Labyrinth of Moonlight

Vampire.

Whenever we hear the word, what comes to mind is the vision of flesh, blood, death, and, worse, an eternity of darkness.

Well, let me tell you a story about a particular vampire; a macabre, even a sad story of a young man turned into one of the undead, cursed with a gift he cannot elude.

Let me tell you my story.

I shall begin by introducing myself to you, my lovely reader. My name is Harry Potter. You might’ve heard or read that by the time I turned one year old, I have been capable of eradicating dark lords and monsters, and getting away unscathed with nothing but a cursed lightning bolt scar on the forehead.

Yes, the scar. This specific scar can make heads turn and start a sudden burst of murmuring by the mere sight of it.

You might say I was excited when people break into whispers and pointing with enthusiasm, and rushing to me with quills and parchment papers when I stepped into the Wizarding world. I must’ve been glad whenever I see my picture in the Daily Prophet day after day. I must’ve puffed my chest in pride when I was voted as Sexiest Hero in the Witch Weekly for six years running. But I tell you, I enjoyed the light no more than the Devil’s Snare.

Take my scar if you want it. Take my name if you yearn for it. Hell, I’d give you my body if you asked. I didn’t wish to be me. I hated myself.

Now let me start my tale from ten days ago. Ah, you look surprised, my beloved reader. Yes, just ten days ago.

Please read my story until the end. Don’t leave me alone…

I remember quite clearly the darkness. I could easily tell, by the cold obscurity and eerie silence that it was midnight.

I lifted my arms to touch my face with great difficulty that I almost thought I was buried under the ground, with all the earth holding back my every movement.

And I also found out I was naked. Naked from head to toe.

It’s so dark in here.

“Sorry about that.”

Who’s there?

I threw my arms out and sat up in alarm, a blinding pain shot right through my every fiber, sending me back into a lying position, writhing and cringing in dull pain. It was hard and cold, this floor I was lying on.

I can’t see. Are my eyes even open?

“Yes, they are open. But do not be anxious. Let your eyes adjust to the darkness. Do not move too much, though, for you are not truly healed.”

The voice was deep, and I could tell that it was a man’s voice. It also had a little of French accent in it. I thought I’ve heard it before, speaking and arguing with this voice in the past. But, no, I don’t have any memory of that voice or what we’ve talked about. In fact, I have no memory of anything at all.

Who am I? Where am I? Why am I here on the floor? Who is this man conversing with me as though we are close friends? Why does my body ache all over in hunger and soreness? Why can’t I remember?

“Do not be afraid. Yes, it is frightening, this experience you’re going through, but there is no reason to be afraid. I am here.”

I rolled onto my stomach and started pushing myself up into a standing position. Strong arms immediately grabbed me around the chest and brought my right arm around his neck, and helped me up. The flesh on these arms were so cold and defined that I would’ve mistaken it for a statue. He reached up and brush some of the dust off, which I began to realize was all over me.

“I was not able to clean you up for a bit. You’d let no one near you while you slept.”

My eyes instantly started to clear, and focused on the scene before me. We were in some sort of a huge, old, and abandoned type of building with utterly high ceilings. There were rows and rows of long, old, wooden benches that reached the end of the room where the huge, thick, iron-bolted wooden doors were. The walls, it seemed, were made of cold, hard, and cracked cement. The windows, all of them, were covered in thick layers of dark colored curtains that I am certain no light can pass through. I was amazed at how clearly I can see with no light at all.

I turned around and saw a huge, spider web-covered crucifix right at the center of the front wall. It frightened me a bit to gaze at it. It suddenly struck me that this place we were in might just be a deserted chapel.

I looked to my right and found an open black coffin resting by the wall. The coffin, it seemed, was made of the finest type of wood in the world, painted in deepest black, glossed with varnish, and fixed with pure golden bolts. But what truly caught my attention were the jewels that adorned the sides of the coffin. The jewels (and there were all kinds of them on the coffin; from rubies to diamonds, lapis lazuli, jade, and beryl), as I gazed amazedly at them, appeared to sparkle and shimmer even without light striking them.

