I do not own Young Dracula, Harry Potter, or anything that could get me sued.

Thank you so much for your reviews as always! I appreciate everybody who reads this story.

I also wished to say again that I am indeed always thinking of the story and what is coming up next. However, I do have a very erratic updating schedule because life tends to get in the way and I apologize for that! Thank you for reading my stories regardless!

Chapter 37: The Debut Part 2

When Olga had first met her cousin, Vladimir Dracula, she had not thought much of him. He was quiet and almost broody with none of the flair and confidence his father or sister seemed to have. She had expected a little more, considering how reputably prodigious he was supposed to be. But Olga had never been one to ignore good fortune when she received it and did not question her cousin any more than she had to. She already had enough competition for the Dracula throne without said competition being an actual threat.

In retrospect, it had been a foolish decision on her part to take Vlad at face value. She of all people should have known that there was always more beneath the surface. But very rarely had she ever had to face somebody as young as herself, especially amongst the vampires she had met. Many were decades and centuries older. It hadn't been hard for her to seem the innocent in every situation when vampires consistently overlooked her. Olga had spent so long playing her two masks that she forgot Vlad – barely a few years older than her – could play the same.

Not that she believed he did it intentionally. Not in the least. Vlad seemed too earnest to do such a thing and that made him all the more dangerous. Count Dracula, her father, Ingrid, Boris, and Vlad himself were all under the illusion that vampire life came hard for the Dracula heir. But Olga saw differently. Yes, Vlad was odd in many ways. But he was as devious as they came.

The first time she realized this was when he set up a privacy spell in his room following their audiences with the High Council. Vlad had done the magic so easily, so naturally, and had then shrugged it off like it was the most insignificant of actions. Perhaps it had not been much in comparison to other wizards or seasoned vampires, but it had Olga wondering how much people around Vlad underestimated his growth. If this was something he could do now, what would he be capable of by the time he became a fully fledged vampire?

He was what he wanted everybody to see and to make things worse, Vlad's complete lack of presence made it even easier for him. Few would look at the Dracula family and claim Vlad to be the definitive heir, and he was perfectly content with such a thing. Olga could see that her cousin had his father practically wound around his finger with everybody else close behind. Even Ingrid, for all of her apparent hatred of her family, gave her brother leeway in the smallest of things.

They were all fools for Vlad's tricks except for her. Olga had almost fallen into the same trap, but she was smarter than that – even if Vlad's sincerity was sometimes overwhelming. She didn't quite know what to do when he so obviously took her words into consideration when they spoke alone during the first few days of the Debut. And when he offered his help freely, she was a little stunned. How much of it was real or not, Olga had yet to discern. But she kept her guard up at all times because she knew better. Until she could fully make up her mind about Vlad, she would make sure to avoid provoking his ire.

It was a task Olga quickly learned was much easier said than done. Sometimes he was as much a fool as her brother and it was difficult not to imagine how satisfying it would be to strangle his neck a bit. The reception had been a prime example of such a time. Vlad had dressed appropriately, arrived with the family as planned, and stayed with them during the entire announcing of the debutantes. But as soon as the real event had begun, he had vanished without a trace and had left her to handle the hoard of vampires waiting their turn for a chance to interact the elder Draculas.

The night had dragged, despite the many vampires trying their very best to be polite to her. Normally, Olga reveled in such obvious display of her family's superiority. But it was admittedly tinged sour when almost every other question ran along the lines of "where could I meet your more powerful family members?" By the time the evening came to an end, she had probably spoken to at least a hundred different vampires – none of which were any more interesting than the last. It was with relief that she heard a member of the council announce the reception's end.

Ingrid and Boris had departed from them then to go to their separated quarters while Olga had followed her father and uncle back to their own rooms. Once there, they had found Vlad already on his bed, dressed in pajamas, and lying with an arm over his eyes. If Olga hadn't seen Vlad come down with them earlier that evening, she would have been inclined to believe he hadn't left his place at all.

