Disclaimer: I own only the obvious, the rest belongs to JK Rowling.

Authors Note: Thanks for all the reviews, I'm glad you liked the last chapter. Here's chapter 3. I hope you like it as much as the last and please review.

-Chapter Three-



Ron opened the letter from Hermione. Apparently she had gotten a Horned owl for her birthday just at the beginning of the summer, and was already trying to train the poor creature. The owl, Artemis, hooted happily as he took off the letter and flew over to Pigs cage, pushed the tiny ball of feathers out and jumped in, attacking the food and water at once. Ron only shook his head as he watched the ridiculously little Pig trying to force his way back into his own cage, then he turned to the letter.

'Hi Ron,

How are you doing? I know, I know, it's only been a week since we last saw each other, but I'm worried about you, your family and Harry. With the Dark Lord on the loose, who knows what might happen next. I'm also worried for the fact that the Dark Lord hasn't tried anything yet. Or maybe he did, but that Rex Chase stopped him, or...God, I don't even know what to think anymore!

Anyway, have you heard from Harry yet? I sent him a letter a few days ago, but it came back unopened. You don't think that those wretched Muggles did something to him, do you? Or maybe it's just Artemis' fault, she doesn't like to wait for long. As I said, I have no idea what to think anymore.

I'm worried about him Ron. Did you notice how he acted last year? It was as though he was a completely new person! He reminded me of Dumbledore, but there was something extra about him. Something, I don't know... magical! Yeah, magical; that's the word! It was as though he was the core of magic. And did you notice that he disappeared into thin air at the oddest of occasions, only to reappear a few moments later or have a perfect alibi? He's keeping something from us, and I think it's about time we figure out what it is and why he's keeping it secret.

I heard some rumours last year at school that Harry was working for Rex Chase; you know, running small errands and their like. Do you remember when the Dementor's entered in Potions? Do you think it was Chase who let them in? And it can't be just coincidence that Chase always appears at the moment he's needed.

Owl me as fast as possible, and take care of yourself and your family.

Love from,

Hermione'

Ron began to search through his room for parchment, pen and ink. Hermione was right, Harry had been acting weirdly last year. And that Rex Chase; always appearing when he was needed. All of that couldn't possibly be coincidence, it wasn't logical! He finally found what he was searching for at the bottom of all his Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle comic books, sat down at his desk and began to write.

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Hermione almost dropped her plate when a tiny fluffy thing whizzed past her and crashed into the soft pillows on the couch. Artemis flew in a moment later, glared at the couch, nibbled her ear and flew off towards her cage that stood in Hermione's room.

Hermione herself put away the dish and turned back to the couch. She leaned carefully over, expecting something to jump up and attack her, but sighed in relief when she saw exactly what it was that had caused the commotion. Well, half of the thing that had scared her halfway to death. Pig's behind was sticking out of the pillow, wiggling comically as the little owl tried to pull himself free, hooting madly all the time.

She shook her head and pulled the eccentric and crazy owl out of the pillow. Pig greeted her with a happy hoot and flapped his wings. Crookshanks who was lying at the other end of the couch, opened one green eye and glared at them, then went back to sleep. Hermione smiled in amusement, then started to look for the letter that Pig was supposed to bring.

She found it on the floor where she had been standing when Pig had crash- landed in the couch. She ran to her room, closed the door and let got of Ron's owl who at once began to fly around like a madman. Hermione didn't notice. She opened the letter and read it with Pig flying around her head in circles, hooting madly all the time.

'Hi Herm,

Yeah, you're right. Harry did act weird last year, and I know about the rumours concerning Harry and Rex Chase. I don't think you need to worry about that man anyway, Hermione. I heard from dad that he saved Snape from You-Know-Who. Walked straight into the Dark Lord's Headquarters and walked straight out; when they found out it was too late, Chase and Snape were already on their way back to Hogwarts.

I also know what you mean with the magical feeling around Harry. Each time I'm close to him, I feel like I can do almost everything I want to. I feel safe. Ginny said that she felt somehow at piece with everything, even when she was thinking about the Dark Lord. I agree with you, this can't be only circumstances.

Everything's good over here. Percy bores us all to death, mum's fussing over everyone, and the twins are being their usual self. Dad's gone a lot, mostly working at the Ministry. Apparently Dumbledore asked him to keep informing him about what was going on at the Ministry.

