Draco poured two glasses, handing one to Remus. It was quite early to be drinking, yes, but the topic at hand could use a few drops of brandy.
“Thank you,” Remus smiled slightly, taking the offered glass.
“Dumbledore sent you, I assume?”
“No, not directly... though he did tell us you captured his Phoenix; our best weapon against Voldemort.” Remus leaned forward, his stare seemingly searching for something in Draco's expression, “This left the Order quite defenseless, Draco.”
“How close have you stood to him? How much do you know, Remus?”
“The Phoenix only ever appeared in battle, we-”
“Dumbledore didn't tell you anything,” Draco dismissed, sighing, “I guess I have to start at the beginning.”
“Is he still alive, at least?”
“Alive?” Draco barked out, “ Remus, the 'Phoenix' died long before we 'captured' him.”

           “Horris' body was stolen by a vampire; we caught him, but didn't regain the body. Not until we caught the Phoenix.”
“You captured him to find Horris' body?” Remus demanded, reeling back, “Why didn't you come to us? Did you tell Severus?”
“Merin, no, and we didn't know who took Horris. We took the Phoenix to kill him; to stop him from killing more Asps. He took out Blaise, Remus, and Emily would not have died if we had only been facing Death Eaters!”
“You make no sense, Draco,”
“Dumbledore took Horris.” Draco stated bluntly, “Dumbledore made the 'Phoenix' into his puppet; out of what he stole.”

           “The Phoenix is Horris?”
“The 'Phoenix' is a reanimated puppet, made to look like Potter for some sick reason.”
“He looks like Harry?”
Draco nodded slowly, suppressing a cringe from the hopeless whine he heard in Remus' voice.
“Can I see him?”
“No. Not now.”
“Why, Draco?”
“Dean is watching the Vamp right now, he's trying to figure out how it's been done and what's going on, exactly.”
“You trust a vampire to find the truth?” Remus growled,
“He gave me his name, and Dean can take care of any problem that arises.” Draco calmed, knowing how deeply werewolves hated vampires. “I'll tell you more, but I would like you to bring Sirius here and settle in, first. Things are being set into motion; I need all those we trust in one place- protected.”

           “You want Sirius to come here now?”
“And I want you to keep this whole thing from him, if at all possible,” Draco confirmed, “Forgive my bluntness but I don't want to deal with his temper and issues over this situation- I don't know if I can, but we need everyone together.”
“You think something is about to happen?”
“I don't see how it won't; Dumbledonre would have to be a fool to think Voldemort doesn't have a spy within his Order. He has just lost his new weapon- announced it, mind you- and let's not forget the Asps are down two more members with the ten that remain obviously wounded or fatigued. How could he not take such an opportunity? How could Dumbledore not at the very least try to retake his 'Phoenix', for that matter?”

Ten.
           Merlin's balls! He felt like hurling, then and there. Of the fourteen who made it to Hogwarts (not daring to think of the twenty originally conceived) not even a dozen were left! Four dead; ten alive.
His fault.
“Draco?”
“Sorry,” he shook himself, focusing back on the man before him, “what did you say?”
“I said that I don't like you keeping all this to yourself. Does Severus even know?”
“No.”
“Draco-”
“No. When he comes back I'll tell him everything. He doesn't need all this right now.”
“You can't handle all this on your own- you need help.”
“I have help.” Draco insisted, standing up as he realized nothing else could be settled.
 “Now, I'll have Dean come get you as soon as you can see him,” he assured, “I need to be getting back.”
“You can always talk to me,” Remus assured him in turn, taking the hint and walking slowly out the door.
Draco sighed and sat back in his chair, suddenly unwilling to go back down to where Dean, the Vampire and the Phoenix were. He had made so many mistakes. So many big mistakes.

He finally made it down nearly an hour later, somewhat glad Dean and what Draco was quickly beginning to think of as Dean's vampire had not yet finished. There was a small cup, now empty, off to the side with a red smear still visible along its lip.
“Well?”
“We only started two hours ago,” Dean told him calmly, “Brom said he needed to fully digest the blood before the subtler things could be 'tasted'.”
“Has he digested it by now?”
“Yeah, that's why we're back here. Now that it's absorbed he said he can tell us what spells are on this thing and all the other modifications.”
“Basically,” 'Brom' agreed, “though this is not quite that simple.”

