhile, at the entrance to the castle, Voldemort and a group of five Death Eaters, including Barty Crouch Jr., were making their way into Castle Dracula, passing the open drawbridge into the courtyard, which looked quite deserted, though there was a spear here, an axe there, a helmet on a spear which was stabbed into the ground... It looked as though whoever had been there had cleared off in a hurry.

When they reached the front doors to the castle itself, Voldemort was very surprised to see none other than Draco Malfoy standing in front of the doors, a smirk on his face.

"Lord Voldemort," Draco said, enraging Voldemort. This peon dared use his name? Then, however, Draco gave a bow at the waist. "My master, Harold Dracula, bids you welcome to his castle. He hopes that you will come see him as soon as possible."

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Voldemort asked, narrowing his eyes. "You should be at my side, torturing and killing Muggles, and reaping the rewards that follow."

"Sadly, I have no desire to remain at your side, Dark Lord," Draco said, shaking his head. "You see, my master has offered me an even greater reward. Eternal life in exchange for my servitude, whereas you would offer only torture if you were sufficiently enraged. Therefore thank you, but no thanks."

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort hissed, pointing his wand at Draco.

Draco jumped over the Killing Curse, which smashed into the doors, not even scratching them, and in the air, he did a backflip, transforming into a bat, which screeched cheerfully, before flying away.

"My Lord?" Crouch asked hesitantly. "What do we do now?"

As if answering Crouch's question, the thick doors opened on their own, and Voldemort's eyes narrowed to slits once again.

"We go inside."

"Yes, my Lord!"

On the other side of the castle, or rather, under it, the Order of the Phoenix were making their way through a sewer, through which they had entered.

"What a lovely smell you've found, Ron..." Nymphadora Tonks, with teal hair that had a bubblegum pink stripe through it, muttered, her nose scrunching up as she made a disgusted noise.

"Stop your whining," Mad-Eye Moody growled behind her, poking her in the back. "Just keep moving. We don't know what is down here, and I don't plan on sticking around to find out."

"Hello."

Everyone froze at the dreamy voice. Moody pointed his wandlight, and lit up further down the tunnel, where they found Luna Lovegood, wearing a black dress and a dreamy expression on her pale face.

"Welcome to Castle Dracula. We would have preferred it if you took the front door like everybody else," Luna said pleasantly, smiling at them. "This way goes through the dungeons, and I don't think you want to run into Hermione or Eleesia. Those two are... Well, let's just say they're two very unpleasant people to run into if you're not on their side."

"Out of the way, lassie," Moody growled, and Luna's smile widened.

"Oh, I'm not here to stop you. Only to warn you. Harold wishes to end his enemies by himself, and he would be ever so disappointed if Hermione or Eleesia were to get to you first. He's in his throne room right now. I recommend you go back and take the front door. There are fewer monsters there, anyway. Good-bye, Order of the Phoenix, and have a very pleasant day, as it will probably be you last."

Humming a happy tune, Luna turned around and started walking away. As she walked, she turned into a bat, which flew off.

–

In Harold's throne room, the lights were out, and in the corner sat a skeleton at an organ, playing a fast, haunting melody that carried throughout the entire castle, a sort of lure, like the siren's song. The guests would be following the song, and walk right into Harold's waiting arms.

His eyes were closed, and he listened to the melody, moving the foot that wasn't on the ground to the melody, humming it as well.

"Faster," Harold ordered, and the skeleton immediately picked up the pace of the music, its fingers working furiously on the pipe organ.

Meanwhile, in the dungeons of Castle Dracula, The Order members perked up when the music reached their ears, and Moody, leading the group, looked to Ron for an explanation.

"It's Dracula," Ron said, gritting his teeth. "He wants us to come. In his arrogance, he believes that it doesn't matter if we attack him or not. He believes himself to be unbeatable, so he's calling us to him..."

"Well, let's not disappoint him, shall we?" Moody growled as they walked.

