The Unbitten

See Chapter One for disclaimer and details.

Chapter Four

The Daily Prophet

Dateline: London, England 15 July, 1990

Rita Skeeter

Where has our saviour, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, been hiding for all these years? We thought he was being pampered and cosseted by besotted relatives. We assumed he was being trained in his magic so that he can continue to protect us all. But no, not so. I, Rita Skeeter, have unearthed the truth for you, my faithful readers, from an impeccable witness. Our honoured saviour was recently found in a muggle - yes, you read that right - a MUGGLE hospital, beaten and abused. Nearly to death!

And who committed this hateful crime? Who would dare to so abuse not just any child, a despicable crime in any case, but our own Harry Potter? None other than his oh-so-loving Aunt and Uncle. Yes, our saviour was placed with abusive muggles. But the big question remains: by whom? Who would commit such a heinous act as to leave our Saviour with Muggles?

Nine years ago someone took Harry Potter from us and hid him away. No one seems to know who took him or why. And if someone does, why aren't they talking? What else are they hiding?

Once found at the Muggle healing centre, Mister Potter was returned to us, being taken to Hogwarts. Again, I ask why? Why Hogwarts? Why wasn't he taken to St Mungo's which is, as I'm sure you, my faithful readers, know, the premier wizarding hospital in not only London, but in all of Great Britain? Who has decided to once again hide our saviour from us when we should be celebrating his safe return?

If Mister Potter had been looked after at Hogwarts I am sure we could have, eventually, forgiven the Headmaster of that institution for interfering in matters which should have been left to others. However, we cannot do so. And why, I hear you ask? Because he has been taken from us once again: taken by an unknown assailant or assailants from right under the nose of his guardian, an unidentified Hogwarts professor, in Diagon Alley.

This reporter continues to investigate his disappearance despite many warning against it. Was Harry Potter taken by a single individual intent on a personal agenda? Was he taken by a gang of Death Eaters intent on revenge against the destroyer of "He who must not be named"? Is this a ploy by Albus Dumbledore to hide our saviour's return from us, his people?

When asked, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, among his many titles, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, had this to say:

"I am afraid that we have no clue whether Mister Potter was kidnapped or simply ran away, although I cannot conceive of a reason for the latter. His guardian at the time is only guilty of trying to protect him from poor influences when..."

Harry had to sneak off to hunt once during his stay. And now, just two days later, he had caught yet another rabbit. They didn't contain much blood, and it was a pain to get all the hair out of his mouth afterward, but it was enough to allow him to hunt only every other day. He didn't know why he didn't need as much blood as he had at Hogwarts, but he was grateful for it.

He had left Albert Frost's house just a couple of hours before the man's family was due to arrive, and had even gathered enough bravery to hug the man goodbye, thanking him yet again for his new wand. Not that he left only thanks behind for it. He'd also left a handful of galleons in the old man's bedside table drawer, along with a note. The couple of times Harry had tried to pay for the wand, Albert had said it was a gift; that such a piece of art couldn't have a price on it.

Albert's directions to the school he had mentioned had been spot on: across the hills and the next valley, south about seven to ten miles (Albert hadn't been too sure about that), and up against the tallest mountain you can see. But it wasn't until Harry had unknowingly passed the boundary of the wards that he'd seen first the manicured fields and carefully tended copses of trees, and then the buildings of the school itself - or rather, the outbuildings of the school. While the school itself wasn't exactly hidden away, only the façade could be seen. The main part of the school was inside the mountain. It had been part of an old dwarven mine that had been modified at the cost of a great deal of magic and labour.

About midway between the mountain face and the furthest outbuilding sat a short, solidly built woman on a wooden stool, with nary an ounce of excess fat to her frame. She had a round, friendly looking face, but her eyes said that she could be hard and unyielding when necessary. Her long, dark hair fell in a thick braid down her back, and she was dressed in a leather tunic and trousers, a dagger in its sheath on one side, a sword on the other. If this wasn't enough to say that she was prepared for possible trouble, she was also wearing a thick leather throat guard, and toying with her wand - not nervously, but to keep her fingers limber.

