Blood Bonds

Chp 9: Strike two

(((Flashback)))
“Harry, what did you mean when you said ‘especially not Dumbledore?’” asked Remus curiously.

Harry regarded his new liegeman thoughtfully. “Remus, you’re quite an intelligent man, when you’re not a homicidal wolf. I need you to use that intelligence now, and listen to me. What if I were to tell you that our world isn’t in danger from one powerful wizard, but two? That Dumbledore, the so-called leader of the light, is every bit as evil and psychotic as Voldemort? What would you say?”

Remus looked at Harry in horror. “No, Dumbledore is a great man! Everything he does is for the light.”

“Everything he has done is for Dumbledore,” Harry corrected. “He has no care for anyone or anything apart from himself. He needs to be stopped. Since I’m already supposed to stop one evil, I may as well stop the other.”

“But Harry…not…Dumbledore…NO!!” For the second time that day, Remus clutched his head and screamed. Blood gushed from his nose in a torrential flood, staining his chin and the front of his shirt in a frighteningly short time. He dropped to the ground, convulsions wracking his body. Harry shot up from his seat in terror.

“Remus! Fawkes, please, help me!” He covered the flailing man with his own body, pressing him down, trying desperately to stop his spasms. “Fawkes, what’s wrong with him? If I petrify him while he’s like this, he might snap his spine. What can I do?”

“He is fighting twenty-year old compulsions. The old one placed them on him a long time ago, and they are deeply intertwined with his own magic. I can do nothing. If he does not prevail, he will die.” Fawkes perched on the chair arm overhead, unable to help.

“Die!? He can’t die! There must be something I can do! What the hell use is it being so bloody powerful if I can’t help him now?”

“Bite him!”

“I can’t! I haven’t been a vampire long enough, I might seriously hurt him!”

“He’s a werewolf, he’ll recover. But you can ground his magic through you, hurry! It might be his only chance.”

Harry looked doubtful for a second, but as Remus’ tremors grew worse, he gave in. Rearing back, he plunged his fangs into the werewolf’s neck and drank deeply. He could feel the last marauder’s magic surge through him and could sense the turmoil inside the man. His magic was battling something wrong deep within him, something that felt evil; an insidious, foreign magic. Harry knew without asking that it was Dumbledore’s. It was working to tear down Remus’ sense of self, to make him more malleable and obedient. Harry drank Remus’ lifeblood, sending his magic and strength into the rapidly failing man to aid in his fight. With Harry’s help, the tide turned. Together, they slowly managed to beat back the malevolent threads, ripping them from where they had taken root in the werewolf’s own psyche. Just as Harry felt Remus’ heart begin to falter, they managed to destroy the last sickening thread; one siphoning strength from Remus, undoubtedly feeding it to the Headmaster himself. Harry felt ill. If what his familiar said was true – and Dumbledore had been parasitically feeding off Remus for twenty years - it was a miracle that he was still alive. Ironically, Remus had his lupine curse to thank for his life; a normal human would have been dead years before, their very magic drained away to feed the greed of one man. He wrenched his mouth from the other man’s neck, and rolled to the side to lie panting on the ground.