A Little Knowledge

He could feel cold fingers touching his throat and smell the scent of decay heavy in the air around him, choking and smothering him despite the chill in the air and the unnatural coldness of those groping fingers that lightly, but hungrily pulled and tugged his nightshirt away from his skin. Martin wanted to open his mouth and scream. He wanted to fight back and struggle like mad against the thing that was so close, so dangerously close to him, but he was frozen where he was and absolutely helpless.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as the first buttons of his shirt were undone and his neck was fully exposed. He managed a slight twitch away from the invasive hands that turned his head to one side to expose his jugular. He thought he heard a slight hiss of delight. The vampire, he remembered, liked to have fun with its prey before the end.

Martin wondered if it planned to kill him or to change him. He feared both, but he fervently hoped for the former, knowing that he could not exist as a blood-drinking creature, shunned by all and never free to see the sun nor feel its warmth again.

Death was only the next great adventure.

He told himself that over and over again as he felt icy lips upon his neck and the painful sensation of fangs sinking deep into the skin. Martin wanted to cry out, but he could only clench his fists at his sides as the life blood was drained from his body. He gasped as another sort of coldness overtook him from the inside out as the fangs were withdrawn from his flesh.

A cool, yet gentle tongue licked the puncture wounds upon his throat.

Martin could feel himself changing. His heart ceased to pound. It was silent in his chest. His mortal body was dead, though he was not. He was a vampire.

“I’m one of the undead now....” he realized as the last bit of warmth faded and left his body.

Then cool and moist lips touched his own. He could taste the blood upon them ... his blood. It had no taste to him either pleasant or unpleasant. It simply was.

Martin opened his eyes with ease now and found himself staring at the blood besmirched face of Alastor Moody.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it, laddie?” his uncle asked him.

Suddenly, Martin found that he couldn’t stop screaming.


“Wake up, Martin! Wake up!” called a somewhat stern, but mostly anxious voice that was quite familiar to him.

Someone was shaking him hard by the shoulders. Martin’s eyes flew open to find Julian Woodward seated on the bed next to him. His throat was raw. He shuddered as he tasted blood, having bitten his tongue during the nightmare. The taste was nauseating to him and made him want to gag.

“Martin, you were just having another nightmare,” Julian assured him as he coughed and sat up in bed.

It was not his first since Alastor’s injury and subsequent departure, merely the most disturbing.

“Hell of a nightmare,” said Middleton over the shoulder of his roommate.

All of the other boys were staying farther back in case anything more should happen. In situations like this, accidental magic was not uncommon.

Martin touched his throat and looked at his hand. There was no blood, only a little perspiration. Barely even that. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

“All right?” asked Woodward.

“Yeah...” said Martin softly.

“You gave us quite a scare,” said the other boy, slowly leaving the bed, where he had been sitting, and frowning. Woodward wasn’t an easy book to read, but he wasn’t exactly hiding his feelings either. Martin could tell by his manner and expression that he had experienced something of a fright and was still nervous.

“We’ve got a right to know what it was about,” said Middleton.

“Vampire,” Martin muttered, putting a hand to his throat again and checking the buttons of his nightshirt. They were all in place and done up properly. Just a dream and nothing more.

“No surprise, is it?” commented Halliday.

The others shook their heads and looked more than a bit uncomfortable. Two weeks had passed since the last attack, the one that had nearly claimed the life of Martin’s uncle. The vampire had not been sighted, but there were rumors from the forest. That was enough to frighten them. They all knew it was only a matter of time before it came for Martin again. They were dreading that for many reasons, their own safety not least of all.

“You should all go back to bed,” said Martin.

“We wouldn’t want to wake the prefects,” said Prentice, who was still looking quite terrified. He was clutching a blanket around his shoulders as though for protection.

“Right...” agreed Woodward.

Having something else in mind, however, Martin slipped out bed, stopping all motion in the room. “I want to sit downstairs for a while ... until my nerves ... are better,” he explained haltingly, not knowing what to tell them other than that.

“Don’t leave the tower,” warned Woodward.

“I won’t. I can promise you that,” he answered somberly.

Even at nearly half past five in the morning, Martin wasn’t surprised to see Corinna sitting downstairs in the common room, waiting for him more likely than not. He was still too shaken for anything else to register, even the fact that she had two blankets with her, one of which was draped around her shoulders. The other was lying neatly folded near at hand. She looked at him with a sympathetic expression and gestured for him to take the blanket and sit down.

