Harry Dracul
Disclaimer/Plot/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER
Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to my fans: my recommended reads are The Chosen Two Saga by HeathenVampires, A Normal Life by Unknownmusic, Follow MY Footsteps by St3phP33l, Path of the Chosen Ones: Year 1 by JamesJW02, Shadow Phoenix and Twisted Fate by moonfeather58, Harry Potter: Lord of Darkness by AngelSlayer135, Harry Potter and the Darkness Within by DaggersBloodPain, Damaged Raven and Dark Lord Potter by JustBored21, Dracula Rising by ZenoNoKyuubi, Haemophilia (based on It's in the Blood by sakurademonalchemist) and On the Delights of Drinking Blood by Quatermass, Harbinger of Blood by Viscount Anarchy and The Downward Spiral Saga by BolshevikMuppet99
Key Pairings: Harry/TBD
Other Pairings: To be determined
Normal Speech
'Thoughts'
'Mental Speech'
/Parseltongue/
Review Answers:
Jostanos: Sometimes, my friend, you have some crazy ideas that just grab at my attention and refuse to let go…and this is one of those times, so thank you
Vampireking40: Interesting thoughts, though probably not what I'll do: keep reading to find out
JustBored21: Is that so? Well then, I hope you enjoy what else is to come
Dracul
ALSO:
As you'll see from this chapter, the winner of my poll was to have him sorted as Dracula and not as Harry, so, for the rest of this story, Harry is going to be written as Vlad/Vladimir
(Oh, and it's also still going to be Daniel Radcliffe and not Gerran Howell, just in case anyone was wondering…)
"From this day forth, your name is Vladimir Dracula, Heir to the Dracula Throne and the future Prince of Darkness; now come, my son: it's time we were going home."
Seconds later, both the stranger, a man known only as Count Dracula, and his son and heir vanished with a sound akin to a sharp whoosh of air.
Leaving an unsuspecting world nonethewiser as to how it would be nearly ten years before such power was seen on their shores ever again.
Chapter 2: Son of the Dragon, Heir of the Devil
Ten years.
Well, if he was being specific, it was more like nine-and-a-bit – nine years and four months, to be exact – since the child formerly known as Harry James Potter was last seen on British shores.
However, now, he was back, all thanks to his Father's instinct to defend him and protect his own, as well as a piss-poor attempt to frighten and wipe out the Draculas on the part of a band of breathers whom were about as frightening as fleas on a wolf's back. Of course, the fact that this particular breather bunch had also sent word to the Slayers' Guild to come and help them end the Dracula Line for good was another reason – and, no matter what his stake-up-her-own-ass vulture of an adoptive-maternal grandmother might say, it was a good, just and honourable one too – to get the hell out of Transylvania while there was still a Dracula Line to protect.
Which brought him to the other thing he thought to himself, even as they passed onto British shores.
The fact that he might have left them as weak, innocent, little baby Harry James Potter, but he was returning as the bright, brave, strong and very changed Vladimir Draconis Dracula, Heir of the Dracula Clan, Vampire-in-Training and all-round bad egg with no real love lost for the Brits.
Well, except as the thought of using them as dinner ingredients, of course.
Having needed to find new accommodations as soon as possible, Vladimir – or Vlad, as he was known for short – had looked for the simplest, cheapest and easiest – meaning quickest – to buy on such short notice and, after fifteen minutes' searching, he'd found it.
A castle.
For immediate sale and instant move-in, located in the small, quiet British town of Stokely.
So, thanks to the breathers, his Father's desire to protect the family and a few arguments with the elders, Vladimir Dracula was back!
Pity the poor breathers…not!
Dracul
"I'm sure we should have turned right back there."
"Don't blame me, blame this maggot-infested imbecile at the wheel."
"I was," argued Vlad, smirking in a sense of personal amusement, which was shared by his elder sister – well, half-sister, but she'd always treated him as though they were full-blood kin – Ingrid Magda Dracula, as she shared in his disdain for the fact that, even though they'd been in the UK for nearly half-a-night and most of the morning now, they were still no closer to their new home.
