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Last Stand	By : Anguifer Category: Hellsing > Crossovers Views: 3321 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any publicly recognizable characters, settings, histories, etc. belonging to Hellsing or Harry Potter and make no profit from their use.

Chapter List
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~^Last Stand 4~^

“Walter and Seras have both reported a disturbance on the grounds and in the manor this morning… which ended in the prisoners' quarters. Tell me, are our guests causing trouble?”

Alucard bowed deep, covering a grin as he sensed Harry's ire down in the basement. The man certainly was a curiosity, and one the vampire would not mind getting to know. Contrary to popular belief, he found the company of some humans to be pleasurable. The new soldiers seemed far too interesting not to explore.

Acknowledging Integra's probing gaze, he wondered what the wolf would do at having his secrets revealed. He knew the soldier was severely embarrassed by his display; however he did not bat an eyelash at informing Integra. A small smile of amusement fluttered across his lips as he stood to his full height, “I believe Mr. Potter was accepting your offer of exploring the grounds and manor when he was gripped by post-traumatic stress. It has been dealt with, my Master.”

Pausing to process the information, the knight nodded slowly, folding her hands on top of the desk while looking thoughtful. After a moment she spoke, “Will he be a danger to us? Surveillance reports indicate that Potter can change his shape into that of a large cat, if indeed the disturbance was caused by him. Is he some sort of werewolf? Or is it simply more of their strange magic?”

Alucard shook his head after a moment of thought. “The change is nothing like that of a werewolf. It seems to be instantaneous and with little thought. He has informed me that some of his men can do it as well. I also took the liberty of investigating his mind further. He is being truthful as to the reason of their being here.” Integra straightened her back and looked keenly interested as she fiddled with her cigar case. Alucard smirked as she sighed and glared at him.

“And what of his comrades?”

“The same. Although one in his ranks is not as loyal to him as he seems to believe.”

“Oh?”

A snicker escaped him as he grinned and rocked back on his heels, chuckling darkly. “One of the women of his group has a rather... curious... fixation with his demise. He killed her lover during some past battle.”

The frown on his master's face deepened, “Watch her carefully. If she thinks to act upon such an impulse, you are to inform me immediately. However do not act. If the girl assumes herself capable of taking on her own commander, let her. This situation is precarious enough without having our guests assume we murdered one of their own without justification.”

Chuckling quietly, he bowed. “I wouldn’t give up the opportunity to see him in battle. He’s proving quite entertaining.”

She looked shrewd at that, “If they’re to be our allies, I don’t have to tell you not to alienate or torment him. If he possesses such power as he claims, he will be an invaluable asset.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “He will be going with you to Ireland. How he reacts to the vampires will determine his place with Hellsing.” Taking a long draw from her cigar, she stared at Alucard coldly. “You will be in charge of him. Seras will not be accompanying you. While I had intended you take her on the off-chance of convincing her to embrace her new status, our guests botched that notion. I would prefer you not be distracted as you observe Mr. Potter. Judging by the state of him and his men, he has the potential to pose a threat to us- even you. Keep him alive, but if he attempts to flee our custody, kill him.”

~~~

Anticipating Walter’s arrival, it came as no shock to Harry when a knock sounded on his door promptly at five ‘o’clock. Since the talk with Alucard, he had been contemplating the turn of events. General consensus from his fragmented thoughts were in favor of telling them to shove their militaristic lifestyle where the sun doesn’t shine. However the small shred of thought which was purely his shuddered with guilty, sadistic, glee at the thought of being on the battlefield again-this time of his own volition. While true that Sir Integra would no doubt force the issue if he did refuse, he realized that she would want to take stock in his abilities before allowing any of them to walk free in her world. He could respect that more than anything.

Pausing a moment to school his expression, he greeted the butler with a blank stare and raised eyebrow. While he did not wish to seem rude, he did not want to seem too eager. Technically he was not supposed to know, though he supposed it was a futile exercise, as Walter smirked almost knowingly and motioned for him to follow. They made their way through the mansion, following a path Harry was not yet familiar with. Dutifully memorizing the rout, they soon found themselves emerging through a back door and heading across the back lawn. The place was massive, even to his human size. The earlier training drills had ceased, and there was an increase of activity surrounding a service drive. Large military trucks were being loaded with equipment by uniformed soldiers of Hellsing.

Watching with interest, he thought he spotted a head of blonde hair skulking among them, but the girl darted away too quick for him to catch a sure glimpse. Turning to Walter, he blinked at realizing he was being observed.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Potter, how long did you serve?”

