A/N: I solemnly swear that I will stop posting bogus ends like the one in the last chapter.

Feel my Fangs

Chapter 14 – Spawn of Malfoy (the real chapter)

Harry walked in the streets of Diagon Alley. The streets were crowded but everyone moved as if they were in a great hurry. In these times of oppression, it was best not to linger to long in the street.

Amidst the crowd of people a cloaked blond slowly swaggered his way to where Harry was standing.

"Did you really think that I wouldn't recognize you after ten years, Potter," the nasal voice of Draco Malfoy made its way to Harry's ears. "You haven't changed at all. Still short and with that mop of a hair."

Harry bristled in indignation and would have lashed out at Malfoy and reduced the little ferret into pulp had it not been for his own curiosity.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted through gritted teeth. "Tell me why I shouldn't just eat you right here and now?"

"Because you and I are the only two not simpering in fear of the big bad ministry," Malfoy said.

"You bought your way out."

"And so I did," Malfoy shrugged. "You don't scare me, Potter."

"I've been considered dead for the last ten years," Harry finally said, as Malfoy wasn't going to get into the subject on his own. "I'm also dangerous."

"The famous wizard-vampire," Malfoy sneered, surprising Harry with his knowledge of Harry's nature. "I have access to Ministry files the ministry doesn't even know about."

"You knew my location?"

"I'm the one who provided the Looney girl with it," Malfoy said.

"Why would you of all people help me?"

"So the Dark Lord can kill you himself," Malfoy replied. "Well, I passed on the message."

Harry frowned. He startled when a small figure appeared behind Malfoy.

"Potter, meet the Boy," Malfoy drawled, pointing at the small, blond, nine-year-old standing behind him. "He's family."

"The Boy?" Harry lifted an eyebrow. "What's his name?"

"Father has refused any attempts to name him. As such, he is the Boy for now," Malfoy said, throwing a mixed look of contempt and pity at his younger brother.

"Does this have to do anything with your mother's excursions into other people's bed?" Harry asked cautiously.

"That's my mother's business, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "If you must know, the Boy is indeed my half brother. A bastard of the worst kind because my Father cannot throw him out without damaging the Malfoy name."

The Boy hardly blinked as he listened to Malfoy spout the ugly truth of his birth and his miserable childhood. He was used to it after all.

"Well since you're here, Potter, do me a favour and look after the brat," Malfoy said. "I have some errands to do and I'm sick of having him trail me like a puppy. People might think we're related."

"You are related," Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, leave him with me."

Harry and the Boy watched as Malfoy quickly walked into Knockturn Alley, glancing around him as if he suspected someone to stop him.

"Isn't he even a little bit worried that he just left his brother with a infamous vampire with a murderous streak?" Harry asked the Boy.

"I think that's the idea: to get me killed," the Boy said, with a touch of bitterness beyond his physical years.

"You're still his half-brother from his mother's side."

"I'm also a half-blood. Mother consorted with a muggleborn dancer. Lucius was livid when he discovered. When he's in a good mood, he calls me Narcissa's indiscretion or ignores me, but when he's not…" The boy shuddered.

Harry bent down to look at the Boy in the eyes and thinking how similar their upbringing was.

"Are the Malfoy's really still working with Voldemort?" Harry finally asked. "I thought Voldemort had disappeared."

"Or so the public thinks," the Boy said, as if it were obvious. "My family are still in touch with the Dark Lord. In fact you should strike now as Voldemort is at his weakest."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked.

"Because if you kill Voldemort than I'll have an easier time to get rid of certain members of my esteemed family," the Boy said.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Do you know that it is I who messed up the potion that Lucius gave to your Mother in order to stop her affairs?"

"No."

"I'm sorry, if I hadn't tempered with that potion so long ago, you would not have to go through your life like this one," Harry said to the Boy in a sincere apology. "Know that you saved your biological father from being castrated at the least."

"And I might never have been born," the Boy replied. "It doesn't matter, I have long stopped to try to put blame on the people that brought me into this world."

"You're blaming yourself now?"

"No, I'm surviving," the Boy said. "I'll get my revenge when the time comes."

"I hear you."

"My life is a curse but only so long as Lucius is alive," the Boy murmured to Harry, his eyes flashing. "Just remember that you owe me one for partly being the cause of my miserable life. That's all I ask of you."

"I will do anything that is in my power," Harry promised.

"Very well," the Boy said in frigid tones that showed the fact that he had to grow up early. "I will contact you when I will be in need of your services."

"I thought I was supposed to watch over you until Malfoy gets back."

The Boy snorted. "He won't be back. He's hoping that you'll eat me or something similar."

"They're really trying to assassinate you?" Harry's said.

"Yes, in a sense, because if neither Lucius or Draco are there to claim the title of Malfoy, I get it by default. As such, I'm a liability and a threat."

"I see, that clears up a lot of things," Harry said. "Well I'll continue my tour of Diagon Alley. You may contact me by owl. Goodbye, Black, and watch your back."