Add in the fact they'd found their way to Stokely, only to end up lost in such a small, bland-looking environment, not to mention the fact that it had been nearly two days since any of the Draculas had so much as sampled blood and it was safe to say tempers, and emotions, were running high.
As Vlad scowled while he looked to the window of their hearse for what seemed like the twentieth time that hour, Ingrid scoffed next to him as she asked, "Why can't you read a simple map, you pus-for-brains? You're supposed to know your way around like the back of your hand, or is that as much a mystery to you as what's filling the space between your ears?"
"Please be quiet, Mistress Ingrid," insisted the driver, a disgusting, wart-and-boil-infested mosaic of a man named Renfield, whom was nothing more than a servant to the Draculas, but liked to delude himself into thinking he was more than that. "Also, in case it escaped your attention, Miss, I am trying to read the Map and follow the instructions that Master Vlad found for me."
"Don't blame Vlad," argued Ingrid, earning a faint smirk from the Dracula Heir as she told Renfield, "He made those instructions perfectly-clear: a blind werewolf could have followed them easier."
"All right, just turn right, and keep it down: Dad's asleep," retorted Vlad, quickly looking over his shoulder while he added, "And thanks to us being short on chances to stop for blood since that near-miss on the outskirts of Paris, I certainly wouldn't want to risk him waking up during the day! It's bad enough I have to be awake during the day, just so I can make sure you two don't kill each other."
"And because Dad wants you to be used to it before the breather-magi come looking for you in a couple of months' time," replied Ingrid, earning a nod of agreement from Vlad as she told him, "Just be thankful you don't burst into flames or dust like Dad would, Vlad…and for Darkness' sake, Renfield: didn't you hear him? Turn right, you insect-biting ignoramus!"
"I know!" snapped Renfield, though when he jerked on the steering wheel, the force of the sudden turn caused Vlad to slam into Ingrid, which, regretfully, caused Ingrid to slam into Renfield as they drove up a sloping street that seemed to climb a hill in the town.
At the same time, while Vlad and Ingrid composed themselves, Renfield sneered as he asked, "There: is that what you meant, Miss? I turned right, just like you said and look. Just like I knew it was, there's the castle up ahead, so eat that, you spoilt little…"
"RENFIELD!"
"Now you've done it," muttered Vlad, just as Renfield slammed on the brakes, bringing the hearse to a dead stop while, at the same time, Vlad rubbed the bridge of his nose as he felt the curtain behind him shift.
Barely a second later, a pale-skinned, dark-haired man with a cold, unforgivingly-harsh stare poked his way through the curtains, scowling more at the dirty man in the driver's seat rather than his children as he asked, "What is going on? What did you think you were doing knocking me out of my coffin like that, you disgustingly-useless halfwit?"
"S-S-S-Sorry…for disturbing you…M-M-M-Master," stammered Renfield, all bravado and confidence gone as soon as the man, the notorious Count Dracula himself, poked his head out and addressed his servant.
"Silence!"
"Sorry about the knock, Dad," added Vlad, earning a curious, but less-stern and certainly-the-opposite-of-harsh look from the Count as he indicated Renfield before he added, "Someone thought it'd be funny to try and leave Ingrid and I looking like we had egg on our faces."
"Are you hurt?" asked the Count, earning a faint smile from his son and heir.
"Only thanks to the painful feelings of my stomach growling; it feels like a real dragon's trying to burst out of there like in that sci-fi film we watched last Halloween," said Vlad, earning a faint smile from the Count while even Ingrid leaned over and gently massaged her little brother's stomach, which did indeed rumble like the roar of the dragon that took up part of the Dracula name, Coat of Arms and even Vlad's middle name.
"If the coffin weren't mounted on our blood casks, I'd gladly let you have some, Vladdy," insisted the Count, earning a weak smile from Vlad, even as he went on, "Unfortunately, our near-miss with the French Slayers and this pathetic wart-sack's worthless sense of direction or importance leave little time for a snack. So, just hold on until we get to this new home of ours and you can have all the blood you can drink, all right?"
"I wish I could have it from the vein," drawled Vlad, earning a soft moan of longing and mutual agreement from the Count.
