Very Important!

Hi dear readers!^_^

*ducks behind desk* Before you start accusing me of not wanting to continue any of my other stories, like "Revenge through Hellfire", I have only one thing to say – I tried! This chapter was supposed to be part of chapter 2 of "Revenge through Hellfire", but as I continued writing it, it somehow turned into the beginning of another story entirely! It's not my fault! I will, however, post chapter 2 of the above-mentioned story sometime this upcoming week. That I can promise you.^_^

Now that that's over with – enjoy the story! It takes place after the events at the end of Harry's second year and after "Underworld", with the movie most definitely ending differently. I will be updating this story along with "Revenge through Hellfire". I hope you enjoy reading it!^_^


Chapter 1: The Beginning

Stepping out of the yellow taxi, Harry looked at the imposing manor behind the front gate. Extending his fangs, the black-haired boy turned a completely neon blue gaze at the security camera hanging high on the pillar to the left of the gate, the cloudy night almost entirely concealing the device.

"I'd like to speak with Viktor" he told the camera, waiting for the security guy to open the gate. Indeed a few seconds later the black gate swung open and Harry, luggage in hand, started walking along the gravelly path leading to the entrance of the ostentatious manor. On the way Harry remembered why he was there in the first place, his eyes flashing in anger as he did so.


"No! I am telling you, it wasn't me! It was a memory of Voldemort from his old school diary!" Harry frantically tried to explain to the two people he most respected in Hogwarts – Minerva McGonnagal and Albus Dumbledore.

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter, but the evidence stands against you. Young Miss Weasley had a long cut on her throat and it was later established to be the cause of her death. You were found lying unconscious next to her with a sword, coated in blood, in your hand. It was undoubtedly her blood that was on the sword, so, logically, it is you who killed her" the stern Transfiguration teacher told the young wizard, who turned with desperate and pleading eyes towards the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his last hope. The old wizard only slowly shook his head, his disappointment clearly conveyed by this simple gesture and his no longer twinkling blue eyes.

"I am sorry, but I have no other choice. Mr. Potter, you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and your wand is to be snapped" Dumbledore declared before taking his own wand out and summoning Harry's into his hand. Then, in front of the black-haired boy's wide and horror-filled eyes, he snapped the holly wand in two peaces, the red phoenix feather within it disintegrating at the action.

Bowing his head in defeat, the former Gryffindor trudged out of the Headmaster's office, hopelessness and sadness radiating off him as he walked along the corridors of the castle he had come to love so much. Just as he was passing in front of the doors of the Great Hall, a group of 4 people stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his way. Looking at their faces, Harry could only find anger, fury, hate, grief and betrayal on them.

His emerald green eyes met the sky blue ones of his best friend, Ronald Weasley. The (now) youngest Weasley's left eye twitched and that was all the warning Harry had before a fist smashed into his stomach, causing him to gasp and bend over. Soon a second punch followed, this one on his back, and Harry fell to the floor, wincing. He was still sore from his fight with the basilisk and he was pretty sure that his ribs had been bruised by the reptile's tail when it had hit him and knocked him unconscious. That was the moment which turned Harry's life upside down.

"How could you! How could you kill my little sister, Potter!" Ron yelled at the figure lying curled up on the floor, making the black-haired boy flinch at the use of his last name. It was the next voice, however, which made the wound in his heart ache even more.

"We trusted you, Harry! We thought you were our friend!" his other best friend, Hermione Granger, shouted, somehow managing to kick him in the stomach despite the position of his knees in front of it.

"We accepted you with open arms and this is how you thank us!" the matriarch of the Weasley family, Molly Weasley, screamed, tears running down her cheeks. Harry looked up at his surrogate mother and his friends with equally teary eyes and was about to apologize for not being able to save Ginny when suddenly Percy handed a cage and a bag to the two second year Gryffindors. Within the cage was Harry's snow white owl, Hedwig.

"Now, Potter, you will see how it feels when something precious is taken away from you!" the prefect of the family coldly told the 12-year-old, his horn-rimmed glasses enhancing the clearly visible glint of hate in his eyes and making the 6th year seem like a rather menacing figure. Without any warning, Percy took out his wand and bound the former Gryffindor, stopping him from moving even an inch.