"Black?"

"Because if you can't take the name Malfoy, you are entitled to the name of the noble and pure family of Black on your mother's side."

"Thank you, Harry Potter," the Boy smiled slightly, as he headed down the street to look for his older brother.

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As he walked in the streets of Diagon Alley, Harry noted the new, the old and the abandoned. Despite familiar sightings such as the Quidditch shop and the bookstore, Harry found that the popular wizard hangout had degenerated into a miserable desolate area. Posters of the Ministry had long replaced the flashing colours and blinking signs.

Harry almost bristled in indignation at what the ministry posters advertised.

"I guess I should have expected it from them," he muttered to himself, his sharp fangs gnawing at his bottom lip, drawing blood. "A vampire genocide, extermination of all giants and now a werewolf hunt?"

Harry ripped the poster off the window of the shop, shredding into pieces. He shot a dirty look at a small man who had been staring at him. The man squeaked and quickly walked away.

Harry snorted. "Next thing you'll know, there'll be a witch hunt and we'll all go burn in hell. Oh wait—it's already happening."

Slipping his hood back on, Harry immersed himself into the dark morose crowd. Most people walked fast and didn't bother to stop. They conducted their business as if every second they spent outside of their home was dangerous. As Harry passed the wizarding bank, Gringotts seemed dour and faded in comparison to its past golden glory. Times were hard and even moneylenders suffered the toll.

Shaking his head at the misery surrounding him, Harry wandered into the centre of the Alley. The entrance from the Leaky Cauldron was situated there. The middle of the square, where a statue of a past minister had once resided, had been turned into a makeshift execution area. Several bodies littered the area. The vampire bodies were encased in glass as if to preserve their perpetual pain and to remind the citizens what happened to those who were different.

Harry was appalled to recognize some of the vampires. Amongst the impaled and mutilated bodies inside the glass, Harry found the old vampire from France. The first Elder Harry had amusingly harassed many many years before his imprisonment in the coffin.

In a fit of anger, Harry used his considerable vampire might and punched through the glass.

"If it hadn't been for that weakening potion, the vampires would have never been reduced to this," Harry raged silently as he picked through the glass shards. People's fear of the ministry won over their curiosity of the destruction of the Pedestal of Pain as the monument of dead vampires was secretly called. No one wanted the wrath of the Ministry on them.

Harry ignored the scurrying crowd and lifted his hand to the old vampire's face. As he was about to close the old man's perforated eyelid, Harry heard the telltale signs of a chase. His enhanced hearing allowed him to locate the chase several streets from Diagon Alley and into the asymmetrical disorganized streets of Knockturn Alley.

Harry looked at the dead vampires and muttered a fire spell. The monument burst into a light blue fire and the glass melted and the bodies crispened. The cleansing fire melded everything together and turned the Pedestal of Pain into white ash. But by then, Harry had long moved onto Knockturn Alley.

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Standing idly by a wall, waiting for the chase to get to him, Harry tried to think of the repercussion of his disappearance and that of Voldemort. Harry had never really been involved in Ministry politics anyway so his presence—or lack of presence—would probably not have affected Ministry everyday dealings. Voldemort, on the other hand, required constant surveillance by several teams at the Ministry. His disappearance would mean that the Ministry could relocate the previous force into maybe more lucrative businesses, such as oppressing the weak, shifty deals and keeping the population in fear.

"That's one possibility," Harry surmised, "but something seems lacking. Like I'm missing a big piece in this mess of a puzzle."

Harry was about to tackle more of the theory when he caught sight of the approaching escapee and the assailants.

Sticking his head around the wall, Harry saw a young girl being chased by a number of cloaked men. His frown deepened a fraction when he noticed the small badge on the men's cloaks that identified them as aurors.

"Don't lose her!" a man with a deep voice yelled out. He seemed like the leader of the pack of aurors. "We need her to get her father to pay up."

Not only did aurors conduct shifty businesses of kidnapping and blackmail, they did so during the day and in public. No wonder the citizens were scared shitless of the Ministry's chaotic and ruthless ruling.

Harry debated whether to show up and save the day or to stay and watch in the shadows. He opted for the latter. There was no point for him blowing his cover in order to save one lone girl.

Harry watched the large men catch up to the little girl and tackle her. She was bound with a spell and thrown onto the back of a large brute of an auror.

"Yaxley, watch over that mudblood," the apparent leader said. "We don't want to lose her again."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Yaxley? Where have I heard that name before?"

Discretely following in the aurors' wake, Harry continued to repeat to himself the familiar name. Yaxley, Yaxley, Yaxley, Yaxley.

It wasn't long before the name and Death Eaters clicked in Harry's brain. Yaxley was a Death Eater. He had been present at Voldemort's resurrection in Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts.

"But what is a Death Eater doing, parading as an auror?" Harry asked before his eyes widened in realization. "Holy shit. Voldemort hasn't disappeared. He's already taken over the Ministry!"

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TBC