A bit thrown by the sudden question, he instinctively straightened his posture, to the butler’s amusement. “Er. Nine years. Though it wasn’t formal.” He added as an afterthought. The surprise was clear at hearing the news. It confused Harry, as he did not think he possessed any traits befitting a real soldier. He was disobedient, disrespectful, and his salutes were sloppy. In seemed to impress Walter, as after a moment he followed up after a moment, “That’s unusual for someone with no formal military background. Though I suppose any war does that to someone. Ah, here we are!”

They paused outside of what could only be described as a guest house. From the soldiers coming and going, it was safe to say it had been converted into a barracks by Sir Integra. Walter received nods of greeting, and some waves, however they were all disciplined in their various tasks of getting ready for the upcoming vampire hunt. Harry most definitely approved. Following the older man into the main hub of activity, he was hard pressed to keep his jaw from dropping, or any other embarrassing bodily reactions to the sight of the “armory”. The walls were fitted with floor to ceiling racks, containing anything from submachine guns, to swords, to what he suspected was a hand cannon. Much more littered tables and shelves, with neat rows of ammunition stacked beneath the accompanying weapon.

Harry was no gun freak, however even he could not suppress the wish to drool and worship the marvelous arsenal laid out before him. Walter, seeming to catch his gaze and train of thought, smirked. “You can feel free to make use of the firing range and practice field at your leisure. Simply don’t mark up my masterpieces, or you’ll have me to answer to. It takes hours just to buff out a scratch.”

Eyes wide, Harry sputtered, “Y-you made these?” The butler’s smirk widened, and he clicked his heels together in a bow. “Some,” He admitted. “You’ll know them by their custom marks.”

Completely at a loss, all Harry could do was stare. He only snapped out of his admiration when the man moved over to a table stacked with much more familiar-and far more worn-gear. He recognized it immediately by his rifle lying on top. It was the one frivolity he had allowed himself during his war. Hermione had gifted it to him, after she realized his talent for sharpshooting. While it was a standard sniper rifle, it had been painstakingly engraved with custom depictions of stags, does, and lightning bolts. Beautifully done, it was a tribute to his family, and their legacy of warfare. Not the most stunning symbolism, but he would die before letting the rifle be lost.

Reaching for it without a thought, he held it lovingly in his hands and delicately traced over the etchings while checking it for scuffs. Oblivious to Walter’s observation, he startled a bit when the man spoke up. “That’s beautiful work. I take it it’s yours?”

“Yes…. A friend gifted it to me shortly before she was murdered.” Speaking of her death was no longer the ordeal it used to be. Her broken body haunted his dreams, but he had come to accept her passing, unpleasant as it had been. She was in a better place, under better circumstances than others the Death Eaters had gotten ahold of during their use of psychological warfare. At least they had granted her the mercy of death. Unlike him. Shaken from his thoughts by Walter, he slowly sat the rifle back on the table, giving him his full attention.

“What do you know of vampires, Mr. Potter?”

Frowning a bit, he summoned up long forgotten memories of defense against the dark arts. Many of the lessons had been lost by the wayside in light of the realization that even dementors could be killed by a well-placed incendiary bomb. Vampires had never been touched upon very much, but what little he could recall that was not directly from Hollywood was in regards to their dreaded ability to create inferi. Tentatively stating as such, he received a confused look from Walter.

“Inferi?”

“They’re reanimated corpses created by vampires, or any wizard stupid enough to meddle in necromancy. They’re puppets, essentially.” That received an enlightened nod of agreement.

“Here we call them ghouls. The main thing you must know about vampires is that they are extremely fast and powerful. But, a well-aimed blessed bullet will do away with most of them. You’ll find the correct caliber for your rifle in one of the trucks. I’ve also taken the liberty of replacing the bullets of the revolver you were found with.”

Nodding slowly as he processed the information, he only boggled at their definition of “ghoul”. In his world they were nothing more than ancestral spirits haunting their families. Shrugging it off, he chose not to question it, as Walter indicated for him to gear up. Falling into habit, it took only a moment before his armor was comfortably in place. While not prone to waxing poetic, he thought the light body armor and fresh fatigues in Hellsing colors was like a long lost friendly embrace. Shaking off the thought, he turned expectantly to Walter.

“Alucard will be accompanying you. You’re to follow his instructions to the letter, and aid in dispatching the vampires. The soldiers are there to secure the area and provide support if any ghouls attempt to get past. It should be a rather dull exercise.”

