Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter series or any of the characters. We're just borrowing them for play, we're not making any money off of this.

A Waking Dream of Life and Light

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In visions of the dark night

I have dreamed of joy departed

But a waking dream of life and light

Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day

To him whose eyes are cast

On things around him with a ray

Turned back upon the past?

A Dream – Edgar Allan Poe

-~-

Prologue

-~-

Pain.

In that moment, it was all he knew.

It was funny, thinking back, how this trumped even his turning – that feeling of every vein in your body constricting and freezing over, everything within you drawing in and crystallizing yet yearning to burst because of the agonizing firetearing through. Knowing you were dying, that you were already dead.

It was the acknowledgement of the pain that heightened it; there was no release.

At that moment, what he knew was that behind his eyes there was a pounding that made his head feel as though it was five times its weight. The vehement pulsing made him groan, and he dragged a hand up to block his eyes from the burning light that shone through his eyelids.

Wait...the sun?

Harry bolted upright. The sun couldn't be out. It was raining when he'd killed Voldemort, and—

And he killed Voldemort!

It was finally over, all of it! He was free, completely free! Though...

Where was he?

Harry cautiously drew his hand from over his face, a pained hiss escaping his lips. Damn, the sun gave him such a headache. It was just so bright.

Spying a tree through the glaring rays, Harry slunk over to the shade and dropped to the ground once more. His head was killing him. How was he supposed to think?

The answer was simply, really. He had to; the pain didn't matter.

Harry pulled his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on his cool arms. Before he could figure out how he got here, he had to figure out where here was.

He slowly lifted his head and blinked blearily. The sun must be making him delusional. It wasn't where he was that confused him, really, because he knew that the Battle of Hogwarts had ended here – Hogwarts, that is.

What really confused him was how clean it all smelled.

Just hours ago this had been a battlefield, and if anyone had asked him, Harry could have sworn that he would never be able to get the smell of blood to leave his nostrils. But now...

There was nothing.

The grounds were completely empty; not a body in sight, not a single drop of blood. Hell, even the atmosphere screamed peace. It was almost as if the whole thing had never taken place.

Scratch that. It was as if it had never taken place.

In fact, if he hadn't known any better, Harry would have said the whole thing was some sort of mad dream.

But it couldn't be a dream, because he could still smell the blood on his clothes, could still feel the strain in his muscles.

And he was pretty sure dreams weren't supposed to hurt so much.

Harry sighed, he was getting too distracted, and the sun was impairing him with a headache. Standing warily, in a vain attempt to reduce the pain, he started the trek up to his old school.

Walking across the grounds gave Harry a sense of nostalgia. How long had it been since he had been a student here? The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn't even know what the year was anymore. How long had he been a vampire on the run? No longer the Boy-Who-Lived, but the Man-Who-Survived.

Harry knuckled his eyes as he started up the steps to the great doors of Hogwarts. Why was he thinking so much anyways? It was just making his head pound worse. Every time his foot made contact with the ground, he winced in pain. Why did it have to be so sunny? What had he done wrong?

And why would the wizarding world leave their vampire hero out in the sun, anyways?

That last thought caused a hysterical giggle to burst out of Harry. He wasn't exactly the Boy-Who-Lived anymore, was he? He wasn't living anymore.

Finally, mercifully, Harry reached the doors. He pulled them open and stumbled inside, walking right into Dumbledore.

The old wizard looked at Harry strangely, as if he either couldn't believe Harry was there, or that someone had managed to walk into him.

After a moment of staring dumbfounded at each other, abruptly the force of Dumbledore's twinkling eyes was aimed at Harry.

"And what brings you here, um, ah..." Dumbledore trailed off, the former question issued with kindness ending awkwardly as he realized that he didn't know Harry's name.

Wait, what?

Harry blinked unintelligently for several moments. But, Dumbledore had died. So then...

"Could you tell me what the date is?"

The old wizard eyed the vampire oddly for a moment, before responding, "August 31st, 1976, if I'm not mistaken."

Harry blinked again. How...?