“Crafted it myself.”

I turned my head and gazed up at this strange man. I could tell, by the way I had to tilt my head up to see his face, that he was, at least, 3 inches taller than me. He had rich, wavy auburn red hair that reached below his neck and curl about on his collar. His skin was of the palest white a skin can ever have. His nose was neither huge nor beaky or too small, which makes it a nice contrast to his cherubic mouth. His eyes, though huge and piercing, were of the most remarkable bright blue. He very much resembled the naked angels painted in great cathedral ceilings in Paris. Though he wore a strange type of clothing, like the clothes of men from the Victorian period, there was no denying the fact that this man was attractive.

He’s beautiful, I thought.

“Thank you,” he said, as I watched his pink lips move in the most astounding way.

“You can read my mind, can’t you,” I whispered, comfortable at how nicely he had enclosed me in his arms, though still sore and aching. And immensely hungry, I realized.

“You will need to feed tonight,” he whispered in the same gentle way. Everything about him was gentle, except for the piercing blue eyes that seem to dissect and observe me like a frog in a biology class. “Feeding will also help you heal and recover.”

“Who are you?” I meant to ask only one question, but queries started pouring out of my mouth before I could stop my self. “Who am I? Where am I? Why am I here? Why can’t I remember anything?”

He held up a hand to silence me. “There is no need to make haste, my friend. We have all the time in the world in the palm of our hands.” He chuckled a bit for that, though I didn’t know why, then he settled me back down onto the floor, with him sitting in front of me. “I will tell you what you need to know. But remember, there is no need to make haste.”

I breathed deeply. It slightly annoyed me how calm and composed he could be. I ran my hands on my face and discovered that my hands were rough. Too rough to be normal. I held them up in front of me and peered at them. They were dark and crinkly, like an old man’s hand, only more leathery and burnt.

“Everything on you is leathery and burnt,” he said. He looked amazed at how I wiggled my fingers to test how flexible they were, if they were flexible at all. “That’s the price you pay for going out into the light. But all of it would return to normal once you feed.”

“Who are you?” Though he said not to make haste, my thirst for knowledge was too much that I couldn’t stop myself for sounding rude.

“I am Gabriel,” he said, smiling as if we were talking about how nice the weather was, his small cherubic mouth working wonders on his face. Yes, the name suited him quite well. “I have to say that I am a bit surprised that you have also forgotten about me, along with the rest of your memories. I wonder…”

“So we used to know each other before all of this happened,” I said, ignoring the grumbling of my stomach and how a jolt of weakness came with it.

“Yes we did. We knew each other quite intimately, I must say. I knew you more than everybody else who knew you.”

“Who am I?” I watched him, anxious to know who I really was, every thought of hunger gone from my mind.

“You’re Harry Potter. You are a vampire.”

Shock was a bit of an understatement of what I felt after he said that.

“Me? A vampire? How the hell did that happen?”

He blinked at me with slight concern in his eyes. “I made you.”

I waited in patient silence. Waiting for him to say more, expecting him to say who my other friends were, where I lived, what I was like in the past, how we met, even how concerned he was about me. I was even prepared to hear him say I was evil. It infuriated me when all I got was silence, with his eyes staring right back at me.

“Well,” I said, not caring if I sounded ruder than before, “is that all you can say? Then you scarcely know me at all, if that is all you can say about me.”

He fixed his blue eyes at me and breathed one deep breath. “No, Harry. I know you too much that I know the memories would hurt you. It’s your fault, anyway, that you forgot everything.”

I immediately felt anger for this man. My fault?! It’s my fault that I’m so damn confused and irritated?! Maybe I was insane in the past that I would want to do this to myself!

“You don’t remember, Harry, simply because you do not want to remember.” He looked as calm and composed as ever and I felt a small pang in my being.

