Disclaimer: Please refer to the previous chapter.

Summary: After a bout of magic that leaves Dudley paralyzed, four-year-old Harry Potter is left for dead in London by his uncle. Fortunately, he was found and rescued. Unfortunately, he was found and rescued by a gang of vampires. What happens when the saviour of the wizarding world is raised by creatures of the night?

Warnings: None

A/N: Here's the promised chapter before I leave for China. I'm sort of cutting it close since I'll be leaving the house in about five hours to the airport, but it's up! It's also a bit longer than usual so I hope it makes up for the wait! Anyway, even though I'll be away from the U.S. for the next couple of months, I still have the next couple of chapters planned so this will continue. Also, I plan to start putting A/Ns at the bottom so it will take up less space here…

Much thanks to my readers and to the people that took the time to review – it really helps! I hope you guys will like it!

Siri
08.23.08

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Zayn Callunde: Saviour or Traitor

Chapter 6

Unexpected

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When Draco Malfoy was summoned by the Dark Lord two days previously, he had been prepared for anything. After all, his own father had risen up in the Death Eaters' ranks within a short period of time during the Dark Lord's first reign, his godfather was also high up in Death Eater society as well as well as a trusted spy, and his Aunt Bellatrix was one of the Dark Lord's most loyal followers. In fact, in addition to a majority of his family members, his closest friends had family within Death Eater ranks as well. He had heard stories and had witnessed the Dark Lord's wrath first hand when his father came back from the meetings in more recent years. There was even one time when his curiosity overrode common sense and he sneaked into his father's study to take a peek in his pensieve in order to figure out what exactly happened during his nightly rounds.

The knowledge that Draco was so immersed in these facts and knew he would undoubtedly get crucio'd multiple times along with many other painful and potentially humiliating things when he joined Lord Voldemort was engrained in his mind, as well as his manners. He was not to look him straight in the eye. He was not to speak unless he was spoken to – and if that happened, it must be quick and to the point. He was not to do anything unless it was asked of him. In fact, he was to be little more than a mindless, obedient slave to the Dark Lord.

No, he had joined the Dark Lord's forces not because he was irreparably stupid. He had joined because he agreed with the ideals Lord Voldemort upheld – and the fact that he valued his life. Even though the methods were not very conventional, they were successful and the senile Albus Dumbledore's ideal of openly sharing one's less-than-perfect ancestry was no longer the norm. Now, when people were asked, it was with great care that they answered. To be fair, the powerful and widely-feared wizard did have morals and he only punished people when they did something against what he asked for – unfortunately, what he wanted was pure perfection and anything less than that was a major transgression in his eyes.

This was perhaps the reason why he was utterly confused, and being confused, in itself, was confusing, for even after all the preparation that he had gone through, he had been unprepared for what the Dark Lord had decided to throw at him: Zayn Callunde.

It was not what he had in mind when the Dark Lord has summoned them; he had been more-than-surprised when they were to meet in his own study and meet with the young vampire. In all honesty, the young man was not what Draco had in mind. He had pictured a well-bred young man, yes, but he did not expect to find one who had experienced and did what he did to act as amiable as the person he had encountered. It had frankly taken him off guard. Even though the emerald eyes were shadowed, they were open and friendly. His alabaster skin was perfect and unmarred, hiding the fact that he had killed countless others in cold blood. His countenance appeared to be prideful, but at the same time, it was obvious he was eager and curious; such child-like emotions. His every move was calculated to even the smiles he showed – and it was amazing he had smiled at all – but at other times, his demeanor was remarkably unguarded. In short, Zayn Callunde, the heir of the Callunde clan and one of the Dark Lord's top men, if you could call him as such, was a walking contradiction.

It was quite perplexing, to say the least.

It was of little consolation that his friends seemed to be affected in the same way. After all, they were the best of the best. What irked Draco the most was that he himself was caught off guard. He was a Malfoy! Even though the vampire had every right to merit such a reaction from him, he had no right to make him display it out like a bloody Gryffindor, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves. It was outrageous – preposterous – but undeniably true.

And what's more, but the fact that his position as a Death Eater made it mandatory for him to obey his Lord's commands and he had commanded him to obey the vampire. From the second time they were summoned, it just hammered in the well-known fact that he – they – did not do their duty well. It was barely a month that he was initiated into the ranks, something he had highly anticipated, and they were severely reprimanded. Although it wasn't as harsh as he had suspected – something involving a round of crucio's or two and maybe something incredibly demeaning to round it off – the memory of it still stung. And so, he was spurred on by his friends to do something about it and it had resulted in a rather spontaneous and reckless action on his part.

