A/N: I know many of you weren't too ecstatic about Victor's appearance, but I do have a fair few reasons for his existence as a character. The main ones being: I didn't want Harry to suddenly wake up with all the vampiric powers in the world, and I didn't want to keep him as 'nameless vampire that decided to chew on Harry's neck for fun'.

This chapter strays from the events in the philosophers stone book. Yes, I do know that the first wizarding war was held at the same time as the First World War, but I've changed around the dates to make Newt's backstory fit a bit more.

(This is not his actual backstory).

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

"Long time, no see, my dear," Victor's voice was sly, devious, and sinister. "Come in before you burn."

He opened the door further, Harry walking into the castle with narrowed eyes. The inside of the castle was as dark and evil as you'd expect.

Harry felt like he'd just walked into an old castle from a horror movie set. It was dark, although Harry could see perfectly. Cobwebs hung in the corners, the chandelier on the room looking old and weathered. In fact, everything in here looked old and weathered, except for the man watching Harry with cautious, curious and slightly fond eyes.

"Why exactly are you here?"

"Because I need your help," Harry replied, watching Victor's eyes narrow slightly.

"My help? My help with what?"

Harry sighed. "I need to learn how to become powerful. I need to learn everything that a vampire can learn."

"Now I have even more questions. The first one being, why?" Victor turned on his heel, beginning to ascend a giant staircase, Harry following.

"Because I want to protect the people I care about, and I need to defeat Voldemort. I need to have the strength and ability to do that."

"Curious. A vampire wanting to use his abilities to help humans?" Victor murmured. "Never heard of that happening. How did you find me?"

"It wasn't that hard," Harry replied, lengthening his pace to keep up with the other vampire as they rounded a corner, walking down a long and dark corridor. "I found your family tree in a book at Hogwarts. I knew it was you, I remembered your face."

"My family tree? I never knew such a book was written about my family. But I do have one last thing to ask. What exactly do I gain if I helping you?"

Harry scowled. Of course he had an ulterior motive, of course he wanted the upper hand. "I don't have anything to give you in return."

"Well, my dear, we shall have to figure something out then," Victor said as they entered a living room. "I will help you."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"How long are you going to be here?"

"A week at most."

"A week? Well then, we'd better get started. What is it you'd like to know?"

******

Draco had spent the entire day moping around, anyone's attempts to cheer him up were rather futile.

Remus had left to tell the Weasleys and everyone in the order of Harry's disappearance, and to keep an eye out for the vampire. Sirius was skulking around somewhere, but last time Draco had seen him he was watching the TV that he'd made Remus go and buy for him.

Newt had fallen asleep on a couch in one of the upstairs living rooms, and Draco wasn't surprised that he wanted to sleep. He need time to recover from the whole ordeal he'd been through.

Draco walked into another room, trying to keep himself busy by exploring the house. There were clearly too many living rooms and bathrooms in this house, but this room was immediately Draco's favourite considering what was inside.

The room was filled with all sorts of instruments. A dusty, ancient looking piano stood in the centre of the large room, the dust particles visibly floating around from the ray of sunlight shining through an open window. There were a few guitars here and there, as well as a harp and other random instruments. Draco smiled as he caught sight of a lonely, dusty looking violin.

***

Draco waited, his ear pressed against his bedroom door. Were they gone yet? There was complete silence outside of his room, so, wincing slightly at the thought of seeing his father, he pushed the door open as quietly as he could and slipped out into the corridor.

The corridor was empty, and after taking a deep breath the eight year old child scampered down the hallway as quietly as he could.

He didn't know if his father was still in the manor or not, but he sighed in relief as he made it to the library unscathed. He didn't particularly want a repeat of last night's incident, he'd barely managed to get his arm to stop bleeding with his futile attempts at trying to heal himself.

The Malfoy Manor library was something to behold. It was the largest room in the manor. Gigantic shelves that seemed to tower above the young boy stood in rows, seeming to go on forever. The walls were lined with shelves that reached to the tall roof, a ladder to climb to get to high books stood against one of the shelves. Books filled the huge shelves, also lying in piles on various tables.

To Draco, it was pure heaven. All this knowledge, contained in this huge room was enough to baffle him. Even after his tutor had stopped coming, he still wanted to learn.

So he spent every waking moment, every day he could in that library, teaching himself to read and reading about everything from the horrible curses his father sometimes used to the wonders of the magical world.

Eventually he'd found a book about music. His eyes lit up when he picked it up, remembering an old record player that his mother used to play classical music on. It was a happy memory, when he was still a toddler, to jump around the living room and dance.

