A/N:

Apologies for the delay. At the risk of sounding like a broken record if you follow any of my other stories, I try to write when I can but it's been hard finding time and motivation lately. Real life and all that.

Here is a disclaimer that unfortunately states that I do not own anything that I am writing about and am merely hoping to play in another author's sandbox for a short time and what follows is for entertainment purposes only.

Harry consciously exhaled for the umpteenth time as his head rested against the glass window as the Hogwarts Express barreled down the tacks to London. Acting like he needed oxygen like everyone else was far more difficult than he had thought it would be. And not just because every inhalation of fresh air brought another wave of the tantalizing aroma that wafted off of his friends.

No, what was more annoying than resisting the urge to feed on the blood of those around him was the thought that for the rest of his life Harry would have to be constantly aware enough to perform an act that was so commonplace and necessary to merely existing that most humans never bothered to think about the simple act of breathing in and out. But now he needed to. Needed to act like he was just like them so that they didn't become suspicious of his new nature.

Because he didn't want to let anyone in on what had happened to him. At least, not until he knew exactly what it was that had made him stronger and more capable in almost every way.

And even then he wasn't sure that he would reveal the depths of his new abilities. But as he sat there, in their compartment, he knew that reaching that point of ultimate discovery was still a ways away.

Every day, it seemed, he was discovering some new thing that his body was now capable of. It was more awesome really.

Sure, eating in the traditional sense had become a tedious exercise of forcing spoonful after spoonful or dull, boring slop down his throat. Never once had he found that it did anything to quench the constant dryness in the back of his throat. Only blood could do that. Copious amount of hot, thick, crimson blood.

Just thinking about the feeling of the warm liquid coating the inside of his mouth was enough to make him shift uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes drifted over the pulsing necks of his two best friends. So there was a downside to who he now was.

A minor one if he was being honest with himself, and he quickly shook his head of doing any harm to Ron or Hermione. Instead he focused on the positive side of things.

Like the sheer amount of potential strength and speed that his muscles had flowing through them. Or knowing that he could both see and hear far better and clearer than anyone had a right to.

That wasn't even the best part, though. What Harry had come to appreciate most about the change was the good it had done to his mind. His thoughts were so rapid and clear. And his memory! His ability to remember things had gone from decent to perfect recall. If he had wanted to he could have replayed every single moment since the time he had woken up in the infirmary.

This was just like discovering he was a wizard, only better. Now he would truly be able to carve out the future that he wanted for himself, and be better able to deal with all of the shit that had come with being the Boy Who Lived.

Plus, he would have the entire summer to adjust to his new body and his new abilities before returning to Hogwarts again. Harry would never have thought that he would have looked this forward to returning to the Dursley's. Times were a changing, however, and he was going to run with this new opportunity for all it was worth.

So naturally, Harry followed those thoughts into developing a todo list of sorts for what he wanted, no needed, to accomplish this summer. Of course, that hadn't taken very long. Not with how efficient his mind was now.

Therefore, aside from ignoring the aching thirst in the back of his throat Harry turned his attention on soaking up the last remaining hours he had with his friends.

Even if he had to remind himself several times that they were his friends and not food.

Harry was just thankful that not much conversation was required, since Hermione was still getting over the whole not being petrified thing and Ron was dealing with the existential crisis that came with almost being obliviated. Those types of ordeals necessitated less chitchat and more games of Exploding Snap. And eventually the train pulled into King's Cross station and the trio gathered their belongings and made for the platform. The usual goodbyes were said and the requisite promises were made to keep in touch through owl post, and then they went their separate ways.

Harry effortlessly pulled along his trunk and his eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam when he caught sight of the Dursleys. As usual they pretended that he simultaneously didn't exist and that he also was the biggest inconvenience in the world.

But Harry didn't care anymore with how they treated him – he just knew that this summer would be different. His days of living in fear of them were over.

A thought which had first put what Vernon thought to be an unnerving smile on Harry's face. However, twenty minutes later and on the car ride back to Privet Drive, Harry's smirk was still there.

"What are you so pleased about, boy?" Vernon barked from the front seat while glaring at him through the rear view mirror.

"Nothing," Harry replied as his grin widened. He was beyond thankful that the Dursleys did not smell appetizing in the least. Because pining over their blood would have been a very awkward thing, indeed. He didn't want them anywhere near his mouth.

He shuddered slightly with that thought, but never took his eyes off Vernon. Who, by the way, kept getting redder and redder the closer they got to home.