A mild scowl went unnoticed by Walter, as he bowed, before turning to make his way back into the manor. By the sudden cease of activity, it was safe to say he was required at the trucks. The assumption was correct. Even the vampire was already present, reclining lazily on a free bench in the back of one. Grudgingly, Harry hauled himself up and took the only seat available, directly next to him. The other soldiers kept a safe distance from Alucard, ensuring no other place. They all shot him curious glances as the trucks shuddered into motion.

After several minutes one finally sat forward and extended a hand. Harry stared at it strangely, before a sudden realization dawned. He was the soldier who originally detained them. “I’m Henry. It’s nice to see you onboard.”

Not quite sure how to respond to the cordial introduction, he settled on nodding and settling back in his seat. “How long ‘til Ireland?” The question threw the man for a loop, expecting niceties in return. He seemed to shrug it off after a long moment.

“About an hour, maybe more. Depends on if we have to detour because of traffic. There’s a private ferry waiting to take us over, and then it’s another two hours to Patrick.”

“Why not just fly?”

Henry shrugged, “It would require too much paperwork. Anyway, we’re not in a hurry. Our agents already have the place on lockdown.” Nodding again, Harry settled into silence. The antisocial behavior earned him wary glances from the others, but he chose not to take it personally. He had no wish to grow attached to any of them. He suspected vampire hunting did not increase their headcount. While death was his business, he had learned during the war that naming friends tended to make them targets, regardless of intent from attackers. It was as if the cosmic goal was to pick off those he called his one by one, until he was alone. His troops were the exception to prove the rule, as all of them had been maimed in one fashion or other during missions, or in his direct defense.

His mood wavered as his thoughts drifted from morbid thought to morbid thought. He ignored a light prod against his mental shields, letting a mental image of a raised middle finger drift through. Beside him, he felt the vampire twitch, and swore he heard a snicker. Since Severus’ cover had been blown, the man had been free to really teach him occlumency. During his fifth year, it had been a ruse to breach his mind for Voldemort, to ensure his position as a spy remained unquestioned. It was difficult at first, and took him the better part of three years to master. It was another two years before he possessed the mental agility to project such as he had just done to Alucard. It had proved amusing, sending Voldemort projected images of two males mating. The link between them had made it easier than most projections, so he had done it often, and delighted in the rage and confusion it provoked.

Another prod made him let out a huff, casting a glance to the scarlet clad being beside him. “What?” The unprompted question got him strange looks for the soldiers, but he ignored them. It was by far not the strangest thing he had ever done unprovoked. The vampire simply looked amused, peering at him from beneath the brim of his hat. Orange sunglasses obstructed the view of his eyes, making Harry pause.

“Sunglasses in the evening. Are you trying to be a stereotype?” A couple snickers were quickly stifled, as the men belatedly recalled who Harry was addressing. Flashing his fangs in a lop-sided grin, Alucard allowed the glasses to slide down his nose, staring at Harry with the full force of his red orbs. They were nice eyes, even Harry could admit. Voldemort’s eyes had been red as well, but they were natural on the vampire. Rather than responding, he reached into a pocket of his coat, withdrawing an object that had the wizard’s immediate attention. Eyes lighting up, he licked his lips, darting a glance at the smirking being.

“This is a filthy habit. It’ll kill you.” The irony was not lost on Harry, as Alucard handed over a pack of American Spirits and a silver zippo that looked suspiciously familiar. Taking a moment to examine it, the carved cross on each side, and much worn silver, confirmed his suspicions. He could not bring himself to care, however, as he ripped open the pack and lit one of the cancer sticks. Drawing in a deep breath, he shivered with delight as the long absent nicotine provided a buzz. He was thoroughly, and happily, addicted to the rolls of chemical laden tobacco. His mortality was not something which troubled him, and he almost welcomed the prospect of lung cancer to cut the dullness of more common deaths he could have envisioned for himself. Not that he magic would allow that. Wizards were damn near invulnerable to most of the common ailments, due to their magic acting in sync with their immune systems.

The vampire observed him for several more minutes, before once more reaching into a pocket. A familiar scroll was extracted, and much to Harry’s shock, offered to him. Alucard shot him an almost knowing look, as the roll of parchment was snatched from his grasp. Dispensing of formalities, Harry only opened it long enough to confirm the schematic, before putting it to the lighter. Some of the soldiers yelped in surprise, while the majority stared in shock as he dropped the entire thing to the floor of the truck. He motioned sharply, cutting off any attempts to stamp it out. He watched it carefully to ensure it burned all the way through. Silence prevailed for the rest of the ride, though he sensed Alucard’s gaze on him occasionally. After a while he found himself dozing off, slumping over to rest his head on the vampire’s shoulder, much to everyone’s shock and Alucard’s bemusement.

