Hi, all! ZenoNoKyuubi here. Because of the fact that I saw the fic Heir of Dracula to be very, very disappointing, mediocre at best, I have decided to 'redo' it, so to speak. Therefore, I now give you the first chapter of the new and improved Heir of Dracula! Don't expect any lightning fast updates, as I want to get ahead in the fic before I start posting them. I just posted this chapter because I wanted your opinions on it.

Before we begin, I'd just like to clarify Eric Potter's position in this fic. Harold Dracula, formerly Harry Potter, was born in '77, instead of '80, so he is three years older than Eric, who takes the position 'role' of canon!Harry. Of course, there are several differences, but for now, he will be the 'canon!Harry,' while Harold is the real BWL, who ran away from home at an early age.

–

–1895–

The venerable Count Vlad III Dracula lay in a pool of his own blood, which was soaking into the red velvet-carpeted stairs leading up to his throne, his bone-white hair splayed around his head as he coughed weakly. A wooden stake was sticking out of his chest, having pierced his un-beating heart.

"My Lord..." came a whispered as out of the shadows crawled a very beautiful woman with long, black hair, and a heart-shaped face, wearing a long, blood-red dress. Three more women, looking identical to the first one, only wearing dresses of different colors, one black, one green, and the last one dark blue, came crawling out of the shadows, toward the dying Dracula.

"Curse those that foul Morris..." the black-dressed woman said, hissing in rage. "I wouldst tear his heart out..."

"My ladies..." Dracula coughed weakly, reaching up to stroke the green-dressed woman's cheek. "My vision darkens... I fear I shall not return from this final death..."

"Master?" the red-dressed woman said, blinking in shock. "What do you mean?"

"This was the final time, I fear..." Dracula mumbled. "My mind and body are destroyed now, completely... But my powers and my spirit live on. You shall find me in a new incarnation... Look for me... in my heir, the boy of lightning..."

With that, Dracula drew his final breath, slowly dissolving into dust, leaving the four identical women to cry over his ashes.

–1994–

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, and the only man the Dark Lord Voldemort had ever feared, could not suppress a shiver that crept up his spine as he stared at the dark, imposing castle further up the path he was on.

The castle was almost as grand as Hogwarts, but not nearly as welcoming. The grounds were littered with pikes stabbed into the ground, on which hundreds of skeletons were hanging, impaled.

Never in all his hundred and thirteen years of life had Dumbledore ever imagined that he would one day wander the path leading up to the imposing and terrifying Castle Dracula, once home to Count Vlad 'Tepes' Dracula...

When Dumbledore reached the large oak ebony doors of the castle, he reached up and grabbed the thick, black iron knocker, which was hanging from the mouth of an iron dragon head bolted to the door.

He knocked three times, then waited. Was the castle abandoned, perchance? If it was, then why did the villagers in the small village further down the road speak with such fear of the Devil Spawn that lived in the castle?

Suddenly, the door slowly opened with a loud creak, and a face showed itself in the doorway. It was that of a beautiful woman, with long, black hair, and a beautiful, heart-shaped face, wearing a long, blood red silk dress. She eyed him somewhat suspiciously.

"Yes?" she spoke in Romanian, and Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Good evening, my dear lady. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore from England," he spoke, also in Romanian.

"English?" the woman said curiously in English, but still staring suspiciously at Dumbledore. "What is an Englishman doing all the way out here, I wonder? Here to seek fame and fortune, are you?"

"No, actually, I am looking for someone," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "A boy, by the name of Harry Potter?"

If the woman was surprised to hear that name, she didn't show it. Instead, her eyes slowly drifted shut, and she took a deep breath, appearing thoughtful for a moment. Then, her eyes snapped open, and she nodded, stepping back and opening the door even further.

"My Lord will see you," she spoke, giving a small bow at the waist. Dumbledore bowed back, then stepped inside.

If the outside of the castle had been dreary, it was nothing compared to the inside. Dimly lit by torches in rusty brackets, Dumbledore could hardly even see anything in the castle, except for the long, scarlet carpet leading up a set of stairs. The entrance hall was shrouded in darkness, but the woman, leading Dumbledore up the stairs, maneuvered with an ease that Dumbledore couldn't match, tripping over a step here and there.

