Disclaimer: I OWN HARRY POTTER! lawyers march in with pitchforks OKAY! I don't own Harry Potter! lawyers march off Gits. scowls after them

Warning: Might be a bit confusing as it switches from first person point of view to third person point of view frequently.

Many thanks to James Milamber to beta reading this!

Cyfrgolledig atyn yr Dywyllwch

"Damned by the Darkness"

Prologue

I am a vampire.

Not like Dracula. I can walk in the sunlight for one thing. And crosses? Silver? Pish. I'll laugh at you if you try to keep me away with either.

Of course, a stake in the heart always works. After all, what creature wouldn't die after being slammed through the most vital organ in their body with a pointy piece of wood?

I'm certain you've read many vampire stories. Perhaps not. Maybe this is your first. Merlin knows.

I'm not like most vampires. No, not at all. For one thing, I'm not just a vampire.

I'm a wizard.

Or at least I was. I never had the chance to finish my schooling in the finer arts of wizardry. They kicked me out the moment they found out what I was. As if I would drink the blood of one of their precious students. Ha! Muggles are much safer. Less chance for their memories to return and even if they do, they wouldn't know who I was.

But, yes, I am still a wizard. And a vampire. Odd combination, yes?

It wasn't my fault.

I didn't have any say in it.

I just got turned. Luck of the draw, my sire told me.

Sire. Maker. Creator. All the same. The vampire that sired me was ages old – thousands of years had passed before her eyes. And she chose me, a scrawny little sixteen-year-old wizard-child to be her fledgling, her child.

I'm still not sure whether I should thank her or curse her.

Immortality can be a double-edged sword at times. Sure, its fun to live forever but it gets boring after you see the same things over and over. Not to mention seeing your friends die. That's no fun at all.

I almost staked myself once. Never got very far, as you can see.

Y'know, my arch-enemy wanted to be immortal. He never got it. In fact, I don't think he ever quite reached the age of sixty. I killed him.

That's how my precious schoolmaster found out what I was.

You'd think he'd have known by then that I wouldn't harm any of his other oh-so-wonderful students.

Except for maybe Malfoy. He'd have made a nice snack. But I don't think I ever want his blood or any of his descendants blood on my lips. God, it makes me sick just to think about it. Eurgh.

Yes, that would be Draco Malfoy, I'm talking about. And he does have descendants. Yeah, amazed me too.

Just about everyone I used to know has descendants now. I've kept an eye on the one's who were closest to me. Sort of the proverbial guardian angel.

Only I don't think many would call a vampire an angel.

Even one who looks like a sixteen-year-old boy.

For two hundred and fifty years, I have been a sixteen-year-old boy. My eyes have brightened in color and my skin is almost alabaster now, but beyond that I look exactly the same as I did then.

At least they didn't turn away from me.

They were loyal. They stood beside me. In the figurative sense, being as I couldn't possibly get anywhere near them with all the Aurors milling about them. Damned wizards and their fear of vampires. Cripes.

You'd have thought I was Voldemort himself.

But then again he's dead. I killed him. Had fun doing it too. Bloody bastard. He got what he deserved.

And we'll just say that there wasn't enough left of him to bury by the time I got through with him.

Who am I?

Such a difficult question to answer…

I have so many different names, so many different faces to wear. Or should I say, so many faces that I have been given to wear. I only wear one face and that is my own.

Savior.

Bastard.

Abomination.

Demon.

So many names for one person.

I suppose most of you would recognize me by two of the names I have been given in my long life.

Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry Potter.

Recognize me now?