I'll owl you as soon as I find out something else,

Ron

PS: you worry too much. I think it only was your owl's fault that Harry didn't get that letter. Maybe he was out or sleeping or something.'

Hermione sighed. Ron was probably right, she did worry too much. And Artemis had been quite cranky the day she had sent the letter to Harry.

Suddenly she heard a tiny tapping from somewhere in her room, and looked over to the jar that still held Rita Skeeter. The beetle was looking at her and was tapping the glass with a tiny wooden stick. When the bug realised she had the bushy-haired girls attention, she tapped the lid indicating that she wanted out, then she looked back at Hermione and somehow managed to produce a look that said that she had an idea.

Hermione debated with herself for a moment, then picked up the jar and lifted it up to her eyelevel.

"One trick and I'll tell the Ministry that you're an Animagus." The beetle nodded and managed to put one of her front legs right over her heart. Hermione shook her head and crouched down, opened the lid and let the beetle out. A second later Rite Skeeter was standing in her room, stretching her arms and legs. "Now, what did you have in mind?" the Gryffindor girl asked and the reporter grinned evilly.

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There it was. His prey for the night; just waiting for him to attack, to let the ancient game of Kill or be Killed begin. How he loved this game; loved to win every time, loved the chase, the sound of his victims terrified heartbeat; loved to play with them, make them think they had a chance and then striking with unnatural speed. And most of all he loved the feeling of his fangs piercing that delicate skin of the neck, and the payment for all his efforts: the life-giving crimson flood that would begin to pour. He could hardly wait for his victim to leave the stupid pub, but until she did he would be content with watching her every move and feel his own hunger build itself up.

He was a tall, lean person with short black hair and eyes hidden behind black sunglasses. He was completely dressed in black: pants, turtleneck shirt, shining black shoes, and a black trench coat. The only two things that weren't black were the necklace around his neck and his skin.

The necklace was made out of pure white lithmin, the rarest of the rare metals the dwarves could provide the world with. It was made into an intricate pattern that he had tried to figure out countless times, but never succeeded.

His skin was almost as pale as the metal. It looked like marble, and if he sat still enough he could trick mortals into believing it too. He had tried. It was quite fun to see their faces when a statue in the museum suddenly sprang to life and ran away. Why, he even prided himself with being the origin and reason of some of the most known ghosts in the world. For example; he had enjoyed it immensely when one of the fledglings had stolen all his clothes on a dare, and he had been forced to run around in an old dress from the 1500ds he had found lying around. It had made the guards of the Tower of London think he was Anne Boelyn, the beheaded second wife of King Henry VIII. Of course, the fledglings had also chopped his head off, so that had completed the picture. Life was just wonderful at times.

The man chuckled quietly, remembering that time fondly. He wondered what had happened to the fledglings now. Were they dead or alive? Did they manage to get through the catastrophe known as Tom Marvolo Riddles first rise to power? Had they escaped the Slayer Organisation? Had the loneliness finally gotten to them? There were too many possibilities, and he didn't want to think of them now. He had a victim to keep his eyes glued on.

He scanned the dance-floor. It was difficult to see anything among the dancing youths, and the blinking light that accompanied the music didn't exactly help. He mentally cursed himself for letting her slip away and started to comb through the alcoves along the walls, putting all his concentration into the search.

"Hello." The voice made him jump and turn quickly towards it, expecting to see one of his own kind there. Instead he came face to face with the girl he had been watching all night. She was staring shyly at him through thick, long eyelashes with too much makeup. "I couldn't help but notice that you've been sitting here staring at me all evening."

'Athan old boy, you're getting out of practise. Ten years ago they wouldn't even know it if you were three inches from them.' the man thought to himself and smiled charmingly at the young girl. "It's kind of hard not to look at such a beautiful young woman as yourself." He replied smoothly. At least his verbal skills were still intact.

The girl gained colour in her cheeks. She abruptly sat down on a stool beside him and ordered a drink from the bartender. She turned to him, then back to the bartender and ordered another one for him. He smiled as he picked up his Tequila Sunrise but didn't drink it. Instead he had his eyes focused on the girl beside him who was drinking the whole thing in one, big gulp; then she ordered another one.

