I would like to think that my story is worth hearing. It has some drama, some romance, and plenty of action. It is extraordinary and regular, exciting and frustrating all at once.

To tell my own story, I will first have to endeavor and tell the story of my grandmother, a truly exceptional woman. She was born in 1511 and officially died in 1534. As you might have guessed from the use of the word "officially", my grandmother's death in 1534 was not final.

The exact circumstances of her transformation remain a mystery, for although she became vampire, she was never an ordinary one.

Never one to be an ordinary anything, Carmilla was far removed from the common vampire. Commonplace vampires have no real will or self control, they lust after blood as any other animal. Regular vampires no longer experience human emotions, like love and being undead, they are incapable of reproducing. I am living proof, therefore, they Carmilla was no such creature.

Her human emotions, in fact, were her downfall. Before we get to that part of the story, permit me to explain who my grandma Carmilla was. Most muggles have, no doubt, heard of Count Dracula, from the Stoker novel. Well, Carmilla was the real Dracula: deadly, powerful and infamous in the wizarding world. For centuries, she eluded the authorities and avoided capture.

In 1812, Carmilla met the most powerful dark sorcerer of the age, Mortimer Laverne. Over a century later, in 1954, they had a daughter, my mother, Juliana. Despite what one might expect of the daughter of two arch-villain-evil masterminds, Juliana Laverne was sweet and kind, so much so that she became estranged from her parents and married into an average wizarding family when she was 20.

In 1980, Juliana and Matthias Deveroux had a daughter. They named her Trista. That baby girl, you guessed it, is me. The Deverouxs' bliss, however, did not last for long.

But a few months after my birth, a group of wizards calling themselves " the Death Eaters" who were lead by a "Lord Voldemort" began pursuing my family. You see, they believed in preserving the purity of wizarding blood, and so would not see vampires and wizards mix.

Grandfather Mortimer was the first to fall. Carmilla was next. Despite their estrangement, Carmilla lead the Death Eaters away from her daughter and son-in-law, hoping that they will be able to escape. They did not. By 1982, my entire family was gone.

As my father's parents died long years before he had even met my mother, I had no family left to tend to me. However, my parents did make some arrangements for me to be looked after. My father's family was exceedingly wealthy, and so, before their capture and death, my parents left me with a random couple who agreed to care for me in favor of a considerable sum of money.

The Brettons were a nice enough couple. They fed me, gave me shelter and clothing. Neither Jon nor Alyssa were ever cruel or abusive, nor were they doting surrogates. They simply gave me what I needed and made sure I was ok. I have no complaint against them, nor do I feel sorry for myself for not having growing up without my a true family.

Of course, I am human (well, partially) and I do have feelings. Thus, I naturally slip into melancholy every so often and image what could have been. Overall, however, I did not have an awful childhood and I have accepted what happened. You see, I am a firm believed in "c'est la vie", it is what it is.

Anyway, now that I have indulged in a detailed family history, allow me to reintroduce myself.

I am Trista Ann Deveroux of Devonshire. Yeah, funny, I know. I have long brown hair, which I scarcely tend to, brown eyes and fair skin. I am rather tall and thin, not as a stick, but thin. I guess you could say I am pretty, not beautiful or exotic, but pretty, kind of. My boobs are small though, and because I am tall my feet are abnormally large for a girl, not that I care. To be honest, I do not really care that much about my looks. I mean, I make myself presentable, but I am not one to go crazy over makeup and such, it's just not me.

I suppose you could call me a tomboy, call me that if it pleases you. Other than being a "tomboy", I am adventurous, a free spirit and at times a grouch. I am not the sentimental or clingy type, never was, never will be.

Being the aloof, free spirited individual that I am, it should not come as a surprise that I left the Brettons' home when I was fourteen. Again, I was not miserable there, but I needed excitement and adventure, not something commonly found in a little village in Devonshire.

A letter I had gotten from my parents stated that the old family estate was mine, so I set my sights towards (?), where it stands. Naturally, my parents only intended for me to move in when I came of age, but, what can I say? I need my space.

If you're wondering how it is that I was not at Hogwarts, being a part-witch at fourteen, allow me to enlighten you- I refused to go. Whereas most normal eleven-year-old witches and wizards are excited about Hogwarts, I saw it as a prison. As they did not particularly care to convince me otherwise, Jon and Alyssa allowed me to stay at home.

Anyway, getting to my family's house was really quite simple. Since I had plenty of extra time on my hands, I learned the muggle ways. Therefore, rather than trying to use magic and get caught, I hopped the first bus I could find and got to (?).

That was the first step of my journey.