Sleeping clear through the boat ride, when the truck finally halted at the destination Harry awoke with a start. It took a moment to register the soldiers filing out one by one, grabbing their share of supplies to set up the perimeter and secure the area. Harry moved to follow, but a white clad hand stopped him. With a glance down, he blinked at the strange array on the back of Alucard’s gloves. It almost looked alchemical in nature. Raising an eyebrow at him, Harry slowly relaxed back onto the bench while absently wiping away a trail of drool from his chin.

“Your task hasn’t begun yet. Relax, before the real fun begins.” Nodding slowly, Harry fidgeted. At Hogwarts it was expected that everyone contribute, regardless of their assigned duties. It felt strange to simply sit back and allow others to set up on their own. He was far from complaining, as it allowed him time to assess the coming battle. While he was fairly certain that Alucard would not let him die, he was mistrustful of the vampire’s motivations beyond Integra’s potential orders. This was an enemy with which he was only basely familiar. Walter had mentioned how to kill them, but had neglected to inform him what to expect. Chancing a glance at Alucard, he considered.

“Are all vampires like you, or are you special?”

The question asked was pitched with disinterest, but prompted a dark chuckle of amusement. In a way, that was enough confirmation for Harry, as the vampire provided no other answer. “In my world, we had this neat little book by someone called Stoker.”

More silence was his only response, so he continued, “It was about the first vampire ever created. A fellow called “Dracula”. Ever heard of him?”

The air felt charged with a strange type of energy, as Harry carefully avoided gazing in Alucard’s direction. He sensed, rather than felt, movement as the vampire turned to stare at him. Keeping his features schooled, he finally looked up to meet the vampire’s shocked gaze directly. He had the sudden urge to cackle maniacally at the realization that he shocked the being to silence with his observations. The look did not last long, and Alucard quickly gained a look of amusement.

“Oh-ho. Careful, little wolf. We wouldn’t wish for you to become so ensnared that you can’t escape.”

Shaking his head, the wizard bit the inside of his cheek to beat back a fit of hilarity. After a pause, he half smirked, looking away. “Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.” By Alucard’s broad grin, he obviously got the reference. It heightened the realization in Harry that he needed to figure out what, if anything was different about this world than his own. His train of thought was shifted as Alucard leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“But my dear wolf, you’ve already been inside my parlor. The question is, will you be so devoured?” Before he could answer, the vampire was gone. Startling, Harry jumped to his feet, reaching instinctively for his rifle. Almost in response, gunfire sounded from somewhere in the distance. Reacting without thought, he shouldered his rifle and jumped from the bed, glancing around with slight disorientation. What had once been an empty street seemed to have transformed into a military base, with Hellsing soldiers guarding a barricade. It all encompassed a single building in front of him, from which more gunfire sounded.

Without waiting for much more invitation, he made his way inside. The place was old and rundown, obviously a lower income apartment complex, if the numbers on the doors were anything to go by. The gloom was difficult to see past by his human standards, however years of training kept his senses honed for the barest hint of movement. It rang with eerie silence, the noise having ceased with his entrance. He got the nagging suspicion that this was a test. Proceeding cautiously, he happened upon more obvious signs of habitation. A congealed pool of blood squished disconcertingly beneath a boot as he made his way deeper inside. A putrid scent slowly became apparent to his nostrils, making his nose crinkle.

A board creaked on a floor above, making him jump nearly out of his skin, bringing the rifle up reflexively. A slow tapping sound, then silence. Nerves quickly rattled, he drew in a deep breath to draw the familiar scent of decay into his senses, using the familiarity to ground himself. Drawing ingrained instinct around him like a cloak, he proceeded at a cautious but steady pace, seeking the staircase he knew must be further down the hall. Carefully skirting a fallen service trolley, he paused at the sight of a doll sized figure on the floor. Shaking his head slightly, he steadfastly ignored it, pushing the knowledge of its identity from his mind.

He heard it before he saw it. It was a strange sound, like a dog chewing rawhide. Peering into the darkness provided little reference but he strained instinctively, attempting to catch his bearings and track the source of the noise. The scent of rotting meat was stronger the further into the building he preceded, and he grimly expected it when two purple pin-points of light suddenly winked into existence. Ghouls, as it turns out, were a far cry from inferi. In some ways they were worse, as their human features were not decayed beyond the normal standard. A spark of excitement worked its way up his spine as he stared down the flame-like gaze. The glow of its eyes provided enough light to see a bone of some sort clenched between its teeth. The kill was fresh, as blood still flowed sluggishly from the appendage.