"So do I, my son, so do I…now, Renfield…drive!"
Dracul
Even as the Draculas drove on towards their new home, however, none of them, not even the Count himself, were aware of the bright, wide pair of eyes watching them from a darkly-decorated upstairs window in the house that their hearse had stopped outside of.
Nor were they aware, not even Vlad, of how the owner of the eyes would become a key player in their lives in due course.
Dracul
"Home, sweet home…oh, look: cobwebs and mould…and nice torch brackets: not quite the gold veneer effect, but it already feels like we're back at our real home in Transylvania."
"I'll be the judge of…ow! Be careful, you filthy pestilent toadstool!" snapped the Count, his voice coming from within his closed casket, though his ire came from the fact that Renfield accidentally dropped it so it was lying horizontally on the floor.
As Vlad and Ingrid opened their Father's casket, the Count rose up with an almost supernatural effect, which caused him to rise up and glide out of the coffin before he landed on the floor with an audible, resonating thud. The force of the thud, or perhaps even the Count's dark power, was so intense, it caused a wave of dust and cloud to kick up when he landed, which spread its way through the castle like a ghost making itself at home.
As the Count looked around the main hall of his new castle, he hummed thoughtfully as he drawled, "Yes…I suppose it will do: it could use a few rotting corpses and skulls, but we can accessorise later. Well done, Vlad: now, I believe someone mentioned something about a blood feast?"
"Finally," moaned Vlad, massaging his stomach even as he looked to Ingrid before he asked, "I know your thirst isn't as strong as mine and Dad's yet, Ingrid, but, still…feel like joining us?"
"I'll have a couple of glasses," agreed Ingrid, though, when the Draculas turned to the door, the Count's eyes widened with outrage and indignation when he saw Renfield just standing there, not even bothering to take the hint.
"Well?" roared the Count, his voice resonating through the halls as it usually did whenever he got angry, "What are you waiting for, you worm? A personal telegram? Fetch our supplies in and open up three bottles of the finest we have: nothing but the best to unchristen our new home."
While Renfield scurried away like the ratty nothing he was – at least, as far as the Draculas were concerned – the Count looked back to his children as he asked, "Now, while we wait for that dust-bunny-brained imbecile to fetch our dinner, have you two settled the argument of who gets the tower room in this new home of ours?"
"Vlad," said Ingrid, earning a surprised look from her younger brother, the sight of which made the daughter of Dracula smile as she shook her head before she told him, "No arguments, little brother: I'm going to come of age three years before you do, so, just like you need to get used to sleeping at night again, so too should I get used to being away from the sunlight and adjusting to the darkness. Besides, having your room up in the tower means you have your own space should anything magical bother you and you're able to let your troubles go out of the window and plummet to their deaths at the bottom."
"How…charitable of you, Ingrid," drawled the Count, earning a small laugh from Vlad, even as Renfield returned with their cases and the blood that all three had waited long enough to have.
Dracul
Unlike the Count's favourable attitude with his son and heir, and the protective air he often showed around Vlad, it had actually taken some years, and a little convincing on Vlad's part, for the Count to let go of the archaic, sexist thoughts of the vampire clans of old and accept that Ingrid was not only his older child, but also that she was someone Vlad himself looked up to and learned from, as she taught him all about the ways, customs and even powers of the vampire he would one day become – even though, unlike her, he still had a little less than six years before he would come of age and ascend to full vampirism.
It helped that Ingrid also treated Vlad with more respect than the Count had expected, given the circumstances of his birth and the things that made him different from her.
So, while the Count might have sounded sarcastic when he commented on Ingrid's response to the tower-room dilemma, Vlad knew he meant it.
And, thankfully, so did Ingrid.
Dracul
As Vlad drained the last drops from the bottle provided by Renfield, he licked his lips and patted his stomach while, in the dark light of the castle, his usually-cold, supernaturally-bright green eyes turned jet-black as he growled, "Ahh…much better; still not as good as from the vein, but it'll do."
