Dizzy. Heart racing. He couldn't breathe.

The last coherent thought that ran through Harry mind before darkness claimed him was, Now what?

Harry woke with a splitting headache; and that he was in some kind of box. It was small, square, and smelled slightly metallic. It was one of uncle Vernon's old drill prototype boxes.

Why was he in a box?

Exploring with his fingers, Harry was able to locate the seam between flaps and pull them apart.

An avalanche of dirt fell on top of Harry.

It didn't take him long to dig his way out; it was a shallow grave.

Looking around, Harry was a little surprised to see that he had been buried in a back corner of aunt Petunia's garden.

Voices out front caught his attention. It was coming from inside.

Entering the house, Harry saw his aunt and uncle arguing in the kitchen over something. Dudley was looking back and forth between his parents. None of them had noticed his entrance.

"What's going on?"

Everyone turned to looked at him.

Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley looked at him with shock, terror, and disbelief. All of them were white as bed sheets.

Uncle Vernon looked like he was going to have a hearty attack while aunt Petunia looked ready to faint. Dudley's eyes were bugging out, making him look like a frog while his mouth was hanging open in a silent scream.

It hilarious.

"That's not possible," aunt Petunia crocked out. "You died two days ago, I saw you. You fell down the stairs, you're supposed to be dead."

Dead? Two day? Stairs? What the hell was going on?


As soon as reality hit and aunt Petunia realized that the neighbors could be watching, uncle Vernon dragged Harry inside and slammed the door shut. He was about to drag Harry up to his room when a voice from the living room stopped him.

Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin were standing or sitting around the coffee table; Dumbledore was sucking on, Harry assumed, a lemon drop.


"Hello Petunia," Snape drawled.

Petunia did fainted then.


"Vernon." Lupin's smile was dark. He knew something and was enjoying the entire thing immensely.

"I repeat," Vernon gritted through clenched teeth, "what. Are. You. Doing. In. My. House?"

"Ah yes," Dumbledore rose from his seat. "So sorry for the intrusion my boy; we've come to retrieve young Harry here. It seems he has finally come into his inheritance and it would be safer for him to reside within the walls of Hogwarts until next summer. By then he should have a firmer hand on his stronger magic and new abilities."

"Inheritance? Abilities?" Vernon was blinking very owl-ishly. "So he's a bigger freak then we thought."

At Vernon's mention of 'freak' in reference to Harry, Lupin let out a deep, menacing growl from his chest. Even Snape seamed to take offence. Dumbledore was, as usual, nonplused.

While Dumbledore talked and tried to keep Lupin and Snape from tearing the Dursley's apart, Harry became aware of slight burning, gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Well according to his 'beloved' relitives, it had been two days since he had last eaten.

He was also starting to feel dizzy again.


As Harry started to swoon, strong arms caught him. A powerful sent filled his nostrils. It was over powering, intoxicating.

Something brushed against his lips.


What? Why? Bite what?

Apparently he hesitated too long because someone - most likely the person talking to him - took his head in thier hands and pressed his mouth agenst something soft and warm. A tangy liquid landed on his tongue and slid down his throat. It was the best thing Harry had ever tasted.

Dully in the back of his mind, Harry was aware of someone screaming before a dull thunk.


With reluctance, Harry pulled back, instinctively licking the wound healed.

"Get that...thing out of my house," Vernon whispered dangerously. "And I don't care what cockamamie excuses you want to try and feed to get me to keep it any longer. I will not allow some filthy, blood-sucking…abomination against nature, living under this roof."

Harry had never seen uncle Vernon that shad of puce before. Then what he had said penetrated Harry's consciousness.

Filthy. Abomination.

Harry didn't want to listen, but he new uncle Vernon was right. As bad as muggles looked down on non-human entities, the wizarding world was worse; because they knew that things like Harry really did exist. And vampires were lower then werewolves on the acceptance scale.

Harry could just see the headline of the prophet now, Boy-Who-UnLived. Rita Skeeter was going to have a bigger field day with this then she did during the Tournament.


Harry looked over at Lupin. He was in some kind of half transformation; his hair was bristled, his eyes yellow, he had fangs, and claw sprouted from his hands. Even his voice sounded more like a bark.

Harry found himself morbidly fascinated at the sight of the normally quiet and gentle man turn feral - practically foaming at the mouth - demanding blood.

That's when Harry's brain focused on the fact that it was Snape holding him. That it was Snape's blood he had drank. For some reason, Harry wasn't as repulsed by that as he should have been.

Vernon shrank back at the sight of a pissed off werewolf staring him down, ready to pounce.

"You are lucky, Dursley," Snape told the round man, "that Mature Vampires are able to keep their calm better then most fledglings and Adolescent Vampires are, and that Dumbledore is here as well to keep the wolf on his leash. Though insulting his best friend's son and godson in front of him; it might not matter who's here and who isn't. You might want to keep that in mind for the future."

With that, Snape led Harry over to the fireplace and to Dumbledore's office.

Snape led him down to Madam Pomfrey for a check up before moving him to his rooms.

Dumbledore and Lupin arrived some time later with a birthday cake, packs of blood, and 'bad' news. Dumbledore was unsuccessful in convincing Vernon in taking him back in next summer.

"What's the bad new?"

Lupin had to cover a laugh up as coughing fit, pretending to have chocked on a bite of cake. Amusement shown in his eyes all the same though.

Severus was smiling, though he tried to pass it off as a smirk. He knew both Lily and Petunia growing up, living a couple blocks over, and though he would never admit it, he agreed with Potter.

Dumbledore was not amused however. He had continued to count on the Dursley's cruelty to keep Harry submissive and in line. Now what was he to do? Regroup and formulate another plan of attack, as always. After all, if Dumbledore couldn't bounce back from a slight, unforeseen set back, then what good was his leadership skills? For now he'd abide his time, watching for the perfect opportunity to strike. Satisfied that the situation was taken care of, Dumbledore sat back and listened to the light banter between his two Dark Creatures quietly.

Severus watched the Headmaster out of the corner of his eye. He knew the manipulative old man was up to something; the question was what? For now, he'd have to keep an eye out.

A/N: My second HP story. Not too much going on yet and I'm sorry for all Dumbledore fans out there, but he is the perfect secret bad guy and making him the bad guy is kinda fun. Hard considering that I don't want it to be too obvious to the 'players' right away.

A/N 2: If there is one or two people that want to help co-author the Dumbledore parts, write me.