Enchanting Melodies (HP SI)

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10 May 1995, Land of Shadows

He would find that path and walk it, if only for the sake of everyone who suffered for thousands of years and who died to forge this. With barely a gesture, Harry opened a portal and walked forward. He had one last stop to make before going home after all. After all, there was still one piece of the puzzle that was missing.

Harry closed the portal behind him, his gaze meeting the familiar form of Vlad's castle. It was just as ominous as it was when he first entered it. He couldn't help but feel slightly worried. Vlad Drakul was a very dangerous man, and that was underplaying it. Tales of his origins were a bit fragmented, but from Nicholas' diary, he knew that he used a wizard who wished to be immortal and crafted a ritual that ended up accidentally killing off a Champion of the Dark.

The first vampire was extremely fast, had a mastery of magic that very few people would boast, and was functionally immortal, the Dark refusing to let him die until he fulfilled his purpose. And yet, as Harry walked into the dining room, he didn't see the Lord of Shadows – or whatever pretentious title people threw on him – but a tired man drinking wine.

He turned to Harry and spoke up, "Did you find the Grimoire?"

The young wizard simply nodded, "It was where you said it was."

"And Riddle?"

"He didn't make it," Harry bluntly responded.

There was something that had made Harry dubious of the vampire's decision. He never said why he wanted Voldemort to come with him. The young wizard had thought that he wanted them to work together, to partner up against Dumbledore and Grindelwald, but he was wrong. Solomon said that it was all planned out, and now that he thought about it, Voldemort's death broke his prophecy, which was enough for Harry to seal off Nidhogg's breach. Everything aligned too perfectly, and since Vlad was the one who suggested bringing Voldemort along, he had to have answers.

The vampire slumped further into his seat and drank another gulp of wine. Finally, he spoke up, "I'm supposed to be happy; you know. I'm finally free of that cursed book. How I wish I never found that thing. Hope can be such a dangerous thing after all."

"The ritual you used to become a vampire. It came from the Grimoire."

"No, it didn't. That ritual was entirely my own. I crafted it after decades of experimentation and research, and countless lost lives. I thought I did it. I thought that I had finally found my path to immortality, and I succeeded. I should have known that it was too good to be true. I was reckless and performed it, only to find myself bound to the Dark. After a lot of experience, I realized that it shouldn't have worked. I should have died, that day, but it was the Dark that saved me. It was the Dark that bound me, and a piece of it lies in every single vampire that existed ever since. I found the Grimoire centuries later after I had almost given up on ending my curse. I found it in a tomb in the middle of nowhere. I hoped that it would have something that could help. Imagine my surprise when I found, instead of obscure magical knowledge, instructions addressed directly to me, promising me my freedom of the Dark in exchange for completing a few tasks. They seemed like a very small price to pay for my freedom. I wasn't even asked to do anything particularly bad. Just give someone a letter or another, pass down the Grimoire and retrieve it from certain locations. That's the thing, I was never really forced to do anything. I was never magically bound, and yet I felt imprisoned. As I said, hope, after all, can be a very dangerous thing."

The vampire took a sip of his wine while staring back at the sky, "It took me embarrassingly long to realize that Solomon had to have been a seer, had to have known what would have happened to me, and had to have wanted a spy on the Dark. The King of Mages was dead, and yet I served him somehow, like a puppet with an invisible string, bound by my hope, by the idea of freedom. I thought that I was done after the mess with Ekrizdis. There was no instruction to pick up the Grimoire afterwards, not for centuries. I thought that either Solomon had failed, or my role was over. It wouldn't be a lie if I said that I was leaning towards the former."

He let out a bitter chuckle, "Imagine my surprise when I found letters addressed to me with very familiar handwriting appearing out of thin air with small instructions written on them. The first was to take care of a young wizard who would seek me out. Days later, I found a young man by the name of Tom Riddle, knocking on my doorstep, a young man who had ripped apart his own soul. I don't know if it was the familiar fear of Death that had plagued my youth being so clear in his eyes, but I took him under my wing and cared for him."

Harry gave him a dubious look, "You cared for him."

The vampire nodded, "I did. Far more than I ever expected. It was easy. Perhaps it was because I was a monster myself that I found myself attached to another one, one with familiar fears and familiar dreams that I held in my youth. Then I went to hide from Grindelwald during his war and stayed here, in my realm, away from his sight. I asked Tom to come with me, and yet he refused, as I knew he would. He called me a coward and wanted me to join his pointless crusade against the Light and Dark. When I refused, he left, saying that he would never return until he had completed his purpose, and so, I never expected to see him again. Imagine my surprise when years later, I found a letter telling me to send the both of you to Azkaban to retrieve Solomon's Grimoire. Merely days after, I found Tom on my doorstep, and then you came. I had my suspicions, of course, but some part of me hoped that it wouldn't be true. It wasn't the first time the Grimoire surprised me after all. This was to be my final order, my final command. I am unbound, for I have played my part, and yet, I do not feel free, or unburdened. How peculiar."

