New York 1871

In the seven years since Damon, through the combined actions of Giuseppe, Stefan, and Katherine, had become a vampire, he had never spent more than three months in the same place, until now. Katherine might not have been around to teach him in person, but Damon had learnt a lot from his sire. Primarily that it was a bad idea to linger for too long in a single locale, even if you had a daylight ring to divert suspicion. Katherine's imprisonment in the tomb served as a stark warning to Damon of what could happen if too many bodies started to pile up.

So, Damon had travelled from place to place, slowly figuring out all his new skills, compulsion, speed, strength, compulsion. Testing out and perfecting the method of snatch, eat, erase, though some accidental and some not-so-accidental deaths had still occurred, and contemplating longingly the distant future in which he would be reunited with the love of his life.

Small towns had been his starting point, less anonymous than the city, but the easiest place to figure out the whole vampire thing on his own. Especially since he had spurned the offer made by Stefan's vampire mentor, to teach him as well. He hadn't wanted her help and he definitely hadn't had any desire to spend any time around the brother who had forced this state upon him.

It had taken him five years to decide he was ready to leave small town unliving behind him and move onto bigger and better things. Atlanta, Cincinnati, Chicago, he'd even spent some time travelling through the newly founded country of Canada, he'd visited Toronto, Ottawa, and Montreal before passing back into the USA. His first long-term stop had been Boston, by way of Salem, though he'd only spent a week of two there, too many witches for his liking. Boston had almost tempted him to stay for longer than the standard three months, but something had pushed him to move on, and he was glad he'd listened, because after Boston he'd landed in New York.

New York was, in Damon's opinion, the greatest city in the world, and it was a city he would return to many times over his long-life. It had been adoration at first sight and Damon had been quick to use all the skills he had honed to ensure that his new life there would be one of absolute comfort. Targeted use of compulsion gained him land, buildings, and money, a combined portfolio of wealth suitable for any vampires needs. Before Damon knew it, six months had passed, and he was firmly ensconced in the thriving city that was New York.

Which, as was typical for him, was when he was firmly reminded that being a vampire made you a target for vampire-hunters. It wasn't that Damon had done anything wrong per se, he hadn't killed anyone at all in New York, his catch-eat-erase method second nature by then. Arguably the compulsion he had used to lay the foundation to his wealth could be considered as theft, but he'd made sure only to use it on those who could afford to lose what he took. He was basically a modern-day Robin Hood, just without the whole giving to the poor after he robbed from the rich thing.

His daylight ring and his method of feeding had helped him avoid notice over the past seven years. He'd been sure to cover his tracks when he did kill, and to move on swiftly afterwards. In short, he'd done nothing whatsoever to draw the attention of vampire-hunters or leave a trail for them to follow. Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing he could do about one happening across him as he fed, well hidden in deeper shadows perhaps, but nothing else.

Luck was seemingly on his side when the first stake thrown by the vampire-hunter merely grazed his arm, less so when the second one impaled him completely, though it did miss his heart, which could be considered lucky. Damon was given no time to contemplate this as the stake was swiftly followed by a vial full of vervain liquid which burned like fire and sent him stumbling back. Damon was fast and strong and unlike a lot of vampires, he knew how to fight, which should have made it easy for him to take down the hunter. The stake that was still lodged in his torso and the barrage of vervain evened the playing field a bit, but he still should have been able to gain the upper hand.

Fate was not, however, on Damon's side. What he had assumed to be a lone hunter was merely a single member of a group of them. Damon did manage to take down the first two, a broken neck and an extracted heart stopping them in his tracks. The third, much wilier than his companions, had come armed with a vervain-soaked net that he managed to wrap around Damon and pull him to the ground, trapping him completely. Which was when things got really weird, at least from Damon's perspective anyway.

The hunter that had brought him down to the ground was preparing to push a wooden stake through his heart when a beam of red light him and he collapsed to the ground unconscious. The rest of his compatriots were hit with the same red beam, and they to collapsed unconscious. The net that had been covering Damon and the stake that had been plunged through his stomach vanished completely, one after the other, leaving Damon free to push himself to his feet.

"Are you okay? Need any more help at all?"

A crisp British voice spoke from the mouth of the alleyway. Damon looked over in that direction and saw a young man, possibly in his early-twenties, the messiest black hair Damon had ever seen covered the man's head, fringe falling across eyes that were filled with concern. Concern for Damon, something he hadn't experienced since before Stefan had forced him to turn and he had chosen to part ways with his brother.

There was a lot of thing's Damon could have said to the fashionably dressed stranger who had just saved him; 'thank you,' 'I'm perfectly well,' 'thank you,' 'no help required,' 'thank you,' none of that was what came out of his mouth though. Instead, the first thing that Damon said was the thing he had been wondering since the first beam of red-light had taken out the first hunter.

"What the hell was that?"

"Magic," the answer was accompanied by a casual shrug.