Yet those days were long gone. Draco's eyes filled with tears, but he bit them back. He couldn't cry, he wouldn't cry. His father told him crying was weak. He wasn't weak. He wasn't.

He'd read the entire huge book, finally pausing when he found a page that contained a picture of an object he recognised. With curiosity in mind, he went in search for it.

It took him a while to find the little instrument, but he finally found it sitting on a desk in an abandoned drawing room. Deciding that it was safe to take it, as it probably wouldn't be missed, he'd grabbed the instrument and ran back to the safety of the library.

And from there in he'd spent weeks, months, teaching himself how to play the strange little instrument he now knew to be a violin. He'd gone in search of more books detailing the instrument, and had nearly fallen off the ladder trying to reach one that was particularly high up.

But soon, he was managing to produce the lovely sounds he remembered from his mother's classical music records instead of the shrieking noises that he'd had to endure as he taught himself.

And for the first time in two years, he felt happy. He'd accomplished something, taught himself how to do something on his own.

And after that, he'd been out to learn every talent he could possibly hear of.

But the piano was one that he had the most fond memories of. Well, one memory in particular.

"Mother!" He cried happily, seeing his mother for the first time in six months. He had run up to her, nearly crying in happiness. Luckily, his father was absent.

"Draco!" She wrapped him up in a tight hug.

"Mother, I taught myself how to play this instrument," he whispered, excited. "It's called a piano!"

"Really?" She replied, smiling brightly as she ruffled his platinum blond hair. "Can you show me?"

He jumped for joy, grabbing her hand and babbling excitedly about everything he'd learnt in the past two years, positively glowing at how proud he was of himself. His mother looked overjoyed, but at the same time, a melancholy look remained in her eyes.

He sat down at the piano, and broke into a song, playing as best as he could. He made a few mistakes here and there, but he finished the song with a hopeful smile.

"Draco! That was amazing!" His mother said, smiling with pure joy. "I can't believe you managed to teach yourself all on your own."

"Thank you," he replied, trying to keep down the utter squeal of happiness he was fighting back. "Why do I have to be on my own in the first place?" His voice was quiet as he frowned, more at himself than anything else. What had he done?

She sighed. "I don't know, Draco. But just know, that even though you might be alone most of the time, I'll still love you with all my heart." She pulled him into a hug, holding her son tightly.

That night things fell apart even more. His father had come home, and had brutally beaten his mother for showing him affection.

He'd locked his door and cried his eyes out, not understanding what he'd done wrong. He didn't know why he was forced into isolation, he didn't know why he wasn't allowed outside the manor. Why he wasn't allowed to be taught anymore, why his parents never spoke to him with any sort of emotion after that day.

***

Draco reached up, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. That memory of sitting beside his mother and playing piano was one he held dear. Yet he couldn't dwell on it, those days were gone. That wasn't his life anymore.

His life had changed drastically when he received his Hogwarts letter. Despite the depression and anxiety he'd picked up after five years of being locked up in a manor on his own, he'd been excited to see the letter. It was like a certificate to him. Like a certificate that he was worth something, that he could become something, someone.

And then he'd met Harry, the first child his age he could remember speaking to.

***

"I'm going to Knockturn alley, you need to pick up your school supplies and meet me back here within two hours. If you're not here, I'll leave on my own."

His father's warning had made him nod furiously, waiting for his fathers dismissive nod so he could leave. Finally, his father nodded and began walking on his own way, leaving Draco to lift his head and simply gaze around for a few seconds, attempting to take it all in.

Magic surrounded him from all angles. Broomsticks that could fly, owls that carried letters. Ingredients to be brewed into potions that could make you fall obsessively in love or effectively turn you into someone else. Books detailing all the spells he'd be learning at Hogwarts. And finally, wands. The objects that channeled magic.

Of course, at this stage, he didn't really need a wand. He had mastered healing spells for his wounds whenever his father got angry, and had been practicing other spells he'd found in books. Yet, bubbling with excitement, the wand shop was the first place he went.

He knew how to behave in public, his father had taught him how he was to behave. If he strayed from it, he didn't want to even imagine what his father would do. So he watched everyone with cold eyes, keeping a straight face, when on the inside he was jittery with nerves and resisting to break out into a grin.

These were the first people he'd seen except for his parents in years. They were all so different, everyone was an individual. Everyone had a different story, a different life, and his curiosity was firing, wanting to know them all.

