Disclaimer: I do not own.

//This is Parseltongue.//

Paraselenic

Ennui // Boredom from lack of interest

Harry closed his eyes as he drank from the unconscious man he had accosted, his grip on the muscled forearm tight as the pulled blood from the man's wrist. It had been a while since he had had the time for a human meal, and he always managed to forget just how much more pleasant a warm person was than an animal or a substitution drink. He reveled in the steady staccato beat of the man's heart in his ears, filling his mind at the same time as the blood slowly coursed down his throat.

Harry was careful to pull away as he felt the heavy beating of his victim's heart began to slow, ensuring the man would live through dawn. So long as Harry managed to feed nightly, he had no need to kill to gain his meals. Despite all the changes Harry had undergone physically and mentally, he still refused to take life pointlessly. It was a given for his species and in the path he now walked that he would kill, and that hardly bothered Harry anymore. However, if he did not need to kill, what was the point?

He snatched the man's wallet, removing the money and tossing it into the dirt next to his head. Now when the man awoke he would assume he had been mugged, have a story to tell his coworkers, and hardly ever think of it again. Harry didn't need the money, but he found it more intelligent not to give the muggles any reason for paranoia. He pressed the back of his hand to his lips to assure himself they were free of blood and walked quickly from the alley, slipping into the shadows and avoiding any more contact with early-rising Muggles. The darkness sheltered him from naïve eyes as he slipped to a side street, preparing to Apparate so he could return 'home'.

His teeth gritted at the thought, a reflexive reaction to any thought of the Dursleys. He had no wish to return to the Dursleys' home, but he had already conceded that he had no choice. So far as anyone in this year was concerned, it was still a week to his sixteenth birthday. As far as they knew, he was nothing but an angst-ridden, though famous, teenage boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had to remain in the 'care' of his relatives for a few more weeks, until Dumbledore finally saw fit to allow him to go to Grimmauld Place. Not that that was something Harry looked forward to… but somehow, after all these years, he thought it might be nice to be near to Sirius, even if only in spirit.

Glancing around to make sure he would remain unseen, Harry concentrated on the park a block from 4 Privet Drive, disappearing with a loud crack. When he opened his eyes, he wrinkled his nose at the place of many of his least fond memories and pulled himself behind a tree and grimacing.

Casting out his senses and finding himself utterly alone and unwatched, Harry closed his eyes as he put one drop of the disgusting looking black potion under his tongue, his fingers fumbling on the bark of the tree for purchase as the changes began. Regressing hurt through every fiber of his body, a wave of searing heat tearing through him. He could feel his skin shrinking even as his bones ground together, his muscles realigning themselves on a smaller workspace. His body would lose a lot of its strength and muscle mass in the transformation, but he should be better off than he had been before - he was a vampire now.

Harry gasped as the pain finally ebbed, pain-induced tears filling his eyes as he fought to catch his breath. The transformation had brought him to his knees and Harry sighed heavily, his now short and unruly bangs lifting with the force. He popped his joints as he stood, feeling out of place several inches lower to the ground and much scrawnier than he had been in years. He flexed his arms with a scowl, annoyed at his younger self for being so utterly weak.

Already doubt was washing over him, fear surfacing as he wondered whether or not he could pull off this deception. Voldemort had asked him the same thing, but Harry had been much more sure of himself the night before. He had changed over the years into a secure young man who hated being looked down upon; Hogwarts would be bad enough between his vapid admirers, jealous classmates, and ignorant Slytherins, but how could he put up with the Dursleys without hexing them into oblivion?

He had seriously considered the Imperius before remembering the Blood Wards. Not that they did any good when Voldemort had used his blood in the resurrection process, of course, but it seemed Dumbledore had been counting on faith and love and whatever other twaddle he had dreamed up to keep his precious Golden Boy safe. It was annoying to know he was being forced to stay somewhere so vile when all the reasons he had to be there were now null and void. Unfortunately, the wards did monitor all magic done within a radius of the home, and casting Imperio on his bumbling Muggle relatives was likely to be noticed.

Threats however… Harry smirked. Vernon would never allow anyone in that house to contact anyone in the Wizarding world, so they would have no one to tell if he subtly made it clear that he would not take the crap they had been giving him for the last fifteen years. This thought brought new vigor to Harry as he crossed over the manicured lawn in front of the house, sadistic thoughts rolling through his mind as he heard the loud sounds of his Uncle getting ready for work. So what if he would have to go a few weeks without so much as a levitation charm? He was not some weak pureblood noble who couldn't exist without magic.