Behind them, Remus Lupin was walking quietly, appearing deep in thought. No surprise, really, considering Lupin had now lost all of his best friends, along with the son of his two greatest friends, Lily and James, all because he was too afraid to announce his connection to the Potters while Harold was at school...

A slow clapping was heard, and everyone froze, Moody lighting ahead to show none other than Hermione, also wearing a black dress, which was very low-cut.

"Congratulations on making it this far, Order of the Phoenix," Hermione said, clapping still, a smirk on her face. "It brings me great pleasure in welcoming you all to the dungeons."

She clapped her hands again, harder this time, and the corridor was lit up by hundreds of torches, revealing cells lining each side of the corridor. In those cells were both old and new corpses, chained to the wall, impaled on iron spikes, stabbed with knives, etcetera, all manner of horrors.

"We don't have time for this... Move, missy!" Moody growled, and Hermione gave a very un-Hermione-like giggle, her smirk turning into a bloodthirsty grin.

"But I also want to have some fun... Especially with the weasel and the pudgy one," she said, gesturing for Ron and Neville Longbottom.

"We can handle her," Ron told Moody, who turned to him, his magical eye fixed on Hermione.

"Are you sure, Weasley?"

"Neville?" Ron asked Neville, who clutched his wand tighter.

"I think so," Neville said, nodding.

"Oh, goodie!" Hermione said, clapping her hands. "Very well, then, the rest of you may go to my Master. But you two," she said and pointed at Ron and Neville. "Oh, you two will stay here and play with me."

Ron and Neville both raised their wands and fired spells at Hermione, who displayed inhuman agility as she jumped and twisted in the air, dodging the spells, while the rest of the Order ran on, throwing concerned looks back at the two recently graduated Hogwarts students.

When the Order of the Phoenix came out of the dungeons, they immediately headed up the nearest staircase, following the music. It would be easy finding Harold, especially when the music was playing.

Another woman was heard laughing, and Moody stopped, directing his wandlight to the left, where, in the dark corridor, sat one of the quadruplets, reading a book next to a suit of armor, which looked very menacing, like something a demon would wear.

"You're getting close," the quadruplet said with a smile. "Would you like directions, so you don't keep the Master waiting for too long?"

"What's your game?" Tonks asked, narrowing her eyes at the vampire, who gave a soft laugh.

"My game? I am merely eager to see you trying to take on my Lord, the Vampire King Harold Dracula, like the fools you are."

A scream echoed through the corridor, and the quadruplet looked toward the staircase leading down to the dungeons.

"Hm, sounds like your friends are in trouble... But Luna did warn you to go through the front like Voldemort did."

"You-Know-Who is here?" Tonks asked, her eyes wide, and the quadruplet nodded her head.

"Of course. You didn't think you were the only ones who found this place, did you?"

"Where are they?" Moody growled, and the woman hummed to herself, putting a hand on her chin.

"My Master is currently in his throne room, waiting for you, and Voldemort is... on his way. He's closer than you are, I'd say. He's currently on the third floor and moving steadily upward. The big fight might already have started by the time you get there, if you don't hurry..."

"And you'll just let us pass?" Tonks asked, getting a nod from the woman, who smirked.

"Of course! My Master wishes to converse with you before your demise. Especially with the werewolf..."

Lupin couldn't help flinching when he was mentioned. He had suspected that Harold would be less than pleased with him...

"Come on..." Moody growled as he limped off, past the woman, who waved. His magic eye was stuck watching her the whole way through the corridor, to make sure she didn't try to attack from behind. To his surprise, she just rose from the chair and walked the other way.

–

The door to the dark throne room exploded, and in stepped Voldemort, followed by his faithful Death Eaters. Voldemort looked around in the darkness, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth.

"I know you're in here," Voldemort spoke into the darkness, amusement in his voice. "Even when you're hiding, I can feel your presence..."

A chuckle echoed through the throne room, carrying even over the sound of the organ.

