Nearly two hours later Harry finally let Draco leave. It had taken more willpower than he cared to admit to let Draco go, but they had talked the new plan into the ground and Draco couldn't exactly stay locked up with him forever.

After he'd chucked a few cushions and pillows around the room to appease the completely irrational annoyance at having to allow his human out of his sight, Harry went and sat back at the desk. Then and only then did he pull the parchment Snape had given him out of his pocket. It sat on the desk taunting him after he let it drop from his fingers—he was afraid to open it.

He knew he was a monster, but what other horrors would Snape's work reveal. How much magic had been forced into him over those forgotten two days? How many creatures lurked within him just waiting to show him their darkness?

It took him a good five minutes to squash the little voice that kept telling him it was better not to know, that he would find out if he needed to and that ignorance was often easier than knowledge.

Reaching out quickly, he unfolded the document and placed it flat in front of him. Snape's neat handwriting leaping out to meet his gaze. Balling up his Gryffindor courage he began to read. The first four creatures listed were not unexpected: vampire; banshee; Dementor and werewolf, but the fifth caught his eye: shadow fae. He had no idea what one of those was, which rather circumvented his fear with a healthy dose of curiosity. Turning to the book he had been reading before Draco arrived, he flicked to the index.

"Shadow fae," he read aloud, not caring that there was no one to hear him, "dark creature, related to a fairy. Feeds on the chemical reactions of a physical body in pain and can be found anywhere pain is being suffered by human or animal. These creatures are scavengers and rarely dangerous unless present in large numbers, when they will attack. They have the ability to become non-corporeal and pass through solid material, but are intolerant to light and may be dispersed by a simple Lumos spell. Basic wards will prevent them entering a building."

Well that explained his little trick with the door the night he had killed Voldemort and at least this creature didn't sound too bad. Picking up the list once more he continued down it: incubus, boggart and basilisk were next, and then the last creature listed was another one that he remembered vaguely from DADA: Ethologi, but he could not recall any details. Studiously he went back to the book.

"Ethologi, commonly known as doppelgangers are rare and extremely dangerous to magical beings," he read slowly, not liking this one at all. "In their natural state these creatures appear as a black pool of liquid, but they have the power to mimic anything living with which they come into contact. They use this ability to hunt, taking on the form of something familiar to their prey and slowly draining the victim of magical energy. The shock to the system of being drained of all magic will kill most magical beings, including humans, and recovery from a partial attack can take months. Being liquid based Ethologi are intolerant to fire and a flame spell will repel, although not kill, one."

Now he knew where the faint urge to draw the magic out of Dumbledore had come from, and how it was that his sense of magic seemed heightened. He only prayed that this creature's power within him never became as strong as those he had already used. He would not ever, under any circumstances knowingly drain anyone of magic—he would rather die first. Magic was very precious to Harry, and it was something to be treasured. The whole idea of the Ethologi made his skin crawl.

He sighed and closed the book. He supposed it could have been worse, at least the list wasn't longer.

Briefly it occurred to him that the ability to mimic anyone and anything could be useful, but he put the idea aside. If he tried to use a power that was not at the surface, he might bring with it the creatures' cravings. While the desire to feed off of powerful magical sources was just a niggling urge, it could become something much worse.

Picking up the book he headed back to the bed and the other tome he had left lying around. Sitting down, leaning against the headboard, he flicked to the index of the other book knowing it never hurt to have multiple sources. That much Hermione had drummed into him over the years.

~*~

"Harry Potter, Sir," a familiar, squeaky voice interrupted his contemplations and he looked to the side to see Dobby standing there looking rather worried, "Dobby is sorry to be disturbing you, but Headmaster Dumbledore is telling Dobby that if Harry Potter is not asking for food by the time the rest of the school is having dinner, Dobby is to go to Harry Potter and be offering his services."

Harry blinked at the house elf in surprise; it was dinner time? He had thought it was only about four o'clock. Adding up the time in his mind he realised it had to be much later than that because Draco had been with him for a considerable length of time.

"Oh, thanks, Dobby," he said a little absently, his mind still on what he was reading, "anything will be fine."

The house elf beamed at being accepted and disappeared with a soft pop just as Harry caught up with what he had said. With a sinking feeling he realised that he was probably going to end up with enough food to feed an army, and he wasn't really that hungry. He'd also answered without remembering that there was a large amount of things that he couldn't eat any more. Just as he was trying to figure out how to explain to the house elf why he wasn't eating everything put in front of him without insulting the poor creature, Dobby popped back in again.

"Dobby is just remembering, Harry Potter, Sir," the elf said cheerfully, "Headmaster Dumbledore is also explaining how Harry Potter can no longer eat all of his favourites. Dobby is wondering if Harry Potter could be a bit more specific about what he is liking?"