So he'd walked to the wand shop, buying the first wand he picked up. It was smooth, sleek, and, well, perfect.

He'd bought everything else, using a spell he'd picked up to send everything he bought back to his room in the manor. It would save trying to do the impossible task of carrying it all around.

He'd gone to Madam Malkin's last. He was exhausted, and anxious to see that he got back to the town square in time so he could get home.

And then a boy had walked in. A boy his age, so immediately Draco was interested.

He was dressed rather shabbily, wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. His hair was a wild black mess, contrasting to his pale skin. A pair of sellotaped round glasses framed the most beautiful pair of eyes Draco had ever seen.

They were bright green, shining with curiosity and wonder. Draco had never seen someone with such beautiful eyes, let alone a pretty face to match. Not even his mother, who he'd previously thought to be the most beautiful being to walk the earth, could match the boy standing a few metres away.

Upon seeing him, the boy's eyes lit up slightly.

"Hi," he spoke, his tone slightly nervous. Yet his voice was just as beautiful as Draco had expected it to be, the sound making his heart flutter.

"Hello," Draco replied. Madam Malkin had run off a few moments ago to stitch up his robes, and he was thankful, as his arms were getting tiresomely sore from the ever long pinning process.

"Are you going to Hogwarts this year?"

Draco couldn't believe his luck. This boy, this gorgeous being, was going to the same school as he was! "Yes, I got my letter a few weeks ago." He tried to speak normally, attempting to abandon all thought of what his father had previously educated him on how to speak. Yet he found himself simply not knowing what to say.

"So did I. I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

"Draco Malfoy," Draco replied, the corners of his lips twitching into a small smile. Harry. The name suited him well.

"So... Do you know much about magic? I'm completely new to this stuff," Harry said, almost sheepishly.

"I know some stuff," Draco breathed. "Not a whole lot, though."

Harry just smiled, a brilliant, beautiful smile that made butterflies erupt in Draco's stomach. "Better than what I know."

"I'll be with you in a moment, dear," Madam Malkin interrupted their conversation as she walked out from the back room, Draco's finished robes in her hand. Harry nodded, Draco walking over to the counter and paying.

"I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts then," Harry said, smiling. Draco nodded, grinning weakly back.

"I suppose you will."

And with that he left the shop, face burning as he ran down the street. Despite his fathers warning still ringing in his mind, he couldn't get that boy's stunning face out of his mind.

He'd blushed all the way home, his father asking him repeatedly what was wrong with him. Draco, of course, had no idea what was wrong with him.

He'd danced around the library when he got home, feeling simply happy. Had he just made his first friend? Well, he hoped so.

But it was not meant to be. Their first day at school, when they were about to be sorted, he'd been rejected.

All he remembered was feeling slightly numb. Why did everyone resent him? What did he ever do?

Then there was the anger. He didn't deserve this, he never did anything to deserve it. All the Gryffindor's around Harry had poisoned his mind with bad thoughts about him, and his parents were two of the most horrible people to ever walk this dastardly earth for not loving him like they should have.

He was filled with so much bitterness, so much rage, so much hate. No one could get through to him anymore, not even his godfather. He resented everything, and everyone.

But that made for a lonely life. There were countless nights that he'd spend in the room of requirement after finding it by accident in third year, simply sitting amongst piles and piles of lost things, crying his eyes out.

A forgotten boy in a room full of forgotten things.

******

Newt leaned against the windowsill, watching the rain pour down in silence. The only noise was the thundering on the old, weatherbeaten house roof.

He leaned his forehead against the glass, the glass feeling like ice against his skin.

There was a lot of rain on that night. Thundering, like the sky had opened and the heavens were flooding down upon the earth. Torrents of rain, flooding the ground and blurring his vision.

He remembered that night like it was yesterday.

***

It had started with Theseus. Theseus had been better than me at almost everything, and he knew it.

He was better looking, taller than me, handsome, hazel eyes and a chiseled jaw. He had women throwing themselves at him from all directions, and he definitely wasn't complaining.

He was a well behaved, classical good boy, who did what he was told in class and...well, didn't get expelled from school.

Compared to Theseus, I was nothing. Sure, my family was nice. My mother bred hippogriffs, and I've been around them my whole life. My father was the average guy, working two jobs to try and support us.

My brother was where all my parents' attention was focused, though. He had more potential than I did, straight A's in every subject.

When I was thirteen, I was short, skinny, with a mess of golden brown hair and bright blue eyes. I wasn't particularly bad looking, but not much compared to my brother. The only classes I was ever good at were charms, care of magical creatures, and potions.