While Alanna Mountbank was used to vampires and other magical beings, being the headmistress of the school, each and every student had at least slightly different temperaments, and some of them could vary widely in temperament: especially the vampires. So while she was expecting this one, she wasn't taking anything for granted, despite what the old wand maker had told her in his owl-delivered letter. However, she had put enough stock in Albert Frost's information that she had insisted on meeting the boy alone. She didn't want to frighten him off if he was of little threat.

When Mrs Mountbank saw Harry approaching, she stood from the stool and transfigured it back into the blade of grass it once was. She stood there, alert but relaxed, as the boy approached within fifty feet before slowing to a stop.

"You're Harry?" Alanna inquired.

Harry nodded warily. This woman looked prepared to kill, and he wasn't at all sure he wanted to be there.

"Mister Frost told me to expect you," the woman said.

Harry frowned. The only thing that was keeping him from running was that Mister Frost had sent him away to keep him from getting killed by his son-in-law. He didn't think the nice old man would send him here just so someone else could kill him. Still, he was going to keep his distance until he was sure.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Harry asked.

"We teach self defence here, among other things," Alanna said, telling a truth, but not the truth.

Harry's wary look now included a tinge of curiosity. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You dress like that all the time?" Harry asked.

Alanna hesitated, then told the truth. "No, not all the time." In fact it was very rare, these days.

Harry studied her. "But you knew I was coming," he accused, mildly. He wasn't unintelligent, and he was piecing information together.

"As I said, Mister Frost informed me, yes."

Harry studied her some more. With the way she was dressed and armed, he could only come to one conclusion. "I'll leave," he said resignedly.

"You needn't," the witch said. "I just didn't know what to expect. If you were dangerous..."

"I'm not," Harry whispered in reply. But it took some persuasion to get him to trust the woman enough to follow her into the school.

"Are you hungry?" the headmistress asked as they walked toward the door. "It's quite a walk from Mister Frost's house."

Harry shrugged. It seemed he was always at least a little hungry.

~*~

Headmistress Mountbank had ordered a plate of sandwiches and some fruit juice for Harry soon after entering her office. After a lengthy conversation and a short background check (Harry had reluctantly told her his full name when he was told he couldn't be enrolled without it), she decided she'd ignore the requirements for permission from the boy's guardians, since he didn't seem to have any. It seemed that the same day Harry had gone to Diagon Alley, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot had gone to the Ministry of Magic and personally terminated the Dursleys' right of custody, citing neglect, and setting the wheels in motion to remove all records of their custody of the boy from the muggle world as well. His attempts to assign a replacement since then however had, so far, been blocked.

But they did fill out all the other paperwork, including a magical contract to have Gringotts release Harry's tuition and boarding fees to the school. Harry was surprised when a goblin popped in to verify that Harry had not been coerced into anything, and then approved the contract. Harry was then given the information and lists given to all new students.

"Your timetable will be given you along with the other students, when they arrive," Alanna told him.

Harry did have a question, though. "Where are we?"

The headmistress looked at Harry, puzzled. "The Mount Carlen School of Magic," she replied.

"No, I mean... We're still in England, aren't we?"

Alanna relaxed, relieved she could now give an answer. "Not quite. We are in Wales, in fact."

"Oh." That was a long way from Surrey - wasn't it? He'd likely never run into the Dursleys.

After a brief hesitation, Alanna had also called in one of the two staff members that usually stayed at the school the year around - a Professor Andrew Smith, who normally taught Magical Logic Applications (a class not offered until a student's third year) - and requested that Harry be taught how to behave at the school, including how to politely interact with all the races that attended there.

"And could you show young Mister Potter to a room, please, and make sure he's familiar with the layout of the school?" the woman ordered.

"Of course, Headmistress," Professor Smith replied.

