Harry woke after a restless night with the taste of blood on his lips. It took him several minutes to realise that it didn’t taste human.

He sat bolt upright, which wasn’t a good idea nowadays. His head span, and even when it stopped he struggled to process what it was that jarred with his recollections of the previous night.

He remembered coming to the common room … debating his plan in the dormitory … cleaning his teeth and going to bed, followed pretty much immediately by sleep.

He’d cleaned his teeth.

And his last meal had definitely not been … Harry paused to recognise the distinct taste on his tongue.

Oh Merlin.

He tasted rat. That was rat’s blood. It was unmistakeable.

Harry wiped his mouth shakily, fear and guilt gripping him. Not to mention confusion. What had he done?

As sedately as he could manage in his panic, Harry scrambled out of bed and into the bathroom. There was a small amount of blood and hair smeared on his mouth, and he scrubbed it away. He began rinsing his mouth out with water, but found something stuck in his teeth and pulled it out.

Harry swore violently. It was the end of a rat’s tail.

Harry flushed it down the toilet and leaned against the wall, trying not to hyperventilate. Don’t jump to conclusions. It might not be Scabbers. There are other rats in this castle …

But only one that lived in their dormitory.

What the hell had happened? Harry hadn’t lost control like that before—and he would never have willingly eaten Scabbers, so there was no other explanation.

What if it had been Ron?

Harry felt like he might throw up. If there had been any doubts about his plan before, they had vanished. He certainly couldn’t stay at Hogwarts now, even if he didn’t care about his secret coming out. He couldn’t risk anyone else.

When he finally felt strong enough to re-enter the bedroom, he realised that the other beds were empty. The others must have got up before him. Since they probably all believed he was in the Hospital Wing, they hadn’t tried to wake him.

Harry searched everywhere, emptying every trunk and drawer and calling for Scabbers until his throat was hoarse. But there was no sign of the rat. He’d killed his best friend’s pet.

Ron would hate him forever.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but Harry forced them back. He was not going to start blubbing again. It was over. It was probably easier if they hated him. Maybe he didn’t need to fake his death. What time did he have, anyway? He was surprised Madam Pomfrey hadn’t herded him back to the Hospital Wing by now. No … he would just stick to the original idea—hide in Snuffles’ room until he died. Hurrying the end along, if he could master one of those spells.

He wasn’t going out of bounds, so the leash wouldn’t activate. Most likely he would never be disturbed again. And when they eventually found his body, they’d realise, and everyone else would hate him forever.

Harry picked up his bag, which he had packed last night, with just the Map and a photo of himself with Ron and Hermione … from happier times.

He checked his watch. It was breakfast time, but since it was also a Saturday, the chances of running into someone in the Entrance Hall would be high all day. The earlier he made it to Snuffles’ room, the longer he had to put his plan into place before Monday. Once classes started, if he was still alive, the leash would tell Snape where he was. He couldn’t risk that.

Time to go.

Harry took one last, miserable look around the dormitory, and made his way slowly downstairs. With every step he felt heavier, like he was walking to his own funeral—well, he was, sort of, wasn’t he.

I can’t do this.

I’m gonna die anyway. This way it’s on my own terms.

What about Ron and Hermione? I don’t want to leave them!

Better that than have them turn on me … right?

Harry shook his head to try and rid himself of the same circular arguments that had been plaguing him since he had first realised he wasn’t going to survive the winter.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered, his eyes burning. He blinked fiercely and took another step down the staircase.

You’ve got a soul, he reminded himself. Remember? Lupin promised. It won’t be so bad. You’re gonna see Mum and Dad again.

He had almost come to a stop, but at that thought, the argument stopped and he ploughed down the rest of the stairs as fast as his fatigue would allow him. Suddenly he felt lighter. He felt hope.

It wasn’t until Harry was halfway across the common room, mind and heart filled with his parents, that he heard the shouted argument in the room.

“… wasn’t Crookshanks, Ron! How many times; you’ve got absolutely no evidence—”

The light feeling shattered as Harry saw Ron was brandishing a bed sheet with a patch of blood on. He froze completely as Ron saw him. “Harry! What are you doing here?”

“Wh-what’s going on?”

“Someone’s damn cat ate Scabbers!” Ron’s face was red with anger and Harry squirmed, unable to feel any more guilty.

“It wasn’t him!” Hermione shrieked shrilly.

This was not at all how Harry wanted his last ever encounter with his friends to go. He stared at them as they began sniping at each other again. No, sniping wasn’t a strong enough word. Both looked absolutely livid.

He could stop them fighting. Save their friendship that looked like it was hanging by a thin thread. If there was one thing he had to do before he died, that was it.

“Hermione,” Harry said quietly, “could you—um—give us a minute?”

“Hmph! No need to say it, Harry; I know you always side with—”

“I’m not siding with anyone!” Harry said quickly. “I just need to talk to Ron in—in private. Please?”

“Fine!” Hermione whirled around, tears in her eyes. “I’ll be in the library. I’ve got better things to do with my time than listen to stupid unfounded allegations!”

“Unfounded?” Ron spluttered. Hermione chose to ignore him and strode off.

Harry watched her go, his heart breaking. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. He hadn’t exactly pictured a tearful goodbye, but he’d rather hoped they would at least all part on good terms. Still …

“Unbelievable,” Ron muttered angrily. “You believe me, right, Harry?”

Harry squirmed even more. “Um, Ron …”

“What?”

Harry swallowed hard. “Crookshanks didn’t kill Scabbers.”

“What? How do you know?”

“Because I—” Harry’s breath caught.

“Go on.”

“I did,” Harry whispered.

Ron’s eyes expanded to the size of planets. “WHAT?”

“I’m sorry!” Harry burst out. “Ron, I’m so sorry; I swear I didn’t mean to—it was an accident—I’m so so sorry!”

“I-I don’t understand,” Ron stammered, looking flabbergasted. “What happened?”

“I-it was an accident, Ron.”

“Yeah but what happened? Come on, Harry; you owe me an explanation!”

He was right. Harry clenched his eyes closed against the threatening tears. He couldn’t stand to see Ron’s face. After what Harry had done, Ron deserved the truth.

“Ron, I—” Harry took a deep breath. “I’m a vampire.”

There was a long silence.

“I-I was Turned in the summer; I’ve been living off rabbits and stuff but—but they’ve all gone into hibernation and I couldn’t find anything—I swear I never meant to hurt Scabbers; I just lost control—”

“GET OUT!” Ron suddenly yelled, his face scarlet. Harry scurried towards the door. “GET AWAY FROM ME! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!”

Harry tore through the Entrance Hall, Ron’s yells ringing in his ears. His plan was forgotten in his desperation to put as much space between himself and the rejection as possible. Oh, it hurt, it hurt so badly … The tears were flowing freely now, he didn’t care, he just needed to get away …

It wasn’t until the leash tightened so suddenly it yanked Harry backwards onto grass, that he even realised he had run out of the castle and across the grounds. Before him lay the Forbidden Forest. Harry didn’t stop to catch his breath; he scrambled straight back to his feet. With still no thought to his plan, he fought to keep going, his head pounding and his mind full of nothing but getting away. The harder he struggled, the more painful the leash became, but he couldn’t move an inch. Reason had gone out of the window. He had to get away, he had to …

Harry would have kept struggling all day long if he had had to, but as it happened, he didn’t need to. The memory of Ron’s rejection kept circling in his head, and the emotional pain kept building, until—

SNAP!