A shuffling noise brought the purple gaze slowly forward, and Harry had to pause for a moment of amusement. “Rather slow, aren’t you? Actually kind of pathetic compared to real inferi.” The bone fell from its teeth, as if in response, and a low rasping sound escaped it. Laughing quietly, he lazily situated his rifle, taking his time to line up the shot, as the creature slowly ambled forward. While he knew he should take the job more seriously, he simply could not. This creature was a mock-up of what his world called zombies, not true inferi. They were nothing more than hoodoo constructs gone wrong. If this was an example of what these vampires could do, he found himself disappointed.

Letting out a quiet sigh of annoyance, he squeezed the trigger. The shot was deafening after the silence, but he did not flinch, nor recoil at the spray of gore as a large chunk of its head exploded away. The dead tissue provided little resistance to the caliber. He figured that anything else in the building would already know he was there, so with little care for stealth he continued forward. He paused to kick the body, grimacing as it slowly began to disintegrate. He preferred a pile of bodies, to a pile of dust. Bodies were a sign of a clear accomplishment or failure.

Finding the stairwell heralded the execution of three more ghouls, and a rat’s broken neck when it failed to scurry fast enough under his boot. He took perverse pleasure in stepping on it until it squelched. Ever since Wormtail, he had a grudge against the disease-ridden pests. The upper levels were curiously devoid of signs. Not even a cockroach could be had as he systematically searched the flats. He found it highly suspect, as the building had four stories and roughly twenty units per floor. At the third landing he paused, straining his ears. By now he should have found more ghouls. That meant that Alucard had already dealt with them, or they were waiting in ambush on the floor above. He still had yet to find the source of the tapping noises of earlier.

Drawing in a steadying breath, he continued forward. The silly mood from earlier disintegrated to the seriousness of a veteran. He was fully expecting it when at reaching the top floor, dozens of purple pin-points blinked into existence. Without hesitation he set to work mowing them down, not bothering to check his aim this time, as all at once they surged forward. These were not like the previous. They moved fast, and with obvious intent. Soon he was forced to dodge and kick out as some maneuvered from behind. Letting out a foul curse, he dropped his rifle and unholstered his side arm. He had wanted to save it for the vampire, but the other was too bulky for close range.

Another curse left him as he felt teeth biting down near his ankle. Kicking out, he shot wildly at one or two crawling on the floor. He missed his mark with both, forcing him to take cover in the stairwell. A sudden shot rang out from behind, exploding the head of one that had threatened to sneak up on him. He had all he could do to stop from pulling the trigger as he whirled to spy Alucard lounging on a stoop above him.

“Aim for the chest or head. You’ll do no good wasting bullets otherwise. Ghouls will never know humanity again, and they did not choose this path. Ensuring a clean kill ends their suffering.” Harry watched incredulously as the vampire casually pulled a blood packet from his coat, and began drinking through the tube. The crimson man looked bored with the entire affair. Never the less, the wizard followed his direction, returning his attention to dropping the nearest ghouls. What felt like hours passed, as zombie after zombie exploded with gore. He only paused to reload. Sparing Alucard a strange look, he spoke up during a sudden lull.

“You take care of the vampire?”

The orange glasses obscured his eyes, but Harry almost thought he was sulking. “He is neutralized…. But I was not the one to do so.”

Eyebrows creased, Harry casually shrugged, “Less work means more play. Any signs of who did?”

Ignoring the depleted ghouls, he turned to glance at the vampire in askance. Only receiving a shrug, Harry frowned. “I heard a tapping sound coming in. Was that you?”

“No….” Any further explanation was cut short, as a window down the hall suddenly burst in a shower of glass. Reacting on instinct, Harry greeted it with a hail of bullets. Anyone who would use the window like that was not on their squad. Or so he hoped. The remaining ghouls fell seemingly of their own accord, but with the moonlight now shining in, he spied large knives sticking from their spines. A large figure slowly straightened up, silhouetted against the night. It was difficult to discern, but Harry thought he spied blood leaking to the floor, but even as he watched, it stopped. The unmistakable noise of spent casings hitting the floor reached his ears, and grimly, he realized he had hit the person. Why was it not dead?