Her uncle had only seemed mildly displeased to see his son so obviously removed from the Debut process. The man had admonished Vlad for a few minutes about the importance of clan. But when Vlad offered a defense that yes, he had spoken to a few lower ranking nobles to show his support of the Dracula name, the Count had not pursued the topic of his son's delinquency much longer. It must have been something the older vampire had expected and her own father had not deigned it important enough to add any further words.

Oh, the privileges of being the first male heir. She would not have gotten away with so paltry an excuse without all of her charm on maximum.

The next few days following the reception only made discerning her cousin all the more confusing. She had become accustomed to his company by now, almost expected it. With nobody else to speak to, Olga had anticipated yet more time sharing inane conversation with Vlad.

But Olga quickly came to realize that she wouldn't even have that this time around. More often than not, she found her cousin in the second floor library with his head buried in a book or ten. And while she did not hesitate to bother him, she found that Vlad had his mind on other things. It frustrated her because how was it that just a few days ago, he had shown no signs of bookishness? Olga would not have previously guessed Vlad to be a voracious reader. He was well studied, she knew. All Draculas were. But where this fervor for study had come from, she had no idea.

So many mixed messages, it made Olga wonder if even Vlad himself knew which version of him was real.

"What's got you so book happy?" she asked him on the second day following the reception.

Her cousin turned confused eyes to her, his brow furrowing at the question as his hand pushed a lock of hair aside. "What do you mean?"

Olga rolled her eyes. "You look like you haven't moved from this spot for days." She picked up a few of the books from the couch Vlad was sitting on and shoved them aside. Ignoring his protests, she seated herself beside him and crossed her arms.

Vlad shot her a baleful look as he rearranged his things. "There isn't much to do here. I'm just filling up empty time."

"What happened to exploring the castle?"

"We can't exactly find much more to it. Unless you've found something else we haven't before?"

She hadn't, but Olga strategically ignored the question. "You're awfully boring like this. I need entertainment."

"So ask the servants."

"Do you honestly think I'd waste more time than I need to on them?" the young vampiress scoffed. "Besides, you didn't like books so much before."

She heard Vlad sigh. "Believe it or not, Olga, I do read."

That was about as much as she managed to extract out of him for the remainder of her two hours there. No matter how she poked and prodded, Vlad remained determinedly bland and patient. It was the most aggravating thing Olga had ever experienced. So much so that she eventually gave up on her attempts at interaction and decided to wander off on her own.

Vlad could try to keep up this absolute conundrum of a personality, but sooner or later he wouldn't be able to hide anymore. And when that time came, Olga would be the first to say that she had known all along.

~0~

"Oh, stop your sniveling!" Ingrid snarled, throwing one of her pillows at her cousin. "So one of the Gabors tripped you in the halls. Deal with it."

If there was something that annoyed her more than incompetence, it was incompetence that was related to her. If Boris hadn't been a Dracula, she would have left him to trip down a flight of stairs days ago. The way things were going, the more detrimental it seemed to have him around. Vlad, at least, wasn't afraid of everything; he was just deluded. But Boris was another level of hopeless. He couldn't pretend to be a vampire even if he wanted to. Without glasses, he could barely see two feet in front of him. With glasses, he was walking target amongst the other debutantes who were ready to leap at the slightest sign of weakness.

And by garlic did Boris have his fair share of weaknesses.

It didn't help that her cousin continuously came to her for help. When they lived together in the castle back at Stokely, Boris had avoided her and stuck to Vlad. But now that all of the debutantes had rooms adjacent to each other and Bran castle prevented them from having contact with anybody else, she was the only familiar face to him.

Boris, the pathetic worm that he was, knew that she had to keep a unified front with him. As much as she might loathe him, they both knew the real enemies here were anybody who didn't have the last name Dracula. Ingrid might not be able to maim Boris now, but she was more than ready to do so once the Debut itself was over that was for sure. He did nothing to make this easier for her. So far, their family name and her own talent at cutting everybody with her words were enough. But almost everybody at this point could tell that Boris was the weak link.