Up, up, up they went, up staircase after staircase, until finally, they reached a room that looked very much like a cathedral. It was long, the ceiling was so high that you couldn't see it in the dim lights coming from the torches on the walls, along with three chandeliers that were hanging from the dark ceiling by thick chains.

At the end of the hall stood a throne that was mostly shrouded in darkness, the light from the torches and chandeliers not quite enough to light it all up. Likewise, the person sitting upon the throne was also shrouded in darkness, mostly.

The only things visible on the occupant of the throne was the person's legs from the knees and down, wearing a pair of loose, black pants, and a pair of black riding boots with an intricate design carved into the leather, and the person's lower arms. The arms could be seen in the sleeves of what could only be a thick, black overcoat with gold trim and red lining, along with golden cufflinks. The hands gripping the armrests of the throne were very pale, and as Dumbledore approached, he could see longer than average nails scraping against the armrests in agitation.

"What are you doing here... old man?" came a soft, hissing voice from within the darkness, where Dumbledore believed himself to see a pair of eyes glinting like that of a wolf's in the darkness. The voice was clearly young still, and spoke with a clear Romanian accent.

"So, this is where you have been hiding all this time," Dumbledore spoke pleasantly as he looked around the throne room, blatantly ignoring the man's question.

"Hiding?" the voice asked, and Dumbledore could hear amusement in it. "What gave you the impression that I have been hiding? I have made no secret of my presence here..."

"True, your current name is rather well-known, although not many people know that you are not your ancestor, and so, you have been hiding your true name... Harry..."

The hands tightly gripped the armrests, the nails digging into the stone with unnatural strength. There was a moment of silence, then, the owner of the voice leaned forward, coming out of the shadows.

He was a youthful young man, looking like he was approaching his twenties soon, but Dumbledore knew his real age of seventeen. His skin was deathly pale, his eyes a dangerous blood red, and his hair, quite unlike when he was a child, was long and flat, unlike the short mess it had once been. It framed his face as he leaned forward, and he glared dangerously at Dumbledore. As Dumbledore had suspected, he wore a thick overcoat with a high, overturned collar, wide lapels with several gold buttons on them, a white shirt, blood red waistcoat, and a white cravat. He also wore a black cloak with red lining and a high, tattered collar.

"Don't you dare call me that! Eu sunt Dracula (I am Dracula)!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose at the hatred he showed for his birth name, and it seemed that Harold looked a bit embarrassed about the outburst, as he took a deep breath, then leaned back into the shadows again. His eyes closed, then opened after a moment, glinting in the darkness.

"Why are you here, old man?"

"I am unsure if you have heard or not, Harold," Dumbledore said, using Harold's new name of Harold Dracula, "but Lord Voldemort, I am sure you remember him, is gathering power."

"I have not heard, although I can safely say that I have felt it," Harold spoke softly. "One would have to be a fool not to feel the darkness that is rising in the British Isles."

"Yes, well, it would seem that Voldemort needs your brother for something. Something that I believe will help him return to corporeal form."

Harold didn't respond, but Dumbledore had seen his nails once more scrape against the armrest of his throne in agitation at the mention of his brother, Eric Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

"We need your help, Harold," Dumbledore continued, getting rewarded with a cold, high laugh. "It is time you stopped hiding from the rest of the world in this dark castle of yours."

Again, Dumbledore could tell that he had upset Harold, for once more his nails dug into the armrests of the throne.

"Hiding? Hiding?!" Harold spat, sounding quite enraged. "I have seen more darkness than your puny mortal mind could even dare to comprehend and it has given me quite a distaste for petty human squabbles."

"It is true, then? You have shed your humanity?"

"I was born this way... You were merely too blind to see it... Too busy babying my little brother, no doubt..."

"Nonetheless, hiding is what you have been doing, Harold. What else would you call this?" Dumbledore asked as he slowly spun, gesturing for the dark throne room. "Skulking in the darkness, paying no attention to the outside world. Do you not see that it isn't..." Dumbledore trailed off when he turned to face Harold again, only to see that the throne was empty.

"Hiding? Like a coward?" came Harold's voice from behind him, making him spin around, only to see no one. "Believe me, old man... If I wanted to hide, you would never have found me... Do not delude yourself by thinking that it was your superior mind that allowed you to find me... It was merely an act of kindness on my part..."