           And?” Draco pressed,
“Brom said it's definitely the same body he took,” Dean began, “though there appears to be a ton of foreign magic on him.”
“We know that; who's is it? Dumbledore's?”
“Not sure, actually, we don't have any of Dumbledore's blood to test it against.”
“Damn,” Draco sighed, wishing this had given them all the answers he wanted, “well... can he undo it?”
“We're making a list of the spells on him, for now. Brom thinks it would be better to know what he'll be taking down before we start actually doing it.”
“You think there may be repercussions?” Draco asked, addressing the brooding vampire.
“The blood tastes odd; I do not believe it is simply due to him having been an... Asp.”
“Have you sampled Wolf's blood?” Draco asked, giving Dean a reprimanding look. Dean should be more careful.
“No.”
“Good. Now that I am here,” he emphasized, glad that Dean had shown some restraint, “would something like that help?”
“It might, though from what my Prince's intelligence advisors say... is there a difference between him” Brom asked pointing to the 'Phoenix', “you and a normal Asp?”
“There is,” Draco confirmed, “Thus my blood would be closest.”
“As I said, I do not think it comes of him being an Asp.”
“I'd rather you know for sure.”
“Neither way will I be sure... unless you have some of his blood from before his capture. Anything else and some guesswork must still be involved.”
“Either way we must rely on your intuition, you mean.”

           Draco endured the answering silence, waiting for further assessments. Finally, when it was obvious neither Dean nor his vampire were going to be forthcoming, he asked,
“So what are our options?”
“Options?” Dean echoed, sounding distinctly hesitant.
“You know something,” he huffed, “tell me.”
“Well... Brom said that in order to get rid of the foreign -whatever it is- in the blood, we'd probably need to drain him, let Brom digest it a while then replenish him... so he's still whole as the burial rights dictate.”
“What I said,” the vampire quickly butted in, “is that would be what I would normally suggest.”
“I assume there is a 'but' here somewhere?” Draco demanded, a migraine threatening to overtake his wits.
“You realize this is no normal situation. This hardly even qualifies for a purging; the body is not dead.”
Draco quickly grumbled that the Phoenix was certainly not alive or sentient, either, but tried to keep the sound low enough to pass as something he'd meant to keep to himself.

“What do you suggest, then?” he asked in a louder voice, trying to ignore the indignant feeling that threatened to overtake him whenever the body inhaled a deeper breath of air in mocking testimony of its 'nondead' state.
“Draining the magic. If I drain the blood, possible problems from venoms aside, the lack of blood would kill him before the magic would be gone.”
“The magic is what is making it 'alive'.” Draco insisted, “He died already.”
“I am saying that to peel off the mutilations all but the most outer must remain intact; in order to dismantle them all. The magic keeping him breathing is the most buried, I would assume.”
“And?” Draco asked, rubbing his temple, utterly confused by what the vampire had just stated.
“If he stops breathing, canceling that magic, all the layers above will fall in on themselves; tangle to an extent that you will never be able to unmake them.”
“Fine. Just revert him to what he was before you took him.” Draco demanded, not caring for the particulars anymore with the other issues that needed his tending, “How long will this take? I need to see Hermione.” he added, turning to Dean.
“We can't tell,” the other Asp answered meekly, “a few days, probably.”
“Get started. The Professor will be here soon.”

           Too soon; four days. Four extremely short days from now... and then, Draco would be held responsible for all of the disasters that seemed to plague him ever since Horris up and disappeared due to the very vampire now gorging himself on their captured Death Eaters. And once the he learned of it all, Draco was sure, the professor was going to kill him.
“I need to go.”
And he left, forgetting all about the werewolf. He wanted to see Hermione... the only problem was that she was even more broken than he was right now. She had worse problems to deal with, and it would be cruel of him to heave more onto her already sagging shoulders.

           Still, he went to her, hoping to help... even if he was unable to help himself. When he opened the door, she was looking out the window, as she would often do before all the tragedies. The familiarity of the scene warmed him and he ran a hand through his hair to help ground him.
“How are they?” he asked, meaning the Asps she is watching train.
“Ginny was there, earlier- with Terry.”
“He's helping her while Dean is busy... she's taken to learning how to take care of herself,” he clarified the girl's presence, “how are you?”