"Why on earth would I hide?"

Voldemort's eyes widened when the few torches in the room lit up in their brackets, and faintly illuminated Harold sitting in his throne, his legs crossed with his hands interlaced in his lap.

"Don't dare mistake my patience for cowardice," Harold said simply. A hiss was heard as smoke rose from the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Then, slowly, it started fading away. "Honestly, I was starting to get a bit bored waiting for you."

"Oh?"

"Do you have any idea how dull life gets when there is no one around to challenge you?" Harold asked, rising from his throne, slowly walking toward Voldemort. "There were only three people in this world who could possibly give me a challenge, you, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald. You've killed the latter two, and only made yourself stronger. I am guessing that my blood served to help you with your boost in power?"

"You are sharp, Harold," Voldemort said, taking out his wand slowly. "And now, you shall die. But I suppose I shall indulge your penchant for chitchat before I kill you."

The whole throne room was tense. The Death Eaters didn't dare make a move, and even the skeleton had stopped playing the organ to watch the interaction between the two strongest beings alive.

"I suppose I should thank you, Harold," Voldemort said with a smirk. "Without your blood, I never would have become this strong."

"And I should thank you, Lord Voldemort," Harold said, giving a bow. "If you hadn't accidentally attached a piece of your soul to me that night when you attacked me the first time, I never would have absorbed it and gained your magical knowledge."

Voldemort's eyes widened. "What?" he hissed, and Harold gave a grin.

"That's right. I have stolen your knowledge, Lord Voldemort. We are equals, I should think. Or am I still too powerful for you, I wonder? Especially now that I have your knowledge..."

Voldemort was surprised to see that Harold looked a bit distraught at the prospect of being much more powerful than him.

"Why don't we find out?" Voldemort asked, and before Harold could answer, he had already raised his wand and fired a Killing Curse at Harold, which impacted into his chest with enough force to send him flying, rolling on the floor several times, before coming to a stop at the stairs leading up to his throne.

"That again?" Harold whispered as he slowly got to his feet. "It should be painfully obvious by now that the Killing Curse doesn't work on me."

Harold's wand came out faster than most could blink, and a Killing Curse was sent flying right back at Voldemort, who dodged to the side. Behind him, an unfortunate Death Eater was not fast enough to dodge, and copped the Killing Curse in the face. He crumpled to the floor.

The other Death Eaters took this as their cue, scurrying to the sides to stand along the walls, well out of the way of Voldemort and Harold's duel.

The two stood, staring into each other's eyes, their wands raised, yet neither of them moved.

"Scared, Dracula?" Voldemort hissed, his eyes narrowing at Harold, who smirked.

"Not really. Are you?"

"Me, afraid of you?" Voldemort asked, laughing a high, cold laugh that sent shivers down the spines of the Death Eaters. "Why should I be?"

Harold raised his wandless hand to show off an ugly black ring on his finger, which made Voldemort go wide-eyed.

"I know your secret," Harold whispered. Voldemort gritted his teeth.

"And you will take it to your grave!"

That was when the duel started...

Voldemort cast spell after spell at Harold, who raised his wand and blocked them, one after the other. Voldemort saw Harold's eyes widen in pleasant surprise when Harold was pushed back inch by inch when the spells smashed against the shield he'd conjured.

"You are strong, I give you that," Harold spoke with a chuckle as the last spell splashed off his shield. "However, you are not strong enough to kill me."

With that, Harold went on the offensive. Voldemort's eyes widened at the speed with which Harold flung his spells and curses at him. Voldemort, however, was much faster after he harnessed the power in Harold's blood, and easily dodged or blocked all the spells Harold threw at him. Unlike Harold, he wasn't pushed back when the spells smashed against his own shield.

The two began a fierce duel, exchanging spells at amazing speeds that the Death Eaters had trouble keeping up with. The onyx floor cracked from the magical power output.