He opened the door without bothering to be quiet; smirking sinisterly as Vernon rounded on him, fat face already darkening in rage to see his nephew looking so… unintimidated.

"Boy!" Vernon bellowed, eyes narrowed. "Where have you been in the middle of the night?!"

Harry chuckled and shrugged one shoulder. "Out."

The beefy man advanced on him with a fierce look, but Harry didn't bother stepping away as Vernon stopped inches from him, face now purple and spittle flying from his mouth as his anger built. "You see here, boy! Just because you have those freaks on your side doesn't mean I will put up with any of your… your attitude!"

Harry calmly took a step back, letting his grin widen as the man sputtered, his fangs clearly exposed and making the vast amounts of blood that had gathered at the fat man's face drain away. "Now, Vernon… you don't really want to make me angry, do you? Believe me…" Harry's expression became malicious as he leaned near to the now cowering man. "I don't need magic to make you and your family wish you'd never been born."

Vernon sputtered. "W-Why you…!!"

Harry flicked a wave at the man and left back out the front door, his job done. He had thought long and hard about why Vernon would have left this door unlocked that fateful morning, since he hadn't forgotten in years to do so. He'd decided in the end that he had probably had a hand in it. Now Vernon wouldn't bother, since as far as he was concerned, Harry was no longer in the house.

Harry smirked and leapt up to the roof of the 'perfect' little suburban home, pulling his invisibility cloak from his pocket and wrapping it around himself. It wouldn't do for one of the Order guards to actually see him up there, after all. He would rest until afternoon when his younger self left.

Voldemort signed the form in front of him with a flourish, his hands moving automatically across the parchment. He was on autopilot lately, having had little to do since the Department of Mysteries fiasco but sign forms and read reports. There was nothing important enough to require his presence, and torturing his Death Eaters was getting blasé. He had indulged himself with casting a Cruciatus for every infraction, relishing in having corporeal form and having access once again to his magic, but the novelty had quickly worn off.

Just as life had gotten seemingly too boring to bear, in had popped Harry bloody Potter of all people. The Boy Wonder had appeared out of nowhere aged ten years, the malnourished child suddenly a breathtaking man with a mean streak to rival his own. They had planned for hours on strategy for overtaking the Wizarding world systematically, chipping away at the ministry slowly while taking out their biggest opposition in one fell swoop; without Albus Dumbledore the Order of the Phoenix would be shattered. And before they would have any chance to regroup, Harry Potter would be revealed as the partner to the Dark Lord, sealing the Wizarding world's fate.

He wasn't sure how he felt about no longer killing off the muggleborns; it had, after all, been his ambition for years. But he could see where Potter was coming from in his beliefs, somehow. As half-bloods, the two of them were magically superior to many of the purebloods out there, and there were many purebloods who were little better than squibs. Perhaps new blood was needed to enrich the pure lines… but it had to be magical blood. No matter who was pitching the idea, he would never stoop to allowing muggles mixing with wizards.

Voldemort ran his fingers slowly over the slightly scaly skin of his wrist, watching the nearly translucent skin darken under his touch, a small beauty mark appearing only to begin to fade immediately. He let a wry smile cross his mouth as the pigment faded completely. There was something about the Potter boy, something that resonated with his very being. He didn't know why he suddenly felt a kinship with the boy; was it this bond they had? Was the scar he had left upon the boy's brow the connection he felt to him? Was it deeper than that? Something instinctive between people, a common link between like souls?

He had no belief in silly things like soul mates, but he surely understood that some people matched better with others. He had found few people in his life he connected to, few who understood his background and motivations. Potter understood, though. They were so alike, almost to a frightening degree. But Potter, for years, had buried that part of himself behind the image of a bumbling Gryffindor fool.

Voldemort loved a challenge, and Potter was the most interesting thing to come along in over a decade. Though he was no longer trying to kill the boy, he had a sinking feeling that Potter was going to continue consuming his life, one way or another.

Harry was bored. He wandered the back garden aimlessly, discreetly ruining Aunt Petunia's tulips. Harry knew he had to be bored when the only thought running through his mind was that he wished Petunia had petunias for him to ruin. His mind often wandered to the most inane subjects when he had nothing better to do.

It had been weeks since he had returned to his relatives' home, and he was sick of having absolutely nothing to do. He spent the early morning hours going through katas and sparring against the air, hoping to hone the sub-par body he was stuck in. In the evenings he read the single book he had managed to bring in its original form, an interesting book on the life of Grindewald that he had yet to read.