           Hermione fell silent at his question, and he refused to press her for a verbal answer. Instead, he sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. They sat there, quiet, Draco taking a substantial comfort in being able to offer her his support.
“I'll be okay, Draco.” Hermione assured him softly after several minutes of them simply sitting there,
“You're the strongest of us all.”
“I am not,” she negates his assessment, “I'm simply blessed with wonderful friends.”

           Dean watched silently as Brom set to work on the body. At first glance, the extraction looked just like a feeding, the vampire's fangs firmly lodged in his victim's jugular vein. No blood was siphoned out, however, and the experience seemed to be weakening the vampire instead of rejuvenating the undead's strength. He wondered if he should have an elf ask Zack to prepare one of the Death Eaters, as the Asps who helped feed Brom were told that Draco and he were using the Vampire in another part of the manor. He would also need to ask Zack to take an inventory of said food supply, as he was sure Brom would now need extra nourishment over the next few days.

           “Interesting.”
“What is?” Dean questioned, turning his attention back to the present to hear Brom clarify his muttered curiosity.
“There are more layers of spells than I had assumed, but amazingly thin.”
“Thin?”
“Single spell layers... with a few interwoven supporting spell threads. I had expected a far more convoluted and extensive network to keep the body functioning and animated to the extent you said you saw during the battle. This should take a day and a half, at most.”
“Can you do it in a day?”
“Late tonight, if I get enough actual blood, and barring any complications.”
“Are you hungry now?”
“Not yet; in a couple of hours.”
“I'll get you another Death Eater when you finish.” Dean assured the vampire, hoping the offer of a second meal would present an incentive to get this done as soon as possible. Draco, he knew, needed this done and over with.

           He watched as Brom returned to pulling at the layers of magic, looking more at the emotionless face of the body in bed than the vampire himself. He saw Harry and Horris; his friend form first year, his dear Alpha and yes, the cloaked figure responsible for their latest tragedy. All on the same, not-quite grown, body of a boy on the edge of maturity. It felt like watching him die. It was slow and calm, as sharp a contrast to how Horris actually died as Horris was to his earlier Harry persona. It hurt, seeing such a willful and vital friend being killed off so slowly and passively. Standing here was practically like killing Horris again himself. Dean could barely stand it. He wanted to leave, run away and pretend he was unaware of this extra, secret tragedy of Dumbledore's making.
He forced himself to stay.

           He watched for hours, having stopped briefly to tell an elf he would need a Death Eater prepared soon. He watched both deteriorate; Brom with fatigue as Harry grew pale and seemingly thinned right before Dean's eyes. It was too gradual to know for certain, with so little physical change, but Dean tried to use Brom's shifts beside the bed to gauge when each layer of magic fell.
When the next one fell, he needed no such cues from Brom. Harry's face seemed to melt and fade, slowly at first, then quickly like a wax mask held over a fire before it was seemingly reabsorbed by the body beneath it. Horris lay before him, still and unmoving, and it was now that Dean called for the house elves to bring in the Death Eater.

           He let Brom move to the back of the room to feed, the vampire seemingly aware of Dean's need for some time alone with Horris. He didn't know if it was due to him being an Asp; Horris his Alpha. He didn't know if it was simply his love for his friend or the urge to assure himself that the search was over. He needed to know Horris was really here. More than that. For just a little while, he needed to see him breathing and sleeping; calm and alive.

           Draco would want to be here; to know, at least. Part of him wanted this for himself, for a while at least, but he did call over one of the elves watching the vampire feed and order him to call for Draco.
“Yoou's to waits, Master's Drakoh saids, he come.”
Dean just nodded back, once the elf had told him Draco's answer, glad that he could keep from looking on for a while more without guilt. He had at least five minutes to himself with Horris.

           Even in the comatose state, Horris looked so unquestionably alive. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the slightest twitch of a muscle every now and then and the presence of warmth viewed though Dean's Aspian senses that could never be fully turned off. He could not help but touch Horris' face, feel the warmth physically radiate from the body, as well as the softness preservation spells had previously solidified to a point somewhere between flesh and stone.
“Forgive us for failing you, Horris,” he whispered.
“You didn't.”
“It feels like I did; like we all did,” he told Draco honestly, though the negation did make him feel better.

