DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, and that in itself is a tragedy.

Also, I consider this the first good fanfic I've written, besides my oneshot(s), though that's because my other stories were written a few years ago, so please disregard them.

Other than that, please, do enjoy ^_^

As I sat in my room back in number four, Privet Drive, I mulled over the happenings of the end of my fifth year. The events at the ministry had been a disaster, and my inability to perform occlumency had almost cost myself and my friends our lives. Not to mention Sirius. Yes, everyone said that it was a miracle he hadn't died when Bellatrix Lestrange hit him with a Stupefy hex. Of course it wasn't the spell that would have done him in, but the fact that he was so close to the Veil, it was a miracle that he didn't fall in. Everyone in the Department of Mysteries knew that once you went into the Veil, you never came back out. It was that he hit his head extremely hard during his fall that did him in.

So now Sirius was hidden away in Hogwarts, in a magical coma, if you will, unable to receive better treatment at St. Mungo's, what with him being a fugitive and all. What made it worse, though, was that it was all my fault! If I just would have trusted Sirius and given his gift of the two way mirror a try, then none of this would have happened! Granted, Sirius was expected to wake up any day now, and knowing Madam Pomfrey, that prediction would come true. Still, that knowledge did nothing to stop me from waiting anxiously for the letter informing of my Godfather's consciousness, though.

I heaved a sigh and reluctantly managed to pull my gaze away from my open window, and moved toward my desk. All this brooding wasn't good for me, or at least, I imagined it wasn't. What good would it do anyways? What's done is done, and there was nothing I could do to change the outcomes of my decisions, no matter how hard I might wish. No, there would never be an easy solution to my problems, just because of my name. The life of Harry Bloody Potter, the self-proclaimed Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Bloody-Die, could never be simple because of the prophesy and the expectations the wizarding world had for him.

'No,' I thought, 'I can't change the past, but by having more knowledge, maybe I can change the future.' With these more productive thoughts, I pulled out my most recent Transfiguration textbook and began to work on my summer homework. I threw myself into the work with much enthusiasm, if only to keep my mind from wandering down darker, more depressing paths as it had been doing earlier. Besides, now that I wanted to do the work, it was actually interesting, not a burden like it was at school, when it was assigned. It was in that moment that I figured out that you had to want to do something for it to not be a burden.

The essay was on the theory of human transfiguration, a subject that we had not yet breached during fifth year, but would be tackling in full force during our sixth. As I read, I learned that human transfiguration was one of the hardest and most dangerous kinds of magics there were, because if you took something too far, or did something horribly wrong, the affects could be irreversible. Of course, the text went on to state that we would not be doing such dangerous transformations in school. No, those more difficult forms would have to be pursued outside of school, if a career so called for it.

The majority of the lesson was on the smaller, finer points of this precarious art, such as the key concentration on a single body part when transfiguring it. It read, "One must focus on the change, picture it in their mind with no other thoughts interrupting, and say the incantation clearly with the most precise of wand movements." It wasn't much different from what we learned in the past, though this stressed perfection, something I had never been motivated to achieve in the past, but now felt I would be willing to do anything for.

It was several hours later that I put down the book and grabbed my quill and ink well to begin the writing of my essay. I must say, I was rather surprised my relatives, Aunt Petunia in particular, wasn't yelling at me for being lazy and not cleaning something or another. It was then that I remembered that she, my Uncle, and Dudley had gone out for the day, to do whatever fun things a 'normal' family does together. I smiled to myself, the first real smile I've had in a while, and laid my quill down. I stood up, exited my room, and made my way downstairs to the vacant kitchen to get myself some lunch. I was rather hungry for I had worked straight through it, the time now being half past one.

I pulled out some leftover turkey and mashed potatoes from the fridge, put some of each onto a plate, and reheated it in the microwave to just the right temperature for me to eat. The timer went off and I eagerly pulled the food out of the microwave oven, grabbed a fork, and began to shovel the food into my mouth. I knew for a fact that if Hermione was here, she would be admonishing me for my lack of table manners, but at the moment I didn't care.

I finished my food and washed my dishes by hand. Once I was through, I knew that I should have headed back to my unfinished essay, but I just couldn't seem to get myself to concentrate at the moment, so I opted for a walk instead.

My hand was on the front door now when I hesitated, thinking of the order members who were no doubt watching the house at the moment and would surely follow my when I left, leaving me without the privacy I desired. I withdrew my hand, turned on heel, and dashed quickly back up to my room where I hastily grabbed my invisibility cloak.