He had written a letter to the Heir.

Even though it was a decision rather unlike him, he had meticulously contemplated, examined, and double-guessed himself while writing that letter. The stationary parchment used was the finest and he made sure there was not even one spec nor crease marring the surface. He carefully inked his quill and blotted out the words and he made sure that his script was absolutely flawless. The tone of the letter was formal, but cordial at the same time – but most importantly, it specifically demonstrated his willingness to cooperate. All in all, it took almost three full hours and five drafts before it met his high standards, but he was still apprehensive. The main reason for this was because it was almost a full day since he sent it with the fastest owl the Malfoy family owned and she had returned a full hour before without a reply.

He did not know what to think. Perhaps he had somehow managed to offend the young Master in some way. It was also a possibility he was conversing with the Dark Lord right that moment, discussing his punishment. It –

His frantic musings were cut off by a series of measured taps at the window and he involuntary took in a sharp breath of air. In his surprise and slight sense of shock, he sat there for a little longer, recognizing the dark silhouette of a rather ominous-looking owl. It seemed to sense his gaze and it gave a series of sharp pecks at the window once more. Draco made an attempt at composing himself before heading over to the window to let in the owl. As the creature swooped in, it landed on his spotless desk and proceeded to glare at him, as if to say "finally!"

Draco stepped forward and freed the letter from its leg and it immediately left through the window – though not without cuffing him on the ear with the tip of its wing unnecessarily hard. Normally, this would spark a sense of outrage in him, but he was still, his eyes glued on the letter. At first glance, it appeared to be a Howler – but there were many obvious differences. The most evident one was the fact that it wasn't smoking in any way, shape, or form, nor had it blown up in his face screaming.

The parchment was a deep crimson, perhaps a shade reminiscent of the blood of many the sender had spilt and the reason he was alive, and the wax seal was the deepest of black so unfathomable that Draco could barely make out the seal pressed into it – two daggers crossed together with what looked like a drop of some sort of liquid, most possibly, blood, in between. He slowly broke the seal, bracing himself for the rather annoying tingle of some sort of identifying spell, but found none. Eyebrows furrowed, he finished opening it, finding a short message in an elegant cursive complete with curlicues from more olden times flowing in a silver ink.

Draco –

I thank you for your letter and gladly accept your proposal to acquaint ourselves with one another. Please do spread the word.

Zayn

Reading the missive, Draco couldn't help but feel slightly wronged at the single sentence his three-hours worth of work had wrought. Staring at the words swimming across his vision, he made his way back to his desk and speculated on how to prepare himself better on his next encounter with this… Zayn, while writing out separate notes to his friends to inform them of the news.

After all, they were to meet the next day.

IOI

The door was slowly pushed open enough until a pair of deep sapphire eyes could be seen, glinting in the dim light emitting from an ornate silver lamp on a table strewn with parchment. A young man no older than seventeen years sat before it and his head appeared to be supported by a hand while the other was writing something on another sheet of parchment. A soft sigh reached the observer's sensitive ears and a small frown marred the beautiful face.

Ravaena Callunde was of great beauty in her own time and now, 377 years after she was Turned at the young age of fifteen, it was no different. If anything, her features that marked her as merely beautiful when she was mortal were enhanced and made her breathtaking. Eyes of such a stunning blue caught people's attention with just a glance and full, red lips framed a mouth of straight, white teeth. High cheekbones and a perfectly straight nose belied her aristocratic blood. Silky hair framed her face and flowed down to her waist in waves and was of such a shade of black that it appeared to reflect light and suck it in at the same time. Even though she was almost four centuries old, she had only physically aged six years, but in all her years, she had never imagined that she would acquire someone who she would love as a son. In truth, she had abandoned the idea after she was informed that vampires were unable to bear nor sire children, so when a certain green-eyed babe entered her life, she was ecstatic.

Unfortunately, living a life such as his, he did not have the same experiences as other children his age had. He was wanted in the wizarding world as a saviour and in the muggle world, the only family that took him in was one that would beat him to death. He needed to be kept safe from either sides, not to mention from the old Death Eaters who evaded being jailed in Azkaban or given the Dementor's Kiss. As the boy grew up, he became a source of light in the Clan, one that was much needed in their line of work. He was schooled by the best, always got what he wanted as long as it was reasonable, and learned how to protect himself through various means. In short, he was as pampered and learned as the wizarding world's purebloods with one main difference: he was also taught to kill as easily as it was to breathe.

