Title: Precipitate

Summary: Harry is a nobody: he has no fortune, no connections, no parents. He doesn't excel in his studies, nor is he talented in Quidditch. In short, there is nothing about him that would cause anyone to give him a second glance. Until he's bitten by a vampire.

Pairing: LVHP

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe was created by J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made by this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

~ Chapter 1

"Oof," said the boy that Harry bumped into "watch it, will you?"

He flicked Harry an irritated glare before hurrying off to his class.

"Sorry," Harry trailed off, "even though you probably can't hear me now…"

He grabbed his fallen bag and continued into his Transfiguration class and took his seat at the back.

"Now class, I hope you have all had a nice summer. Please hand in your summer homework at the end of the lesson. We will begin by reviewing some concepts that you learned in first year. Who can tell me what a switching spell does? Mr. Potter?"

Harry froze. He stared at Professor McGonagall.

She made a disapproving tutting sound before moving on. "Since Mr. Potter cannot enlighten us, we shall have to ask… Yes, Mr. Boot?"

"A switching spell is a spell that swaps one thing for another." Terry Boot cast a disdainful look his way. Harry was used to it by now.

"Well done Mr. Boot. Mr. Potter, I hope you are paying attention. Moving on…"


That night, Harry poked at his dinner. The food was wonderful, as always, but he couldn't muster up much of an appetite.

Sometimes, he wondered why he had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Unlike his housemates, he didn't get particularly good marks in his classes – nor did he perform well in Flying with Hooch. He didn't have a fortune or a claim to an exalted magical lineage. He wasn't really funny or charming and he didn't think he was handsome either.

He didn't grow up in the magical world and he was rather quiet so he didn't really have a common topic of conversation with the purebloods or half-bloods and he was too shy to initiate conversation with the muggleborns. In short, Harry Potter didn't really have any friends.

Being at Hogwarts was infinitely preferable to the Dursleys but sometimes Harry wondered if the Dursleys were right all along; maybe he was really a bit of a good-for-nothing.

More than a little depressed at the thought, he jabbed at his squash a few more times before sighing and leaving the table. Most of the other students were still eating but they didn't notice him leaving and no one bothered to acknowledge him.

As there was still quite a while before curfew, Harry wandered out to the grounds for a walk around the lake.

The September night air had a bit of a bite and he was glad for his school cloak. Walking slowly, he skirted closer to the lake when his walk took him close to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed some movement. He stilled and fingered his wand.

Senses alert, he didn't hear or see anything unusual and after a moment, he began to walk briskly back to the school.

He screamed when he felt hands grip him and teeth sink into the flesh of his neck.

Terrified, he thought hysterically that he was going to die.

Everything went black.


Harry woke to a sudden painful burning in his body. It felt like his blood had turned to liquid fire in his veins and coursed through him spitefully. He had to grind his teeth together until his head ached to prevent himself from screaming.

Just as quickly as the pain arrived, it ended just as abruptly and left Harry gasping and blinking moisture from his eyes in its wake.

Groaning, he took stock of his surroundings. He was sprawled by the edge of the lake by the forest and it was still dark. It seemed that not much time had passed; although his housemates barely acknowledged him, he felt fairly sure that someone would have noticed if he had gone missing for a day or more.

Wincing, he found that he could move his arms and legs but trying to move his head was excruciating. He touched a hand briefly to his neck and hissed at the pain.

Suddenly, Harry processed what had happened. He had somehow managed to survive a vampire bite.

He choked out a laugh and felt exhilaration sweep through him. This was incredible. Vampire bites were notorious for having a very low survival rate – especially if the victim wasn't rushed to a Healer quickly. This was partly due to the weakened state that the victim was left in from extreme blood loss and partly due to the stress that vampire venom placed on the body. The survival rate of untreated victims was less than one in ten, even Harry knew that.

Feeling elated and incredibly lucky, Harry made a sudden decision to make something more of his life than he had so far. He had allowed himself to wallow in mediocrity but his brush with death filled him with a determination and ambition that he had never before experienced.


He managed the long painful walk back to his bed after casting a cleaning charm on himself and his robes. Thankfully, none of the other boys sharing his second year dorm had returned yet.

The wound on his neck had already completely healed without a trace and he felt no more physical discomfort from his ordeal. He poked at the small and dainty fangs on the tips of his incisors.

I suppose I'm a vampire now, he thought to himself. In that moment of realization, Harry also felt an incredible loneliness. He became keenly aware of his lack of friends and sighed bitterly. This is just what I needed, yet another 'weird' trait to set me apart.

He knew that vampires weren't considered "wizards" but "beings". Will they kick me out of Hogwarts for this? He grasped his sheets in panic. Where will I go if I have to leave Howarts? I can't – I'm not going back to the Dursleys like this; they'd throw me out the moment they found out. I wouldn't be able to go out in the sunlight anyway so I can't attend my classes. Maybe I'd be a menace because I'd go around biting everyone. I might even… kill people. Harry blanched at the thought.

His mind worked furiously as he continued to think. There are so many big windows in Ravenclaw – I might even die by tomorrow morning from exposure. But if I make it through tomorrow without dying or biting anyone, I might be able hide it from everybody. I could drink blood from animals or something. He groaned. I need to find out more about vampires.

He paused. If he did die by tomorrow morning then one of his most serious concerns – that he would be a danger to the other students and be killed for it – would solved, sort of. Assuming that he didn't bite anyone tonight, no innocent kids would die as a result of his vampirism.

Resolute, Harry waited anxiously as Boot, McDougal, and Entwhistle returned to the dormitories. Harry risked opening his curtains to peek out at the others. He even challenged himself to stare at their necks, when possible, before retreating and closing his curtains again.

Soon enough, he began to hear light snores and he heaved a massive sigh of relief. He hadn't even been remotely tempted.