Alucard slowly stood, looking far more interested at the new arrival than he had the ghouls. Slowly, the figure stalked towards them. Grabbing for his discarded rifle, the vampire waved him off. “Those won’t do any good.” He sounded thrilled, making the hair on the back of Harry’s neck stand on end. Ignoring him, Harry brought his rifle up, finger prepped to squeeze the trigger. Suddenly a voice sounded, the figure speaking in a Scottish accent. The words sent shivers of excitement down his spine. It had been too long since he got to kill a religious zealot. That Evangelist in London last year hardly counted.

“We are the ministers of God. In flaming fire we take vengeance on them who know not God, and that obey not the Catholic gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ; Who shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his power—This honor have all his saints. Amen!”

Readying to strike, Harry let out a hiss of agony as a blade pierced his shoulder. The view wavered a moment as he fought to keep his gun at the ready. A second blade sung through the air and he had all he could do to drop to his knees to avoid piercing his torso. Even Alucard looked shocked at the speed at which the attack came. Neither had witnessed the priest move save once the bayonets had already left his hands. Biting through his lip and gritting his teeth, he lowered his rifle to grip the handle still stuck in his shoulder. With a grunt and firm tug, it was freed. The display caused the holy man to look confused. Assessing the blade stained with his blood, he laughed, making Alucard grin and the priest frown.

“You are not the wee lass I was expecting. Who are ye to keep company with the like of this dog?” Peering at the priest through his tangle of hair, the wizard allowed a feral grin. Perhaps he would play with this one a little. No one drew blood on him and got away with it lightly. “I am the incarnation of Saint Michael. That all souls stand and are judged beneath my hands, and that the souls of the wicked will know wrath.”

The words had the desired effect. With a roar of rage, the priest struck out with two new blades-where they came from was anyone’s guess-driving them forward with more force than strictly necessary. Expecting the retaliation, it was a feat of strength to dodge them none the less. They sunk into the floor where he had knelt like a warm knife through butter. Had he been slower, he would have been pinned through the chest.

“SCUM! HERATIC! YOU DARE BLEMISH THE HOLY NAME OF GOD’S HAND!”

Before any other retaliation could be had, Alucard stepped forward, blocking their view of each other. Harry let out another laugh, steadfastly ignoring the points of pain where the blades had nicked him. They were only flesh wounds, aside from his shoulder. Drawing in a deep breath, he reclaimed his rifle and used it to haul himself up. Alucard’s back presented an intimidating barrier for him to recuperate behind, although the interference chaffed.

“Father Alexander… Section XIII. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Alucard seemed nonplused by the entire affair. If anything, Harry thought he sounded pleased. The comment at least had the effect of drawing attention from Harry. For the moment, at least. He had no illusions that the priest would seek revenge on the slight to his religion.

“You must be Alucard.” The sound of heavy steps yielded the knowledge that “Alexander” was moving forward. Glancing around, Harry decided on the better part of valor. Alucard could likely handle this on his own, and the wizard was not keen on being dismembered in the crossfire. As if in response to the thought, he felt a brush against his shields. Lowering them cautiously, Alucard’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Fine work. But I believe you’d best be going. Anderson isn’t one to mince words, from what I hear; and you’ve pissed him off beyond reason.”

“Devout wanker deserved it.” The spiteful thought caused Alucard to laugh aloud, giving the priest pause. Refocusing attention, the vampire spoke up again, “You’ve already taken care of the vampires.”

“Aye. Little weaklings hardly worth the trouble.” Harry took the chance to back towards the stairwell, intending to hightail it to the lower floors. Keeping his gaze focused solely on the situation, he nearly overbalanced when his heel met open air. He left a trail of blood in his wake, and he felt light headed. The blade likely caught an artery, and he needed to stop the bleeding or he would do the priest’s work for him.

“The only vampire left is you, and yon heathen.”

With that, they were standing shoulder to shoulder. Their posture was faux casual, as if they were on a simple stroll with a happenstance meeting. Harry shook his head to clear the spots dancing in his vision. The vampire spared a glance at him over his shoulder, and nodded, encouraging him to flee. Not that he needed to be told twice. Turning, he slumped down the stairs, barely keeping upright as the world swam.

“He’s no vampire. But I doubt that would matter to you.”

“I’ll be taking my time with him. A heretic’s death awaits the sinful.”