Damon gaped at the stranger. He had seen magic before, from Emily Bennett and from several witches he'd encountered during his travels, magic didn't look like that. Magic wasn't flashy-lights knocking people out or things vanishing without a trace. Magic was herbs and chanting and dusty grimoires full of ancient knowledge. But then again, what else could explain flashy-lights that knocked people out or things vanishing without a trace, if not magic.

"Magic?"

"Magic."

"How?"

"I'm a wizard."

"A wizard?"

"A wizard."

"Right. Am I dead? Is this some kind of crazy afterlife?"

The stranger was once again looking at Damon with concerned eyes.

"Did they hit you on the head? I've never heard of a vampire suffering from a concussion, but I suppose it is possible."

Damon stared at him for a moment.

"I need a drink." He muttered, and for the first time since he had become a vampire, he didn't mean blood.

"I know just the place." The stranger who claimed to be a wizard replied cheerfully. "Follow me."

Damon debated just cutting and running, but he supposed the man had saved his life. Also, he really wanted that drink, and he supposed an explanation would be nice and a lot easier to get if he followed, so he chose that option instead.

"I'm Henry by the way, Henry Potter."

The man held out a hand to Damon who after a short hesitation reached out and shook it.

"Damon Salvatore."

Henry grinned.

"Nice to meet you, Damon Salvatore. If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you to a place I know, buy you that drink your craving and enlighten you about the wonderful world of magic that I've unintentionally pulled you into."

Damon couldn't help but grin back at the cheerful young man who'd quite possibly just saved his life.

"Lead on Henry Potter, I'm brimming with anticipation."

The bar Henry lead him to was only a few streets away from where they had met, and Damon considered that Henry was probably heading there when he heard the commotion and stopped. It came as a great shock to Damon, when Henry, a mischievous grin on his face, grabbed hold of Damon's hand and pulled him straight through a solid brick wall.

"Sorry about that, it's easier if you're not expecting it, that way you don't tense up."

Damon didn't answer, he was too busy staring around the bar filled not just with people, but with beings that looked like they'd come straight out of the pages of some story.

"Welcome to the Dragon's Roost, one of the best bars in Brooklyn, and open to supernatural's of all flavours."

Henry took pity on the astonished Damon and guided him over to a free table in the corner of the room, ordering drinks from one of the servers as he did so. The service in the Dragon's Roost was exemplary, the drinks appearing on the table almost as soon as they'd sat down. Henry shoved one into Damon's hand and he downed it immediately, without seeming to realise he had done so, at least not until he was surprised by a burst of flame shooting out of his mouth. Damon's eyes widened even further and then narrowed as he regarded Henry, who just gave him a casual shrug.

"Ogden's Old Firewhisky. I figured it would be just the thing to snap you out of it."

"Well, it worked. I think I'll take another one and that explanation now please."

Henry smiled and pushed another glass over to Damon, who gave it a suspicious look before picking it up and examining it.

"It's Finsbury Fang, basically just blood mixed with Gin, favoured by vampires."

Damon took a small sip, wary of what might happen if he gulped it down like he had the last, to his relief all he could taste within the drink was blood, O-Negative, and Gin. Henry smiled and took a sip of his own drink, an elf-made Bordeaux, before setting the glass down again and leaning forward towards the vampire.

"So, I promised you an explanation."

"You did." Damon agreed, "I've never seen magic like this before, and I never would have guessed that any of this was real."

"I'm going to assume the only magic you've been exposed to before is channeler magic."

"Channeler's?"

"I suppose I should start at the beginning."

"Might help."

Henry laughed.

"I like you, Damon. Right, so, to start there are two main types of human magic-users. Wixen like me, who are born with a magical core, and channelers, they can do magic, but they have to channel something, nature, spirits, magical beings, etc."

"Wixen? I thought you said you were a Wizard?"

"I am, wixen is a collective noun for what we are, helps to differentiate us from channelers. Amongst ourselves we usually refer to each other as witches and wizards, though some prefer to be called sorcerer's or warlocks."

"I'm still not sure I understand the difference. I mean channelers and wixen both do magic right? Why the different labels?"

"Wixen have existed since the beginning of human history, we evolved on parallel lines to muggles, building our own societies, within but slightly separate to muggle society."

"Muggle?"

"Humans who are born to two non-magical parents and are incapable of performing magic."

"So, I'm a muggle?"

"You were. Now you're a vampire so you're considered to be a magical being. Vampires are inherently magical beings even though your kind can't actually do any magic, but we're getting off topic."

"Right, wixen and channelers."

"So, like I was saying, wixen like me, have existed as long as humans have. We all have what is termed to be; a magical core, that's what enables us to perform magic. The first record of Channelers was around 3000 B.C., so they are believed to have come into existence about then, all though no-one can agree on how they came to exist." Henry took another sip of his wine before continuing. "Channelers don't have a magical core like wixen do, but they can still perform magic. From the studies my people have performed we've learnt that channeler magic passes down through particular bloodlines it doesn't just appear randomly within the population."