Once again preparing to leave, my cloak on and my wand on my person, I exited through the back door, for the order members stationed outside surely new of my cloak and would be highly suspicious should the front door open and close with no one exiting it, and the being who opened it invisible as well.

The feeling of being outside again was wonderful, even though the full extent of the breeze didn't reach me under the cloak, that problem would be solved when I was far enough away and could remove it for the necessity to hide under it would be gone.

My paced quickened at the thought of getting away from Privet Drive, and there was definitely a slight bounce in my step, along with a slight smile on my face. Summer vacation had just begun a week ago, though with the restrictions on me by the order, and the chores and occasionally dangerous repairs put on me by my uncle left me feeling caged, unable to lead my own life. Just a small outing like this allowed me to feel more in control, more independent.

I had been walking for over half an hour, still invisible, when I finally came to the downtown shopping district of Little Whinging, Surrey. I dipped down a dark alley where I slipped off the silver material that was the invisibility cloak, folded it precisely, pocketed it, and walked back out into the afternoon light to join the muggles busy with their shopping.

I had a good few pounds on me, which I thankfully had converted over from galleons earlier in the year, which made shopping like this possible for me. There were several things I wanted to get for my use only. Just last year, I found that I wasn't too shabby of an artist (I noticed it when I was doodling on my potions notes) and so I wanted to get a sketchbook and some decent art pencils. Also, a bit of fictional reading wouldn't hurt me either, so I intended to go to a bookstore. If I just kept reading informational text this summer, my brain would turn to mush, though I normally would have thought it the other way around.

The shopping was uneventful, my sketchpad and drawing tools acquired, as well as some books by the titles of Captivated, The Sight, Black Tattoo, and lastly, Haunted. They were all rather thick books and would provide many hours of content entertainment later in the summer.

Having nothing better to do, I continued milling in and out of shops, looking, but not buying, until I came to a small store that sold jewelry, from elegant and expensive to gothic and cheapish. I edged more toward the lesser gothic-looking items and found that a silver pocket watch with a Celtic design carved into the lid had caught my fancy. I picked it up with reverence and popped the lid over, the face of a clock done in roman numerals staring back at me, the second hand making its way around the face.

I felt urged to buy this watch, knowing that I would use it, but that I already had a perfectly good watch as it was. I justified my purchase as my old watch was nearing three years of use and the glass face was scratched. I paid for the watch and exited the store.

I adjusted the time to the correct on my new possession and noted that the time was now six forty-three. Despite my late lunch, I was feeling rather ravenous, so I walked over to a sit-down restaurant with a more casual atmosphere and waited to be seated. A young waitress with an overly enthusiastic smile took me to a small booth for two set for one. I ordered a Pepsi and sat there in silence, looking over the menu, waiting for her to return with my drink.

The waitress, whose name escaped me, came back with me drink and asked "What would you like to order this evening, sir?" Sir. I had never been referred as that by any creature but a house elf before, it just seemed strange to me.

"I'll have the steak, medium well, with fries." I told her. She smiled again as I handed back the menu, and left to go tend to some other customer. I looked out the window and noted that the shadows were stretching and creeping over everything as night fell and the darkness became more pronounced. I realized that I should be afraid right now, for my life from Death Eaters, as I now had to make my way home on foot through the dark, far from the warded protection of my home.

Also, I realized, I should fear what my relatives would do to me because they had specifically ordered me not to go outside because they didn't want the neighbors to see what a freak I was. My food came. I no longer dwelled on what I should fear as I began to eat.

I was tired of fearing everything! Voldemort, his minions, my family, the disapproval of my friends; There was too much of me being afraid in my life, so I just put it out of mind for now, though it would, of course, come back to haunt me later. It always did.

I finished my meal, paid my tab, and left a generous tip for my waitress, Miss NoName. The bell rang as I exited the restaurant and began to head home. Once I came to the end of the shopping district, I once again had planned to slip into an alleyway to pull my cloak on, but was met with an unexpected sight in the alley I currently looked down.

I couldn't quite put together what I was seeing at first, only a man, around the age of twenty-five, with a woman pressed up to the wall, and his face in her neck. I couldn't see the woman's expression, for her face was hidden by the visage of the man, so I couldn't tell if she was enjoying this attention or not. I realized I should do something if this man was trying to rape her, but I just stood there, looking on, unsure of why I didn't act.

Several minutes later, the man pulled back from the woman, and for the first time I saw her expression of dazed pain, which, after a look into the man's eyes, drifted into blank confusion. The man then turned toward me and I saw the scarlet red substance dripping from his chin. 'Blood!' my mind screamed at me. 'He's a vampire!' I took and unconscious step back from him.