But before Harry was shown anything else, he was taken to the school's infirmary and was given a full mental, emotional, and physical examination. Physically, Harry was in top health, if still a little underweight for his height. His vampiric nature had seen to the former. And his mental faculties were quite acute, except where his emotional reactions impinged: and that was where the real problems were. Years of neglect and verbal, physical and emotional abuse had made their impact, leaving Harry shy, reclusive, distrustful and defensive. He was immediately assigned to see a mind healer once a week: more, if the healer deemed it necessary.

While they were assessing him, the healers had also removed a block on Harry's magic that had been placed on him sometime in his early childhood: likely between the ages of six months to two years. They thought nothing of it, for the practise was fairly common in those families that had strong magic; it was needed to prevent damaging instances of accidental magic. The only thing unusual about it was that these blocks were usually removed by the time the child was ready to learn restraint - between the ages of six and seven years, although there had been individuals who had needed the blocks a year or two longer. They could not remain, however, if the child was to learn how to control and manipulate their magic.

While his magic levels were significantly higher after the block was removed, they were still within the normal range - the top of the normal range. But Harry was young, yet. His magic channels were only just beginning to develop. While there was a channeling system in place even at birth, it was rudimentary. It developed slowly until a child's tenth year, then had a more rapid development during that year, which is why most children didn't start school until age eleven. Harry's change of species had hastened that process.

A human wizard's magic channels would again slowly grow and strengthen during their years at school, and then sometime between their sixteenth and seventeeth years there would be a magical growth spurt ranging from a minor increase in power to being 'gifted' with a huge increase in power and any of a number of abilities, depending on their magical strength. A vampire, however, had no such predictable pattern. Usually they just grew in strength as they aged, learned, and exercised their magic, but there could be any number of minor 'growth spurts', as well.

And finally Harry was shown to the dining room. The sandwiches had been a long time ago. There were two dining halls: one for the first three years, and one for all the older students. Professor Smith called a house elf, and asked for a roast beef dinner, then turned to Harry.

"Can you eat?" he asked.

Harry felt like asking the man if he was insane, but restrained himself. "Yes," he replied.

"Some can't," the professor returned.

Harry understood that Smith was referring to vampires, but the information was news to him. Did they live on blood alone, then? Harry had trouble imagining it.

"I can," he said, almost apologetically.

"Then tell Ditty what you'd like to eat."

"I can choose?" Harry asked, amazed.

"I certainly don't know your preferences, Mister Potter," the man replied.

"Maybe... shepherd's pie?"

Harry was sure he would be told that was too good for someone like him, but Professor Smith merely turned to the house elf, Ditty, and said, "There you go, Ditty. Tea for me, and pumpkin juice for the young master, if you please."

"Yes, sir, Master Smith, sir," Ditty said, and popped out.

Harry supposed he might get used to that in time, but it was still startling, right now.

The next day, Mrs Mountbank herself took Harry to Diagon Alley to pick up clothing, including robes and footwear, and those school supplies he would need. Fortunately, with his glasses missing and his scar almost unnoticeable, nobody recognised him.

Harry determined that he was going to at least skim through all his school books before term started, and memorise as much as he could.

Mrs Mountbank took Harry to every major shop except Magical Menagerie, saying that the presence of a vampire sent most animals, and especially birds, into a wild panic, and they didn't need for him to advertise the fact. That saddened Harry. He was quite fond of animals - at least the few he had ever encountered. At the Dursleys it was mostly cats and the occasional snake that wandered into the yard, but he liked watching birds and the funny little squirrels, too.

They also gave Olivander's wand shop a miss, since Harry already had a wand. Even if he hadn't, they'd have more likely visited a wand shop in Knockturn Alley, since they were more used to dealing with non-humans; and Harry, despite having a heartbeat, would still be classified by the Ministry of Magic as a non-human, should they learn of his 'condition'. Mrs Mountbank told Harry that when he got older he might not need a wand. Upon questioning, she revealed that among those vampires who could use magic other than that endemic to their kind, some were powerful enough to use wandless magic. Harry's wand indicated that he would be very powerful, indeed.

~*~

Mount Carlen School of Magic had been founded four hundred and fifty years before by a middle-aged witch who had been enamoured of the Greeks, and it showed in both its statuary and architecture. Its motto was carved deeply into the marble over the entranceway: "Mens sana in corpore sano" - A healthy mind in a healthy body.