"What's your name?" she asked after a while, turning to him.

"Athan," he replied seductively. "And yours?"

"Christine," she said. "That's funny; you don't look like an 'Athan'." The girl added.

"Am I supposed to counter that, saying that you don't look like a 'Christine'?" he asked, and she laughed. Suddenly he noticed that her eyes kept glancing over at the other side of the room and followed her gaze. Right opposite them stood a group of girls glaring at Christine. However, when they noticed that he was staring at them, they all blushed and turned away giggling. There were only two things in life that he hated. Calls for meetings and lovesick, giggling mortals. "What do you say about getting out of this place?" tactfully he placed a light hand on her knee. The girl blushed even more.

"Sure, why not?" she stood up, then sat right back down. She was drunk.

'I'm beginning to wonder if this is worth a bit of blood.' He thought to himself as he stood up, then helped her to stand and led them out of the noisy room and into the fresh air. As soon as they were outside, and a good few blocks away from the pub, he started on the next phase in his usual hunting plan. He began to make advances towards the girl, her neck being his goal. 'Yep, it's worth it!'

The girl giggled as they staggered down the street towards the old St. Luis Cemetery.

"God, your skin is colder than ice!" she giggled again.

"Want to warm me up?" he asked quietly as he nibbled on her ear. A bit more and he was at his goal. He could feel his fangs growing longer in anticipation. The girl pushed him playfully away. 'Shit, now I have to start all over again!' he knew he sounded like a whining child, but didn't care at the moment. He had been sooo close to his crimson award, and she had to push him away. Youth these days had no respect for vampires. Really!

"No-no," she said in a singsong voice wiggling a finger at him as though he was a little child, and at the same time keeping a good hold of the collar of his trench coat with her other hand. She smiled seductively. "Not out here, love," she continued as she pulled him closer again. Mortals could be so confusing at times, "it's too cold. Let's go to my place, it's not too far away from here."

"Too cold?" he murmured, his lips brushing hers. "It's in the middle of summer, and it couldn't get hotter in New Orleans than it is now." He moved to her neck.

"What about the police?" she asked, lifting his head up so that she could look at him.

'I'm beginning to loose patience with you girl!' he thought but replied nonetheless. "The cemetery's right over there," he pointed. "No policeman would dare to enter that place."

"Hey, I may be drunk, but I'm not stupid!" she said and got out of his embrace. "You ain't getting me into that place buddy. You must be new in town since you haven't heard all the rumours, legends and myths surrounding that place." She hadn't been as drunk as he had first thought. She couldn't be one of Them, could she? "They say that demons walk in that place. Demons looking like humans, with cold, pearly white...skin..." her mouth dropped open and he grinned deviously, showing off his fangs. Nope, she was definitely not one of Them.

"You were saying?" she turned and fled. 'And let the games begin!'

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His laughter rang out after her as she ran for her life. She ran around a corner, but stopped dead in her tracks. He was standing there, the full moon casting a cold, mysterious light over him.

"Going somewhere love?" he asked. Christine changed her course and ran the other way, but she didn't get far. He was blocking her way again. "What, not even a tiny goodbye-kiss?"

She turned and ran towards the cemetery; surprisingly she reached the iron- gate it without trouble. She opened it and ran inside, hiding behind a large tomb. There she began to analyse her situation. She hadn't been at the top of her year in school for nothing.

'I'm hiding from something that was supposed to be a myth, and I'm hiding in a cemetery which is their territory. God, what am I going to do?' she thought to herself. 'I can't die like this! What about mum and dad? And my place at Harvard Law School? It's not my time! I'm too young!' Panic was beginning to build inside her and tears ran down her cheeks. "God! I can't die like this!"

"There's no need for screaming love." She turned quickly; he was standing behind her, watching her through those black sunglasses. "Be a good girl now, and come to me without complaints. If you do I'll end your life quickly maybe even make you one of us. However, if you don't, the chase is going to be long and hard, and it won't stop until I have you as my supper."

Christine watched him for a minute. Now she knew what had attracted her to him in the first place, ever since she had seen him in the pub a week ago. It was the feeling of danger people got when they came close to him; and the fact that he possessed an otherworldly beauty didn't make things worse. She stood up, suddenly calm. If God wanted her to die at the hands of this fallen angel, there had to be a reason for it.