"So, if channelers don't have a magical core, how do they perform magic?"

"They have what we've termed a spark. Channelers who tap into that spark, usually during their childhood, can perform magic but they need to channel that magic from something, nature, the spirits, magical beings, celestial events." Henry gained a thoughtful look on his face. "Although I suppose you could consider that all of those things fall under the category of nature."

"A question for the philosopher's to debate." Damon suggested.

"As you say. Where was I?"

"Channelers don't have a magical core they have a spark."

"Exactly. That's why we have different labels, we're both subsets of the human race that are capable of performing magic, but the fundamental base of our abilities is different. Channelers just don't have the same versatility when it comes to magic that my people do. If I was to hand a channeler my wand and instruct them on how to turn a raven into a goblet or make a turnip do a tap dance, they would not be able to do so."

Damon raised an eyebrow at the examples of magic Henry offered. He'd known that Henry's magic was different from the magic he'd seen Emily Bennett do, he just hadn't realised how different until right then. He was receiving quite the education about the supernatural world, one that he doubted he would have received had he remained human.

"So channeler magic is weaker than wixen magic."

"Depends on who you ask. I for one don't believe so, but channeler magic and wixen magic are so different in nature and our society keeps itself almost completely separated from them that it's hard to say for sure. Channeler magic was responsible for the creation of the vampire race, and for many of the shapeshifter races as well, so I don't believe it's correct to term them as weak."

Damon downed the rest of his drink and set the glass back down on the table.

"I need another drink."

Henry just laughed and waved his hand, instantly the glass Damon had just emptied refilled. Damon raised his eyebrow again; he was becoming immune to the shocks that Henry seemed to delight in piling upon him.

"Useful." He declared after a moment.

Henry laughed again.

"I think so. Now what else do you want to know?"

"How many different races of shapeshifters are there? What other beings exist in the world? What do you mean by your society? Why doesn't anybody know about your kind?"

"So basically, everything then?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I can do that."

Henry and Damon spent the rest of the evening together in the bar as Henry educated Damon about the magical world that existed alongside the muggle one. A world that Damon was allowed to be introduced to purely because he was a vampire now. Damon was fascinated, the world Katherine had introduced him to, a world of vampires and witches, was merely the tip of the iceberg as far as supernatural beings were concerned.

Henry told him how of the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy, how anti-magic sentiment had reached new heights and the wixen had decided to separate their society entirely from the muggles. In 1692 the law had been signed into being by the International Confederation of Wixen and how for the first and last time, members of all the supernatural races had come together. The Original vampires, the most powerful covens, and the shapeshifter clans had agreed that their knowledge of this world would be locked within their minds. They would remember but they would be unable to speak of it to anyone who was not aware of it's existence. They would also be able to enter it if they wished to, but they would have to abide by the laws imposed by the wixen society of whatever country they were in.

The channeler covens had worked in conjunction with powerful wixen to perform a ritual that removed the memory of the wixen and other magical races that existed within the magical world, from the muggles. Though traces of it remained in stories and folklore, of fantastical beasts such as dragons, unicorns, giants, and elves, of witches who could fly on brooms and magic carpets, who wielded wands and could turn people into frogs. The ritual also bound the supernatural races who remained outside of the wixen world to never speak of it unless to someone who was already aware of its existence. Such was the power of the ritual that even those who had not been part of the negotiations were bound to the magic, forced to keep their silence.

After educating him about the different races and creatures that lived within the wixen world, as well as all the amazing, and slightly terrifying, things wixen magic was capable of achieving, they moved on to talking about themselves. Damon learned that Henry was the only son of a prominent bloodline of wixen from Britain. That he'd travelled to America to attend the funeral of a distant relative, who's branch of the Potter family had emigrated over in the 16th century. That he would be expected to take over the Lordship of the Potter family when his father passed away and that he was betrothed to be married to a young witch who was the last descendant of her family line.

Damon in turn told Henry about growing up in Mystic Falls, with his parents and his younger brother Stefan. How his mother had passed away when he was nineteen and Stefan was twelve, how he had never gotten along with his father, who could be abusive. How he had joined the confederacy in an attempt to please his father, who had always held Damon in low regard, and that he had left the confederacy when he realised, he was on the wrong side of the war. Then he told Henry the entire story of how he became a vampire, Katherine, Stefan, his father, Emily Bennett, and the tomb beneath the church.

The two of them spent the entire night talking, exchanging stories about themselves, Henry spoke more about the magical world, Damon spoke about his travellers and about the trial-and-error process of figuring out everything he could now do as a vampire. By the time the sun came up the two of them had gone from strangers to acquaintances to friends. As the two of them left the bar and headed their separate ways with a promise to meet up again before Henry returned to Britain. Damon came to the realisation that a chance meeting with a stranger had ended up shifting his entire worldview.

It wouldn't be until a few hundred years later that Damon would realise that his chance meeting with Henry Potter in an alleyway in New York city hadn't just shifted his worldview, it had changed the entire course his life should have taken.