She knew the way he was brought up was somewhat contradictory. After all, she had originally kept him in order to shelter him from the outside world, but instead, he was trained as an assassin. She also knew that there would be some drawbacks and it finally came back to taunt her. In all of Zayn's years, he had had little interaction with kids his own age. There was no time for it, and the one time he did speak to one, the human had been scared off. She remembered when her son came running back to her in tears. It broke her heart, but there wasn't much she could do to mend it. After that, the boy had abandoned thoughts of being normal when he realized just how impossible it was and he threw himself in his schooling and training. He was the perfect son, but sometimes, Ravaena couldn't help but wish to see him do something childish and come home to find something broken and a Zayn beside it stubbornly denying he had done it. Honestly, it wasn't a great surprise that he turned out this way with his background where he was punished harshly for doing something that was his fault, to becoming a member of a vampiric clan where being reserved and calculative was a necessity for survival.

Now, he was seventeen years of age and instead of doing things like hanging out with his friends, he was plotting out a plan in order to assassinate Britain's Minister of Magic and worrying over matters such as casually speaking to people in his own age range. That was actually the reason why she decided to visit her son that morning. Eteir had come to her the night before and told her about the state her son was in and how he was literally going crazy because of such a simple thing. It was worrisome. As another sigh cut through the room, she decided to get to what she had in mind and gave three, quick knocks to the door. Before she even advanced two steps into the room, Zayn was already facing her, shoulders tense and eyes blank, before he recognized his adoptive mother and relaxed.

"Mother," he greeted formally. The matriarch of the clan mentally brushed away the feeling of sadness before mustering up a smile.

"There's no need for such formalities." She sat down on the neighboring bed and motioned towards the spot beside her. "Please sit. I have something of importance to speak to you of." Zayn silently obeyed and turned his eyes to her, waiting to see what she had to say. At such a close distance, Ravaena noticed the dark circles forming under his eyes. "Have you been getting enough sleep?"

Zayn smiled. "Enough."

"'Enough' is apparently not enough." He just 'hmmm'ed in reply.

"What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What time are your friends coming?" She asked instead of answering him. A small frown crossed her son's face before he answered.

"They will be here at one." Then he added, as if an afterthought, "And they aren't quite my friends. They are more like my subordinates."

"I see." Blue eyes caught his before she continued. "And would you like that relationship to change?" Green eyes widened slightly as he realized where the conversation was heading towards.

"Eteir spoke to you, didn't he?"

"Yes. He came to me last night."

"He wasn't supposed to spread it. I just wanted to rant at him. I can deal with it myself."

"Perhaps," she allowed. "But apparently not very well." Zayn remained silent. "Do you know why when it comes to matters such as this, you are uncomfortable?"

"I have an idea."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

Zayn appeared to swallow down something he had originally planned to say before opening his mouth again. "I'm just too different. I don't know why I'm still trying when I get a chance."

"It's a normal reaction."

"If you say so."

"I do." She surveyed her child before she continued. "So what methods did you use when trying to get them to interact with you?"

"I tried to get them to talk – but they just ended up talking amongst themselves!" He erupted. Obviously, it was frustrating to him, someone who got most of what he wanted because most people wouldn't dare to refuse him. Even though Zayn had his moments, he had a rather mean streak as well.

"I have a suggestion, then." Zayn peered through his dark fringe hopefully at his mother. "Don't try to force it upon them. They are the aristocrats of their world and they are used to it. If you try to make them do it, it won't make them like you any more than they can like Voldemort. If you want to acquire friends, just be yourself and let things fall into place that way. Matters such as these cannot be coerced." He looked contemplative before he broke out into a smile.

"Thanks, mother!" He leaned over and gave her an awkward one-armed hug before standing up, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Ravaena stood up in one smooth move and left, sparing her son from any more "embarrassing actions" on his part, but before she completely cleared from the room, he called out once more. "Mother! I really mean it." His eyes were wide and sincere, the picture of innocence. She merely smiled and gave a small wave before heading out, her heart lighter than it was before.

IOI

Zayn promptly arrived in the Receiving Room at exactly five minutes before one, ready to receive his guests that had cost him one sleepless night. He had taken his mother's words to heart and had donned on one of his more casual outfits, one that he would have worn around the house. Even though it was something he wore when he wasn't receiving guests or doing anything of publicly important, worn under the outer robe made from the softest of cashmere dyed black with silver and gold embroidery was a silk, button-down green shirt and a pair of fitted, dark grey pants complete with a pair of dragon-skin boots. It was an outfit that would, hopefully, get his visitors more relaxed and relate him more to them, as he was sure they owned pieces such as the ones he had on.

At exactly a minute before one, the fire glowed green before a figure was deposited into the room. From the gleaming blond hair, Zayn knew the person was Draco Malfoy, the leader of the group, even before he raised up his head after smoothing out his robes and stepped out of the way before another one of his friends appeared after him. While Zayn was waiting for all seven to arrive, he surveyed the occupants.