Their voices echoed down the flights, but Harry ceased paying attention to them. Pausing at the first floor, he slumped to sit on the step, sparing a glance at his shoulder. The bleeding had yet to stop, which was worrisome. The angle of the wound suggested that by all rights he should not even be able to move his arm, but a quick test proved otherwise. Shaking his head as gunfire reached his ears; he tore the sleeve from his shirt and pressed it tight against the wound. It had not gone all the way through as he had initially thought. Attempting to call his magic yielded frustration, as without a wand he could not focus the energy into healing. He would simply have to hope that keeping pressure on it stemmed the worst of it.

Laughter reached his ears, making him sigh. Running from a fight was something that was all too common, but at least in this case it was for good reason. A noise caught his attention shortly after the laughter died down. A thunking noise coming down the stairwell. It was as if someone had thrown a ball down the steps. Hurriedly getting to his feet, he blinked at the sight of Alucard’s head rolling down from the landing. That… was far from ideal.

Moments later, Anderson’s boots could be heard as he followed. Heaving an annoyed sigh, he impulsively snatched up the severed head before jogging down the corridor. Perhaps the Hellsing soldiers could help them deal with the deranged priest. Sparing a glance at the lax features, the wizard scowled, “Some vampire you are. Lost your head? How pathetic.”

Stifling a hysterical laugh as the footsteps tapered off, he spared a glance over his shoulder. The priest was standing at the bottom of the steps, staring directly at him. Letting out a loud curse of pain, he once again failed to see the bayonets before they hit. Where in the world is this guy pulling these from? Laughing through the pain even as he lost his balance and fell to the floor, Alucard’s head made a fitting cushion as he landed heavily, shock of agony in his leg telling the tale before he could even glance down to see the sword sticking from his thigh. He knew his death would be far from peaceful if the priest caught up, as the blow could have easily killed him if Anderson wanted it to.

“Hey, Alex, are you just pulling these out of your arse?” Gritting his teeth to speak through the pain numbing his senses, Harry pasted on the normal masks. Torture was no stranger to him, and he would not give the Catholic the pleasure of seeing him defeated. He heard a growl, however this time the priest seemed calmer.

“Keep smiling, wretch. You’ll meet a warm welcome in Hell once you’ve repented.” Shaking his head, Harry spat on the ground once Anderson was in range. The gesture was met by another bayonet, this one piercing the hand which still cradled Alucard’s head. Hissing out a curse, he glared at the priest defiantly, refusing to show his pain beyond requirement. They stared each other down for several long moments, before Anderson gained a look bordering on respect.

“I am not without mercy. Repent now, and your death will be swift.” Cocking his head to the side, Harry heaved a tired sigh. Zealots never learned, and were far too blind to understand concepts beyond their own nose. Instead of speaking, he focused on attempting to yank the blade from his hand. It was an agonizing process, but not a sound escaped as he worked it free, tossing the blade carelessly to Anderson’s feet. They stared at each other a moment longer, before Harry answered with honest exhaustion.

“You’ll be disappointed, paladin. I’m beyond redemption. I have been forsaken, just as I have forsaken deliverance.”

The priest seemed almost understanding, as he nodded and let a new bayonet drop from his sleeve. “Then I must dispose of you, that you might find peace.” Harry made one last ditch effort, grabbing for his pistol. He got a shot off, bullet hitting its mark in Anderson’s chest, but as before, the bullet was ejected and the flesh mended. He had no clue what Anderson was, but it was far from human. The priest appeared unaffected, raising his arm to strike the killing blow—the bayonet shattered.

“That boy is mine, Anderson!” The cool voice was a breath of fresh air to Harry’s tattered strength. Glancing over his shoulder, he spied Integra, pistol raised and at the ready. Flanked by two bodyguards, she looked like a battle maiden from Norse legend. Taking the distraction to yank the blade from his thigh, he glanced around for Alucard’s head, to no avail. It seemed to have disappeared during the conversation. Harry had his suspicions. Attempting to focus on the conversation, he failed, as only the sound of rushing blood filled his senses. He was bleeding out.

Quiet squeaks also invaded his ears, making him wonder if he was hallucinating. Attempting to focus, the noise of rushing wings accompanied it. Glancing around, a mass of blotted shadows amassed behind Anderson’s line of sight. A bat detached, moving to hover before Harry’s eyes. He blinked. “Really, now. Giving up so easily? Get up, wolf. Get up and prove yourself worthy of being called a man, rather than ‘boy’.” The words echoed in his head, confirming suspicions that Alucard was far from dead despite the decapitation. Belatedly, the words registered as more than Integra’s reference, and he realized he had left his mind open to the monster. Slamming the shields closed, he grit his teeth, forcing himself to the wall and using it as leverage. Alucard was correct: Harry was not about to give up, laying down like a dog.