I looked down at my dark crinkly hands. Was my life that bad that I would rather be confused and constantly seeking for answers than to remember the life I’ve had?

“Who am I,” I whispered, feeling my eyes welling up with tears. “Who am I? Really….”

I was overcome with dizziness and pain that I felt my body falling forward in reckless abandon into Gabriel’s arms.

Gabriel sighed, pulling me up onto his hard chest and tucking my face into his neck.

“That’s it. I will be hunting for you tonight.”

My hunger instantly increased as I sniffed his pale neck. I brought my hand up and buried it in his auburn red hair. Oh, the sweet smell of it filling my nostrils, making me ache all over with want. Slightly bewildered with my hunger for flesh, I opened my mouth to lick on the underside of his ear.

“Do not be hasty, my lad. I will bring you a more worthy candidate.”

I was bemused with his little speech as he settled me down onto the bench that gave me a good view of the crucifix. I was hungry, extremely hungry. I could feel my stomach lurching as he settled me down.

I listened as his footsteps carried him onto the huge doors. I heard the bolt being lifted and the door creaking open, which sent a stream of dull light into the cathedral, and close again.

I did not have to wait long for him to return. The door reopened and he entered. I looked around and found him carrying someone limp and unmoving in his strong arms. I sniffed the air. A salty sweet smell came rising into my nostrils, heightening once more my deep appetite. Why would a corpse enliven me this much?

“This is not a corpse,” Gabriel said. “I dare not feed you with poison, do I, Harry?”

Gabriel stood in front of me and offered me the body in his arms. It was a man of about forty to forty-five years old. Neither thin nor fat. He was wearing a cheap tuxedo and neatly polished black shoes. He was slumbering softly in Gabriel’s arms. Yes, sleeping, for I could clearly hear the dull sound of his heartbeat. I breathed the soft scent of him, and realized that the mere idea of drinking his blood made me excited.

No. What’s happening to me?! I really am a vampire, am I?

“Follow your instincts, Harry,” Gabriel whispered, “put an end to your suffering.”

I closed my eyes, hunger overcoming judgment, and leaned forward, amazed at how I found the man’s throat without difficulty. I pressed my forehead against his neck first, shifting my hand to the back of his head. I slowly opened my mouth and bit on the man’s flesh right on the pulsing vein on his neck, hearing him gasp in his slumber.

And, oh, it was pleasure I’ve never known. The simple beating of his heart, sending spurts of thick blood from the gush I made, and into my mouth sent me moaning in bliss. I could feel my skin tightening as I sucked harder from the wound.

“Yes, that’s it,” Gabriel said. I have now the body against my chest, Gabriel now and then pushes the body back when it slides away from my arms. “That’s it. Drink, Harry.”

I sucked even harder, wanting more, more. I could hear the man’s heartbeat getting slower and slower until it became nothing but a dull thud, thud in my ears.

“Alright, enough,” Gabriel said firmly, prying my fingers open and pulling the body away from me.

I clung harder, lifting up my legs and encircling the body’s waist.

“That’s enough,” Gabriel said stronger than before and yanked the body away. He stood up easily, clutching the near-dead man and breaking its neck with a sharp crack.

I hissed in frustration, licking the blood from my lips. “I want more!”

“Don’t be foolish,” Gabriel hissed back. “We can’t drink dead blood. It’s poison. Don’t worry. You’re strong enough to hunt for your own meal.”

Indeed, I looked down at my hands. I saw them getting smoother and whiter before my eyes. I could feel the scars on my back stinging and healing as my heart pumped in the blood I just drank. I could easily lift my arms and legs. I knew then that I needed more of it, more of mortal blood.

I stood up effortlessly, blood rushing in my veins. “I want more.”

Gabriel smiled and I realized that he had a dimple just below his left cheekbone. Maybe my absolute yearning for blood impressed him. Who knows?

“I will be coming with you,” he whispered. “Have to get rid of this body, of course.”