In fact, by the time they got to Privet Drive, Vernon looked ready to explode.

Petunia and Dudley immediately bolted inside the house upon parking in the garage while Harry took his time to collect his school items.

However, as he was walking towards the door to the kitchen Vernons arm reached in front of him, preventing him from leaving the garage.

Harry had been expecting his Uncle to pull something like this so he calmly set his trunk down and stared right back.

"Yes?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Vernon was practically shaking with rage.

"You listen here boy and you listen good," Vernon roared. "I will not tolerate your funny business this summer."

His plump finger shook menacingly in Harry's face.

"Any funny business, any whatsoever and you will be out of our home before you can even blink."

Vernon then smiled in that sickly way after proving his dominance, which in the past Harry immediately would have kowtowed to.

But not anymore.

"No," he said very matter-of-factly.

"No?" Vernon growled out, his face turning a lovely shade of purple.

"I'm going to stay out of your way and you are going to stay out of mine. You are also going to treat me with some modicum of respect – if you know what is good for you," Harry finished in a low voice but knowing perfectly well that Vernon had heard every word.

Then Vernon did something that he had never attempted before: he moved to slap Harry across the face.

Except that Harry was fast. Very fast. His hand shot up faster than Vernon's large eyes could follow and held Vernon's wrist in an iron-like grip.

From Vernon's point of view, one minute he had been swinging at his nephew's head and the next thing he knew he couldn't move his arm.

No matter how much he tried to wrest it free from Harry's fingers it just would not budge.

"I'm going to say this. One. More. Time." Harry annunciated very slowly.

He emphasized his words by applying more pressure to Vernon's wrist and angling it backwards so that Vernon cried out in pain and dropped to his knees.

Were Harry to apply any more force the man's arm would have snapped.

"Things are going to change around here, Uncle. You leave me alone and I will leave you alone. Believe me when I say you won't like having this discussion a second time."

Vernon started to whimper with the pain shooting up his arm.

"What in the devil are you doing, boy!" He cried out. "You're not supposed to use magic outside of school."

"But Uncle," his deadly and musical voice caused a wave of fear to crash over the elder Dursley, "I'm not using any magic."

With this Harry's smile became truly predatory and Vernon flinched. It had suddenly became very clear to Vernon Dursley that the power dynamics had fundamentally changed. He gulped like the large prey he was.

"I trust that you will inform Petunia and Dudley of our new understanding?"

Harry's green eyes shone with glee when Vernon nodded very quickly, his face putting his fear fully on display.

"Wonderful! "Harry smirked and released his grip, causing Vernon to role backwards, clenching his bruised wrist.

"I'm glad we had this little chat, Uncle," Harry said in a perfectly normal voice before picking up his school trunk again and leaving Vernon to question just how much his danger his family was in.

He would have sulked in the garage for longer but heaved himself upright; he needed to have a discussion with his wife and son as soon as possible. For all their sakes.

Harry, meanwhile, headed straight for his room. Once inside he set his trunk down and tried to get his emotions under control. It had been difficult, very difficult to not permanently injure his Uncle. While he had been surprised that Vernon had tried to hit him – a form of of abuse he had never experience before – his retaliation had felt right, good even.

He had enjoyed it. Enjoyed seeing the look of terror pass through the man's eyes and the stench of fear that penetrated the man's greasy pores. For a moment Vernon had feared for his life and Harry had seen it, had found satisfaction in it.

Was he evil now? Was he a danger to others?

'No' he shook that thought quickly from his head. Well, mostly from his head.

He was a danger – at least, he was capable of hurting others. But so were other people. Hell, anyone could be considered dangerous his improved and rational mind quickly provided.

It wasn't like he had sought Vernon out to bully him; he had been responding to a threat. 'Very effectively,' he added silently.

And he hadn't abused his newfound power either. He had responded to his Uncle's threat in an appropriate manner, one that was effective in making Vernon understand that it was in both the man and his family's best interest to live and let live.

He just wanted to be left alone and in return he would leave them alone. That was fair, wasn't it?

Actually, in the mere seconds that these thoughts took place inside his head, he quickly came to the conclusion that he had been more than justified in how he responded. He probably could have taken things further considering the ways his so-called family had abused and neglected him over the years.

His response had been kind even when he thought about it like that.

No longer worried about his morality Harry went through his trunk and prepared to go through the todo list he had made on the train.