She walked up to him and stood in front of him for a while, just watching him, trying to memorize everything about him. She slowly, uncertainly lifted her hands towards his face, stopped halfway then proceeded. He let her do it, didn't interrupt once. Christine took off his sunglasses. The eyes were closed at first, then they opened. She was staring into a pair of sharp, unnatural silver eyes. She was lost in them, and didn't notice when his arms went around her and pulled her closer. Nor did she notice when he leaned down to her neck, searching for the perfect spot.

The charm was suddenly broken when his head jerked up and he looked around. She stared at him in wonder as he looked from one place to another, staring into every shadow, searching for something. He let go of her so suddenly that she stumbled and fell, but she didn't care. She kept watching those silver eyes search frantically for the thing that had disturbed him. After a few minutes when nothing had come up, he shook his head then turned back to her. He hadn't even taken one step towards Christine, when his eyes widened in terror or annoyance, she couldn't tell.

"Oh shit, not again." Was the only thing he said before he was gone in the blink of an eye.

Christine stood up shakily and brushed herself off. She was about to head home, when she noticed the sunglasses on the ground. She picked them up and examined them. They were the latest in style, and looked cool. She decided to keep them as a reminder of the fact that there were more than humans running around, and that God had given her a second chance.

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Athan ran at full speed towards the edge of town. If it was some stupid fledgling that had gotten into trouble, and had sent out the call he would first save them and then kill them himself; that is, if other vampires didn't do it before him.

On the other hand the call had been too strong, too forceful to be sent out by a fledgling. No vampire under 1900 years could send out something as strong as that. It had to be one of the four oldest ones that had sent it out.

He nearly fell when the call came again, more powerful this time than the two first.

//Riddle awake again. All vampires over 1000 years meet up at the Stonehenge, England. Spread the word. Meeting in three days.//

It wasn't the female voice he had gotten used to, but a male voice even more powerful than the one he had expected. Last time Riddle had been on the rise, Athan had been safely tucked away in an underground cave; he had slept through the whole war, and had ignored the call for the meeting at the beginning of the catastrophe. Needless to say that the other vampires had been pissed at him, but it had passed eventually.

He had reached the coast of the American continent, and was looking out over the ocean. He could feel the sun rise behind him, but where he was going there was still night. He focused his eyes on a star and started to concentrate. Athan gathered all his willpower and down right willed himself to be in the air with the star.

Everything went in a rush, and before he could blink he was in the air; all he had to do now was change his course towards England and focus on something big in the country: like a city, an important building or place. It wasn't too different from the wizards way of apparating, just not as fast.

While he was flying he made sure to forward the message as far as he could. Even if he was 8900 years old, he had his limitations. The only one who didn't would be the first vampire to exist, but no one had seen or heard from the old creature for more than 9400 years, and most of the vampires believed that the first vampire didn't exist anymore.

Athan shook his head. All this thinking was making him feel dizzy and he had to keep an eye out for Sea Witches. The task would've been easier to perform had he stopped playing with the girl, Christine, and instead gone straight to business. But what is, is. And he had a meeting to attend. There was nothing that could keep him from involving in the second rise of Riddle.

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Well, what do you think? Sorry about the delay, but a few new characters popped up and demanded to have their spot in this chapter, so I had to rewrite half the chapter.

Thanks to:

Tima, aziandorkess, Naya, WolfMoon, M. Black, Moonlight, WeasleyTwinsLover1112, Rogue1615, Sophie W., A-man, evie bellwood, JDY, Miranda Flairgold, Essence of Power, Angie, Tara-Chan, Nkari, Beldin325, lollipozz, Phoenix of Light, Sev Rickman, ruskbyte, Mona, Arizosa, Neo, aurora*sky, coconut-ice agent h/h, JUDGEMENT, Korinna Myorin, Confuzzler, Ashley, Bookworm, Siri Kat, krystaldragon, Nicole, Hope, Cr1Ms0n^D3v1L, CeltickKnight, Richan, Amber Evans Potter, tracev, Exploding Snap, MythX, sammymc, Rhea, Cate and Lilly Potter.

Don't worry. Everything will be explained sooner or later.