Harry could only helplessly watch as one by one the items from the bag were taken out and placed near the black-haired boy, but just out of his reach. The items were his Nimbus 2000, the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year at Hogwarts and his invisibility cloak. Hedwig was placed on the floor as well, the amber-eyed owl hooting quietly in worry for her master and friend. The hole within his heart grew bit by bit as one by one each of his friends took out their wands and set fire to the 4 most valuable possessions Harry had. When Hedwig was set ablaze, the black-haired boy let out a scream of agony and pain, unable to help his very first friend. The Weasleys and Hermione watched all of it with cold hatred in their eyes, all directed at the crying form of the boy-who-lived.

The next day came agonizingly slowly for the black-haired boy and the lonely train ride back to Kings Cross in London seemed to last an eternity. But it was during that ride that the Harry Potter everyone had come to know ceased to exist. The boy that boarded the train at Hogsmead station was not the same one that left the train on Kings Cross train station.

The young black-haired boy looked around the train station with cold, calculating eyes as he appeared at the other side of the barrier separating the muggle and wizard platform. His first action would have to be getting to the Leaky Cauldron and then from there into Diagon Alley and into Gringotts. He had a few questions that he hoped the goblins could answer for him. Quickly putting on a black cap with a silver, tribal design of a bat emblazoned on the front, Harry hefted the small, dark blue duffel bag he was carrying – his only luggage – over his shoulder and made his way towards the exit of the train station.

Tom, the barkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron, barely looked up from the "Daily Prophet" he was reading when a young boy wearing a black cap and carrying a small duffel bag walked into the inn and went straight towards the door leading to the entrance of Diagon Alley.

Stepping into Diagon Alley, Harry was surprised that the Wizarding shopping district was so empty. There was only half, maybe even less of the crowd that the young wizard was used to seeing. Then again, he had always come here to do his school-shopping during the week before the school year began. Without even glancing at the shops, Harry made his way straight towards the entrance of the Wizarding World's bank, Gringotts. With the black cap hiding his forehead and his duffel bag over his shoulder, Harry was pleased to note that he barely attracted any attention from the various wizards and witches on the street. A glance or two maybe, but no stares. His emerald green eyes glanced almost reflexively at the inscription on the door of the bank. Reading the poem, Harry couldn't help but smile at it.

Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.

He was pretty sure that the goblins had placed some kind of compulsion charm on the poem so that anyone who read it would not be able to steal from the bank. Shaking his head to lose that stray thought, the black-haired boy once again concentrated on his purpose here. He decided to ask the first goblin he saw where the office of the head goblin was located – he would surely get lost otherwise. Looking around, Harry caught sight of a familiar goblin.

"Hey, Griphook!" he called, for some unknown reason startling the goblin. Running to where the goblin had abruptly stopped, Harry sent the magical creature a smile, apparently once again shocking the goblin.

"I was wondering, if you could tell me where I could find the head goblin? I need to urgently speak with him about…some things" the black-haired boy carefully inquired, curious as to why Griphook seemed so surprised.

"Yes, I will show you where he is, Mr. Potter" Griphook replied before leading Harry to the right and into a hallway Harry had not noticed until now. Many of the goblins they passed raised a questioning eyebrow at the presence of a human in that particular hallway, but shrugged it off soon after – wizards were a strange lot.

Griphook stopped in front a big set of ornate doors, even more beautifully decorated than the ones leading into the Great Hall. A small pang in his heart caused Harry to shake his head again. A mask of cold indifference appeared on his face, his warm emerald green eyes turning into cold and calculating ones. He had to stay focused on his self-imposed mission to find out the truth. Suddenly, Harry noticed that Griphook had left him there alone. Shrugging, Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After hearing a gravelly "Enter", the young wizard opened the doors, entered the room, and closed them after himself. Three hours later the double doors opened again and Harry stepped outside into the hallway. The 12-year-old leaving the head goblin's room was different than the one who entered it.

His black hair that usually resembled a bird's nest more than anything was tamer, straight strands of black hair falling softly down and reaching just below his ears, with the hair in the back reaching to the nape of his neck. His cheekbones were slightly higher and, as a result, slightly more visible, giving the young boy an aristocratic look. Whilst his eyes were still their usual emerald green colour, they had gained a strange glow around them. In addition to that, his eyesight had healed, giving him a perfect vision. The most glaring difference in his face, though, was the lack of the famous lightning bolt scar. The 12-year-old's stature had changed as well. Not only had he grown several inches, but he now had an athletic body and looked healthier in general. His complexion had gotten a little bit paler, but the difference wasn't really noticeable.

