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The first vampire crawled out of the mouth of hell, looked around and said, "huh." (Not actually 'huh' in the sense that we know it now, but 'huh' in the since of a great stupid demon with no concept of speech that wasn't 'grr' or 'arg' who wanted very much to crawl back into the hole he'd emerged from because he'd just discovered the unpleasantness of the sun.)
It was his ashes as they scattered in a sudden light breeze when the sun was right on top of the sky that slipped into the blood an old hag was using in a love spell. The hag was burned the next night for witchery by a group of people she'd lived with for years and had never caused any harm. (She escaped, of course, only to be hanged in the next town over for supposedly stealing the hair from a local's horse, which was in actuality a unicorn whose horn had been harvested months prior.) The God fearing townspeople raided her cottage to burn all objects even remotely connected to witchcraft in any folklore ever spread by word of mouth or hieroglyphics. They burned candles and oils and a great patch of rosemary, but one of their number (it is believed to be the leader of their number, the newest parish of the local church) pocketed the love potion completely by accident.
The newest parish was young and impressionable and mildly infatuated with the girl who had grown up on the next farm over. But he was also true to what he believed to be the word of the lord and as such, is not the one who drank or gave the love potion. Instead he hid it in a drawer of his room, unable to contemplate what would happen if someone found out that it had spent the bigger part of a day inside the pocket of his holy robes. The girl who volunteered to clean the church and all adjacent rooms the next Saturday found it and, thinking it to be a little extra holy wine, slipped it into her pocket and then prayed for the Lord to forgive her of her sins.
The girl (Rebekah, like it is in the bible that she read a little of every night) was typical of most girls even today and though she was good and was raised to be such, fell very hard for a very bad boy. (The theory is that she dreamed of turning him good, so they could settle down and have lots of babies and go to church every week until they died within moments of each other and could then be buried beside each other for all of eternity.) Said bad boy had a great fondness for the holy wine, and was suitably impressed with Little Miss Goody Two Shoes for managing to steal it. He drank it in one gulp and promptly died.
Then he promptly decided that while the wine was good, he was a bit peckish. The sobbing Rebekah also died rather promptly, much to her surprise.
And that, as they say, was only the beginning.
It was also one of the favorite stories round the Marauders metaphorical campfire. (It was actually nothing more glamorous than a bottle of conjured blue fire they sat round in the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest when the moon was close but not and they were all a little bit cold and restless.) They make Remus tell it so he wouldn't decide to read them Poe.
Sirius at the end loudly proclaims his unwavering desire to cause such destruction with so little effort. (And also to turn Snape to dust. Which in and of itself is what leads to the general cringing as they all ponder what a person would turn into if they drank a love potion with Snape's ashes inside of it. The general consensus is food poisoning with legs.)
The story of the first werewolf isn't known, except to other werewolves.
They dream of it when the moon is heavy in the sky and pulling on their bones. Werewolves dream of it when the moon is new, too, and when they're watching in horror and screaming in pain as their hands turn to claws and they don't know to not want to destroy the ones they love.
It was a simpler story. One day a boy looked up to the sky at night and a demon touched his shoulder. The wolves that raised him turned their backs, the leader—his mother—bit his hand. The next day the boy woke up and he was alone, he walked along the edge of the woods covered in blood he couldn't see. Miles from home he woke up the next day and he was still alone.
He shivered with lack of fur to keep him warm at night. His stomach growled with lack of meat. He woke up alone until he woke up with others bleeding out their warmth. He didn't know to know better.
Remus wakes up in the middle of the night in winter to Sirius crawling into his bed to wrap round him. "Shush," Sirius says, "s'alright now."
Remus wakes up the morning after the full moon nights surrounded by his best mates, Padfoot's head on his hip and his hip on fire. He's got a scream caught in his throat and the floor of the Shack is dusty and hard under his torn palms as he struggles to sit up. They all shift then, just a little, and then shift again until there're arms stretching and backs popping and Peter kicking him with his too big foot and then backing away as though burned.
"Morning," Sirius says as he yawns, and Remus knows enough to know better.
They gather round a jar glowing blue with conjured fire and Remus grins as he tells the story of how vampires came to be.
Back in their room Sirius crawls into bed with him and kisses him, says, "Why should you get to have all the fun, huh? Why should you get to be the only horror?"
"Huh?" Remus says, rather inelegantly.