First up was going through all of his books from first year. Given that he now remembered pretty much everything Harry was keen on extended that ability to his school work. And since he didn't require sleep Harry spent the entire night flipping through pages. He took only a single break to grab some food from the kitchen after the Dursleys had gone to bed.

Several hours later he took a second break to go outside and stretch his legs. At least one of the good things about living where they did was that he didn't have to go very far to be alone. A few miles and he was under the cover of a forest and truly able to be himself. He could run, he could jump, he could even test the limit of his strength. Harry had been wonderfully excited to know that he was able to lift a fallen tree over his head.

Plus, he could give into his hunger and feed. Only, he quickly learned after draining the deer that he had happened upon, not all sources of blood tasted the same. Even though the blood cooled the burning in the back of his throat, it hadn't satisfy him in the same way that the blood of the Centaur had.

Which was disappointing but probably for the best since he had felt slightly guilty over killing a sentient being. Though, as Harry began his journey back to Privet Drive, he could only wonder how a human tasted. Were they better or worse?

If judging by the smell had anything to do with it then he would have bet a few galleons on the former. Pushing aside whether or not he could stomach murder as he ticked off the last few miles home, Harry decided to cross that ethical dilemma when he got to it.

He returned to his room while the Dursleys were still asleep and continued his studies. Harry spent the next few days going through the same routine.

He would make an appearance at Breakfast, shovel down some food to avoid suspicion and then spend the day in his room finishing up year one and moving onto year two. Every time he finished one book he would close his eyes and meditate, holding his wand and trying to concentrate on feeling the magic flow through him again. Of course, he was careful not to actually use magic, just to make sure that it was ready to be summoned at a moment's notice. He couldn't very well enter his third year and suddenly have problems with casting spells. That would do no good at all if he wanted to avoid suspicion.

Then he would repeat his breakfast performance at dinner, becoming very happy to see that all three Dursleys kept their distance from him and didn't antagonize him in any way whatsoever.

His nights were spent in a similar manner except for when he would leave the residence and explore the nearby woods. Harry set out in different direction each time to avoid places where he had already been.

This went on for about a week until Harry finished reading through all of his previous material.

The next day Harry decided to cross out the next item on his todo list and that was to make a visit to Diagon Alley and get more reading material, hopefully uncovering the exact nature of his transformation in the process.

While he was tempted to simply make the journey into London by foot – since he found the sensation of running so similar to flying at top speed on his broom - Harry thought it would be more prudent to take public transportation.

It wasn't that horrible and it did give him more practice at swallowing back the thick liquid in his throat that came whenever the captivating smell of blood hit his nostrils. Again, the longer he spent resisting, the easier it became to not bite down on someone's neck and give into his urges. One thing that made it slightly more difficult to not focus on them, however, was with the looks that some people sent his way. Now, he knew that the change had slightly smoothed his skin or sharpened out his facial features but these alterations had been so minute that he was convinced that only he could notice them because of his increased senses.

But sometimes, and to Harry this was both ironic and awkward because he was twelve, but he could have sworn that there was a hunger in one or two of their eyes. What had they been staring at?

By the time he made it to The Leaky Cauldron he was both relieved and almost desensitized to their smell. Almost.

After entering the pub Harry quickly made his way to the back, wasting no time in tapping the required bricks with his wand to reveal Diagon Alley.

It was around mid-morning and there were only a few people milling about, and so Harry walked as quickly and non-suspiciously as he could to where Gringotts was located.

This was a test of sorts in Harry's mind since in the back of his mind he had wondered if the Goblins would notice or care over what he had become. Though, he had taken this chance since Dumbledore had not reacted differently to him and if he had remained undetected then then in his mind there was a low risk of anyone else cottoning on.

Still, his senses were running at maximum as he pushed open the door and headed into the bank. One step forward, then two steps, and since none of the goblins that lined the central walkway to the teller reacted abnormally to his presence by the thirtieth step, Harry likely concluded that his secret was safe.

Also, Harry made the mental note that goblins smelled horrible and were less appetizing than even the Dursleys had been – which was saying something.

By the time Harry reached the end he was mostly relaxed and proceeded with his mission.

"Hello, Harry Potter would like to be shown to his vault. Please," he added for good measure.

The scratching of the goblin's quill against the parchment did not slow as he responded.

"And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?"

Harry dangled the metal key in his hand and raised it.

"Yes."

"Very well, step aside and Ragnock will show you to your vault momentarily."

Harry did as instructed and twenty minutes later he left Gringotts with a healthy amount of gold tucked safely away in his extendable bag.