Harold's voice jumped from place to place in the darkness, not allowing Dumbledore to find him. Dumbledore couldn't help feeling a shiver of fear crawl up his spine. Perhaps he should have avoided insulting Harold's pride by claiming that he was hiding.

Before Dumbledore could even register what had happened, he felt a hand with long nails digging into his throat, and an arm wrapping around him from behind.

"You have overstayed your welcome..." Harold hissed from behind, then opened his mouth, showing sharp fangs, which were ready to pierce his jugular. Just as Harold made to bite him, Dumbledore disappeared with a crack like a gunshot, reappearing by the doors to the throne room.

"You would bite me, Harold?" Dumbledore asked, his face set in an expression of deep disappointment.

"I see no reason not to," Harold said softly as he turned to face Dumbledore.

"Peculiar, these wards of yours," Dumbledore said conversationally as he took out his wand. "You cannot apparate into the castle, but once you are inside the wards, you can apparate to any place inside them?"

"It makes moving around the castle much easier," Harold admitted, staring coldly at Dumbledore. "Now, I believe I told you that you overstayed your welcome. Leave."

"I am afraid I cannot do that, Harold. We need your help in the coming war against Voldemort," Dumbledore spoke softly, still gazing at Harold unflinchingly, something that not many had the courage to do.

"What do I care about the wars of men?" Harold asked, raising an elegant eyebrow. "I am vampyr, Nosferatu, not a human."

"But surely you must still hold some manner of affection for human life?" Dumbledore insisted. "Do you not care that hundreds, thousands of people might die?"

"Oh, please... You're human. You are born, you grow, you breed, and then, inevitably, you die," Harold said, waving him off. "What do I care if someone decides it should happen sooner, rather than later?"

"I know that Voldemort will come to you to try to recruit you, seeing as you have the allegiance of the vampire race," Dumbledore said, not holstering his wand. "I cannot in good conscience leave here knowing that you may join him simply to spite your family."

"Family..." Harold spoke, as if tasting the word on his tongue. "I do not believe I have had a family since I was three years old," he said as he turned his back on Dumbledore. "Leave now, before you invoke my wrath..."

"I cannot do that, Harold," Dumbledore said solemnly. "I am afraid that this is one of those cases where you are either with us, or against us, and if you are not with us, I will be forced to stop you."

Harold's head tilted so that he was obviously looking down at the ground. Then, a cold chuckle was heard. The chuckle sent another shiver up Dumbledore's spine, which only intensified when Harold threw his head back and laughed a high, cold laugh so that the throne room rang with it.

"And you believe that you have what it takes to kill me?" Harold asked as he turned to look at Dumbledore again. "The great Albus Percival Wulfric Brian... Dumbledore..."

"I will do what I can," Dumbledore said simply, ready to start casting spells at a moment's notice. "Please, Harold..."

Harold was quiet. He was staring intently into Dumbledore's eyes with a gaze that felt as though he was peering into his soul. Despite the fact that Dumbledore had his Occlumency shields up, it was still a very penetrating gaze.

"What do you offer?" the young Count Dracula asked finally, making Dumbledore blink.

"Pardon?"

"You cannot expect to have my cooperation without giving anything in return," Harold said. "What do you offer me, in exchange for my help?"

"I do not know. What do you want?"

"Vampires, but especially the Dracul, have a right to be proud. Yet you humans treat us as filth, as lesser beings. True, the vampires of today are little more than a magically transmitted disease, but they are still above you humans. I want better rights for my people," Harold said, and Dumbledore immediately nodded.

"I shall see to it."

"Can you assure me that we will be treated better?" Harold asked, his eyes narrowing. "You are not just saying that to get me on your side? For know this, if you do not follow through, you will face my wrath..."

"I can ensure that it happens."

Harold scrutinized Dumbledore for a while longer. Then, he spun around and walked back to his throne, sitting down and once more getting enveloped by the darkness.

"I will need to think about this... Leave me. It would be safest for you to apparate straight out of here to the edge of the wards. Although I am capable of sentient thought and can control myself, the same cannot be said for the other occupants of this castle."