As tense as every day was though, Ingrid had never felt more undead in her entire life. This was what she thrived upon and what got her frigid heart beating. This was only a taste of what was to come once she turned sixteen and a chance for her to get a good scope of the subjects she would one day have under her heel.

They would all bow to her one day. They just didn't know it yet.

Boris was looking at the ground, his arms up in case Ingrid decided to throw something else at him. "B-but –"

"Argh, you idiot! I thought our fathers beat that stutter out of you, but clearly they didn't do a good enough job. You're completely useless, you know that? The Gabors are barely high nobility. The fact that one of them managed to trip a Dracula is embarrassing. Now they'll all be talking about what a laughing stock you are."

"They were okay at the reception, though," Boris anxiously muttered.

"Of course they were," Ingrid sneered. She stood up from where she sat, too riled up now to be still. "That's the whole point of the reception. Did you really think anybody was going to do anything but worship us, the most noble Dracula household, there? You're an even larger fool than my brother."

Boris seemed to visibly deflate as Ingrid spoke. He nervously shifted in place and seemed to barely avoid wringing his hands. "I didn't really see Vlad at the reception. Do you think he's alright?"

"I suggest you worry less about my brother and worry more about yourself. If one of the others don't kill you by the end of this Debut, I will if you ruin my chances here."

She couldn't stand the stricken look upon Boris's face. He should have responded, threatened her in kind like a proper vampire. But of course he just stood there like a kicked puppy. Ingrid let out a frustrated breath and strode towards the door.

"Wait, where are you –"

"None of your business. Go back to your room and stay there until the next event. You're better locked up where you can't be more of an embarrassment to me."

Ingrid was out of earshot before her cousin could reply. She knew that anything he said next would have her punching him in the face. And then he would just complain more.

Her feet took her aimlessly into the depths of the castle. According to the Breather servants, they had free rein to explore. But very few of them did so because they were too wary of what each debutante had in store for the other. Ingrid, on the other hand, knew she could easily best any inferior who came her way and had proven it when a Vasile had tried to gut her in the hallways. The fool had found himself with a broken arm as a result and had been distinctly absent during the first event.

Oh, yes. They all steered clear of her after that.

As Ingrid turned the corner into one of the main passageways, her already poor mood worsened when she saw who was also roaming about. There was only one other debutante who was as bold as her.

Ingrid had the distinct displeasure of running into Will Danesi on a near daily basis. He was the only other contender who was even close to her status and Ingrid didn't like it at all. Nobody was supposed to vie for her spotlight and she hadn't been counting on a Danesi being the exact same age as her to do so. She knew she was the superior, of course, but the Danesi boy had the luck of being male and the eldest of his family. Nothing irritated Ingrid more than knowing that the Danesi's ranking edged near hers for things he didn't even have to work for.

They were all blind. She would do it better than any male firstborn ever could.

But Ingrid wasn't one to ignore the facts. Will Danesi was a formidable enemy. He was charming to those he wanted to charm and had a confidence that couldn't be shaken. He did everything as a vampire should and had clearly been raised as a proper heir. There was little he didn't have in terms of wealth and future power, but Ingrid had all of those things too and more. She was a Dracula and that already set them worlds apart.

The Danesi heir noticed her as quickly as she noticed him. Almost immediately, he paused in his walk and did something he always did when he saw her: smile.

Very few things in Ingrid's life could make her as furious as she felt when she saw the other boy smile. They were supposed to be enemies. She had no doubt Will Danesi knew that. But never would she have anticipated him to go about their family rivalries without violence and open hatred. He did everything Ingrid didn't expect and she was completely aware that he did so on purpose. The buffoon could tell how much his approach threw her off balance and there was nothing Ingrid would have liked more at times than to rip that smug grin off his face.

"Hello Ingrid."

"Don't 'hello' me, Danesi," the Dracula princess snarled. "And since when have I given you permission to use my first name?"

The other boy shrugged. "You are free to use my first name. In fact, I'd prefer it."