They were not as obviously nervous as the last time they had met, but if you knew what to look for, it was distinguishable. Although the Heir to the Malfoy fortune was composed and appeared to be calmly waiting for the rest of his friends to appear, he was standing straight and still, as if not to incur anything upon him – and he made it a point to avoid Zayn's eyes. The next person to come out – a certain boy of some African ancestry, he was sure his name was Blaise Zabini – surveyed the room before he immediately stood beside Draco, his eyes fixed to a point on the far wall. Then came Theodore Nott, a thin boy but with cold eyes, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, both young men built along the lines of a body guard, and the only two girls in the group, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. By the time everyone had arrived, they were all lined up before him, rather like a line of well-trained soldiers, Zayn mused. The only difference was that they had the idea that avoiding his gaze was the best way to avoid his attention. Zayn softly cleared his throat and as if he was a magnet, all seven pairs of eyes shot to him. He noticed a number of them tensed up – for what, he wasn't sure; he decided it was best if he ignored it.

He gave a small bow at the waist. "Everyone, welcome to my home." Everyone before him made a small bow in turn. His eyes caught Draco's eyes looking at him calculatingly, but not without a small amount of fear, before reverting back to their previous blank state. "Please, follow me." Zayn led them to the sitting room down the hall and gestured at them to sit, which they all did as soon as they reached a vacant seat. He nodded to each of them before sitting down.

"So how are we all today?" he tentatively spoke up, knowing that his voice came out strong and confident. The Death Eaters before him, who looked nothing more than incredibly well-mannered and rather affluent young adults, glanced at each other before coming to a silent decision.

"My day has been going rather well – Zayn." Draco was the first to reply, and though it looked like he was trying his best not to stumble upon his words, Zayn had caught the slight hesitation before his name was spoken. Zayn gave a genuine smile, hoping it would encourage the others to speak. And, of course, his wish wasn't granted since all of them deemed it best that they didn't speak, as Gregory and Vincent merely nodded, still looking stiff. Zayn decided to play along; even though they were still being more formal than he liked, it was better than being the only one talking.

"Really, Draco. That's very good to hear."

"I think so too," Draco replied after a second's pause. "And you?"

"I've been busy, but every thing has been going well." Green eyes turned to encompass the rest of his guests. "And you all?"

"It has been good," a boy he was sure was named Theodore Nott answered. His eyes betrayed none of his feelings, but his lips were pressed into a thin line.

"Are you quite sure? You seem a bit – tense."

Theodore nodded rather quickly. "Yes sir. I mean Zayn." Zayn gave a grin before replying with an amused "Are you quite sure?" The brown-eyed boy answered in the positive sense. The Heir just "hmm"ed before moving through the rest of them and receiving relatively similar responses from each. After going through thirty minutes of it, he decided that he had had enough and to get straight to the point. After all, he could take only so much of listening to people who believed the best way to handle the situation was to speak as little as possible.

"I have a proposition." All eyes snapped to his at once and he repressed a sigh. "I propose that we get out of the house and you guys can show me what you guys like to do." Their reactions were amusing – it seemed as if he might as well have sentenced them to death.

"That sounds good." And of course, it was Draco who had to speak first. "Where would you like to go?"

"Did I not say that you guys were to show me what you do for fun?"

"Yes." The word was drawn out longer than necessary.

"Well then! Where do you think I would like to go? I haven't had much time to go out and enjoy myself."

To his surprise, Pansy Parkinson was the one who answered. "I suppose we could go out…" She trailed off and she realized that the Heir's attention was on her, but quickly continued when he slowly lifted an eyebrow. "Have you ever been to Knockturn Alley?" This time, it was Zayn's turn to be surprised.

"I must say I have, though when I am there, I usually don't have time to 'see the sights', if you will." The girl gave a tentative smile.

"So are you open to the idea of going there – with us?"

"I look forward to it." The girl seemed to struggle with herself before she stood up.

"Well, then. What're we waiting for?"

All of her friends were staring between her and their Lord and Master, in all senses of the title, incredulously. In an effort to get them to move and for Pansy to quit resembling a frozen statue, albeit a living one, he stood up and headed towards the door. He looked back when he realized no one was following. "Well? Like Miss Parkinson said, what are we waiting for? Let us go!" And with that, he strode back to the room he had received them in. Listening closely, he heard their soft footsteps behind him and he smiled.

IOI

Once everyone was assembled in Borgin and Burkes, the run-down shop that sold miscellaneous Dark Arts artifacts and merchandise, Draco decided to take the lead.