           He turned from Horris then, sparing the Beta a half-hearted smile.
“I never thought I would see him alive,” Draco murmured, now as lost as Dean had been.
“The professor should be here, too.”
“No.” Draco countered firmly, “Not when we'll be forced to see him die. Again.”
A bombardment of images assaulted Dean then; of the vampire sucking at Horris' neck as he had for hours... though now looking as Horris and not Harry. The image, the sense of that softness and warmth he had felt, fading back to the previous, dead state. Merlin, how he did not want to see it, how he wished Draco did not need him here. That Draco had never confided this business to him. He nodded.
'Can we put this off?' he wanted to plead, keeping silent only because he could see Draco in much the same pain. He also knew the answer would be no. He knew the answer and dared not force Draco to utter it.

           Brom had finished his 'meal' long ago, Dean saw, having put the body in one corner and leaning it against the wall. Draco was still lost in Horris' presence, his state echoing that which Dean must have been in at first. He did not want to pull Draco out of it before he had to. He moved back quietly, positioning himself beside Brom; giving Draco his space.
“How many layers left?” he whispered the question after a minute of just standing there. He did not want to disturb Draco... but neither did Dean want to put up silencing charms.
“Under ten,” was the shrugged reply, Brom adapting the same soft voice Dean had used. “They'll take a while, as these ones have been compacted by the ones above. The changes will be more obvious after each is brought down as well, I think... all that is left is the sustaining ones.”

           “Do it.” Draco ordered, voice still sounding distracted and his attention still obviously fixed on the form atop the bed.
“Draco-”
“No Dean; I'll lose myself.”
Nodding to his Beta's order and the unvoiced fear that delaying would only make it harder to ever give the order, he asked Brom if he was ready and attempted to brace himself for the moment Horris returned to the ranks of the dead. He would just have to remind himself that Horris had never actually left them.

           Next thing Dean knew, he was standing next to Draco (...or was it Draco who stood near him?), and Brom was leaning over to sink his fangs into Horris once more. He remembered none of them moving. He was in a most sudden haze; a state of existing as opposed to actual awareness. Was he losing his mind? Only when he heard a muttered 'well, this is odd' did he become aware of things once more.
“What is?” he heard Deaco demand, standing now on the side of the bed furthest from Dean; as if the Beta had appirated.

           Dean forced himself to full awareness, listening to Brom ask Draco if his offer to sample his blood still stood.
“Why now?” Dean asked, struggling to catch up with the conversation,
“He said the blood's taste has changed.”
“You said it'd do that with every layer though,” Dean puzzled, focused on Brom,
“Not by this much, Pup, and not so suddenly.”
“Then...?”
“We don't know, Dean,” Draco answered, “though whatever it was pulled both of us into a weird state.”
“The haze?”
Draco nodded, then turned to Brom and offered up his non-wand wrist.
“The last two layers were interwoven,” Brom told him before taking Draco's wrist, adding “you two fell into a weird state and his blood went from sickeningly sweet to tangy,” before biting down.
“What could cause that?”
“If we-” Draco winced as Brom's fangs sank in, “if we knew, this wouldn't be necessary.” Then, as Brom pulled back, Draco focused on him instead, silently demanding an explanation now as well.

           “Tangy; tangy and a little bitter.” Brom told them after mulling over the taste like a wine connoisseur. Then, as if only now realizing the two Asps did not understand him fully, he added “I think I've finished taking off Dumbledore's magic.”
Both fell silent at that, just looking at him for a minute before Draco stated what Dean realized had been bothering him over Brom's statement.
“He's still breathing.”
“There are still layers to dispel, but they're hewn of his own magic.”
“That's impossible.”
“Funny, Muggles say the same of Vampires.”
“Just get the rest of the layers off him,” Draco insisted, clearly not up to arguing about the subject further.
“But Dragon,”
“No, Wolf, it may be his magic... it's not him. Horris died. If Dumbledore figured out a way to use Horris' magic to accomplish his scheme, that's all the more reason to undo it. Now, Vampire.”
Brom moved to comply, apparently knowing nothing Dean could say would make Draco negate his order.

           Unlike before, Brom's fangs did not simply sink into the flesh. The layers did not fall away without any outward indication and the body on the bed did not lay still as all this occurred. The fangs sank in smoothly as before, but ten, maybe twenty seconds later the body on the bed arched, sucking in a noisy breath. Then a bright flash blinded him, followed in quick succession by a thump and Brom's moan before he fell unconscious from being slammed against the opposite wall.