“I knew you would be coming,” Corinna told him.

“I should warn you,” he said, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and hunching forward, “I don’t know if I’m going to be sick or not.” The metallic taste of blood lingered in his mouth, making his stomach roil with nausea.

“I don’t think you will be,” she said, laying a hand on his back.

“Do you know ... what I dreamed about tonight?” he questioned.

“No, but I heard you shouting. I’m surprised you didn’t wake the whole tower,” she said candidly. “I was already waiting,” Corinna added with what was possibly a slightly self-satisfied smile.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“Was it ... awful?” she asked, rubbing his shoulders very gently.

“Yes,” he whispered as his eyes began to sting with unshed tears. “I was bitten ... by a vampire ... when I opened my eyes ... it was ... it was...” and Martin couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too terrible to put into words.

He felt like retching, but he imagined even that could not take the image from his mind. A sob wracked his body, but he could not suppress it. Suddenly Corinna’s arms were wrapped tightly around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace. He buried his head in her shoulder as he collapsed into helpless tears.

“It’s all right....” she whispered soothingly.

“Alastor ... it was Alastor,” he sobbed.

Corinna’s stomach knotted as she realized that it was worse than she had even imagined when the knowledge of Martin sitting disconsolate in the common room had awakened her. Much worse by far.

She hushed him again and said, “It wasn’t real. He’s safe, Martin. He’s away from here and safe now. And so are you. You’re safe here.”

“For how long?” he asked, hiccuping as he spoke.

“For as long as we can keep you that way,” said a firm and resolute voice from the stairs to the girls’ dormitory. Sissy was standing there with the others just behind her.

“Forever,” said Olivia in a vehement tone.

“And always,” said Sophia with a solemn nod and a fiery look in her dark, expressive eyes.

Martin lifted his head and stared at them gratefully. He was unmindful of the tears of his face until Corinna began to dry them with the sleeve of her robe.

“And don’t even try to thank us. We’re all in this together,” said Olivia, causing the words to die on his lips.

Sophia and Olivia made their way to where they were sitting and took a seat on either side of Martin and Corinna. Sissy stood just behind the couch and looked down at the quartet with a neutral expression as Olivia, in an uncharacteristic gesture of tenderness, ruffled Martin’s already sleep-mussed hair.

“Together,” Corinna told Martin resolutely.

That made Martin smile just a little bit, though his eyes continued to water. “Of course,” he said, trying his best to believe what they said and take it to heart.

“We’ll weather this. Try not to fret about it, Martin; not anymore than you need to, anyway,” said Sophia with a somber and serious look.

“With nightmares like that....” he said softly, shaking his head.

“I’ll ask Professor Mallaghan about it, if you think it means anything,” offered Corinna quickly.

“No, it was just a bad dream, nothing more,” he said with a slight shudder. “I’m sorry everyone had to get out of bed for me,” he added with a slightly chagrined expression.

Olivia laughed and said, “We haven’t had any excitement in weeks now.” She gave him a slight prod with her elbow. “I suppose we were due for a bit,” she added with a friendly smile.

“Too bad it had to be at your expense,” said Sophia.

Sissy, who had been rather quiet as she observed her friends as they comforted Martin, something with which she was simply not as comfortable, told them, “And since the excitement is over, we really should send Martin back to bed. We may not have classes tomorrow, but....”

“No one wants to fall asleep at the breakfast table,” Olivia finished for her in a sing-song voice.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” he confessed, “but I know you’re right.”

“Just try. I don’t think you would have another nightmare,” said Sophia with a sympathetic look.

“I hope not,” he said, but he felt reassured by that statement.

“And if you do ... I’ll try to be right here, waiting for you,” promised Corinna.

“Now off to bed with you,” said Sissy, motioning toward the stairs leading to his dormitory.

Martin nodded and left the couch, glancing at the four girls, his best friends in all the world, one last time. Then he did exactly as Sissy had instructed him. He was more than glad to have people like them in his life. He was certain that he would never be able to manage without them, and he didn’t even want to think about trying.

Sissy watched Martin return to his dormitory with trudging steps. She sat down in her favorite chair and drew her feet up. She watched at the other girls made themselves more comfortable on the couch. Obviously they had no intention of going to bed at present. Sissy was certain that she could return to sleep immediately, but she didn’t especially want to do that as she observed the grim and thoughtful expressions of her friends.