Dumbledore saw the glinting eyes in the darkness disappear, suggesting that he had closed them, and he nodded. Then, he turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack like a gunshot.

–

With a crack, Dumbledore appeared outside the wards of Potter Manor near Chichester, and made his way up the dirt path to the manor, sighing to himself. So... the rumors were true... Lily Potter was distantly related to Vlad Tepes, and Harold's vampire blood had awoken...

The boy had said he was born that way. How could Dumbledore have missed that? Dumbledore had spent a lot of time in Potter Manor after that dreadful night when Voldemort attacked the one-year old Eric Potter and four-year old Harry, where the Killing Curse rebounded on Voldemort and tore his spirit from his body.

It was true, what Harold had said, Dumbledore had spent most, if not all, his time training and paying attention to Eric. It left a feeling of shame in his body when he realized that he had spent so much time with Eric that he had completely neglected Harry, just like Lily and James had done. To not even register the pale skin or red eyes... It was a huge blunder on Dumbledore's part.

In any case, they only had themselves to blame. Had they not spent so much time ignoring Harry, the boy would never have run away when he was seven, he never would have somehow reached Castle Dracula, and he would never have become the terrifying Count Harold Dracula that he was today...

Sighing deeply, Dumbledore reached the front door of the manor and raised his hand, knocking three times.

Within moments, the door opened, revealing none other than Lily Potter, who smiled brightly upon seeing him. Although Lily had been distraught when Harry had run away, she had eventually recovered, and was now very much like her old self, provided that one didn't mention Harry, reminding her of her failure as a mother.

"Oh, Albus! I heard from Minerva that you might pop in today. She said you would bring news about You-Know-Who."

"And so I shall, Lily," Dumbledore said, smiling softly as the woman gestured for him to enter. He had to admit, after spending time in Castle Dracula, Potter Manor was much, much cozier than usual. "Is James here?"

"Of course. We were about to sit down and have dinner soon. Would you like some, Albus?"

"Oh, no, I would not wish to be a bother," Dumbledore said jovially. "I merely came to relay some news to you, and then I shall be off."

Lily nodded and led Dumbledore through the manor, into the sitting room, where they found James and Eric Potter, lazying about. Eric was lying on the sofa, reading a book called Quidditch Through the Ages, and James was sitting in an armchair, snoozing peacefully. He must have had a busy day in the Ministry.

"Well, now that we are all gathered, it is time I informed you three where I have been today," Dumbledore spoke up, catching James and Eric's attention. Eric sat up and put away the book, while James blinked his eyes open and sat up straighter.

"Please, sit down, Albus," Lily said as she gestured for the other armchair in the room, while she sat down next to Eric. Once Dumbledore had sat down, he gazed sadly at them all.

"As you all know, I have read between the lines of the articles in the Daily Prophet, and have seen the signs of Voldemort getting stronger. For that reason, I have already started trying to gain the allegiance of the various magical races spread throughout the world, in case of a war. Today, I tried to enlist the vampires. For that reason, I traveled to Transylvania, to Castle Dracula."

Dumbledore saw that the three were hanging onto his every word, and he heaved a great sigh.

"I am sure you are wondering why I felt compelled to bring you this information? It came to a surprise to me when I entered Castle Dracula, and came upon a boy I have not seen for ten years. A certain pale-skinned, red-eyed boy, who has now taken the title of Count, and the name Harold Dracula. I am sure," Dumbledore added, seeing the Potters go wide-eyed, "that you know who I am talking about?"

"Y-You mean... You met Harry?" Lily asked hesitantly, as though she wasn't sure whether to believe Dumbledore or not. "Our Harry?"

"He prefers Harold nowadays," Dumbledore said, but he may as well have said nothing at all, as the Potters were now looking at each other in shock, ignoring him.

"We have to go to him!" Eric said immediately. "We need to bring him back!"

"We have to let him know we're sorry," James agreed, nodding.

"That would be ill-advised," Dumbledore spoke up, before they could make any plans to go to Transylvania. "Harold has been living these past ten years being reminded of his treatment at your hands. He has become bitter and resentful. You forcing your way into his life would only serve to cause more harm than good."

"What are we supposed to do, then?" a distraught Lily demanded. "How can we apologize if we can't meet him?"

