I do not own anything that will get me sued.

Chapter 1: An Unknown Letter

All Vlad had ever wanted was a normal life. He wouldn't have minded a typical suburban home in a typical neighborhood with a typical life entirely consisting of going to a typical school, taking a typical walk home, and hanging out with a couple of typical friends. He wouldn't have even minded the woes of growing up as a teenager or the commonplace friendship spat if that came with the packaged deal of normalcy. Was that really so much to ask?

Apparently it was. Why else had fate decided to have him end up with the surname Dracula?

Yes, that Dracula. His father had, in fact, allowed his name to be used in the novel. He had always been one for attention and the notoriety it gained him made him a veritable celebrity in the vampire circles for decades. His father still looked upon it with favor; it was how he had come to meet his flighty mother after all.

Growing up in a dark, gloomy castle in Transylvania with no interaction with the local humans – or Breathers as the vampires called them – had only allowed Vlad's desire for a life free of coffins, cobwebs, fangs, and blood to grow. For all of his ten years of life, Vlad had only ever seen the occasional vampire visitor and his only constant company had been his elder sister and father. It became tiring after so long. He didn't understand how his sister reveled in it as much as his father did and he could not see how being a bloodthirsty, virtually immortal being could be appealing. It not only made all of the vampires he had met so far lean towards the evil spectrum but it also made them dull creatures to live with. Would it have really hurt his father to add a drop of color here and there outside of the typical black and crimson scheme?

"Oh, Vlad. Must you wear those atrocious colors again?"

Vlad sighed as he jabbed a fork into the unknown mush their mortal butler Renfield– and that was the most flattering way to describe the filthy man – had prepared for breakfast. "They're interesting, Dad."

The Count shuddered. "Far too bright, my boy. Far too bright. I don't understand why you insist on them."

"Maybe because he is a useless wimp," Vlad's sister, Ingrid, sneered. "I prefer darker colors myself."

Their father rolled his eyes. "And I care why, Ingrid?"

There was a brief flash of hurt in Ingrid's eyes that Vlad knew only he noticed before a slightly disinterested mask covered it. She had become better at that lately. Vlad could still remember the times when she had fled the room in her misery. Now she was beginning to nurture a façade. A part of Vlad was glad for her because maybe this way it would hurt less but another part of him was unsettled.

"Enough of her," the Count continued. "Today is your day, Vladdy! Only five more years until you become a full vampire!"

That did little to brighten the breakfast up. Sometimes Vlad wondered whether his father said things like that on purpose to put him off kilter. Once upon a time Vlad had enjoyed his birthdays, but when he had decided that he would prefer a normal life, the slowly decreasing years until his sixteenth had become a source of dread. He didn't need to be reminded that today he was eleven, one year closer to becoming an evil being.

"Thanks," he mumbled and wrung his hands beneath the table. "Can I be dismissed?"

"Of course, of course. Out to do naughty things, Vlad? Feeling your vampire instincts kicking in already?"

That seemed to irritate Ingrid. "As if," she spat. "He's probably off to talk to his stuffed dog or try to sneak off to the village again. And what are you doing up anyway, Dad? You never get up before sunset! Up only to wish that my brother a happy birthday?"

By the time his father had graced his sister with an answer, Vlad was already out of earshot and climbing the stairs to his quarters. His knuckles were white as they gripped the banister on the way up and he had to struggle not to feel that despair again. He burst into his room, the highest one in the entire estate, and promptly shut the door behind him before falling with a groan on to his bed.

"It's only nine in the morning," Zoltan said from the corner of the room. "That bad already?"

Vlad groaned again and shoved his face into his pillows. He refused to face the talking stuffed Hellhound's yellow eyes.

"Master, I don't understand why you're so upset every year. You were born a vampire. Most are proud of that."

"That's what makes it so much worse! At least if I had been born human I would have had a chance at a normal life. I have no choice! When I turn sixteen…" Vlad screwed his eyes shut and clung to his sheets. "I'm not exactly a vampire yet. I can still stand in the sun and eat garlic and cross flowing water and my heart still works. I'm alive Zoltan and I'd like to stay that way."

Zoltan had already known this would be a useless conversation from the very beginning. The Hellhound still didn't know what had changed his young master's opinion so many years ago but this child, who had the chance to become something many others desired to be, had wanted nothing more than humanity. Zoltan was about to console his master further and opened his mouth to do so only to let out a slight gasp instead when something spontaneously slammed into the room's window.

Vlad jerked up from his bed at the noise and scrambled over to see what had happened. His brow furrowed when nothing seemed to be there but yelped and stumbled backwards when a great owl appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He stared at it, wondering why an owl of all creatures would be hovering outside his window during the day of all times. When it became clear that the owl would not go away, Vlad tentatively reached out and opened the window.

Immediately, the owl fluttered inside and settled upon the desk in his room. It ruffled its feathers and blinked once before straightening itself and regally presenting its left leg. Vlad stared at it in amusement and a little shock before his mind completely registered that there was a letter tied to the extended appendage. He extracted it, wondering who on earth had come up with the idea of delivery owls, and slowly read the address.

Mr. Vladimir Dracula

The Northernmost Room of the Dracula Castle

There was nothing more written on the envelope, as if it was expected that the receiver would already know whom the sender was. Who would possibly want to send him a letter this way? The accuracy of the address was unnerving. Any of his father's vampire acquaintances could travel fast enough to drop by and give him praise or insult if they so wished, but nobody truly sent letters to anybody when they could travel from one place to another in the blink of an eye unless it involved formal protocol.

"What is it, Master Vlad?" Zoltan asked, twisting his head and trying to catch a glimpse of the letter.

Vlad ran a finger over the ink and noted how the envelope was parchment – the same type of medium his own, old-fashioned father used. "I don't really know."

~0~

Minerva McGonagall took a certain small pleasure in sending out the letters to the upcoming students every year. Although it only involved a gigantic stack of paper, a continuously self-updating name index of qualified magical students, and a single flick of her wand to send them all out, she liked to see the names whizz by and note the ones that caught her interest.

She saw the expected names of various families and other acquaintances – the Malfoys, the Weasleys, the Zabinis, the Abbotts, the Notts, the Longbottoms, and others – but her eyes immediately zeroed in on the most anticipated name of the year: Harry Potter. She could only glimpse the name as it soared out the window to attach itself to a free owl but a smile touched her lips and a sense of anticipation and an actual slight tingle of fear shivered down her spine. With Harry back in the magical world, there was no doubt that the eleven-year peace would be shaken, if not broken. Dumbledore had little faith in Voldemort's complete demise and she was wise enough to realize that what he believed most likely had certain grains of truth.

She watched a few more letters fly by before she stood and dusted herself off to depart. As Minerva strode out, she took one last glance at the letters and her eyes caught another name. She froze in her stride as her brain actually computed what the name had been and a sense of disbelief flooded her.

Did that one name say Dracula?

Yup, that was pretty short. Just a taste I suppose :) I have already written chapter 2 and 3 because it's sort of fun writing this all from Vlad's POV. I just got hooked on Young Dracula and yes, I know it's a "kids" show but hey, the last two seasons were definitely more than just "kids" shows and I never said I grew up. I'm just physically mature, not mentally guys :D

Anyway kudos to all of you guys out there who watch the show too.

And I really shouldn't be writing ANOTHER bunny idea but really, I think I'm going to continue this. There's just so much I can do especially since the Harry Potter world already had vampires in it. This is going to be fun haha...

Till Next Time!

PS No, I don't support the Count's treatment of Ingrid (who does?). I'm just staying true to character.