I nodded once to show my approval. Besides, I may be strong enough to stand yet still too weak.

Gabriel laid the body down and started undressing it, leaving only the undergarment. He started dressing me up, first with the trousers, then the white polo, fixing the buttons carefully, one by one, then the tie, and finally the jacket. He brushed the dust off my shoulders and ran a hand through my hair. All of this I allowed without a word.

He bent down and retrieved the body from the floor, and smiled at me in such a gentle way that it almost took my breath away. Almost.

It was snowing as we stepped outside the chapel. I did not feel any cold at all as the breeze disheveled my hair.

The body we deposited in a back door dumpster. Wet garbage of a restaurant a few blocks away from the chapel. I took no last look at it. If the hungry found it, they’d never report it. Besides, the hungry had been here for their share of the tomatoes and lettuce and spaghetti and crusts of French bread. The restaurant had closed hours ago. The garbage was frozen; it rattled and clattered as Gabriel shoved the body deep into the mess.

We went downtown, still walking, still with the hunger lingering in my stomach. Mortals rushed through doorways beneath awnings; cabbies blew their horns in fury at hulking, slow limousines.

On and on we walked. I kicked at the sludge and I hated myself. I could still smell the blood of the man and I hated this too. But in a way, the feast was so divine that it was just to require this aftermath,

It was desolate here, and sad. A bare mattress lay on the corner of the block, the snow covering it. The streetlamps were broken. I wasn’t certain precisely where we were.

Beneath an overpass, we walked. The few mortals hovering there, with blankets and a little fire going in a tin can, took no notice of us. Gabriel shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a few bank notes. He threw these into the fire and passed one to the old man smoking his pipe in the shadows.

“Thanks, brother.”

“Amen,” Gabriel replied, smiling at me.

I stared at him in amazement and walked on.

We came into a deserted alley and found an old woman walking slowly with her walking stick, clutching hard at her shawl. I sniffed the cold, damp air and caught the scent of her blood. Yes, she’s perfect.

Gabriel drew back, leaning onto the wall with his arms crossed, watching me in perfect silence.

I approached the woman and stood behind her. I reached for her shoulder, brought her gently around and embraced her. As I bent to drink, the old woman began to shriek and plead simultaneously. And then went quiet, transfixed, until at last the body was gently laid to rest at the cold hard cement.

I walked over to Gabriel, not bothering to hide the body. “Aren’t you going to feed?” I asked him.

“No, thanks,” he replied, slowly bringing himself to an upright position.

We went back, then, to the chapel. I offered to push open the heavy wooden doors to test my strength. It was almost dawn, I can tell by the sound of birds outside the chapel.

I stopped in front of the altar and faced Gabriel. He was looking at me calmly, knowing what was coming next.

“Are you going to tell me about my past, then?” I gazed at him patiently. He laughed a deep laugh and put a hand on my shoulder.

“If you are that determined, I will tell you. But not tonight. It is almost daybreak and we must rest.”

He walked around me and went through the door at the side of the altar. He came back out dragging a dusty old coffin with him and settling it right beside the jewel-covered coffin. He beckoned at me and I walked towards him.

“Sorry I couldn’t find a better one,” he said apologetically. “Just snatched it from a grave. But this is just for one night, until I’ve found you a more suitable coffin.”

“And that’s where I sleep?” I asked. I knew vampires in the movies sleep in coffins, but I was not certain that real vampires do that too.

“I’m afraid coffins are a necessity,” Gabriel explained. “Come, lay down and rest, my friend. I will make you remember tomorrow morning. But do not blame me if the memory distresses you.”

I lay down in the coffin. It was comfortable and I immediately found my eyes drooping. Gabriel murmured a quiet assurance that he’d be there when I woke up, and then pulled down the lid.

Do I really want to know my past? Is it important? Would I regret finding out the truth?

The cold had begun to annoy me. To be almost humanly painful. I wanted to sleep.

TBC…