"Hear, hear," agreed the Count, even as Ingrid drained her own glass – or rather, her fourth glass – before the Count looked to the castle's interior as he added, "Well, I leave it to you two to make sure that overcompensating fool decides to empty the wax from his ears and use what little brains he has long enough to get our home into some order. Vladdy, you may also go and make yourself at home in your new room…and Ingrid; I believe I saw a second, slightly-lower tower room on the opposite side of the castle, so why don't you go and check that one out?"
"Thanks Dad," laughed Ingrid, earning a smile from Vlad as he saw more evidence of the family he had become part of being closer than ever.
Dracul
After deciding not to leave his possessions in Renfield's case, Vlad instead chose to take charge and responsibility of his own cases as he carried them up to the highest room of the tallest tower.
When he got to the room, however, Vlad couldn't help but smile when he noticed how someone else was already there.
Or rather…something else.
It was a wolf; a sleek, strong-looking grey wolf with bright, fierce amber eyes and a real shaggy-dog sort of look about him, thanks to the rough trial of the long journey from Transylvania. The wolf was sat next to the window, looking out over the scene of the town below while, to Vlad's relief, he had a half-full bowl of raw meat that looked half-chewed and savagely-devoured.
"I wondered if you'd be all right too, Zoltan," said Vlad, walking over to the wolf where he scratched his friend between his ears, earning a content whine from the beast as he leaned into the touch.
"No thanks to Renfield's incompetence, Master Vlad," argued the wolf, actually speaking aloud, in a voice edged by the Transylvanian/Slavic lilt that was a constant reminder of his homeland for the future Prince of Darkness. "Fortunately, while the Count was threatening his manhood, and you were actually contemplating asking your Father to rip the ingrate open, so you could drain him dry personally, I went hunting and found enough to tide me over."
"That's good," agreed Vlad, sitting on the sill in his window as he explained, "When the sun sets, we'll go hunting: both of us. I'll see if I can take down a fat cow or two for me and Dad to have. It should tide us over until we get a better idea of what sort of breathers live in this dreary place; I mean, look at it, Zoltan. It's so dull, quaint and normal, it makes facing the mob back in Transylvania seem like a weekend in Vegas."
"At least it gives you a safe haven until the magi come after you, Master Vlad," argued Zoltan, earning a scoff from Vlad as he nodded.
"Good point, I suppose, which reminds me; even when they do come for me, I expect you to stay by my side as you have done since I was a baby."
"Your Father bound me to you as your Blood Familiar, Master," retorted Zoltan, earning a small, but genuine smile from Vlad as he explained, "No matter what their rules or the ideas of such things may be, I am going to stay by your side, no matter what. We share more than just strength and mystic energies, after all."
"I know," agreed Vlad, moving away from the window as he sagged down onto his bed with an audible sigh.
As Zoltan moved to lay his head next to his master, Vlad gently petted his faithful friend as he asked, "Zoltan, be honest: do you think I can handle being both the Son and Heir of Count Dracula and a wizard, especially with what Dad told me about the rumours that came out of this country about the person I used to be?"
"I believe the same thing I have always believed, young dragon," said Zoltan, rubbing his head against Vlad's hand in an affectionate manner as he went on. "You have it within you to be whatever you choose to be, whether that is your Father's successor or a truly-powerful addition to the long, and long-since-believed forgotten power and legacy of Death Mages, or Vampire Sorcerers, as they used to be called."
While Vlad smiled in response to Zoltan's ever-wise counsel, the wolf let out a low whine and a snort before he continued, "And, to help you, we now know this world believes the boy you used to be, the breather-magi child known as Harry Potter, is dead, so, thanks to their naivety and your Father's explorations into the ways to keep you out of their sights, they will not expect Vladimir Dracula to be anything less than someone to be observed because of the vampirism in you."
"Thanks Zoltan," agreed Vlad, tickling Zoltan behind one ear as he added, "You always know what to…"
Suddenly, whatever else Vlad might have said was cut off when a loud thud came from his bedroom window, accompanied by what looked like a metal hook of some sort, like the kind one might use for abseiling or high-climbing.
"Look, Master Vlad."