The vampire, fangs protruding in an amused smile, wiped his mouth on a white cloth he pulled from his pocket, and turned to face me fully as he finished and slipped the now blood-stained fabric back into his coat. He stared at me intently, then asked, "Aren't you scared, Childe?" I shivered at his melodic voice, it was just so perfect, inhumanly so. 'How fitting,' I though.

I pulled myself together and replied, "No, I am not." And it was true, I wasn't. My earlier observation of fearing too many beings and things flashed back into my mind, and suddenly, for the moment at least, I felt unable to fear.

"Oh, and why is that?" Questioned the vampire.

I glance around to see if there were any muggles on the street with us and when I was sure that there weren't, I pulled out my wand and pointed it at him. "Because I could kill you with two words." I said confidently.

The vampire smirked, cold and unnerving, though the expression didn't make his face any less beautiful, now that I could see it better, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. He had shoulder length strait blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and he was dressed in a stylish ensemble of black. I was still taking in his appearance when he suddenly blurred momentarily and disappeared.

In a moment, he was standing behind me, speaking. "So you have magic, eh Childe? Even so, you are no match for a vampire's speed and strength. Also, you might want to remember that a vampire is 'dead' in the sense that they cannot be killed by normal means, killing curse included."

My body was rigid as he spoke to me, just waiting for him to harm me, kill me even, for my insolence toward him. I really should have paid more attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts so I would know more about vampires.

We stood together like this for several minutes before I began to relax and the vampire walked in front of me. "You really are a strange Childe." He commented amused. He was smiling at me with no anger or hard feeling, no harmful emotions what so ever, and that confused me, and he read that on my face for he continued, saying "I will not hold actions against a young Childe such as you."

I stared at him, trying to figure out how I should react, what I should do next, and then just shrugged, and decided that if he meant no harm, I should just go with the flow. I slid my wand back into my jeans and relaxed my grip on my shopping bags, releasing the tension in my body.

"Tell me Childe, what is your name?" The vampire asked, noting the change in my stance.

I replied with a prompt "Harry Potter. And you?"

His eyes widened in recognition of the name, and that confirmed my past musings where I wondered if all intelligent magical creatures new my name. "Victor Von Zhet" he replied in turn, only pausing for a moment after I had asked the question.

"Hmm, strange name." I commented nonchalantly.

Victor smiled wryly. "I suppose it would be, to one as uncultured as you." He said teasingly.

This was very strange for me, strange indeed. I was having a seemingly normal conversation with a vampire, something that DADA had led me to believe was impossible, that every vampire was a bloodthirsty killer, but I knew for a fact that the woman Victor had fed on was still alive, for I could see the slight rise and fall of her chest in the alley. I realized then that DADA could be wrong vampires, for they were about every werewolf being vicious and evil, Lupin was living proof of that.

Victor looked at me strangely, probably because of the expression I wore while thinking these things through. "Well, then Childe, I believe I will leave you to be on your way now."

He turned to leave as I looked on, but suddenly his leaving just felt wrong. "Wait!" I called, stumbling after him. He stopped and turned to look back at me, an eyebrow raised inquiring for what I wanted. I felt so stupid then, unable to come up with a suitable reply, my mouth opening and closing in a manner I would have thought to resemble a fish.

"How about I walk you home? That way we have some more time to talk." I swallowed and nodded, Victor's gaze unnerving. He seemed unusually intrigued by me, though I hadn't an inkling why.

We began to head back to Privet Drive together, him keeping pace with me, because his legs were longer, as he had a few inches on me, standing at what I guessed was about five foot eleven. Much taller than me at five foot eight, but nothing on Ron's six foot three.

"So, what were you doing out this late anyways?" Victor asked after a bit of silence, trying to strike up a new conversation. I glanced his way, contemplating my answer.

"Just a bit of shopping." Was my short reply. It confused me. I had wanted Victor's attention, but now that I had it, I wasn't sure what I wanted from him, not even what I should say.

Victor chuckled. "Why so nervous, Harry? Don't bother to deny it, I can smell it on you. Let's just treat each other like old friends, so call me Vick. That's what my friends call me."

I smirked at the way he had lightened the mood. Here was a God knows how old vampire giving me, a not even sixteen year old boy permission to treat him as though we had known each other our whole lives. It made me kind of glad, though, in a strange way, that there was a being out there, human or not, that was kind enough to do something like that just to make me less nervous.

"Alright then, Vick." I said, enunciating the syllable that was the vampire's name, "You mind if I ask how old you are?"

He just smiled at me. " Three hundred twenty-four." He told me matter-of-factly.

