Summary: This is an LotR/HP crossover. What if Harry was turned into a vampire? Well, this is my unusual take on the slightly overused plot. Harry managed to kill Voldemort, but he still suffers the curse of eternal existence and has to watch everything around him wither away, so Harry is sent to Middle Earth in order to be with other immortal beings. There the boy-faced man meets a powerful sorcerer called Saruman, who he soon starts to suspect isn't as "white" as everyone in this world wants to believe. When the other wizard becomes aware of Harry's knowledge, he turns all of Arda against him and the vampire is soon known as the Dark Wizard, the scourge of Arda. But years later Saruman's treason is known to Gandalf, who therefore begins to believe in his innocence. Slowly Harry will have to redeem himself – for things he had no control over.

I have read LotR, the Hobbit and the Silmarillion and have of course seen the movies, but the books of Tolkien are just too complex and there are far more than those books I have read already, so I will most of the time have to drastically shorten it and surely make "horrible" mistakes with the history. If you feel the need to correct me, do so nicely, please. I get a little frustrated with people, who mix LotR up with a religion.

Warning: There will be blood, considering the protagonist has to drink it, but not too much.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Middle Earth.

As in most of the first chapters of my fics the point of view in this chapter is different than in the rest of the story. Here, it is a dual point of view, but as always it will be Harry-centred for the rest of the story.

The Dark Wizard and the Curse of Immortality

Chapter 1 - The End of the second Life

A knock sounded on the door to the Headmistress' private quarters. Smiling slightly the old woman, called, "Come in!" She opened the door with a wave of her hand, revealing a deathly pale teenage boy with unruly hair and red eyes. Usually she would have called him by his name before opening the door, just to humour him, but what she wanted to discuss today was too serious to allow him to amuse himself by comparing her to their passed Headmaster first. She might not be able to do it then.

"Hello, Hermione. You look younger every night," the boy smiled charmingly showing off white sharp teeth, as he made his way up to her.

She scoffed. "Lier," she muttered, although she did like it, when he complimented her. "Good evening, Harry." She sat comfortably in one her over-stuffed Gryffindor-coloured chairs, sipping a cup of steaming tea, waiting for her friend to make himself at home in the chair opposite of her, before she conjured up a second cup for him, although she knew he wouldn't be able to drink it, because she had long ago found out, that he enjoyed holding the cup tightly in his hands, bringing a little heat to his cold body. They fell into companionable silence, as they often did. After spending so many years together one usually knew, what the other was thinking anyway.

The boy in front of her took the liberty of inspecting the changes in her, as he did more and more often lately. Despite what he had said earlier, he was very aware of the shaking of her withered hands and her pale face. Tonight she looked every of her 145 years; not that he would mention it..., but it made him weary.

She closed her eyes, trying to find the right words for what she wanted to say.

He decided to help her slightly, feeling that she was a little stuck, not knowing how to begin. He prompted lightly, "What is the matter?"

The witch smiled. Of course he would know. She couldn't get to the heart of the problem this easily though. "We have been friends for a long time now, haven't we?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going, but he nodded anyway. They had been friends long before his second life started. "More than a century." As she nodded her head contemplatively, he caught sight of her pained look, before she hid it behind her cup of tea, as she took a small sip. He eyed this with more than a little envy, trying to remember just how it felt, when the hot tea made its way down his throat until it settled in his stomach.

She placed the empty cup on a low table next to her chair, where a heavy book she had just finished reading lay. In it she had found a truly remarkable spell. Her eyes turned sad, but she knew it was for the best of her friend. A tear came to her eye, as a small egoistic part of her screamed that she didn't want to lose him, too, even if he would be happier. She jumped slightly, when a cold, young hand brushed her tears away. Her eyes were staring right into concerned glowing red ones.

"What's wrong 'Mione?" He was getting a little desperate, when his friend threw her arms around him, sobbing horribly. She hadn't cried, since Ron died and he was still very bad, when it came to crying females, but settled for something he vaguely thought he might have seen the horse-faced woman he used to know – What was her name again? Who was she? – do to make a pig-like, blonde-haired child stop crying. He hesitantly rubbed circles on her back and whispered soothing nonsense. In the beginning it seemed to work, but when he muttered: "Don't worry, I'm here...," she stopped her sobbing abruptly, looking at him with a resolution, that seemed to melt her years away and suddenly he found himself seeing the young bushy-haired girl in front of him again. He could almost see the girl and her boyfriend insist on coming along, when he told her and his other best friend Ron about going on his hunt for the Horcruxes. Oh, how he wished he had gone alone now. It could have all ended so much better or he could have just left it to the Order and all of this would have never...

The memory vanished completely, when she said almost the opposite of what she had told him back then,"Yes, but I won't be here much longer." Before him was the ancient, battle-worn woman again.

He let her go, backing a few paces away, as the tired woman sank back into her chair, still staring at him with determination.