His first purchase was to get a new, feather-light and shrinkable trunk that had several compartments, each of which was the size of a small room.

Even though he didn't actually need a physical library on account of his eidetic memory, since he only needed to read something once to remember it, he did need a way to carry all of his planned purchases home since he couldn't very well come to Diagon Alley every day and simply read the books in the store. Making the back and forth commute would be a foolish waste of time and so he was more than willing to part with his galleons in exchange for the books that he would spend the rest of the summer reading.

It wasn't like he couldn't afford the several thousand galleons he parted with; with what remained in his trust vault and then in the larger Potter vault, he had more than enough to last him the rest of his life. It was crazy actually to think about how wealthy he was.

The clerk in Flourish & Blotts had been more than happy to assist him too, and didn't even consider it weird that someone so young would buy so many books. As soon as he had seen the amount of gold the boy possessed, the thought of the commission he would make completely overrode all other thoughts.

It was after dark when Harry selected his last book, paid for everything, and then left Diagon Alley. By this time he was less inclined on taking public transit back and more in the mindset that he could stop off in one of the secluded green areas and catch a deer or two for dinner. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and the burn in the back of his throat had gotten harder and harder to ignore as the day went on.

Still, it wasn't like Harry could simply risk exposure and race through the streets of London using his incredibly fast speeds – people would still be able to see him. So he started walking – knowing that he would get there when he got there. It wasn't like he would get tired, and if he did well it would be good to know that he his body had a limit.

Block after block passed in short order and though Harry walked by some people that smelled delicious he never once was seriously tempted to give into his thirst. Eventually, however, Harry's journey had him pass through one of the more seedier parts of London. Which he wouldn't have even noticed if not for a very bad Muggle that got in his way.

There he was, minding his own business, not doing anything to anyone when someone grabbed him from behind. Of course, he had heard the approaching steps but simply figured that someone was in a hurry to get someplace. Thus, he was mildly surprised and annoyed when said hands pulled him into a nearby alley way and shoved him against the brick wall.

Now, Harry could have easily prevented any part of that from happening but the disheveled man with grime on his face smelled delicious. So delicious in fact that Harry's eyes narrowed with a hungry look in his eyes.

His throat burned in agony and all he wanted to do was reach out and sink his lips on to the man's pulsating artery in his neck. It was so tempting and for a minute Harry was lost in his thoughts about what to do. It was right there in front of him, becoming more and more flushed with color as the man mistook his hunger for shock and fear.

Which excited him.

"Shh," the creepy man said.

"This will hurt less if you don't put up a fight."

The obviously drunk man – judging by his breath – leered at Harry.

"That's a good boy," his husky breath washed over Harry's face.

However, the moment the man moved to grab the front of Harry's trousers, Harry had come to a decision,.

His right hand moved like lightening to grab ahold of the man's throat while his left hand effortlessly used the man's own wayward arm to twist him around. Before the drunk even knew what had happened he was pushed onto his knees and his would-be target was now whispering in his ear.

"Shh," Harry's beautifully deadly voice brushed against his neck.

His hand moved from the man's neck to wrap around his mouth, applying just enough pressure to provide more access to his throat.

"Though, this will likely hurt regardless of whether you put up a fight. But you deserve it and your presence will not be missed."

Then Harry's teeth shot downward and his teeth quickly penetrated the man's skin. Mouthful after mouthful of the most exquisite thing that Harry had ever tasted filled his mouth.

He was so focused on lapping up each and every drop of that thick, red nectar that he paid no attention to the screams that died against his hand. It wasn't like anyone was nearby to hear them anyways.

Harry reached nirvana as his stomach protested the last little bits of blood that the drunk's slowly beating heart was delivering to his mouth. Soon, it was all gone and the body dropped to the ground.

"Well, I guess that answers whose blood is most delicious," Harry lamented as his sense returned to him and he fully began to realize that he had just taken a life.

Only, even though that he knew murder was wrong he couldn't find it in him to care all that much. That man would have violated him and had probably done that to someone just like him who hadn't been able to fight back. He had done a good thing as far as he was concerned.

At least that was what he told himself as he then thought what to do with the body, which was honestly a more pressing concern. It wasn't like he could simply leave the man where he was, not with his neck looking like that!

In the end, Harry just stored the body in his trunk and carried it with him as he made his way out of London. Once he made it to the country side, he dug a hole, buried the body and went on his way as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

And he returned home with no one the wiser while miles away another young boy was struggling to come to terms with being fifty years in the future.

Happy to know what you think!