One of Voldemort's spells went over Harold's shield and ricocheted against Harold's throne, smashing into the back of Harold's head and blowing it clean off his shoulders.

Harold's body slumped and dropped to the ground, just in time for footsteps to be heard, and Voldemort spun around to see the remains of the Order of the Phoenix entering the throne room, all of them raising their wands when they saw Voldemort, who just looked at them in disdain.

Then, a chuckle was heard. Voldemort looked back to Harold's body to see it explode into mist, which rematerialized into Harold, who was clapping his hands.

"Bravo, Order of the Phoenix, even without Albus Dumbledore, you still made it this far. However, I have no interest in any of you. You are all too weak for me to bother with. The only one I care to fight is Lord Voldemort, so stay out of this."

Moody growled and raised his wand, but before he could do anything, Harold had already raised his wand. A purple light hit Moody in the chest, flinging him off his feet and causing him to thud painfully against the floor, clutching his chest and wheezing.

"That was a light punishment for interfering. I trust no one else will be opposed to waiting their turn?" Harold asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

"Mad-Eye!" Tonks exclaimed as she rushed up to Moody, helping him to his feet.

"Now, where were we?" Harold asked Voldemort, taking a dueling stance again. Voldemort did the same, and then the duel began again.

Everyone watched in awe as the greatest duel since Dumbledore and Grindelwald's took place. The two flung spells at each other even faster than they had before, one of them gritting his teeth, the other grinning widely.

Harold and Voldemort fired their Killing Curses at the same time. The curses smashed into each other, and a bright green beam of energy connected the two wands with each other, dripping a white substance on the black floor, which disintegrated in a hiss of smoke as soon as it touched the stone.

Voldemort jerked his wand, trying to break the beam, and Harold did the same, twisting and jerking his wand.

Finally, Harold made a violent slashing motion with the wand, and broke the connection, resulting in an explosion that sent both duelists stumbling back several feet.

"Quite the power you have there," Harold said, raising his wand again and giving it a flick. A long whip made of fire formed from his wand, stretching a good thirty feet. He flicked his wand again, and the whip went soaring for Voldemort, who raised his free hand. A ten-foot black shield appeared in front of him, about a foot thick. The whip lashed against the shield, leaving a deep gash in it. Harold flicked his wand once more, and this time, the whip left a deeper gash in the shield. Harold actually raised his arm, throwing real strength as he cracked the burning whip a third time. This time, the snap shattered the black shield into a dozen broken, burning pieces.

The two began exchanging spells once more, this time so fast that no one could register what the first one was before another one was sent flying. Death Eaters dropped like flies as stray spells hit them, and the throne room was getting more and more destroyed as the walls were smashed by more stray spells.

Harold gave a cold, high laugh so very much like Voldemort's.

"This is the most fun I've had in years, Voldemort! Give me more!"

But Voldemort, quite unlike Harold, was beginning to tire. His movements were getting slower, and the blood in his veins seemed to boil for some reason.

Voldemort's Bone-breaker Curse was easily blocked, and he raised his wand, deflecting a Bone-breaker sent right back at him. He hadn't anticipated the red jet of light that came soaring right after the Bone-breaker.

Voldemort was launched through the air, his wand leaving his hand to go soaring toward Harold, who snatched it out of the air. Voldemort landed with a thud on the ground, and Harold adopted a disappointed look.

"You have been defeated, Lord Voldemort. My blood is not yet so refined in you that you can utilize its full power..." he spoke, sounding just as disappointed as he looked. He spun and walked back to his throne, sitting down as Voldemort pushed himself to his feet. "Go, and don't come back until you are stronger. I shall not hide from you."

Voldemort gritted his teeth as he glared at Harold, who merely stared back at him in boredom.

"You're letting me go, just like that?" Voldemort asked, and Harold nodded.

"Yes. You gave me a good workout, and as a reward, I give you your life. Please do not return until you are stronger. And the next time you come, you don't have to bring those peons with you. They will only die."

