A.N. This is my first fanfiction. Story doesn't necessarily follow strictly books or movies, but mixes them to my liking. Mischievous, I know. Harry/Oc maybe. I don't know yet. The main character is my creation. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own harry potter.

She stared at the wondrous scene before her as one might stare at the grass as it grows. She'd just walked through a solid barrier to behold a large train station. Parents hugged and fretted over their children all over Platform Nine and Three Quarters. There were no parents to see her off on her journey. It's not that they didn't care enough to accompany her. It's just they'd been dead for many centuries now.

No, she wasn't human. She was flesh and blood, yes, but not human. She'd been turned at the age of fifteen, and was now frozen forever in that delicate frame. Her days were spent idly doing whatever she pleased, but once the sun set, she stalked the streets, hunting for her next victim. She was a vampire.

Now, forget everything you've heard about vampires up to this point. The sun harmed her not, nor crosses or garlic for that matter. When she was a new born Creature of the Night, she did need the blood. But she was much older now, and only drank out of want. Her victims did not rise from their graves to feed on the living. Her countenance was as youthful as the day she was born into the dark world; not bloated in appearance, ruddy, purplish, or dark in color as some would be led to believe. And as of yet, she hadn't been able to turn into a bat, or any other creature.

These were the few things she knew of herself and her kind. The only other vampire she'd met was her maker, and on the night he drained her of her own blood to near death, then filled her again with his own demonic blood, he'd only instructed her to look after his worldly assets before he threw himself into the large bonfire. She'd learned everything on her own. How to hunt and how to blend in with the humans.

That was easy enough, the blending. Her fangs were small and would not be seen unless she opted to show them. Her long, graceful limbs did have to check their strength constantly, for humans were indeed fragile creatures. Her brass skin was always vibrant. Her long, wavy black hair could shield her large amber eyes, which alone held a spark of preternatural power. She could dine with humans, creating the illusion that she was eating along with them. She hadn't forgotten how to move like them, seeing as she had a way of moving to fast for eyes to follow. She knew how to feed without killing. And she knew how to do so publicly without alarming anyone.

But, there were so many things she did not know, and she thirsted for knowledge. What was she exactly? Why did she crave blood? Where did this evil begin? Were there others?

She pushed her cart over to the place where her things would be loaded and boarded the train, avoiding curious eyes.

They must not get many transfers, she thought. (That would be her story, that she'd transferred from a magical learning institute in America.) Or maybe they were transfixed but her beauty, as many men and women had over the centuries. She didn't care. She didn't much care about anything. Maybe that comes from being alone so long.

She found and empty compartment, and took her place. No one bothered her, save for the lady with a trolley full of sweets she'd never heard of. She waved the woman away, with a long, delicate looking hand.

She was here by a divine accident. She'd discovered the secret society of witches and wizards in the midst of her study of ancient alchemy and black magic. Such things had held her fascination since she knew of their existence. She had mastered many dark magicks as well. She could move and set things afire with the willpower of her mind. She could manipulate the shadows to swallow unsuspecting mortals into a realm of isolation, fear and darkness(As amazing as this sounds, she didn't much use this power, The first time she tried it, it nearly broke her heart.). She could peer into the mind of anything that thinks, and close her mind to anyone with the same power. She'd recently discover that she could talk to snakes. And at the present moment, she was trying to master the power to bottle one's pain and unleash it a thousand fold upon any target. It was and Egyptian magic, so she'd found herself caring around a book of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. But she wanted more knowledge, and what better place to learn than from a school?

As soon as she learned of Hogwarts she applied, stating that she was in need of a transfer, for she'd just moved from America. They accepted without a fuss as sent her a list of things she would need. A little mind probing of wandering wizards and she found where she could acquire these things. Then, she would kill them and take their money, so she wouldn't have to steal from the stores.

And here she was, on a train to a place where she could learn more. It excited her, no doubt, even though her bored expression would lead you to believe otherwise.

Her mind worked over these things until the train stopped. She'd changed into her black robes and dismounted the train.

She hadn't been paying attention to where she was going when a group of three boys passed her by. The blond, thin one began jeering at one of the three people directly in front of her.

"Surprised the Ministry's letting you walk around free, Potter. Better enjoy it while you can. I expect there's a cell in Azkaban with your name on it."

The boy called "Potter" lunged at the other boy only to be caught by the arms of his tall, redheaded companion. The blonde had flattened against the wall in reaction, and walked away when he deemed the danger over.

Coward, Naomi thought (that was her name, Naomi de Laboucher*). But what he'd said intrigued her. Azkaban? Some sort a jail, perhaps? What had this "Potter" done to be put in jail. Potter. That name sounded familiar. The Ministry? No idea. And why did mortals always travel in packs? She hadn't had any ones companionship in over 200 years, and had never thought it necessary. Friends were for the weak who could not survive on their own, and Naomi was anything but weak.

She followed the first years, as she was instructed, so that she could be sorted, whatever that had meant. She got into a boat, as instructed by the game keeper, crossing the lake without speaking word to the young mortals. She was lead into the large castle along with the first year students. The letter told her she would be starting at Fifth year, and it must have been odd for the children to see an older person along with them. She would be sorted first.

She peered into the great hall, where there was an old hat the sat on a stool. Silence fell as the students gawked at her, and the sorting began.

*Boucher (pronounced boo-chay) is a french surname meaning blood thirsty man. La is a feminine article. basically put, Naomi, the blood thirsty woman. :)