Harry was several streets away from Privet Drive before he collapsed on a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk. He sat quite still, anger still surging through him, listening to the frantic thumping of his heart.

But after ten minutes alone in the dark street, a new emotion took over him: panic. Whichever way he looked at it, he had never been in a worse fix: stranded, alone, with nowhere to go, having undoubtedly been expelled from Hogwarts for his burst of magic on Aunt Marge.

Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent, movement catching his eye. A tall figure was headed towards the main road, but turned just beforehand and began up the twitten between Numbers Seven and Nine. Another shiver ran down Harry’s spine—all the locals knew to avoid that path after nightfall.

It happened too fast. A second figure appeared from the main road, and followed the first. Harry’s instinct was confirmed when he heard the beginnings of a yell, quickly muffled. Abandoning his trunk, he pulled out his wand and ran. He arrived too late; a man was lying half-conscious on the ground, his shirt stained with blood, and there was no sign of the other figure.

Harry dropped to his knees beside the victim, and started frantically searching his pockets for a mobile phone. Didn’t all Muggles own one these days?

“You’re going to be all right,” he kept muttering, unsure if the man could hear him. “I’ll get an ambulance here.” There was no phone and he inwardly cursed. “I can call from a neighbour’s house—”

The man reached an arm out and seized Harry by the collar before he could get to his feet. “No.”

“You’re hurt, you need to get to a hospital; you’re going to have to let me go—”

The man moved swiftly, far too swiftly; before Harry knew what was happening he had been pulled sharply towards him, and was now pinned to the ground with the injured man on top of him, a sharp pain in his neck.

The pain lasted only a second, but Harry could feel there was still something there; it was like being under a local anaesthetic—he struggled, but even wounded, the vampire was stronger than him. His body grew steadily weaker and his head steadily lighter, as the blood was leeched out.

Then without warning, something came barrelling into the vampire and dragged him away. Harry tried to sit up but the world span; he turned his head slightly to the side and saw a huge black dog, snapping at the vampire.

Harry felt the side of his neck gingerly, but there was no longer any wound. He slowly sat up, just in time to see the dog receive a well-aimed kick in its face. It yelped and darted backwards; the vampire was on his feet now and drew a wand. “Stupefy!”

The dog crumpled, and Harry tried desperately to stand up but fell back. Remembering his own wand, he drew it out, but the vampire was putting his away.

Drinking Harry’s blood had obviously only helped slightly; he was standing, but clutching the fence to remain upright. He looked down at Harry, and his eyes fell on his scar. They widened considerably and he became, if possible, even paler.

“Oh, sweet Merlin, no …” He dropped to his knees and surveyed Harry in horror. “What have I done?”

“How about tried to kill me?” Harry replied, clutching his wand even tighter. “Not that you wouldn’t be the first …”

“Oh no, no, no … I never wanted—tried—I lost control—I’m so sorry …”

Harry wasn’t sure how to react. Their summer reading had included a background on Dark creatures, presumably for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but the section on vampires had made them sound pure evil.

He was feeling stronger now, and he made to get up, but the vampire grabbed his wrist.

“You should get out of here,” he said. “You’re going to Turn, and whoever finds me can’t find you too—they could guess what happened …”

“You’ve made me one of you.” Harry’s heart dropped as it sank in. He had been bitten; he was going to become a creature they studied in class. A creature the whole wizarding world was afraid of.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the vampire moaned. “I didn’t mean to … I swear …”

“What do you mean, whoever finds you?”

“The knife blade was silver. I don’t have long. I’ll try and get away but you need to be far from me.”

“I—don’t—why?”

“Because if anyone knows what you’ve become, Harry Potter—” The vampire broke off, shuddering. “No-one can know; you can’t tell a soul.”

“Why? What will happen?”

“Just trust me; the life you have now will be gone,” the vampire half-whispered. “Get out of here, now.”

Harry got slowly to his feet, and hesitated. Vampire or not, he didn’t want to leave the man alone and dying. But all he got for his concern was another, much louder, “GO!”

He stumbled from the alley, half supporting himself on the wall. It didn’t occur to him until he came out into Magnolia Crescent that he hadn’t even found out his name.

His trunk was still where he had left it. Harry was a few feet away when he heard something behind him. He turned to see the big black dog, now awake, running after him.

“Thanks,” he said out loud to it. “Shame you couldn’t have come a minute sooner.”

The dog whined, as if it knew what he had said, and licked his hand. Harry jumped, not in the habit of being licked, but petted the creature’s tatty fur anyway.

“Guess we’d better get out of here before the Ministry start swarming round. Know the way to London?” He was talking out loud more to quell the intense awareness of how alone he was than to just make a joke, and certainly wasn’t prepared for the dog to stick out a front leg.

Whether it was pointing in the right direction or not, Harry never found out, but he didn’t need to as there was a deafening BANG and a triple-decker, violently purple bus appeared out of thin air and screeched to a halt in front of them.

-

When Harry collapsed into bed at the Leaky Cauldron that night, he fell asleep immediately. The last thought that went through his head was disappointment that the dog had gone—Harry, although never having been over-fond of dogs, had half-hoped it would stay with him. But although it had hopped onto the bus with him earlier, costing him an extra six Sickles, it had disappeared the moment Harry had run into Fudge.

His sleep was dreamless, and when he finally woke he felt very strange.

Harry sat up slowly. His head was spinning, he was aching from head to toe and his stomach was gnawing with hunger. He wasn’t even sure if he was strong enough to stand up.

“Woof.”

He jumped, and looked over. The black dog from before was sitting on his floor.

“Hello again,” Harry mumbled. The dog bent its head, and Harry realised there were a number of potion vials on the floor just as it picked one up and deposited it in Harry’s lap.

The liquid inside was a very dark red. Harry swallowed, and looked back at the dog. It nudged him encouragingly.

“All right, here goes.” Harry braced himself, uncorked the vial and tipped the contents down his throat as one.

Thankfully, it didn’t taste half as bad as he expected. In fact it was quite pleasant. Harry figured his taste buds must be adapted for it now. No sooner had he swallowed the last of the vial, his aches started slipping away and he felt a lot stronger.

“You,” he told the dog, “are a genius. Where do you come from, eh?” There was no collar on the animal. It had to come from the wizarding world; no ordinary dog would have stolen blood for him. But what had it been doing in Magnolia Crescent? Could it somehow sniff out wizards?

Well, no matter what the answer, Harry was relieved; he gave it a grateful rub down and received a lick in thanks. The poor thing looked half-starved; he would have to return the favour and get it some food.

“Do you have a name, boy?” he asked, after checking it was, in fact, a boy.

The dog seemed to consider the question, before putting his head in Harry’s hand and making a snuffling noise. Harry chuckled. “Snuffles?”

“Woof!” He thumped his tail on the floor.

“Snuffles it is, then.”