Voldemort glared at Harold for a few more seconds. Then, he spun and left the throne room, his Death Eaters, the ones who remained, following closely.

"And now, the Order of the Phoenix," Harold spoke, looking over the stunned Order in boredom. "You came here in the hopes of defeating me, but I trust you have by now noticed that such a thing is quite impossible for someone of your level?"

"That doesn't matter," Moody growled, now recovered from the spell Harold had hit him with. "We came here to defeat you, or die trying."

"I'm sure that applies for you, but what of your followers?" Harold asked, looking over the rest. "What about it, hm? Do you care to needlessly throw your lives away in a battle you know you cannot possibly win? What of you, Mr. Lupin? Would you attack the child of your best friends?"

"I..." Lupin started, staring sadly at Harold. "I... can't..."

"Remus!" Kingsley exclaimed. "Did you not see what this monster did to Scotland? Do you not want to avenge the lives he has taken?"

"I do... But I cannot attack him..." Remus said sadly. "I can not, in good conscience, attack James and Lily's boy..."

He turned, and with a glance back at Harold, he left the throne room. Tonks cleared her throat and walked past Moody and Kingsley, walking up to Harold, who raised an eyebrow.

"I never came to attack you. I came to join."

"What?" Moody and Kingsley exclaimed in unison. Tonks looked back at them, then looked to Harold, giving a bow.

"I am at your disposal, Master."

"Oh? What brought this on?" Harold asked in amusement. "For Nymphadora Tonks to ask to join me. I thought you were an avid follower of Dumbledore and his ilk?"

"The way I see it, the Order is done," Tonks said. "It's either you or You-Know-Who. I choose the lesser of two evils."

"Lesser?" Harold asked, chuckling. "Unlike Voldemort, I do not discriminate when I kill. Muggle, Muggle-born, half-blood, pure-blood, it matters not to me. If anything, I'd say I am a bigger monster than Voldemort."

"But you don't harm your subordinates, I have seen that, and You-Know-Who killed my Mum, and my Dad," Tonks said, still bowing. "Will you allow me to serve you?"

Harold stared hard at Tonks. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"I shall accept. However, to join me, you must cease to live, and be reborn as a child of the night, a vampire. Do you still want to serve me?"

"If that is what it takes, then yes," Tonks said, and Harold grinned.

"Marvelous. I shall turn you after I deal with these two," he said, gesturing for Moody and Kingsley. "Now, what do I do with you? I don't particularly want to fight you, as it would be a short and boring fight, and you don't wish to leave..."

"We should," he heard Kingsley whisper to Moody. "Let's leave and gather up a large enough force to take him on. Then we'll kill him."

"I would do as he says," Harold said, making Kingsley jump in surprise. "It would be much more prudent to attempt to overwhelm me with numbers. But you had best hurry. My army may have returned by the time you come back. Go, mortals, and do not come back until you can kill me."

Gritting his teeth, Moody spun and left the throne room with Kingsley following.

–EPILOGUE–

Thirty years had passed...

Castle Dracula, now standing where Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had once stood, was grander than ever, reaching high up into the air, higher than any other castle in the world. It was visible from miles and miles away. Most wards around the place had been taken down, to allow for... visitors...

Harold Dracula, who hadn't aged a day, rose from his king-sized bed, ignoring the annoyed noise coming from the blond woman in the bed. Fleur looked just as beautiful as she always had. If anything, time had only served to make her more beautiful.

Not a day went by where Harold regretted taking her as his wife. It was perfect. She was perfect. She had it all, beauty, grace, kindness, and could be brutal when she had to.

He looked over his other three mistresses, Hermione, Luna, and Nymphadora. He had always refused to call her Tonks, as it was such an ugly name. They were not quite as beautiful as Fleur, but they still possessed great beauty, and that was all Harold needed in his mistresses. It was shallow, he knew that much, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Most of Britain was in ruins. Harold had left enough alive to provide him with sustenance if he or his vampires needed it. The rest of the world was under the control of Lord Voldemort, who had made quick work of the other continents. The Muggle weapons had been dismantled, and wizards had now taken their 'rightful place' as rulers of the Muggles, who were forced into slavery, to be worked like house-elves.