"Why are you telling me this?" the young wizard asked.

"I have never had to opportunity to share my pain. And would you truly judge me for what I was forced to do? You too, mourn him, even if it is very hidden," the first vampire answered.

"I mourn the wizard he could have been. I remember Tom Riddle, a brilliant young man who dreamed of a better world. Voldemort always felt like a pale shadow, more like a living manifestation of the darkness inside him than a person onto himself."

They sat in silence, neither saying anything. Harry had gotten what he wanted, really. He understood the path that guided him to the Grimoire, to Solomon's masterpiece. There was something profoundly haunting about seeing a person's life meticulously planned, from their first steps to their last breath. It felt unnatural, like seeing a marionette moving without its strings. Vlad Drakul was definitely a miserable man, bound to serve the Dark, and yet Solomon twisted his hope to be free to turn him into a willing servant.

There was no magical compulsion, no forceful will, and in a way, that was what made it sinister. Their choices were their own, and yet, people knew about them before they made it. Perhaps it wasn't the choices that mattered, but the reason behind making them.

Breaking the silence, Vlad finally spoke, his voice low and contemplative. "How did he die?"

Harry met his gaze evenly. "I killed him. He got tricked by Ekrizdis and bound to forever stay in his tomb. I killed him to destroy the tomb and everything that remained in Azkaban."

The vampire raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "A mercy then. I know personally how horrible immortality can be. Was it quick?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "Very. He didn't feel a thing."

"That's good," Vlad murmured, taking a sip of wine. His crimson eyes seemed distant, lost in memories that spanned centuries.

Harry wasn't sure why he lingered. Perhaps it was the broken look in Vlad's eyes, a reflection of his own guilt over Riddle's death. Or perhaps it was something deeper — a need to understand. He broke the silence again, his words unbidden. "You know, I'm probably the reason he came back here."

The vampire's eyes lit up slightly, "I thought he was being hunted down by his own rogue Horcrux."

"Oh, that was complete nonsense. He went to attack my guardian, probably to pressure him into joining his cause, since every single one of his followers kept getting killed. I was still in hiding, hoping, in vain, that it would hide me from Grindelwald's sight. He attacked Arcturus while I was there and it was like a reflex, I pretended to be his Diary Horcrux."

Vlad stared at him before a grin tugged at his lips. "He fell for that?"

"Surprisingly easily," Harry said, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Riddle was always narcissistic. Who could pose a greater threat to him than himself? Of course, he denied it until I used some basic soul magic to prod his soul. He thought I was trying to assimilate him and ran away. You should've seen his face."

For the first time in their encounter, Vlad burst into genuine laughter, the sound rich and oddly human. "I can picture it. He was so terrified when he arrived. I assumed he'd botched one of the rituals when he made the Horcruxes. Soul magic is unpredictable at best."

Their laughter echoed in the chamber, a strange, fleeting moment of levity. It felt surreal, to share a laugh with Vlad Drakul, a figure shrouded in legends and fear. When the laughter subsided, Vlad's expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "There aren't many who mourn Tom. It's a comfort to know I'm not alone. People saw the monster—the madman who tore his soul apart—but Tom Riddle was still there, buried beneath the shadow of Voldemort. I'm glad I'm not the only one who remembers him."

Harry nodded, an idea forming in his mind. It was impulsive, but he couldn't ignore the opportunity. "Then why not ensure his sacrifice wasn't in vain? Why not join me against the Light and Dark?"

Vlad's expression darkened, and he shook his head slowly. "You don't understand. I am a coward, Harry. I never denied it. Even after millennia, I still fear death. As much as I hate to admit it, there is no defeating the Light and Dark. This quest you've embarked upon is beyond foolish. You cannot grasp the scale of their power. They are eternal, beings whose reach spans realities. Gods and demons alike fall before them. The best you can do is kill their Champions, and even that is a death sentence. New Champions will rise, and the cycle will begin anew. I learned this the hard way."

Harry hesitated, tempted to press him on that final comment, but chose his words carefully. "Something is breaking the cycle. Ragnarök is coming. The Light and Dark will clash for the final time. You have nothing to lose. If it's truly the end of days, then death is inevitable. But if we survive, if we defeat them, wouldn't you want to be part of that victory? Wouldn't you want to avenge millennia of servitude for a mistake you made so long ago?"

Vlad stared past him, his eyes distant, unreadable. Harry stood, deciding to leave him with his thoughts. "Just think about it, Vlad Drakul. Until next time."

With that, Harry stepped through a portal, leaving the ancient vampire alone with his wine and his memories. After all, it was time to go home.

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AN: A bit of filler for that one. The last few chapters were pretty intense, and I needed something that was a bit light. I hope it didn't feel too out of place. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.

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If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr

I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.