Dudley was the only one who was stupid enough to ever bother him, and even he was wary after the first few threats. Having all several hundred pounds of oneself flipped over your scrawny cousin was enough to strike fear into even the most brainless. Aunt Petunia ignored him when she wasn't sending him wrathful gazes, Vernon simply blanched in his presence and lumbered away. They didn't question him when he left to have his daily meal nor did they seem to even notice that he never needed to eat proper food. This was not to say that he didn't, he just never really felt the need to eat the diet food his aunt prepared.

Harry had received a letter from Dumbledore the week prior saying that because of Sirius's death, he would not be brought to Grimmauld Place that summer. Harry couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not. On one hand, he was glad not to have to dive into his role so quickly, but on the other he had hoped to get the hell out of the hole he was stuck in. It was now only four days until he would need to go to King's Cross, and time seemed to have slowed to a standstill. Harry sighed and lay down in the shadowed grass of the yard; no one was home to say anything, anyway.

Harry worried about his return to Hogwarts. He had missed his friends terribly over the years… but would they accept him if they knew who he had become? He loved his friends sincerely and knew -- despite the nagging or jealousy -- that they loved him too. He also knew, though, that they were just as brainwashed as most of the Wizarding populace when it came to 'good' and 'evil'.

Ron would be scared to death. Harry was a vampire, after all, so Ron's ingrained fear would override any common sense the boy possessed. Even once the shock wore off, Harry knew Ron would scorn him for his strength. He wouldn't even need to hear the bit about Harry's ties to the Dark Lord to utterly loathe him. Hermione would take the revelations in stride, but she would reason that he had been rash and was obviously just not listening to the ever-wise Dumbledore. She would look up every available book on Vampires, research everything about him, and then nod with her bushy curls bouncing and drag him off to the Headmaster to be fixed. He hated to admit that they had grown apart, but doubted that they could ever accept him for what and who he had become. He would just have to treasure the time he would have with them before the truth came to light.

He had been drifting nearly on the verge of sleep when he felt his visitor arrive. Harry raised an eyebrow towards a rotted hole at the bottom of the fence, not bothering to rise as an amused smirk overtook his face. A too-large head poked its way through the opening, body trying to follow but quickly realizing the hole was far too small.

//Did Tom miss me so much that he had to send you, or has something gone wrong?//

Her voice was vaguely feminine somehow, highly annoyed though it was. //I would answer you if you weren't just sitting like the impertinent brat you are! Master was so right about you. Help me, dolt!//

Harry chucked at the large serpent before obliging, knocking away some of the rotting wood and widening the opening. //Is that better, your Highness?//

Nagini huffed as well as a snake could, which came out in an agitated, wordless hiss. Slithering the rest of the way through the fence, she curled up in the shadows, as aware as Harry of the Order guard in the front garden. She tasted the air lightly and hunkered into her coils. //Master wished to request a meeting tonight before the school year begins.//

//Can't,// Harry said with a frown, eyes skating towards the house. //The Order guards have been actually doing their job this year, and I can't risk being noticed leaving. I can hardly sneak away for a quick meal.//

Nagini was quiet for several moments. //Master says he wishes to meet with you the night after your first classes, then.//

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. //You can talk to him?//

//He can see and hear what I do if he chooses, and can command me from any distance.//

Harry nodded thoughtfully, thinking it was a handy trick to have up one's sleeve. He leaned back against the fence in quiet contemplation, the snake by his side. Harry sighed out a whoosh of air and frowned. He knew he would need to meet with Voldemort as often as he could manage without suspicion if the two were to continue working well together, and honestly looked forward to the meetings. But he was also wary to risk his secrets being found out too soon. He wished he had an inkling of Snape's true alliance, because having a teacher to cover for him would prove to be an unequaled advantage in the months to come. He would need to make finding out a priority.

//Tell Tom that I'll find a way to get to him on the night he wants. It will be complicated, but I think I can manage.// Nagini hissed happily before a loud crashing like breaking glass from the front of the house put both of them on alert, Harry stiffening and narrowing his eyes. //You need to go.//

Without waiting for a response, Harry crept away along the fence, his eyes narrowed toward where he knew the Order guard would be stationed. Did they not hear the ruckus? No one would be home for at least another two hours, so there should be no one to make any noise, especially not to that degree.

Reaching the edge of the house, Harry carefully cast out his senses, feeling a solitary figure only feet away from him around the corner. He narrowed his eyes and stepped out with his shoulders tensed… only to stop and laugh.