The clothes Harry now wore were different too – no longer was he wearing the oversized castoffs of his cousin, but clothes more fitting for a young noble: a beautiful, silk, dark forest green, button-up shirt, the 3 topmost buttons of which were left open and slightly showed his chest, a pair of black leather pants, a black belt with a dark silver buckle and a pair of elegant, slightly pointed, black, leather boots. The entire outfit was completed by a long, black trench coat that reached to the middle of his calves. Instead of a duffle bag he now had a suitcase in his right hand.

Harry's eyes blazed with barely controlled anger and hate as he walked down the hallway to the entrance hall of the bank. He was happy that he had managed to find answers to his questions, of course, but he had also found out some not so pleasant things. It seemed that Dumbledore had been hiding some things from him.

Like the fact that he was the only living descendant of a 12th-century Hungarian warlord who had been turned into a vampire in his early 50s. Harry was related to that man through his mother, who turned out not to be an Evans at all. So Dumbledore had sent Harry to live with the abusive Dursley family for nothing. The black-haired boy was certain that his life would have been very different had he been sent to live with his ancestor. Yes, he would have probably had a better life. It would have also made it impossible for Dumbledore to place the power-binding spell on him, along with an inheritance-blocking one, or to perform the transfiguration ritual to make him become a carbon copy of his father, James. It appeared that Dumbledore had planned to encourage Snape's grudge on James and, in that way, to pass it on to James' son, Harry.

Thankfully, the goblins had been just as appalled as him about this shocking discovery and had offered to remove the spells and to reverse the ritual for free. It had taken them two hours to accomplish those tasks, but the result had been well worth it. It was the removal of the inheritance-blocking spell that had the greatest effect on him, though: it awakened his dormant vampire gene. After the goblin curse-breakers had performed a specific set of spells, they had discovered that Harry would still be able to eat normal food and would still be able to go out into the sunlight without burning. In return, though, he would have to drink blood at least twice a week. As an added bonus, the goblins had decided that Harry, as the heir of a noble, should be able to dress accordingly. To the young vampire's surprise, the goblins had managed to gather the appropriate clothing in less than an hour and from the muggle world, no less!

After transferring all of his money, which was a substantial amount (he would be able to live 10 lifetimes without a worry!), to a muggle account the head goblin was kind enough to set up for Harry and after getting a promise from the goblins he had dealt with today that they wouldn't mention anything about what happened to Dumbledore, Harry left Gringotts, left Diagon Alley and left Britain. If Dumbledore thought that he would voluntarily go back to the Dursleys, then he was sorely mistaken. The goblins, as a final service for him, had tracked down the location of his vampire ancestor's coven to a manor on the outskirts of a Hungarian city. So next stop – Hungary!

End Flashback

At the front door he was met by two vampires clad entirely in black leather and holding black guns. The moment they met his eyes they seemed to flinch slightly, apparently shocked about something. With a small inclination of their head, they pushed open the front door, revealing a luxurious entrance hall with many vampires sitting on very comfortable couches and armchairs, talking pleasantly and drinking what surely was blood out of elegant glass goblets.

After closing the door behind him, the two vampires started walking towards a long staircase on the left, leading to the second floor of the manor. An excited murmur passed through the vampires gathered in the entrance hall as Harry looked them over before passing by them and following his two escorts upstairs. Going down a winding hallway, the two guards, Harry supposed, eventually stopped in front of an intricately carved, dark brown, wooden door and knocked on it. A commanding "Enter" came shortly after from inside and one of the guards opened the door, motioning for Harry to go on inside. The moment the black-haired boy has passed the threshold, the door was closed.

The room the guards had led Harry into was very spacious and was lavishly decorated, old and most probably invaluable paintings hanging on the dark red walls and various vases decorating the window ledges and the mantelpiece. Inside the fireplace was blazing a strong fire, the warmth coming from it spreading throughout the entire room and creating a calm and cozy atmosphere. Spread in a half-circle around the fireplace were several armchairs and a couch, a table situated in the middle. One of the two armchairs was already occupied. The man stood up when the door closed with a small "click" and turned towards the young vampire. Harry could only stare.