"Let him come to you," Dumbledore said softly. "With luck, he will accept my offer, and come to meet me. If he does, I may be able to convince him to meet with you all. We just need to warm him up to the idea first."

Meanwhile, in the Carpathian Mountains, near the Borgo Pass, at Castle Dracula, Count Harold Dracula stood on a balcony near the top of the castle, looking over the impaled skeletons on the grounds. Although he was seventeen years old, he, admittedly, looked closer to twenty. He was currently contemplating Dumbledore's visit.

It had been a blatant lie, wanting better rights for his people. The magical vampires of today were abominations, and he could care less about them. He cared only for true vampires. But, it would have looked suspicious if he agreed to help Dumbledore without asking for something in return.

Ever since Harold was found by Verona and brought to Castle Dracula when he was eight, he had been planning. Unlocking Vlad's memories along with his powers, Harold had developed a hatred toward humans. To him, they were nothing but food, unworthy of standing at his side like an equal. They were pathetic. As he said, they served no purpose. They were born only to grow and breed, before dying. It was a pathetic existence, and they should be stamped out, if not for the fact that they were Harold's food source.

Cattle, then. They deserved to be nothing more than cattle.

Harold turned around, to find his ancestor's mistresses, the quadruplets, standing on the balcony with him. Verona, wearing a blood-red dress, Aleera, wearing a blue, Victorian-era dress, Marishka, wearing a very low-cut, black dress that stopped mid-thigh, and finally Eleesia, who wore a very beautiful green dress.

"The time is drawing near, much earlier than I had planned, but this is an opportunity I cannot pass up on," he spoke to the women, who all nodded.

"The time has come, Master," Verona said with a smirk. "The war-like days of the past are returning. I sense bloodshed is imminent."

"What side will you choose, Master?" Marishka asked curiously.

"Side?" Harold asked, chuckling. "No side but my own, of course," he said as he turned to look over the grounds again. "Voldemort will live to regret the day he ever decided to go to Godric's Hollow, and the Light will forever regret putting my brother on his pedestal..."

–

September arrived, and Dumbledore was very disappointed when he started the school year without having heard from Harold. He had many times had to go to Potter Manor to prevent the Potters from going to Transylvania, as he believed that Harold might react violently to any unwanted visitors.

Dumbledore was starting to lose hope when October rolled in. He hadn't heard a word from Harold, and when he went to Transylvania, he found that what Harold had said about hiding was true. When Dumbledore reached the spot where the castle should have been, he saw nothing, and before he knew it, he had turned back and disapparated. It wasn't until he was sitting, dazed, in his office that he realized that he hadn't actually wanted to leave.

And now, on October thirty-first, Dumbledore was sitting at the Head Table with the rest of the teachers, along with the Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff, along with Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch from the Ministry. Today was the day when the Goblet of Fire was to select the three Champions to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. For some reason, Dumbledore couldn't help but get a bad feeling from all this...

Now, the gold plates had returned to their original spotless state, and Dumbledore rose to his feet, which cause the noise that had picked up to die away.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore announced. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber," he indicated the door behind the staff table, "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it. At once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes.

Dumbledore waited patiently, and then, the flames inside the goblet turned red. Sparks began to fly from it, and the next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it to gasps from the whole room.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall as Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Dumbledore. He turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Professor Karkaroff boomed, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore said once he'd caught the parchment and read it, "is Fleur Delacour!"

As the Great Hall erupted in cheers and applause, Dumbledore watched as Fleur rose from her seat at the Ravenclaw table, and had to admit that the rest of the Beauxbatons students overreacted a bit. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement that you could almost taste it. Dumbledore understood why. The Hogwarts Champion was next...

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more. Sparks showered out of it. The tongue of flame shot high in the air, and from its tip, Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

The cheering became the loudest yet, in no small part thanks to the Hufflepuff table. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the Head Table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

But Dumbledore stopped speaking as soon as he noticed that the Goblet of Fire had turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then, Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out, "Eric Potter."

–

Well, there you have it, the first chapter! I think I'm doing Harold Dracula justice in this one, having him be truly evil, instead of whatever I tried to have him act like in Heir of Dracula. In any case, please leave a review, let me know what you think!