Shushing Zoltan, Vlad lifted himself from his bed and made his way to the bedroom window.
Looking down to see where the hook and rope had come from, the Dracula Heir frowned when he saw a truly-alarming, but also-curious sight.
A boy, dressed all in black, with dark hair on his head and an air of exhaustion that turned into a look of alarm as he looked up and saw Vlad staring down at him with a bemused expression.
Letting out a cry of alarm, the boy slipped and fell, though not before Vlad reached down and grabbed him with one hand, holding him in mid-air while he smiled cruelly as he addressed his mysterious window-visitor. "So, do you want to just go ahead and tell me what you're doing up here or should I just go ahead and let you fall to your death?"
"No, please!" cried the boy, earning a raised eyebrow from Vlad as he explained, "I'm sorry: I just…I saw your hearse arriving and…and I saw you were moving up…up here to the castle and I…I was interested."
"And…what? You couldn't have knocked first or rung the doorbell?" asked Vlad, sarcasm evident in his voice as he asked, "What? Have you never heard of manners or something?"
As he scoffed in amusement, however, Vlad's attention snapped back to the boy in mortal peril when the frightened youth let out a cry that grabbed onto Vlad's attention just as firmly as the hook he'd used to climb up the castle's walls. "I didn't want to risk you drinking my blood!"
Before the frightened boy could say anything else, Vlad lifted him up with alarming strength – well, alarming for anyone who didn't know who Vlad was – before he let the boy fall onto his bedroom floor, kicking the hook off of his window as he looked to his visitor. "Who are you?"
"R-R-Robin…Robin Branagh," replied the boy, coughing hard as he looked up to Vlad as he went on, "And…and you don't have to worry: I won't tell anyone that you're vampires. I just…I had to be sure and…and I needed to see if you…if you were real or…or just some sort of eccentric weirdo like everyone else will think you are."
"And…you knew I was a vampire…how?" asked Vlad, folding his arms while he also smirked when the boy, Robin, paled as Zoltan started growling threateningly at him, warning him off even as Vlad added, "Now, now, Zoltan, play nicely: I know you're hungry, but please be civil for now: he is a guest in our home, after all."
"As you wish, Master Vlad," agreed Zoltan, though his voice remained edged by his predatory growl as he told Robin, "But listen well, breather: if you mean any harm to my Master, I will turn you into waste for my basket, understand?"
"Yes sir," said Robin, looking back to Vlad as he added, "And I…I knew you were vampires because I…well, I can't explain it except to say I've got a sort of sixth sense about these things. Like I…I know when someone's not quite what they appear to be, you know?"
"Interesting," agreed Vlad, tapping a finger against his chin before he added, "But that still doesn't excuse you doing this: I mean, for one thing, it's rude to just barge in uninvited and, for another thing, we are vampires, Robin, so what's stopping me from biting you and killing you here and now?"
"You can if you want," said Robin, earning a surprised look from Vlad, even as the dark-haired boy bore his throat to the young vampire, who could only stare as he watched this breather submit to him.
As Robin stayed where he was, however, Vlad's eyes narrowed when a faint scent tickled his nostrils: one that, while he was not yet a full vampire, still triggered the dark spawn inside of him as he smelled something he'd been taught to recognise from a young age by his Father and even by his elder sister.
Before Robin could say anything, he found himself pinned to the wall, looking into a pair of jet-black eyes and a snarling, but fangless face as the Son and Heir of Count Dracula snarled at him.
"I know that blood's scent…you're a wizard, Robin Branagh!"
Chapter 2 and, uh oh, talk about another twist of fate: the gothic, vampire-obsessed annoyance that was canon-Vlad's friend is actually a wizard and now finds himself more-likely to be Vlad's dinner…but will anything save him?
Also, if a wizard lives in Stokely, what else lies in wait for the Son and Heir of Dracula and his family?
Keep Reading to Find Out
Next Chapter: Robin fills in a few blanks, prompting Vlad to do the same, but when he's reminded of the more-surprising side of his room's intruder, the future Prince of Darkness makes a choice…and an offer for the other wizard in the Dracula Clan's midst;
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