“We could start slipping him a Dreamless Sleep potion before bed every night,” suggested Sissy in a wry tone of voice. “I have no doubt that Sophia could concoct one,” she added.

“Put it in his pumpkin juice at dinner?” Olivia suggested.

“I don’t know...” said Corinna doubtfully. “I know his nightmares must be awful, but isn’t it better for him to get it out of his system? Let everything he’s been through run its natural course?”

“That’s a thought,” said Sophia, who didn’t much care for the idea of making an illegal sleeping draught and slipping it to Martin. She could only imagine what Professor Krohn would think of that!

“Something ought to be done,” insisted Olivia.

“You’re right,” nodded Sissy, “but what can we really do about Martin’s nightmares? He’s been having them for most of the term, hasn’t he?”

“They are getting worse,” said Corinna. The others looked at her quizzically. “He doesn’t cry very often, though I’m sure if I were in his position....”

“Your point is well taken,” said Sissy with a frown.

She wasn’t certain how she would handle everything that had happened to Martin, but she did not think her reactions would be any better. She counted herself fortunate that she seldom remembered her dreams or nightmares.

“Maybe we should ... mention it to his parents,” said Corinna in a doubtful tone.

“We cannot tell Martin’s mum. Can you imagine his reaction?” asked Olivia.

“He would consider it a betrayal,” said Sophia quietly.

“The headmaster?” questioned Sissy, arching an eyebrow, though for her the suggestion was not as serious.

“No,” said Sophia, shaking her head, “Martin wouldn’t want us to do that either. If he tells his parents what’s going on, it must be because he has decided to do so, not because we made that decision for him. These are only nightmares. They will pass in time.”

“Of course, they will,” Corinna acquiesced, leaning forward on the couch and resting her chin in her hands. “You probably know best,” she added, giving Sophia her due.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” said Sophia.

“Do you have any other ideas, Corinna?” asked Sissy carefully.

“Everything seems so foggy and distorted. What I know and what I can see is so ever-changing that I don’t even begin to understand it. The future could turn out so many different ways and ... some of them are so horrible,” she told them.

“How horrible?” asked Olivia, wondering if Corinna was holding out on them again or if she merely did not know anything for certain.

“We could die,” she answered. “All of us....”

Some of the flashes of things that she was just beginning to see even negated her prophetic dream of her own death.


Martin awoke the next morning to the trilling song of a phoenix perched upon the window sill. His year mates were already gone. They had decided to let Martin have a lie in and vacated the room as quietly as possible some time earlier that morning. They all knew that he needed more sleep whenever he could get it. Martin was grateful for the consideration.

“Fawkes,” he acknowledged, noticing that the scarlet colored avian had a scrap of parchment in his talons. The phoenix was not usually a messenger bird, but he sometimes made exceptions for Professor Dumbledore.

Fawkes trilled again and swooped gracefully through the window. He landed upon Martin’s bed and invited the young wizard to take the parchment from him.

“Thank you,” said Martin as he took the note and unfolded it.

The phoenix preened and regarded him with a superior and somewhat haughty expression as he read.

“Would you care to have a late breakfast with your parents? We missed seeing you in the Great Hall this morning. Mister Woodward informed us, when questioned, that you were sleeping in after having something of a ‘rough night’. Your father and I are very concerned. Please send a response back with Fawkes and join us in the headmaster’s office as soon as you can. Love, Mum.”

Martin winced visibly and turned the note over to send back a reply, for which Fawkes was patiently waiting. He grabbed a quill from the bed side table and scrawled what amounted to an affirmative.

After giving it to the phoenix, which flew away immediately, having no doubt more important things he could be doing, Martin began getting dressed in a hasty fashion. He could hardly believe that Julian had let it slip to his mother and father that he was having nightmares. Woodward was rather intelligent. Couldn’t he have made up something to tell them? Studying? With the girls? Darning his socks? Was that so unreasonable to ask?

Martin felt quite grumpy, although very well rested, when he left the dormitory that morning, dashing toward his father’s office to meet with his parents. He wasn’t sure what he was going to tell them or how he was going to explain as a significant portion of his mind was occupied by thoughts of having words with Julian. But regardless of that, he knew that it was going to be a long and possibly unpleasant morning.

A small table had been set up in the office of the headmaster when Martin arrived. He wondered in passing why they weren’t eating in his mum’s office or his father’s rooms, but decided not to ask as he sat down in the unoccupied chair. His mum was already sipping a cup of tea, and there was a book propped on the table in front of her, which was promptly removed as Martin sat down. It was a transfigurations text, he noticed. His father was reading The Daily Prophet and stroking his beard thoughtfully. Dumbledore neatly folded up the paper, glanced over his spectacles at his wife, and tucked the paper into one of his many and ample pockets.