He had forgotten all about Nymphadora Tonks. The woman laid haphazardly over the bush in front of the living room window, a trashcan lid in her hand. It was this window that had been broken, and though Harry knew this would cause trouble, he couldn't help but give in to his mirth at the scene the young woman made sprawled out as she was. She looked up with a weak grin, currently orange hair hanging over her eyes. "Wotcher, Harry."

His mirth died down and he helped her up; she moved immediately towards the window to set it back to rights. Harry glanced around to make sure no Muggles were watching, a bit discomfited by her lack of secrecy. With a simple incantation the window was back to normal, and Harry gave the girl a small smile, remembering that he was not supposed to be in good spirits this 'soon' after Sirius's death. "Thanks for the laugh, Tonks, I needed it."

Orange hair dimmed and the young woman just nodded. "Sorry about that, really, but something tripped me…"

Harry glances around, seeing the garden hose curled up. "That should have been picked up anyway, so don't worry about it."

She gave him another smile that was much more genuine than the first. "Well, I'd better go back to where I'm supposed to be. Kingsley will be here in an hour to take over and he'll have a wobbler if I'm not hidden."

Harry rolled his eyes. "They act like I'm not supposed to know I have guards on me."

"It's not so much you as the Muggles, you know. Summer been good, Harry?" she said before cringing, hair dimming down another shade.

Harry managed a small smile to her, ignoring the pain that still lanced through him when he thought of his Godfather. "No worries, Tonks. I've just been bored; I wish I could have gone to Headquarters."

"Yeah, but only a few more days until school starts, huh? Are you excited?"

"I'm a bit cross that I couldn't go to Diagon Alley myself this year, but yeah, I'm excited."

The young woman shifted, locking eyes with him and sighing. "I've got to get out of sight now… but I'll talk to you later, alright Harry?"

"Wait… Tonks…" he said quickly, stopping the girl from walking away. "How's Moony?"

Hair faded entirely to mousy brown now, he saw her shoulders slump. "I don't know. He left at the start of summer for Order business and only writes Dumbledore."

Harry's heart clenched, knowing he should write to the werewolf. It was only right after all that had happened. "Alright, then. Talk to you later, Tonks."

Tonks slipped away, leaving Harry staring at the ground. He had thought it would be easier to break his ties to the Light, but actually being in the position was harder than he had thought. He had made many friends over the few years he had been a part of the Wizarding world, and he would hate to be against these people. Remus… was confusing for him. He loved him for who he had been to his parents, for the friendship he'd held with Sirius. But he wasn't sure where he, himself, stood with the man. They hardly knew one another, after all, and he couldn't even call what they had a friendship. Nonetheless, he would attempt to keep that bond, no matter how fragile and barely-formed it was.

With a sigh, Harry retreated into the house and to his dusty, muggy room, intent on writing a letter to the last of the true Marauders.

Dear Remus,

Hello Moony. I know it hasn't been very long since we talked last, but I hope you don't mind that I'm writing? I guess I can't really ask you about the beginning of your summer, but I still hope you are as well as you can be.

I considered writing this letter like nothing was wrong, but I suppose it would be wrong to. We're both very aware of the things that have happened in the last months, and sugar-coating them would make no difference. I miss Sirius. Yes, I am willing to say his name, as the Ministry can lick my balls as far as I'm concerned. What will they do, prosecute me for conspiring with a known criminal posthumously? I doubt it. Not a day has gone by that I have not thought of him. Of that bitch Bellatrix. Of Dumbledore's manipulations. Of my own stupidity. Of Snape's childishness. Of Sirius's rashness. Often I have wondered the lengths I would go through to get him back… but then I stop and know that it would probably not be best. I don't know how Sirius would take my decisions of late.

The decisions we make in life are what make us us, aren't they? If that is the case… perhaps I am not a good person anymore. Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered if the major choices you've made were mistakes? If you will be paying for them for eternity? What those close to you would think of you if they knew your truths?

I also wonder how leaders of war handle the choices they must make. How do they know their choices are the right ones? Do they even feel guilt when their choices result in the loss of their own? Or do they just automatically run the tired 'all for the best' line through their heads?

I often wonder all those things.

But perhaps this is because I am human…

Well, I will stop my rambling there. Where are you? Are you happy where you are? I must say that despite being miles away from where I expected to be… I think I am in the right place. Do you feel that way about yourself? Because if you ever doubt… where I am is open to you.

Love and Regards,

Harry James Potter

Revised: 3/18/09