I didn't have the same attitude as my brother either. He was outgoing, cheerful, charismatic and definitely a people-person.

I was an introvert who found it easier too communicate with creatures than other humans. I wasn't afraid to be rude to people just to get them to leave me alone, especially my family, so no one in my family and I were ever on the best terms.

Even worse when I got expelled for smuggling Eros into the castle. Eros was my father's horse, a giant winged abraxan that he used for pulling carts. Of course, I'd had to shrink him to even get him into the castle, but it didn't exactly work out well when the spell wore off while he was sleeping on my pillow in the Hufflepuff common room.

I was up in my bedroom in disgrace as the rain poured down. The mirror on my wall had been turned around. I couldn't stand the sight of my own tear stained, bitter face.

Meanwhile, my brother was downstairs, saying his goodbyes. He was going off to fight in the war, to be the hero.

I could hear him running up the stairs, knocking quietly in my door. "Newt?"

"Go away!" I screeched at him, not moving to unlock my door. I didn't want to see his smug face, I didn't want to see him ever again.

"Newt please, I know you're upset, just come out and talk to me."

"What do you think 'go away' means?" I cried, throwing the book beside me at the door.

"I just want to say goodbye. I won't be seeing you for a while, and I'll miss you, kid."

Kid. Oh, how I hated him in this moment. Acting like he was a god, a good boy off to save his country and its people.

"Good riddance."

I heard him sigh, before descending the staircase slowly.

I just turned and screamed into my pillow, unheard by my uncaring family downstairs. The rain was too loud for anyone to hear my anguished cries, but then again, it had always been that way.

I looked up as I heard a small tapping noise in my window, seeing nothing and realising it must've been the tree outside.

I was frustrated. I was stuck. I never saw myself getting anywhere in life, now even more so as I'd just been expelled. I was lucky enough to be able to keep my wand, not that I could use any spells until I was eighteen though.

That night was one of the most unbearable of my life. I spent the whole night staring at my ceiling, thoroughly dehydrated from crying. When the sun arose, the first thing I heard was my parents talking downstairs about my heavenly brother and how brave he was. Not exactly what I wanted to hear at the time.

It was eleven at night before I decided to do anything. The rain was pouring down again, my footsteps silent as I walked around my room, shoving my various possessions into a suitcase.

I was going to do what I'd always wanted. I was going to find Theseus, tell him I was sorry, and then I was going to leave. I didn't know where I was going to go, but anywhere was better than this place.

I grabbed my father's blue coat from the coat rack, pulling it around my shoulders. The coat was taller than I was, but with all the rain and bitter coldness outside, I doubted that I'd be complaining.

I ran towards Eros through the rain, barely giving the steed time to wake up before I'd thrown myself onto his back. "Come on, boy. We're running away, we're getting out of here."

He snorted and stamped, breaking into a gallop before taking off.

Soon we were flying above the clouds, drenched, but okay. I had no more tears left to shed, so I simply stared at the moonlight, wrapping my arms around Eros' neck. Perhaps things would take a turn for the better. Perhaps.

How...how wrong I was.

Being the young, teenage idiot I was, it didn't take much for me to sneak into the camp where they were keeping the animals. My brother might have been there, as he was hired for caring for hippogriffs.

"Oi!" Someone yelled. I whipped my head around, standing close to Eros as a man walked up to us. "Who're you?"

"Newt Scamander... I'm here to help with the uh-" I paused for a second, frowning. "Dragons."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You look like you're ten years old, kid."

"Excuse me?" Time to put my acting to good use. "I'm seventeen. Just because we aren't all tall like you are. And besides, if you don't need help with the dragons then I'll leave-"

"No, no it's fine. We're short on dragon trainers anyways," he grumbled.

I grinned internally in triumph. I'd won, once again.

******

Yet the triumphant feeling did not last long. I'd been there for three hours before the camp was stormed, and I still hadn't found Theseus. I was starting to regret my decision immensely.

When the time came to let the dragons out of their cages to fight, I wanted nothing more than to be at home, in the security of my bedroom.

It was loud. People were yelling and screaming, explosions ringing out as curses flew across the battlefield. Flashes of bright light were all I could see for a few seconds.

"Eros!" I yelled over the noise, taking off in the direction of the dragons. I'd do what I could, and then I'd leave. I had to at least try to help, I'd always had a way with creatures, so I might be able to be of some use.

The dragons were roaring loudly, throwing themselves against the edges of their cages and letting out jets of burning flames. The handlers were all screaming at each other in blind panic.