“Good morning, Martin,” said his father, pouring a glass of juice for him.

He knew that careful, almost cautious tone that his father was using and shifted in his seat accordingly. His parents had probably just finished an argument. Unless it was still going on.... Oh, not a good morning at all.

“Morning, Father,” he answered quietly.

“Have some eggs while they’re warm,” said his mother, passing a dish containing scrambled eggs to him.

“Thank you,” he said, watching his mum shoot his father what looked like a warning glance.

“You shouldn’t skip breakfast, Martin. It isn’t healthy,” she told him, forking kippers onto his plate for him.

“I didn’t mean to....” he said.

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “You should always try to get enough sleep too,” Minerva told him, nodding.

“Don’t smother him, dear. He hasn’t had a nice day so far,” said his father with a warm look at Martin.

“And you, I thought we had decided that he was going to have a proper breakfast before we brought up any of that,” said Minerva crisply.

“Erm....” Martin began.

They both looked at him very expectantly.

“You were going to say something?” asked his mother with raised eyebrows.

“If it was all the same to you, I would rather not talk about what happened last night. I imagine you heard everything you need to hear from Woodward,” he said, coloring slightly, but keeping the bitterness from his tone.

“I dare say it isn’t ‘all the same to us’!” objected Minerva in a shocked tone of voice. “You’re our son! And we care about you a great deal. If you’re having these nightmares and ... and waking your house mates up ... we deserve to know about it!” she told him.

“But I can take care of myself, mum. I have everything under control,” said Martin, putting down his fork.

“That isn’t what I’ve heard...” began his mother sternly.

“Minerva, Martin, please don’t argue during breakfast. There’s plenty of time for that after,” said Dumbledore.

“He’s avoiding the issue,” she said, forgetting that it was her own idea to wait until after Martin had eaten to discuss the subject.

“As would I,” shrugged the headmaster, “especially if my eggs were getting cold.”

She looked at her husband with a disbelieving expression, but said nothing more. Martin turned his attention to his plate, knowing that the only way he would avoid discussing the horrifying dream from the night before was to eat, even though he didn’t especially feel like it. At this point, the Dumbledore family ate their breakfast in not very companionable silence.

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to,” Minerva decided when they had all finished their meal, “but we are very worried about you.”

“I know,” said Martin as his mother reached toward him and squeezed his hand.

Albus regarded them with a mildly relieved expression. Both mother and son could be very stubborn and intractable, but they seemed to be behaving quite sensibly for the moment.

“It was just another nightmare about the vampire ... and Uncle Alastor,” Martin shrugged, choosing not to go into the gory and unpleasant details of the encounter, especially so soon after eating.

“Alastor is fine, Martin. You don’t need to worry about him. He’ll be back on his feet ... well, he will be all right,” his mother assured him. “And as for the vampire ... your father is doing everything in his power to see that it doesn’t hurt anyone else,” she explained patiently.

As much as Martin loved his mum, he wished that she didn’t use that patronizing tone when speaking to him. It was rather ironic in this situation. He knew so much about the vampire situation that he didn’t need anyone to tell him what was being done. He knew that teachers were patrolling the corridors in pairs at night, acting very much like the prefects had when there was no vampire to worry about ... how ever long ago that had been. Martin was also quite aware that Ogg and Hagrid were keeping watch upon the grounds too. None of that comforted him, but he knew what was being done.

“I know,” he said simply, looking rather grim for his tender years. He wanted to add that knowing all of that would not help his nightmares one bit, but he didn’t think his parents wanted to hear that.

“Good,” said his mother with nod.

“Do you think it will come back here to feed again soon?” Martin asked after a pause. He knew that it was due...

“Possibly,” said his father slowly, “but we intend to be ready for it.” He paused thoughtfully and added, “Of course, it may choose to feed in the forest for now and bide its time, thinking we will let down our guard, which is something we most certainly will not do.”

Martin couldn’t help but to feel just a bit reassured by that. Maybe the vampire would stay in the forest for a while ... until he knew how he would deal with it ... until someone could tell him how to solve the problem without anyone else, himself included, being injured ... or killed ... or changed. He just needed some time and some help, though he imagined he would have neither. But his father had given him hope.

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