A couple of days after arriving, Harry found his thirst coming back, and sighed in resignation. He knew what it meant, having endured it at least twice at Hogwarts, not counting the time he'd attacked - well, tried to attack - the medi-witch Poppy Pomfrey, and two or three times since. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone here because he hadn't known that vampires were accepted. He was still reluctant to approach any of the adults, however; his past history hadn't shown that many adults were trustworthy.

He snuck out at night, and hunted rabbits. Over the next few days he learned, however, that vampires made up a good percentage of the school's student population. Harry determined to ask one of them about getting more, and better blood. He hated all that fine fur in his mouth. With so many vampires at the school, he knew they couldn't all be hunting animals, and he doubted there would be many, if any blood donors from the school population. Human witches and wizards were still the majority of the students at the school, but the other races came to almost thirty percent of the population.

Harry's birthday arrived, and was celebrated without fanfare. He was presented with a small cake, and the staff who had come to know him each gave him a small present: mostly books, and mostly the introductory information to the subjects he'd be taking. It didn't matter. Harry was both very happy that people had taken the time to recognise his birthday, and embarrassed at the attention he was given. He was even more thankful for the subject primers, as he'd been having a little difficulty understanding a couple of subjects: mainly how and why certain potions ingredients interacted, and arithmancy, which was just a bit confusing.

Within the next two weeks Harry had learnt everything Professor Smith had been set to teach him, and so he was set the task of learning wizarding etiquette and traditions - a far more involved affair. Nevertheless, by the time term had started and the students had arrived, even if Harry wasn't well practised in those traditions and etiquette, he had learnt at least most of them. Fortunately, Professor Smith had promised to continue the lessons on one weekend day per week.

~*~

But now that term had started, there were other vampires present. And Harry was getting very tired of rabbit blood. Therefore, at lunch, Harry approached a friendly-looking older boy that he knew was a vampire.

"Hello," he said, his voice small.

Interrupted from his conversation with his friends and slightly annoyed by the fact, the vampire turned to Harry.

"Yes?" he said. "What do you want?"

Harry almost turned around to leave, but his thirst told him he didn't have that luxury. "Er... You're a vampire, aren't you?"

The boy leant forward and opened his mouth widely, deliberately exposing his fangs and giving Harry a close look. "Yes, so why are you bothering me?"

Harry hesitantly asked, "Ah... Where do you get your blood?"

The question rather floored the vampire: not the question itself, but the fact that someone actually had the gall to ask it.

"From little twerps like you!" he exclaimed menacingly.

Harry was intimidated, but he needed blood. "Oh. Not from pigs or cattle, then?" He had really liked the taste of the blood he'd drained from his kidnapper, now that he remembered the incident, but he was scared that he'd kill somebody again - never mind that the pervert had deserved it.

Jameson O'Hurly, the vampire boy Harry was talking to, developed a confused frown. By all rights his last sally should have sent this kid squealing, and running for safety - if not before then, when he'd bared his fangs.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name's Harry," Harry replied.

"Why so curious, Harry?"

Harry glanced around surreptitiously, then whispered, "I'm getting thirsty."

To say that every vampire within listening distance - and vampires had excellent hearing - was dumbfounded, would be just a bit of an understatement. They were well able to sense each other, but their senses weren't picking up this kid as a vampire.

"What are you?" a blond girl inquired. At a school like Mount Carlen School of Magic, that wasn't nearly as rude a question as it might sound.

Harry looked down, embarrassed, then back up, opening his mouth to reveal his fangs.

"You're not a vampire," stated another. "We would have sensed you."

Harry nodded his head, silently contradicting the boy, and affirming his status. "It's a long story," he said.

"Well if you want our help, I think you'll tell it," Jameson demanded, summoning another chair to their table.

Harry sighed, and sat down.