"Cut the act. You and I both know that you'd like nothing more than a chance to push me into the sun at your nearest convenience." Ingrid knew it was pointless to argue, but she couldn't help herself. Something about Will Danesi made her want to see him on his knees weeping for her mercy.

"Think what you will, Ingrid. But I personally think you're just getting your fangs in a knot. Even if I did want to push you into the sun at my nearest convenience, I certainly wouldn't try it here where there is a guaranteed truce, now would I?"

They both knew that was also a complete farce. True, there was a truce. But the extent of the truce had never been clarified and anything short of murder might be permitted. After all, the Vasile who had tried to maim Ingrid had not received any magical repercussion.

"I don't have time for this," Ingrid hissed, pushing past the Danesi in her way.

A hand grasped her arm, preventing her from moving any further. "But I," Will laughed, "have plenty of time."

They were close now, close enough for Ingrid to reach out and claw the other boy's eyes out and watch him bleed. She could sink her perfectly manicured nails into the soft flesh and teach him why the Danesi family was below the Draculas once and for all. He would bleed and know that it was all thanks to her. He wouldn't dare smile then, would he?

"Excuse my interruption, my Lord and Lady," a Breather servant said, bowing his head in apology. Both Ingrid and Will Danesi whipped their heads to the side, startled. Neither of them had noticed the servant nearby. "The second event is about to begin."

Ingrid immediately straightened, snatching her arm away from the Danesi heir with a glare. He was distracting her again, playing his tricks. She wasn't supposed to be focused on taking out her family's enemy. Not yet. Right here and now, she had a debut to shine in. That was her first and most important priority. Will Danesi was less than the floor she walked on. He was dirt and trying all the underhanded ways he could to usurp her position.

She would show him. She would show them all. Ingrid was much more than just a name on the Dracula family tree.

~0~

Boris Dracula had never asked to be a vampire. He wasn't cut out for this stuff. Not like his family. They all seemed to fit in perfectly. Even Vlad, probably the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend, fit in better. His cousin had a stuffed hellhound for bat's sake and a magical cat and went to a wizard school. At least Vlad was nice though. The rest of his family, his sister and Ingrid in particular, were something else. They almost scared him as much as his impending vampire-hood. Couldn't they just understand that this was hard for him? Surely they knew he didn't want to embarrass them. If it weren't for his early signs of vampiric magic, Boris would have admitted it himself that perhaps his father had accidentally picked up the wrong baby.

But here he was, in this year's Debut and failing miserably yet again. That was all he was, wasn't he? A failure. Nobody really thought he was worth anything. Garlic, even he thought he wasn't worth anything. It probably would've been better if he had been born to a family that wasn't as high profile. That way, he wouldn't even have to shoulder any expectations to begin with. Life would've been so much easier then.

Boris sighed and rubbed his glasses as he hurriedly crossed the hall to his room. Ingrid had kicked him out and he wasn't one to stay when he clearly wasn't wanted. On any normal day, the young vampire would have avoided going into his cousin's room at all. But she was the closest thing to safety now that he was surrounded by other vampires out for his blood. He wished that the stupid Debut didn't require the debutantes to stay away from their families. In fact, Boris wished the Debut didn't exist at all. Who cared where everybody ranked? He certainly didn't.

His room was relatively grand, more lavish in an archaic way than the homes his father normally bought when they moved and similar to the castle Vlad's family lived in. It was almost identical to Ingrid's room complete with a four post bed, writing table, fireplace, and attached bathroom. Boris found it the perfect place to hide and comfortable enough. He might've even enjoyed his time here if it weren't for the events and his impending birthday.

Every day, his magic became more and more uncontrollable. More often than not, he found himself flying in his sleep, dreaming of blood, and accidentally setting random objects on fire. His magic always flared at the most inopportune times and never when he wanted it to. It wasn't there when one of the other debutantes lashed out at him and did little but increase his sense of helplessness.