As he couldn't sleep the whole night, he spent it reading his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook. One perk of being a vampire, Harry thought to himself, is being able to concentrate for such a long period of time. He had trouble focusing on his work in the past but he'd had no problems staying on task for the past several hours without taking a single break. If I make it through the morning alive, I'm going to read all the books that I should've read and learn more about everything.

As he'd hoped, he learned more about vampires in his readings even though the information wasn't particularly cheery. They were classified as "beings" along with werewolves, goblins, and house-elves under the Ministry's Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans and the language was very similar – though perhaps a touch less harsh – to the description for werewolves. Harry surmised that it was likely that vampires were discriminated in a similar fashion as werewolves thought he'd never really paid any attention to the issue before. Thankfully, paragraph 12 – very, very short, he thought – of the Guidelines specified that it was illegal to exterminate vampires in attempts at genocide. Well, he though with a snort, that's reassuring.

Vampires did drink blood but they quite delighted in eating garlic and, oddly enough, purchasing things in the shapes of crosses. They could be killed by dismemberment and burning, a stake through the heart, or exposure to sunlight.

Well, that solves that then, Harry thought to himself. He closed his book and clasped his hands as the first rays of light began to peek over the horizon and into the window above his headboard.

Though he waited patiently, nothing appeared to happen. Apprehensively, he wondered if he needed to be in more direct contact with the light. He plastered his right hand onto the window pane and braced himself. Nothing happened. The sun had already risen and there were very few clouds in the sky. He raised himself so that he was at face level with the window. Again, nothing.

Not really sure what was happening, Harry wondered if the book had been mistaken. As far as he could tell, he was a vampire. He'd experimented with cutting himself and, as expected, the wound had healed immediately and seamlessly. He also found that his strength and senses had improved, as the book had described – in fact, he'd noticed that he was able to read much faster than he had previously.

"Maybe I'm a weird freak version," Harry muttered to himself.

Resolving himself to simply accepting his continued existence, he readied himself for the day.


He had been surprised when he'd been able to eat the food at breakfast as if nothing had changed. The pumpkin juice, toast, and bacon still tasted just as delicious as ever; Harry had been expecting them to 'taste like ash in his mouth' according to the book. Maybe the author was being dramatic? He wondered. It's not as if I can ask someone either – 'Hi Madam Pomfrey, I just turned into a dangerous creature that's harmful to children. Can you please tell me when I need to suck your blood? I haven't had any cravings so far and I wanted to know when I'd go berserk so that I could add that to my social calendar.' He snorted. Yeah, right. He trailed behind the other students after breakfast but managed to make it to Herbology in time.

Professor Sprout first handed out earmuffs to the class before she introduced them to their project for the year: mandrakes.

"Now, I want everyone to stand in front of a pot. No, no, don't touch it yet Mr. Corner! Good. Who can tell me about mandrakes? Miss Turpin?"

"Mandrakes are also known by the name mandragora. They are a plant with many magical properties and are used in many potions but their cry is lethal to all who hear it. Is this why we have earmuffs, professor?"

"Yes, that is why we have earmuffs. Well done Miss Turpin, 5 points to Ravenclaw."

Lisa Turpin flashed everyone a smug smile.

"Mandrakes are indeed used in a variety of potions but only the cry of a fully matured mandrake is fatal. These mandrakes are still babies and they won't be fully mature until they start moving into each other's pots. However, even a baby's cry is strong enough to knock you out for several hours."

After Professor Sprout was satisfied that everyone had understood the seriousness of the work and had secured their earmuffs, she ordered everyone to take the mandrakes out of their temporary pots and to re-pot them into the larger terracotta ones that she had ordered.

While many of the students struggled with uprooting the plants – many of them were sleepy and strongly protested against being moved – Harry's newfound strength easily overcame his mandrake's thrashing. Grasping the plant firmly by the stalks, he peered at the root curiously; the root part of the plant really did look like a human baby, albeit a very ugly one. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

As he was about to put the mandrake down into its new home, he noticed that it's movements were becoming more sluggish and its cries – which he could hear muffled through his earmuffs – were becoming dimmer. Frowning, he noticed that where his bare hand touched the plant, the stalk was changing from a vivid green to a yellowish colour and slowly spreading towards the leaves and, Harry assumed, to the root as well judging by the slight shrivelling. He quickly plopped the mandrake into the hole that he had dug in the new pot and was disturbed to find that plant quickly recovering: the leaves lost their wilted quality and the stalks regained their healthy green colour. The pot began to shake as well – a sure sign that the mandrake was energetic.

Frowning again, he covered the root with soil. Was this an obscure vampire trait? He stared at his hands until the end of the lesson.


Over the next few weeks, he spent all his free time in the library. As a Ravenclaw his constant presence wasn't questioned during the day and since he seemed to have lost his ability to sleep, he also spent his nights there. He had to be extra careful not to trip any alarms and to be very quiet but he'd managed to avoid trouble so far.

Somehow, he could always tell where people were. On the first night he'd heard a noise and had tensed, thinking that it might be Mrs. Norris – but somehow, he just knew that Mrs. Norris was prowling down in the dungeons at that moment and no living thing was near the library.

He wasn't sure what to make of his new ability but he didn't bother questioning something so useful to him.

Able to concentrate for many hours without pause and possessing a good rate of retention for information, Harry found himself breezing through a review of all of the first year material in just two days. He covered all the second year material in under a week. By the time that he was halfway through the third year books, Harry decided that perhaps being a vampire was a good thing after all.

Author's Note: Hello all, I've decided to try my hand at writing a multi-chapter Harry Potter fic. I'll try to keep updates coming at a reasonable pace, notwithstanding real life intrusions. Comments and criticism are always appreciated.