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon glasses, an eyebrow slightly raised. Of course, anyone would be confused at someone appearing at the door of a grand school inquiring what the date was, but he seemed more curious now than surprised. Damn Dumbledore's aura of omniscience!

"Did you cross the grounds just to ask me the date, dear boy, or do you wish to speak with someone?" Dumbledore asked, a small smile on his lips. Harry didn't find him very funny, but of course, his head was pulsing irritatingly so some might say that he was a tad aggravated.

Due to the existence of magic, if Harry had had an appointment he would have flooed surely, which was what Dumbledore had pointed out. Gathering a quick excuse, he spewed, "I wanted to know if I could attend Hogwarts this year."

Well, he was interested in walking through the halls of the great castle once again - while it wasn't composed solely of crumbling walls housing bloodied bodies. He was physically sixteen anyways, he might as well have something to do while figuring out how he'd managed to travel back in time and how he was going to return.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose up to his hairline. "Really? How fascinating. I suppose you could be sorted with the first years, and join those of your age afterward. Now, what is your name, my boy?"

Harry's muscles tensed. He hadn't actually thought this through. Not that he should be particularly surprised, Hermione had always said that he needed to learn to think things through before he went and did something stupid.

Well, now he'd gone and done something stupid. Looks like he hadn't tied much substance to her words.

"Harry," he said slowly, stalling for time. If this was the year 1976, then his parents would be here, so he needed a name that wouldn't be too close to theirs.

Naturally, he jumped to the next name that came to mind. "Slythe," he said after a burst of inspiration. Technically he was Slytherin's heir, even if that was because of a freak accident.

"Harry Slythe? Interesting," Dumbledore said, tapping his lips with one gnarled finger.

"And how far have you progressed in your education?"

"I'm in my sixth year," Harry said without missing a beat. It was his sixth year, after all, that he was turned.

"Very well then," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Tomorrow night is when the Sorting is taking place. There are a few forms for you to sign due to you being a... transfer," he said, eyeing Harry as though expecting to spot an explanation that had suddenly appeared. He continued on as though there hadn't been a pause though, "For Ministry purposes you understand. Tomorrow after you've been sorted I will fetch you outside your common room once you've unpacked and detail Hogwarts' curriculum. Your classes will be sorted out then, my boy, so you won't have to worry about supplies ahead of time. Now! I do have a matter of great importance regarding a house elf and the care of my woollen socks, so if there aren't any questions?"

Harry mutely shook his head, and Dumbledore asked with a smile, "You have pleasant housing tonight, don't you?" Harry nodded, not having a place to stay but knowing it wouldn't be hard to find one as he did know his way around. He watched, amused, as Dumbledore nodded and went off to take care of his 'matter of great importance.'

-~-

Harry stood at the front of the Great Hall among several first years. He thought he would have felt more awkward waiting to be sorted again - especially since he was physically five years older than every other student waiting - but he didn't. Maybe it was because his once messy black mop was now a casual disarray, and he was no longer bespeckled. Really, it was a wonder that good looks could boost one's confidence so much.

Sometimes, being a vampire was worth the pain.

"Slythe, Harry."

Harry started, not having realized the sorting had begun. He walked over to the stool and sat down gracefully, waiting for Professor McGonagall to place the Sorting Hat on his head.

After what seemed like an eternity, an all too familiar voice echoed in his head.

Interesting, truly interesting. A marvellous mind, I see. And quite a past.

Harry rolled his eyes.

Could we just get this over with, please? Harry asked, We both know where you're going to put me.

It does seem that I've already sorted you once. How curious. Well, I suppose you'd do best in...

"SLYTHERIN!"

Author's Note: Well, not really, considering this is Vick's story. She's too lazy to post it herself so yeah ;D

Vicki's note: Hummkay, this is a plot bunny that caught me in the middle the night, and I thought it was a crazy good idea - and Dray agreed with me. So here we are, hot off the press, a nice new collaboration between the two of us. It got sent back and forth between us for several hours, and credits to Dumbledore go to Dray (as I couldn't write him if my life depended on it). Enjoy.

All of the reviews will be sent to her also and I'll see if she'll join me in replying ;3 I hope you like how we've started it, put it on your alerts!! There's a lot more to come!