If only he wasn't so pathetic. Then maybe he could live up to his father's expectations and perhaps Olga wouldn't hate him so much. Then he would belong, really truly be a Dracula, and actually be happy as a vampire. Boris wouldn't mind it then. He was just horrified at the prospect of going through his transformation and finding it changed nothing, that he would remain weak and useless even as a vampire forever until the day he was staked. Being pitiful was bad enough. Being pitiful for all eternity was worse.

Boris sighed and sniffled. He settled down into his bed and reached for the notes he had made for his Blood Test months ago. Perhaps he wasn't the best vampire in many aspects, but he had ranked third out of all the debutantes in the written exam. It had been the only moment in his life he could remember being proud of something he had done. Boris carried around his study notes as a sort of reminder that maybe he could do some things right and as a way to constantly review. Maybe if a random test of knowledge ever arose, he could actually prove that he belonged here even a little.

A knock on his door pulled Boris out of his thoughts and he quickly scrambled up. He fiercely hoped that it wasn't another one of the other debutantes. The young vampire could hide in his room if that were the case, but then he knew the others would tease him incessantly for it and spread the rumors that Boris Dracula was not only clumsy but also a coward.

Boris breathed a sigh of relief when he only saw a servant through the door's peephole. The only beings in the entire castle that he liked and felt a little more at ease with were the Breathers. Boris laughed a little nervously and opened the door, hastily taking off his glasses like his father and Uncle Count had told him to always do around others. He took a deep breath and controlled himself before saying a little shakily, "Yes?"

The Breather was an older man, perhaps in his twenties. His straw blond hair was almost orange in the low candlelight and it seemed to dance with the shadows. His expression, however, was not quite so animated and as blank as all the other servants. "My Lord, the second event is about to begin."

"Already?" Boris asked, puzzled at the lack of warning. He waited expectantly for more information. But when it was clear that there was none forthcoming, he continued, "Um, is it going to be anywhere in particular?"

"No, my Lord," the Breather replied quickly and curtly. He stood completely unmoving at the threshold of the room. "There is only one rule: do not get caught."

More confused than ever, Boris only stared at the servant. Was he missing something? "Well, then. Uh. When does it start exactly?"

"Less than a minute, my lord."

At that, Boris almost yelped. He was going to be late! Wherever or whatever the next event was going to be, he wouldn't be there for it. Completely disregarding the still-standing Breather, Boris lurched back into his room to quickly grab the nearest presentable cape to wear. He hastily threw his glasses on to bring the room back into focus and nearly tripped over an ottoman in the process. He threw open the closet after some maneuvering around the room and nervously hoped that whatever he chose wouldn't shame his family.

"Hey, could you at least give me an idea of what I'm going into maybe? It would help me –"

This time, Boris did yelp as he just barely dodged the servant lunging at him. His mind didn't quite register what was happening until his eyes caught sight of – oh, bats was that a cleaver?!

Boris shouted aloud and immediately began running towards the door, hearing the Breather behind him extracting the weapon that had sunken into the wood with a loud crack. What was happening? Weren't servants supposed to be forbidden from attacking vampires? Boris shot into the hallway outside, casting a glance around him only to see in rising horror that he was not alone in this nightmare. Within the brief few seconds since the servant had begun to attack him, other Breathers seemed to have also started attacking the debutants.

Boris had little time for thought as he heard his particular assailant close behind. He desperately ran in what seemed to be the least populated section of the passageway and tried to block the alarmed screams that were beginning to fill the air. He gasped aloud as another female servant with a spear swung her weapon overhead, expecting to be cleaved in half. Then he watched in shock as she ignored him completely and continued to pursue another debutante who had passed close by.

Immediately, Boris paid for his temporary distraction. A sharp pain stabbed his left arm, and it was probably only sheer dumb luck that the servant had missed the jab. Boris yelled in fear as he grasped his now-bleeding arm and forced his legs to carry him faster. He hoped the cut wasn't too deep because already, he could feel warm liquid coating his right hand.

His breaths were becoming labored already and Boris realized with rising terror that he had not brought his inhaler with him. If he had an attack now, how was he going to escape?