By the end of their conversation Harry knew how to get what he needed, by asking for it from the school's house elves, and two of the girls had decided between them that this cute little boy was going to be a pet project of theirs that year; they were going to teach him everything a vampire should know. Harry rather thought that would last only until the girls found boyfriends, but he'd accept any help he could get, for as long as he could get it, and for as long as he needed it.

Others would volunteer or be drafted to teach him from time to time over the rest of Harry's tenure at Mount Carlen's.

~*~

Harry had also been introduced, when the other students had arrived, to two other boys who would be sharing the room with him. Harry was the only ten-year-old in the school. Most of the eleven-year-olds had become friendly with each other on the trip to the school and had decided to room with each other, so Harry's roommates were one eleven-year-old, and one twelve-year-old - another first-year and a second year. They were Kitteredge Browne, called 'Kit', and Alexander Smithworthy - Alex.

Kit was a little shy and withdrawn due to being in a new situation, but Alex was a natural extrovert, and soon had both of the other boys feeling more relaxed and at ease. It also helped that he'd already been there the year before and knew what to expect. He was answering questions for quite some time.

Although the students in the school were required to understand and write English, and most could speak it fairly well, there were a few whose accents were so thick and/or their spoken vocabulary so limited that they were hard to understand. There was culture shock enough to go around, however, and Harry encountered one that had him blushing like nobody's business: social nudity.

Harry's first encounter with this phenomenon was in his second week after the school term had started, when he was invited to go swimming. When he complained of not having a swimming costume, he was told not to worry about it. Thinking that perhaps the school supplied swimming costumes, Harry collected a towel and followed his new friends. When they arrived at the large, hot-spring fed pool however, he blushed a bright red.

"But... They're not wearing anything!" he protested.

"Why would we?" his friend Alex inquired.

"But... their bits!"

"What about them?"

"You can see everything!" Harry almost wailed. The Dursleys had made their displeasure plain to two-year-old Harry when he had run from the upstairs bath to his cupboard in the altogether after bathing. They had drilled it into him for the next year that nudity was bad, and he had never forgotten it . That teaching was taking a beating, now, though.

"Look - if you were wearing a swimming costume, what would happen?"

"You wouldn't be able to see anything!" Despite his embarrassment, Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him - especially the girls, since he'd never seen female anatomy before. The lack of anything between their legs was faintly disturbing. Of course Harry hadn't known that a boy's thing could get as big as the older boys things were, either. There were size differences of course, but they were all bigger than him. And some of the boys were really hairy, too. Harry didn't really like all that hair, but he hoped he'd get bigger down there when he got older, too.

Many of those within earshot were laughing at Harry, and teasing him.

"The swimming costume would get wet, get heavy, and be very uncomfortable, especially after you got out. Going nude makes you feel much freer, you can move more easily, and-"

"But they're naked!" Harry said weakly.

"Would you stop obsessing on that? Do you think the human body is ugly?" his friend demanded.

It was true that most of the students were human, or looked human, but there was a scattering of other races. There were no werewolves allowed, however. There had been too many full moon accidents during the time they had tried to integrate those people. The school advocated tolerance, but safety came first. However, none of the races were truly ugly (except the goblins, of course, but they only sent two representatives through the school every thirty years or so in order to make sure they were up-to-date. All others learnt from their own teachers.) Some of the races you might not want to meet in a dark alley, but that was another matter entirely.

That stopped Harry short. "Well, no, but..."

"But nothing!" Alex retorted. "Now you can stay here, go back to the room, or join us, but I'm not going to waste any more time," he said, quickly disrobing. Once he was naked, he faced Harry once again and said, "I'm going swimming!"

Kit hadn't stayed around for Harry's anxiety attack, but had quickly stripped off and got in the water.

Eventually Harry decided he wanted to have fun too, and slowly started stripping off his clothes, never once losing his blush. He protected his modesty as best he could, even holding his towel in front of him as he approached the water. When he had to drop the towel or get it wet, his hands immediately cupped his crotch.

"Hey, kid! Are you deformed?" a loud voice inquired.

Looking around, Harry found that he was the one being addressed. He just shook his head in the negative, not saying anything.

"Your bits better than everyone else's then?" the wit continued.