"I'm sorry, Dobby," Harry apologised quickly, "I wasn't really paying attention. Anything meat based would be fine, but no pastry if possible. Green veggies are good, but anything else is hit or miss. As for pudding, I have this real thing for custard, but I can't seem to eat anything that goes with it. Ice cream is good too."

The elf nodded sagely.

"Dobby will be bringing Harry Potter a selection," Dobby said seriously, "that way next time Dobby will be knowing what Harry Potter likes."

"Thank you," Harry replied with genuine gratitude.

The elf disappeared a second time and, discovering that his foot had gone numb, Harry decided it was time to get up and move around a bit. A trip to the loo wouldn't be amiss either, and he quickly busied himself with preparing for dinner.

~*~

It was as he was pulling on a T-shirt that Jeremy's familiar throat-clearing attracted his attention. After Draco had left, he had instructed the portrait to announce anyone that came to the door, at which point he would decide if they could come in or not. It was easier than having the poor man threatened every time a Slytherin dropped by.

"Yes, Jeremy," Harry asked politely.

"Headmaster Dumbledore requests a few moments of your time," the portrait said, "should I let him in?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry replied, although on the inside he was dreading the visit.

It was one thing to know that the crafty old wizard had known that Draco would be visiting, the wards letting Draco through making that much obvious, but to have to talk about that and other things was not a comforting idea. Dumbledore would be kind, and considerate and supportive, but at times Harry preferred Snape's straightforwardness to the headmaster's concern.

However, the moment Dumbledore stepped into the room, Harry forgot about just about everything as his attention focused solely on the covered something that the headmaster was carrying in his right hand. The vague unease at being in the presence of such a magically gifted individual was dwarfed as his nose twitched and his teeth ached. He could smell blood and his vampire aspect had sat up and taken notice.

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore greeted pleasantly, "I do hope you don't mind, but I asked Dobby to inform me when he would be bringing you your evening meal."

"Hello," Harry managed to say, although what he really wanted to do was launch himself at the headmaster and take whatever was under the cloth.

"I do hope you are settling in," the older wizard continued conversationally. "Professor Snape informed me of his previous visit and what you did for Mr Malfoy, an ingenious plan I must admit. Under normal circumstances I would never condone falsifying such an important matter, but I must admit to perceiving that the Ministry may be attempting to make an example of the Malfoy family, although Lucius has already paid the ultimate price."

The smell was driving Harry crazy. He could barely hold himself still.

It was only as Dumbledore smiled at him with something more than the usual twinkle in his eye that Harry realised the headmaster knew exactly what he was doing. In a flash of insight that rarely ever happened to him, Harry became aware that he was being tested. Part of him was furious and demanded to be set free, but this time his human nature won as he pushed the instincts down.

Dumbledore appeared pleased as if he was completely aware of Harry's internal struggle and approved of the outcome.

"Professor Snape is an ingenious man," Harry said without the slightest trace of sarcasm, it was a truth he had taken a long time to see.

With a nod Dumbledore placed whatever he was carrying on the desk and calmly conjured himself a chair. Another test, Harry was sure of it as his control was tried yet again. This time he had wanted to react to the magic and the possible danger it represented. Biting his lip, he did not even let loose the animalistic growl that threatened.

The casual bravery the headmaster employed as he all but faced down the darkest creature ever known to wizard kind was actually quite astounding.

"This is for you," Dumbledore finally said as if they both didn't know what he had been doing.

Pulling off the cloth the headmaster revealed a goblet full of deep red liquid.

"I understand that Mr Malfoy has, shall we say, volunteered to assist with your other known needs," Dumbledore said chattily, which would have made Harry blush to the roots of his hair if he had not been quite so fixated on the blood, "but I believe it would be prudent to avoid first person donation for your vampire tendencies. Professor Snape's tests confirm that you are in no way contagious, but we do not want any accidents. Several Gryffindors have volunteered to give blood on your behalf, although they are unaware of exactly why, and Madame Pomfrey recommends you should drink once every other day to avoid any chance of the hunger returning."

Harry was almost vibrating as he held on to his control and prevented himself pouncing on the goblet. It was with the utmost care that he walked the final few feet to the desk and shakily picked up the vessel.

It smelt like nectar from heaven. He could not hold back anymore. His fangs descended in response and the first mouthful sent the most wonderful sensations all over his body. Had he been alone he would have groaned, as it was, he managed to stifle his reaction into a breathy gasp. After that he couldn't stop, and he tipped the goblet back, drinking greedily as the velvety liquid flowed down his throat.

Normal food just couldn't compare anymore—this was more than sustenance, it was life. Yet, when he finally placed the goblet back on the table, every drop gone, there was a fraction of a second when it felt as if something was missing.