She looked at him sympathetically, when his eyes clouded with denial of her words and she was sure that he could only keep himself from retorting angrily by reminding himself that this would only give her the advantage of him acting the way he looked like. He was still a child really. Her eyes turned sad. He would always be a child, no matter what he saw or did. He had been forgotten by time. Left behind really, while everyone else went on without him. "You know that I can't stay with you forever."

His eyes turned dark, but not with fury. He felt desperation. "I will go with you," he declared. They avoided using the word "die" or "dead", preferring the far less harsh sounding synonyms for it.

"You can't and you won't," she informed in a voice, that wasn't unlike it had been when she had still taught Transfiguration.

"The hell I will!" he snarled, baring his fangs, which didn't have the desired effect on her though. "Everybody is there and so will I!"

She sat there observing her friend with a mixture of impatience and mild annoyance, the way she used to feel, when he just didn't understand something she was trying to explain to him. She spoke in the voice a mother might use to explain something rather obvious to her child, which she knew would annoy him to no end, as he, despite his looks, was less than a year younger than her, "You would never throw your life away and you know it. Not after everybody fought so hard to make living possible for you. You couldn't do it, when you were turned and you won't be able to do it now."

"Back then there was still Voldemort and Snape! I just couldn't go without ridding the world of them." he yelled. He knew she was right, but his heart screamed in denial. He had to be able to do this! She was the last attachment he had left. If she was gone, what should he stay here for? He would be ultimately alone and he couldn't even stand the mere thought of it!

She watched as angry, betrayed blood-tears came to his eyes, but he wiped them away before they could fall, smearing blood all over his hands and face. She stood up slowly, mindful of her old bones, levitating a bag, which she had packed herself the night before, when he was out checking, whether a student was out of bed, over to him. "Here, you will need this." She let it float in front of him, but he didn't make any move to grab it out of midair.

The other ancient being's eyes widened in hurt. He exclaimed in disbelief, "You are throwing me out?!" This was the only real home he had ever had! She was the only family he had! Where was he supposed to go?!

She shook her head mildly, giving him an apologetic smile, as she stopped to stand a few paces away from him. "No, I am going to send you somewhere, where you won't have to watch everything grow old and die eventually."

He couldn't help himself. He laughed almost hysterically and he was sure if he had the need to breath, he would have had to choke out the words, "Hermione! The only other immortal thing on this bloody planet are phoenixes and they would hardly tolerate me, 'cause they despise everything dark! Not that I'd ever spent eternity with a few overgrown chickens!" That was a lie and a bad one at that, but he wasn't going to admit that. He loved those birds and would gladly spent all his life, listening to their songs.

"I'm not talking about this world," she explained calmly, causing his laughter to cease abruptly and when she made the floating bag nudge him, he grabbed it on what she was sure was pure instinct.

"Hermione, what are you talking about?" he muttered in confusion.

"I found a very interesting book in the personal library of the Headmasters'. Reading it, I came across a spell with the ability to send a person to a type of people of the caster's choosing. If need be even to another planet, time or reality."

Green eyes widened, when his friend took out her wand. He stepped back hastily, turning around ready to bolt, but he felt his knees go weak, shortly before they collapsed under his body's weight. He used his left arm to turn back to face her, while he fished around the pocket of his robe for his wand, aiming it straight at her, but before he could shout a single spell, a white light struck him squarely in his chest. For a fleeting moment, he thought with no small amount of satisfaction that her spell must not have worked. He yelled, "Expelliarmus!" Nothing happened. Harry blanched, remembering the magic-binding charm. It was just temporary, but it was plenty of time for whatever she wanted to do. He was sure of that. He felt really vulnerable. He had always hated that feeling.

The boy or rather man, for that is, what he really was, turned scared, pleading eyes to his long-time friend, who turned her head away, tears rolling down her cheeks, continuing her silent chant, afraid, that seeing blood tracks make their way down his face in a mockery of her own clear ones, would sway her in her decision.

He was mildly aware that his unruly black hair was blown everywhere by a wind that seemed to come from everywhere at once, as a large pentagram appeared on the floor beneath him.

Continuing her incantation now out loud she unwillingly became aware that her friend was unconsciously clutching the bag close to him, searching for comfort, while he scrunched his eyes shut against the bright light the pentagram was beginning to emit. Guilt almost drowned her, but it was too late to stop. One day he would be glad she did this, she imagined, but she would regret it for the rest of her life. She would never find a friend like him again. She took a deep breath before calling to him, although he probably couldn't hear, since the wind had picked up to something closely resembling a storm, but she could make out the form of a crumbled figure in the middle, "Goodbye, Harry, I will give everybody your regards once I go to see them!" She murmured the last part of the spell out loud and the wind exploded outward in a flash of light, leaving behind an exhausted Headmistress in a room that vaguely reminded her of the boys' old dormitory. The thought sent her into another crying fit and this time there were no cold arms clumsily placed around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. She was alone now...