"Leave me alone," Harry mumbled, still making his way into deeper water.

"Shut it, Tolliver," Harry's friend said, coming to his defence.

"What you going to do about it, shorty?" the older student challenged.

"Oh, I don't know..." Alex drawled, "maybe slip some leech juice into your tea?"

The boy Harry only knew as Tolliver blanched, then recovered. "As if you would," he said, before turning and quickly making his way to another part of the pool.

"Leech juice?" Harry asked.

"His people have a thing against ground crawlers and the like," Alex replied.

Harry didn't think that really explained anything, but he let it drop. If it got the loudmouth to leave him alone, he didn't really care. And now that he was in deep enough water that his bits couldn't be easily seen, he started to relax. Alex and Kit soon lured him into a game of tag, and Harry had a grand time. He even got a swimming lesson.

Later, when Harry was tiredly relaxed, he found a rock in the pool close by its side that allowed him to sit with the water just below shoulder level. If he slumped a little, it came up to his neck, warding off the beginning chill of the evening air. Harry closed his eyes and listened to everyone enjoying themselves around him. He didn't think he'd ever felt so relaxed before.

A strong, clear tenor rang out:

On a clear, dark night,
On a broad, broody moor,
Stood a bonny young lad,
And his strapping young warrior.

Prithee, Liam, saith bonny young Richard,
Forsake this war and stay by my side.
Though I love thee well, returned Liam to Richard,
'Tis my honour ye'd have me deride.

But oh, my beauty, and oh, my love,
My heart will always be with thee,
And oh, my beauty, and oh, my love,
'Tis your love I'll be taking with me.

Harry listened to the song. It was beautiful, but sad, and in the end, poor Richard had to bury his lover. Harry had never thought about loving anyone before, but the song got him wondering. Then he shrugged. He really wasn't interested in anybody that way, boy or girl. Girls were a little icky, though - and they were strange: alien.

It didn't take but about another three weeks before Harry felt quite at home with the idea. And if anyone sprouted wood, well, it couldn't be helped. Other than the possibility of some good-natured teasing by the person's friends, it was ignored.

Besides swimming, physical education (called 'PE', which amused Harry to no end. It rather sounded like an anxious toddler who didn't want to wet his trousers, and was warning his mum) was done in the nude - at least until your body was developed enough to need genital or breast support, and then only the bare minimum was used to accomplish the job: an old Greek custom that had been adopted, and adapted by the founder of the school for its students. Nudity was also common in your own rooms, although it was considered good manners to put something on if you had guests, so lounging robes were kept easily accessible - unless the guests were very good friends and didn't mind. And although each room had its own shower, which all the occupants shared (often at the same time), there were communal showers which both sexes shared after those classes which made bathing afterward a good idea. After all, when everyone was doing it, it looked odd if you didn't.

There were three to four boys or girls per room (mixed male and female cohabitation was heavily discouraged except in very special circumstances, usually restricted to the upper years). Harry didn't know about the girls, but he found out that boys were expected to sleep nude, and quickly discovered that his roommates liked playing with themselves or each other after lights out. They were too young for ejaculation, but the human body is made for pleasure, and these boys (as well as almost every other boy who hadn't yet got a girlfriend, according to them) had quickly discovered the pleasures of touch.

So it wasn't long after Harry had got comfortable with his skin that he decided he didn't like being left out, and wanted to find out what the thrill was all about. While his roommates were surprised that a ten year old wanted to play, they were agreeable, and it wasn't long before Harry had to agree that the feelings were awesome.

Fashions varied wildly depending on species, the culture one came from, and how comfortable the person was with showing off their bodies, but those extremes were only allowed outside of classroom settings. In class, except - as already noted - in PE, students were expected to be covered, both to prevent distractions and, in those classes that presented a hazard (such as potions), for protection.

o~~~~~~~~~o~~~~~~~~~o

A/N: The Daily Prophet article at the beginning of this chapter written by Dawn Bacon, with minor tweaking by me.

Betas: Dawn B., Dream Howler Brit Picker: Andrew Smith