Boris had no choice but to duck into a room once he could no longer hear the Breather behind him. His pants were coming in loud, ragged intervals and his lungs were tight. His glasses were so coated in sweat that Boris could barely see beyond his own two feet and he was beginning to feel dizzy. He leaned against the door of the room, sliding down to the floor in exhaustion.

This was madness. Why were servants attacking everybody? Surely by now the Grand High Vampire had heard what was happening and would set things right soon so that they could begin the next event.

Boris blinked. Unless…this was the second event? There had only been one rule, he remembered. Don't get caught.

Blood and garlic, he was so very screwed.

Then the door seemed to explode. Shards of wood flew into the room, some slashing Boris's face. A single arm holding a cleaver, bloodied from hacking a hole through the entrance, pulled back to be replaced by the blond servant's head, eyes searching the room until they zeroed in upon the boy gaping in terror below. Boris was screaming before he even knew he had opened his mouth and scrambled to his feet to escape. Whatever sense of tiredness had plagued him before seemed to vanish. Instead, he was trying desperately to find another exit even as he heard the Breather forcing the door open.

There was no other way out. Boris hastily tried to put distance between himself and the servant, but already the debutante could see that the Breather was blocking the door.

If only his powers would work now! Boris felt terrified, sick, and frustrated. Why was he the only one who could never do anything? What good were vampire powers when he couldn't control them to do something as simple as surviving? He tried to feel for it, tried to coax his powers out to help. But there was nothing and Boris was most definitely not crying.

"Let me go, please! I'm a Dracula. My family will get you whatever you want!"

There wasn't even a single flicker of reaction on the Breather's face at the plead. He was like an emotionless automaton.

Boris was desperate. He wasn't ready to die yet, not like this. He had always known that he might be doomed one day, but not so soon! He was so terrified all he wanted to do was break down and huddle on the floor. But sheer survival instinct pushed him to keep trying. Boris jumped abruptly, darting to the right in an effort to pull the Breather away from the door. But the quick movement only seemed to make the servant react and suddenly throw his cleaver where Boris was moving. The un-Turned vampire saw it coming as if in slow motion, timed perfectly to make contact with his left side.

Boris closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst.

~0~

Idle time, Vlad found, did not sit well with his family. He had not missed Olga's many tries at getting a rise out of him and, with nothing else to do, he couldn't blame her. Vlad would have gladly instigated conversation with Olga himself if he didn't have the Grand High Vampire's assigned task hanging over his head. His cousin was fairly decent company when she wished to be. But for now, Vlad had more things to worry about than Olga's sensibilities.

The last few days had consisted of intense study, all of his focus dialed into the words upon words before him. The book the young vampire had been given to read – a book with no title – was thin and concise with clear instructions on how to carry out his given role in the last event. But it made many assumptions about the reader's knowledge on vampire lore and magic, forcing Vlad to plunder the only library he had access to in the castle to help his understanding. The Grand High Vampire had overlooked the tiny detail that while Vlad did have experience with magic, he did not have much personal experience with vampire magic.

That hadn't even been the worst of it. The most agonizing thing about the entire process so far was that this was magic he could not practice on his own. It required the appropriate setting and subjects to be present for him to even know if the spell worked. There was the very real possibility that he could walk into the final event fully armed with information and still fail in casting the spell needed.

Vlad tried not to think about it because failure meant an irritated Grand High Vampire. And an irritated Grand High Vampire could very easily make life difficult for him. It wasn't much of a surprise that the entire thing left Vlad in a dour mood.

It was the fifth day after the reception when Vlad finally got his summons. He had barely finished the last page of the small book the Grand High Vampire had given him before a servant came walking into the library. The Breather had immediately requested Vlad's presence and extended a new set of robes for him.

Vlad had been so engrossed in trying to learn everything before his due date that he had forgotten his nerves. But seeing the servant standing before him made it real. This was happening. He was about to go try magic he had never actually attempted before and perhaps lose any anonymity he still had in the vampire community. If he failed, Vlad would shame his family and incur the displeasure of the Grand High Vampire. And who knew what it would mean to be on the wrong side of the vampire ruler? Vlad would not have hesitated to fail this task if he hadn't been keenly aware that the vampire ruler could do anything as punishment. Vampires were not known for their mercy and after Vlad had seen what the man had done to his own servant, he wasn't so sure he wanted to place his future and his family's future in the Grand High Vampire's hands.