By the time his attentions turned back to the confrontation, Integra’s bodyguards were dead, and she had Anderson in a stalemate. The woman laughed long and hard, despite her physical disadvantage. “Cut off his head?” She smirked as Alucard reformed behind Anderson’s back. The shift of atmosphere made the paladin frown, swiftly breaking their position and whirling to glance at Alucard in surprise. The vampire laughed, clearly amused by the situation. “I see…. It seems this situation cannot be resolved. Farewell, Royal Protestant Knights.”

Before Harry’s eyes, the man seemed to disappear in a whirlwind of scripture. At a loss, he let himself slide back down the wall. The display certainly highlighted why Hellsing had not been particularly shocked at the concept of multiple worlds. The priest had just aparated, by Harry’s reckoning. Adrenalin quickly leeching from his system with the departure of the threat, he panted quietly as color burst behind his eyelids. He only wrenched them open as light boot steps approached. Integra stood over him, expression inscrutable.

“Are you still with us, Mr. Potter?” He let out an unintelligible grunt, attempting a clumsy salute with his left hand, the right currently refusing to move. She knelt by his side, not seeming to mind the bloody mess he presented, taking stock of his wounds. “You need medical attention immediately, or you will die.”

“No, really?” The snark made her frown, but she seemed to brush it off before straightening back up. “Alucard, see to him. I must direct the clean-up. I expect a full report once we’re back at the manor.” The vampire bowed cordially before making his way over to Harry. Disheveled as he was, he had enough strength to protest as strong arms attempted to pick him up, “I can walk.” The insistence received a strange smile.

“I’ve little doubt. But unless you wish to bleed to death, my way is quicker.” The reminder forced Harry to silence, vision blurring as he was hoisted up. It would have been vaguely humiliating if he were in a fit state. He was nearly a foot and a half shorter than Alucard, making it easy for the being to carry him cradled effortlessly in his arms. It was reminiscent of when he was in cat form earlier in the day. A feeling of weightlessness stole over him, and he was nearly afraid his time had run out, until he opened his eyes and the world was a blur of movement. He nearly panicked, until he recalled the speed with which the vampire had moved before. They were flying.

The red coat provided a barrier between Harry and the frigid air, but did little to stave off the coldness creeping up his spine. His wounds were still bleeding, only hampered by the pressure Alucard was tactically placing on his limbs where his hands rested. If they did not reach Hellsing soon, they would be out of options. As if sensing the thought, the vampire glanced down, frowning with what might have bordered on concern.

“You fought well, and your tenacity is admirable. But you are now a marked target to the Vatican. Even if you survive, you will never live a normal life.”

The words caused a new type of pain to spawn in Harry’s chest, though curiously it was muted. He was wise enough to realize a pipe dream when he thought one. While he had once upon a time wished for normalcy, no longer. Too much time had been spent defending his broken world to turn back from his chosen path. He had not been lying to Anderson when he spoke of rejecting salvation. It was beyond him now, and he knew of no God that would accept the blood staining his hands. Shaking his head, he curled tighter against the being, attempting to hide the shakes which suddenly assaulted him. Changing the subject abruptly, he hoped to avoid that conversation until later.

“If you give Bill or Severus their wands back they can heal me.” Alucard was silent for the rest of the trip. When Hellsing manor finally came into view, only ten minutes had passed. Harry was fighting firmly to stay awake, and quickly losing, as his blood pressure dropped at a steady rate. He only had the concentration to marvel at the vampire’s speed. They landed outside the main door, which was opened almost immediately by a concerned looking Walter. Their voices sounded muffled, but he could barely make out the words.

“This way, hurry!”

“Bring a “Severus” up from the basement immediately. Allow him his wand back.”

“I’ll see to it. In here!” The world lit up with a comforting glow, and a quiet sigh of contentment escaped him as he was placed on a soft surface. Obviously they had taken him to a bed. He fought a losing battle against sleep, but a cold presence by his side bolstered his will to not show weakness. Forcing his eyes open, red orbs pierced through him. “You’ve earned the right, if you wish it.” Wondering if he had not passed out and missed part of the conversation, it took a moment for his mind to connect the dots. Shaking his head, he bore his teeth in an attempt to grin.

“Even if I wanted to… far from virginal.” The vampire’s gaze was earnest, and almost a touch sad. It struck him as strange, but he was unable to question it. Darkness slowly encased him.
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Last Stand