I just gaped at him. I knew vampires could live forever, granted if no outside force took their life, but I also knew that the Wizarding World housed the occupation of vampire hunter, and many vampires had trouble reaching their three hundredth birthday, and Victo- , no Vick had surpassed that. I felt my respect for him growing.

After my asking his age, things between us lightened up, and we began to chatter randomly about whatever subject came to mind, ranging from how we liked the weather that night, to the death we've seen in our lives, Vick's experiences considerably outnumbering my own.

All too soon we reached the street of Privet Drive and we had to split ways. "Well, Goodbye then." I said nonchalantly, like I wouldn't miss this random vampire I had just met that night.

"Oh no, you're not getting rid of me that easily." Vick said with good humor. "We can still meet each other, maybe get some coffee sometime." He said, and I smiled gratefully at him, and he returned the gesture. I once again turned to leave, but Vick's voice halted me in my tracks. "You know," he began, "you would make a good vampire." I swiveled on my heel and stared at him, mouth agape. He looked a bit sheepish now, as he continued. "If you ever find yourself wanting to be a vampire, the offer stands. I wouldn't mind turning you, and putting in the time to teach you our ways."

I stared. What else could I do? I couldn't believe he had just offered to turn me into a creature of the night! Was he insane? I mean, he was a vampire and I liked him, and yeah, that thing he did earlier with his speed was kind of cool, but that didn't mean I wanted to be a vampire! . . . did it? My eyes narrowed from somewhat horrified to calculating and considering. Would it really be so bad to be a vampire? Vick didn't seem too horrible, and he had even said that the killing curse didn't work on vampires. That would be really handy in defeating Voldemort, if his favorite curse couldn't do me in.

Finally, after several minutes, I asked, "If I let you turn me, would I have to leave here and go with you?"

He nodded. "Yes, that would be necessary for me to teach you our ways. Oh, and I wouldn't be making you into a full vampire yet, just a half vampire. The only difference is that you still age, 'cause you're too young for the vampiric virus to fully take effect. I can infect you with it, but you wouldn't be a full vampire until sometime between your eighteenth and twentieth birthdays." Vick supplied, hoping to annul any deterrent I may feel for looking like I was fifteen for the rest of eternity.

I regarded the vampire closely, looking for any reason to doubt what he just said, but found none."I'll think about it." I said, my comment ringing with finality, hinting that we should now depart.

"How about we meet again. Soon? How about eight o'clock at the café on South Street on Thursday? That will give you two days to think things over. You can give me your answer then." I nodded my affirmation, then walked away, and stepped into the house. It was only when I was inside that I realized I had walked the whole way home without my invisibility cloak on and that any order member stationed outside would have seen me and would probably report back to Dumbledor that I was partaking in the company of a strange older man who looked at least ten years older than me. It was then that I decided that I didn't care as well. I had something much more important to consider at the moment without the Order of the Phoenix breathing down my neck.

"Where have you been boy?" Uncle Vernon was shouting at me as soon as I came into sight. "You didn't do your chores, either! We had told you to stay inside so the neighbors cannot see you for the freak you are!"

"I- I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon." I stammered, for some reason unable to stand up to this man. I couldn't meet his eyes either, so my eyes wandered around the room and found my cousin, Dudley, smirking at my being in trouble, and my Aunt Petunia looking at me with contempt.

SMACK! Uncle Vernon hit my face hard, snapping my neck to the side, cracking some of the vertebrae. "You do not disobey us, boy!" my uncle screamed, and punched me hard in the gut, and I doubled over, gasping, on the floor. All the while, Petunia was looking away and pretending not to see what was going on and Dudley wasn't even trying to stifle his snickers. "Now go to your room, you freak, and don't you dare come out until tomorrow!"

I was lefty lying on the floor, a disgraceful sight in this house, and I knew that my face was sporting a nice red mark that would fade by morning, and a bruise on my midsection that would take at least a week to heal. I was only glad that Vernon had not taken my shopping bags as well, as that would defeat the purpose of going out today anyway. Well, that and meeting Vick.

Vick. The vampire. The one who said he would make me one as well if I so chose. The one who said he would take me away from here if I chose to be a vampire. That would be another plus to accepting his offer, to get away from here. Oh yes, I had much to consider, I thought to myself as I walked painfully up the stairs to my room that, to this day, was still littered with Dudley's broken things.

Reaching my destination, I pulled open the door, shut it tight, locked it, and deposited my things on my desk. I then proceeded to replace my invisibility cloak into its rightful place in my trunk, and finally flopped exhausted down onto my bed. That's when I really began thinking; to be a vampire, or not to be a vampire. That was the question.