The man's eyes were the same neon blue colour that Harry's were currently and his cheekbones were also like Harry's. The man was dressed in a black, silk poet shirt, black leather pants, knee-high black boots and a long black coat with intricate designs on the sleeves and the collar. He appeared to be in his late 40s or early 50s and was about a head taller than him. Harry concluded that this was, most probably, his ancestor. He seemed equally as startled as the guards when he saw Harry's eyes, but covered it up much better than they did.

"Speak, stranger, but be careful with your words" the man said in a commanding and powerful tone that clearly conveyed the true meaning – "Tell the truth or die". It frightened the young boy slightly but he kept his mask of cold indifference up. Weighing his options quickly, Harry decided that being blunt would be best.

"I am your descendant and seek refuge in your coven" he answered, his neon blue eyes never leaving the older man's. The answer shocked the other vampire, but his eyes quickly narrowed and fury and suspicion became visible in them.

"Lies" he hissed out, baring his long, ivory white fangs at Harry, who, despite the obvious threat, remained calm and collected. Predators enjoyed the fear of their prey and Harry was not about to allow to be labeled as such. Remembering the goblins' words about blood memory, the black-haired boy inclined his head to the right, exposing his neck to his ancestor, and pronounced only one word: "Drink". The reaction was almost immediate and before Harry could even blink he felt a pair of sharp fangs sink into his jugular, two hands holding him firmly in place by his shoulders. The pair of vampires stayed in that position for a minute or two, neither of them moving and the only sound in the room being the crackling from the fireplace and the faintest of gulps as the blood ran down the Elder's throat and he looked at Harry's memories.

Viktor had closed his eyes as he watched the life of the young vampire flash in front of his eyes. What he saw angered him greatly. He could not and would never understand or condone child abuse and this young boy had been abused severely. By his own relatives, no less! No, wait, not real relatives – adopted relatives. So the young boy had been telling the truth – he really was his descendant. It was a downright miracle for Viktor and filled his cold heart with a warmth he had not felt in a very long time. But what a harsh life this child had been through so far! Especially the harsh betrayal of his supposed best friends and surrogate family.

It reminded Viktor of Sonja's and Selene's betrayals. It saddened him greatly that both of his daughters had fallen in love with lycans and had chosen them over him. Love over family. Killing Sonja, his own flesh and blood, had been a task that Viktor had hoped not to repeat ever again. But alas! Selene had fallen into the same trap as Sonja and Viktor had been forced yet again to perform the cruel act of killing a person he loved dearly. But Selene had decided to protect the hybrid, Michael Corvin, and he had had to die. The abomination had perished by Viktor's hand, of course, but that day was the second-worst in his long, immortal life. Being betrayed was, apparently, something that ran in the family. However, for the boy to experience this kind of betrayal at such a young age – that was even worse.

Gently dislodging his fangs from the neck of the young boy, the Vampire Elder wrapped his arms around Harry's slightly trembling form. The memories had flashed in front his emerald eyes as well, memories he had thought he had locked away for good. Tears were falling down his pale face as Harry could only return the hug from his ancestor and start crying for the first time in his life. Viktor didn't mind it at all and as he sat down on the armchair he had been occupying before, he pulled his descendant onto his lap and allowed the young boy to cry into his chest, rubbing soothing circles on his back.


Hi again!^_^

So, I hope that you enjoyed reading this chapter. I know that I immensely enjoyed writing it. I tried to soften Viktor up just a tiny little bit – to show that he did feel remorse and guilt about Sonja's death. I think that, deep down, Viktor really is a caring father, but that due to his multiple duties as an Elder, a warlord and a father, Viktor had to draw a line somewhere and he chose his warlord side to be more dominant most of the time. Unfortunately, that is the side that everyone got to see. In private, though, I am pretty sure he was a caring father.^_^

So enter Harry! To prove my theory, I mean…^_^'…

Please leave a review! I will be especially happy, if the aforementioned review is nice and long, full with comments and constructive criticism! Suggestions are, as always, more than welcome, as are the opinions of my dear readers!^_^

*suddenly hugged by Viktor from behind*

Lady Avotil: Viktor! Get off of me!

Viktor: You actually gave me a descendant! A male, vampire descendant! None of the other authors did this!

Lady Avotil: *uses martial arts technique to free herself before turning to readers* Well, gotta run before I am hugged to death! Remember: leave a review!*runs away*

Viktor: But I just want to thank you, milady! *runs after her*