"Whoa!" I yelled, running to the nearest cage. The smallest dragon was in this one, alone, and panicking possibly more than the people around it. They were Ukranian Ironbellies, their scales thicker than metal. They were the ultimate weapon, but not when they were panicking. "It's okay! It's okay."

Luckily, despite my words being utter lies, the dragon slowly began to calm down, still flapping its huge wings anxiously. Eros was tossing his head, nipping at the huge coat I was wearing in a desperate attempt to tell me that it was time to leave before I got killed.

They were letting the dragons out by orders of one of the commanders, an idea I quickly realised was stupid. Sure, they might kill some of the enemies, but they'd definitely take a lot of us out while doing it.

"No! Stop!" Of course, my yelled went unheard. Like always.

One by one, the dragons were let out, all roaring furiously and shaking their gigantic bodies to regain control of their cramped muscles. People dove out of the way as flames shot from their jaws, the beasts screeching in anger at being held captive for so long.

"Calm down! You're alright, it's fine!" My desperate attempts didn't work so well on one of the larger dragons, who merely roared furiously in my face, swiping one of its claws at me. It struck me in the chest, the force of the blow throwing me backwards several feet.

For a few seconds I was in shock, simply staring at the jagged red line running across my chest, spewing blood all over my white shirt. Then the pain kicked in, a white, hot, blinding pain.

"Newt!"

Relief coursed through me. My brother.

"Th-Theseus..." I barely managed to speak, let alone breathe.

I could vaguely hear him talking, panicked as he lifted me up. The next thing I knew I was lying on a stretcher, crying weakly in pain as towels were pressed to the wound to try and stop the bleeding.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" I heard him ask, pulling out his wand and trying to heal me up as best as he could.

"I...I wanted to say goodbye," I muttered through tears, hearing him let out a choked sob. "I'm so, so, sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, kid. You need to get out of here," he dragged me back out of the infirmary tent we'd been in, hoisting me up onto Eros.

I didn't have the strength to answer, I'd lost too much blood. I conserved what little strength I had left into holding onto Eros' mane as he took off, flying away from the battlefield as fast as he could manage.

I'd never forget that night, not as long as I lived. I'd never forget the screams, the panic as men fell to the ground, dead, right in front of me. It was a scene that I relived in my nightmares countless times.

******

After hiding away for a year without contact from anyone, I finally made a plea to return to Hogwarts for my fifth, sixth and seventh years.

With a bit of help from Albus Dumbledore, I managed to return for my three final years of schooling.

They went fairly smoothly, if not for the fact that I wasn't known as Newt Scamander. I was known as 'Theseus the war hero's brother.'

But I managed to push past that. After seeing my older brother so vulnerable and so terrified at seeing me bleeding out on the ground, I had a renewed respect for him. Despite this, I couldn't help but feel a bit smug when I found out what I was able to do. Something that he couldn't, something that no one else could.

It started on the day where the apparation classes were beginning. I excelled in the majority of my subjects, so I wasn't worried about acing the whole 'apparation' thing. Yet I knew one thing for sure: if anyone was going to be the stupid one to get splinched and leave a leg or something behind, it was going to be me.

At first I was just shocked when I apparated to the designated spot, barely managing to get over the utterly nauseating feeling before looking across the room to watch myself disappear.

I was positive that wasn't supposed to happen. So I tried again, this time back further.

Way, way back further.

I recognised this place. My home. Well, my old home. The rain was bucketing down as I watched the figure of my older brother walk out into the rain, getting on his broom and disappearing into the night. Curiosity in my mind, I'd climbed the tree next to my old bedroom's window.

Lying on the bed was me, thirteen years old, crying my eyes out. Or his eyes out.

I reeled in shock. You weren't supposed to be able to travel through time. In my shock, I'd slipped and scraped a branch across the window, ducking down to avoid being seen as myself from a few years ago looked up.

With a crack I disappeared, having no explanation for why I was semi-drenched in the water when I returned to Hogwarts, thankful to realise I was in the right time period. I'd passed the exam with flying colours, and I never told anyone about my special little talent.

I'd been all over the world, in all sorts of time periods. The Jurassic period, I'd studied extinct dragon species there. 1800's London, I'd been there too. The medieval period, where I'd been knighted after saving a kingdom from a dragon.

My life was a mess. A fun mess, though. There were bits and pieces of evidence scattered throughout time of my existence. I'd been accidentally captured in photographs countless times, yet I'd never had to deal with it.

For that I was thankful.