"Where to first, then?" He looked upon his companions as everyone looked at one another as if they had the answer. "Zayn?" It seemed he had startled the vampire because his eyes had widened, but he looked pleased.

"Anywhere will be fine. I never really browsed any of the places here before – and they all looked so interesting…" he trailed off as his eyes lit up as they spotted something that caught his eye, to which he promptly headed towards. The group followed him like his personal entourage and Draco's head was swimming with questions.

He knew that the Callunde heir was brought up like them, if his manners and his clothing was anything to go by. He also knew that he was a very dangerous person to cross, but he didn't know much beyond that. It appeared he did appear to be even nice, but Draco wasn't sure what to make of it; it could be a lure to get them to trust him as a way of controlling them better, or it could be sincere; perhaps he even had an ulterior motive. Either way, his methods were unconventional, but they were working. Draco found himself warming up to the young man who seemed to be so multi-faceted. He was still amazed at how his eyes lit up at the littlest things, but then he supposed in his line of work, what it implied was most likely true – and it saddened him. Even though Draco himself was raised as an heir, he had friends and he had had fun before. On the other hand, Zayn appeared to be almost uncomfortable around them, as if he didn't know what to do.

Going from shop to shop, however, he did see a part of Zayn's reputation and why it was so renowned. Almost everyone they passed had scurried away from the Heir in fear of being singled out, and that very person did not do anything to stop it. It was as if he was used to it and he even encouraged it. For the few that did not recognize him, his gaze had the same effect on them just as his presence had on those that did.

However, the one thing that surprised Draco the most was when they past the doorway to Muggle London, Zayn had abruptly stopped and stared at the shadowed alcove with furrowed eyebrows and shadows across his face while he was visibly battling with his emotions before pure curiosity appeared on his face.

"What is it?"

"Would you guys mind if we went through there?" As if they weren't sure of what "there" referred to, he pointed a pale finger at the doorway. Everyone looked puzzled but it wasn't as if they would refuse Zayn anything so they all nodded as a group before Zayn led the way. When the door opened, it was creaky and made a rather loud screech before it opened to a scene of many busy muggle pedestrians heading off to where ever it was that they went, oblivious to the group of people standing in a doorway into their world. The Heir appeared to swallow before walking through. Draco made note of it to think about later.

"Zayn?" Millicent's voice broke the stupor their superior was in. He turned around.

"Yes?"

"We don't know where to go here."

Zayn nodded, even though it was more to himself. It was clear that he was still deep within his thoughts. "Of course. I don't expect you guys to know. It's just been a while."

"A while?" It was Theodore.

"A while," was the only response. He slowly shrugged off his outer robe and a second later, it disappeared. "I suppose it would be best to blend in." There was a moment of silence as he waited for everyone to finish taking off anything that would betray them as wizards before he headed out into the streets. Zayn's eyes were strangely blank, especially obvious because of his previous lack of guardedness throughout most of their foray into Knockturn Alley, and his movements mechanic. They had walked two blocks when Zayn abruptly stopped.

"Zayn?" He gave no visible response. "Zayn?" Draco made his way to face him but just as he saw his face, he stopped in shock. The face was drained of color – and that was saying something for a vampire – and his pupils had widened so that his irises were merely thin rings of green. Draco slowly reached up to make sure he was all right, but quickly decided it might not be a good idea so he continued to call out his name. Finally, Zayn came out of his stupor.

"I'm sorry. I – saw someone."

Draco turned his head over to the general direction that Zayn was staring at and about ten feet away, he saw a thin woman with a face that rather resembled a horse and brown hair, clutching at a man's arm. Then, as if she could feel his gaze, her eyes met his and it slowly moved across Zayn's. Then, just like that, her eyes widened in shock and pointed at him. Draco half-expected Zayn to kill her right then and there for being so blatantly disrespectful, but, glancing at him, he only saw that he was still frozen, though he was tense. He looked back at the woman once more when he heard her start speaking. He only caught the words "that boy" before he felt a hand grabbing his arm. Once he saw that it was Zayn, he refrained from cursing the owner of the hand. Zayn looked at him and at the close distance, he saw the eyes drenched in sadness and the fact that they were, in reality, many shades of green.

"I'm sorry." Draco's arm was released and Zayn looked everyone in the eye. "I don't feel up to anything more. We had best get going. I request your appearance at the house again tomorrow at six. I'm almost done with the plan."

And it was like that. The heir quickly left, as if getting away from them as quick as possible, but Draco was sure it had something to do with the woman – and it had to be something big in order to merit a reaction like that from Zayn.