Harold, however, could care less about the rest of the world. He ruled the British Isles, and that was all he needed. Those who had been impaled during Harold's conquest of Britain were still in place. Scotland was uninhabitable, and half of England was as well, along with a third of Wales. Ireland, however, was mostly untouched.

"Good evening, Draco," Harold said as he walked through one of the man corridors of Castle Dracula, finding Draco standing there, leaning against a wall and reading a book.

"Good evening, Harold," Draco greeted, looking up from his book. "I bring news."

"Voldemort again?" Harold asked, perking up, and Draco nodded.

"He's on his way."

"Oh, good. I was looking forward to a nice workout," Harold said, stretching. "It's been three years since the last time he came here. I was starting to worry that he may have given up his quest to vanquish me."

Harold stroked the goatee that he had grown a couple of years ago.

"Yeah, well, it seems that he took some time to gather his strength this time," Draco said with a shrug.

"Could it be that he has gotten smarter?" Harold asked in surprise. He honestly hadn't expected that of Lord Voldemort. For the last thirty years, Voldemort had attacked as soon as he had recovered from the previous fight. Now, however, he seemed to have been recuperating and planning for three years, a new record for him.

"Well, I suppose I should go ready the troops for an assault," Harold said as he walked off. "It will be nice for them to get to experience some bloodshed again after so long."

–

A battle was taking place. All of Castle Dracula was rocked by explosions and heavy thuds. Harold sat in his throne, waiting, as usual.

The doors to his throne room suddenly exploded, and in walked Lord Voldemort, who hadn't aged a day these last thirty years. Even at age one hundred, he was still standing tall and strong, no doubt thanks to Harold's vampire blood rushing through his veins.

"Have you ever tried simply opening the door? It has never been locked, you know," Harold spoke in boredom, resting his cheek against his fist, watching Voldemort walk closer.

"Where is the fun in merely opening a door?" Voldemort asked, his skin where he eyebrow should have been rising slowly. Harold chuckled.

"Very true. I suppose it leaves a greater impression, exploding the door rather than opening it," he admitted with a nod. Then, he slowly rose from his throne and made his way down the steps. "Are you here to try to win back your wand?" he asked, taking out the wand Voldemort had once won from Albus Dumbledore.

Voldemort nodded.

"Good. It has been so long since we last danced," Harold said with a grin. "Do you think you can finally kill me?"

"I can always try, just like I've done so often these last thirty years."

"Time flies, does it not?" Harold asked conversationally, as if he was merely talking about the weather, and not staring down his arch enemy.

In a flash, both men had raised their wands, firing Killing Curses at each other. The two curses collided, forming a beam that connected the two wands. This had happened so many times before, so, looking almost bored, both men slashed their wands, breaking the connection and causing an explosion that shattered the onyx floor, tearing the red velvet carpet to shreds.

The two started flinging spells, blocking and dodging with equal skill. Harold dodged an Acid Curse and fired a Bone-breaker right back at Voldemort, who blocked it and countered with a Killing Curse, which impacted with Harold's chest, sending him stumbling back.

"You try that every time," Harold said, chuckling.

The fight went on, for hours, much longer than anyone else had ever fought. It was a routine for them. They battled each other for hours, and then the loser had to go home with his tail between his legs. So far, after thirty years, Harold had yet to lose.

"Expelliarmus!" Harold said, noticing that Voldemort was getting slower. The red light impacted with Voldemort's chest, causing him to fly back, his wand, his fiftieth, if Harold wasn't mistaken, soaring into Harold's free hand.

Voldemort, panting, looked up as Harold approached him, glaring hatefully at the Vampire King.

"I have hit you with the Killing Curse at least fifty times, if not more than that... You claim not to be immortal, yet how can you not die?"

"Very well, Lord Voldemort, I shall tell you," Harold said, staring down imperiously at the fallen Dark Lord. "You see, for every soul I devour, I take another life into myself. So it is not me you're killing every time you murder me. It is someone else entirely. I have thousands of lives in my blood, so you will have to kill me thousands of times before you can finally end me."

Voldemort's eyes widened, and Harold turned his back on Voldemort, walking back to his throne.

"As always, I look forward to an eternity of battle with you, Lord Voldemort. Now go, and take your soldiers with you, before they all die at the hands of my forces."

Voldemort gritted his teeth, glaring at Harold for a few more moments, before getting to his feet and sweeping out of the throne room.

"Dear me," Harold said as he sat down again, looking around. "It seems that I will need to redecorate once more..." he muttered as he looked around the destroyed throne room, taking in the shattered walls, torn banners, destroyed armors, and so on.

–

When Harold returned to bed that night, he found his wife and his mistresses wide awake, but still in bed. Fleur stretched and gave off a delightful purr as she looked at Harold, who was currently undressing.

"'Arold," she said. At Harold's request, she had kept her French accent, because he found it so enchanting. "We 'eard noises earlier. Ze 'ole castle was shaking... What 'appened?"

"Oh, it was nothing," Harold said, unbuttoning his shirt. "It was just Voldemort showing up with another force. I took care of it."

"It's been three years since the last time," Hermione said, blinking. "He seems to have been biding his time this time."

"Yes, he was a touch more powerful this time. He lasted almost four hours in battle, as opposed to last time's three and a half hours."

"I still can't get over how powerful the two of you are," Nymphadora said, her hair turning blood red as she watched Harold undress. "None of us would last even a minute against Voldemort, yet you can go on for hours... I don't think anyone has ever lasted an hour in a duel, let alone four hours."

Harold just hummed as he got into bed, between Hermione and Fleur, both of whom snuggled into him.

Just another day, another challenger... It was getting pretty boring, he had to admit.

The next day, Harold sat in his throne, when the doors were kicked open, and in rushed a... Muggle?

"A Muggle?" Harold asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "How did you get in here?"

"I fought my way here," the Muggle said, and Harold noticed a whip hanging from his waist. Could it be...?

"Well, congratulations, mortal, on making it to my throne room," Harold said, slowly clapping his hands. "May I ask the name of this new challenger?"

"Belmont... Adrian Belmont..." the Muggle said, making Harold's eyes widen in pleasant surprise. A large smile appeared on his face, and he laughed.

"A Belmont!" he exclaimed happily, rising from his throne. The Muggle, a physically fit man dressed in a long, black trench coat, army boots, cargo pants, and a muscle shirt, tensed as Harold slowly made his way down the steps from his throne. "Marvelous! I had thought your line extinct! I am very pleased to see that I was wrong!"

Adrian Belmont took the whip off his hip and uncoiled it, letting it drop to the floor.

"Ah, and that is the Vampire Killer of legends, the whip Jonathan Morris used to bring my ancestor to his knees..."

"It is," Adrian confirmed with a nod.

"Can you do the same with me, I wonder?" Harold inquired curiously, tilting his head to the side, noticing how Adrian's grip tightened on the whip.

"Only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"How very true. Come, boy! Let us dance!" Harold exclaimed, then threw his hand out, giving a sweep of his cloak. Three blood wolves charged at Adrian, who cracked the whip three times, and Harold was very pleased to see the wolves explode into mist as soon as they were hit.

Adrian cracked his whip again, and Harold raised an arm. He was surprised, however, when the whip cut straight through his forearm like a knife through butter. His arm fell to the floor and dissolved into dust. In an instant, however, his arm reformed.

"The whip is as powerful as the legends say... the Bane of Vampires..." Harold mumbled. Then, he grinned. "Good! Come, Adrian Belmont!"

With that, the two charged at each other.

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