Vlad was stuck between some garlic and a stake, but he already knew which of the two he would pick. He had spent the last five days doing almost nothing but learning the spell, after all.

"My master has very specific instructions for you," the servant said dutifully. "First, you are to behave as becoming of an administrator. No deviating from the instructions given to you. Second, you are to give my master a full report upon the event's completion. He warns that anything less will not be acceptable. Third, you must not hold back. He expects your complete and unhindered participation in this event."

The Grand High Vampire knew full well that Vlad did not want this duty and had given him a reminder that his wishes did not matter. For the first time, his vampirism wasn't what was making him feel trapped. This time, it was a real tangible being who had made it a personal project to test Vlad and it made him simmer with a defiance he could not act on. There was too much at risk to ignore the orders. For now, Vlad would do as he was told because he had no choice.

But we'll see how long that lasts…

"I was instructed to help you dress, my Lord," the servant was continuing, unfolding the robes he had brought with him. "They were adjusted for your size since you are far younger than the previous administrators. May I?"

Vlad didn't argue and only nodded his permission. It was far from unusual for Breather servants to dress the vampires they served, but Vlad had always dressed himself. He preferred it that way; it was more normal. But it was a minor point now and not one he was going to waste his energy on.

The robes themselves were surprisingly simple and a far cry from the ceremonial garb Vlad expected. The cloth was of the finest material, but it boasted no ornate patterns. There were no reds or golds to accentuate it, only black – the fundamental color all vampires wore. The cloak's collar almost swallowed his face, apparently not adjusted enough for his stature and Vlad was glad for it. He didn't want to show himself more than he had to for this. But he pitied the servant who had been tasked with the adjustments. The Grand High Vampire would most likely punish them for inadequate work no matter how difficult it must have been to do so without Vlad there for measurements.

Once he was dressed to the servant's satisfaction, they exited the library and Vlad once again followed one of the Grand High Vampire's servants towards a summons.

Vlad knew already what had most likely begun a few hours ago. According to the book he had been given, the second event wasn't truly a second event at all. It was simply the preliminary for the spell that was to come, a measure of physical capacity, and probably a good scare to the future debutantes for good measure.

His role was to track each debutante down and cast a final spell that would force them into their dreamworlds, where vampires went in their sleep once they were close to the age of sixteen. It was where young vampires manifested their greatest fears, obtained advice from their guides, and sometimes saw the future. The dreamworld was more than just a state of mind; it was very real and several texts had warned him death in the dreamworld meant death in the real world as well.

It wasn't enough that vampires faced danger on a daily basis, was it? They also had to watch for their lives in their dreams. It was typical, really, when Vlad thought about it.

The book stated that the purpose of the final test was to stretch each young vampire's mental strength. The spell would facilitate entrance into the dreamworld, forcing everybody into induced sleep. Those who were strong would face their fears and overcome it, waking up as an indication of their success. Those who couldn't overcome their fears were awoken manually by the administrator and publicly deemed a failure to all of vampire society.

Vlad's job would not be easy, he knew. The debutantes would be paranoid, suspicious, exhausted, and desperate. It was more than likely that none of them had been told exactly what was happening and Vlad knew that at this stage, they would rather attack first than talk. So not only would Vlad have to find each soon-to-be-vampire and subdue them, but he would also have to cast a spell he was not familiar with at the same time.

The servant finally stopped at the edge of a great hallway dividing the east and west portions of the castle. Vlad knew this because he and Olga had tried multiple times to find their way to the debutante's rooms only to be rerouted. But this time, it seemed, the young vampire would finally be allowed access.

"The debutantes are properly scattered now, my lord," the servant bowed, extending an arm to indicate the passageway towards the West Wing. "None of them are allowed beyond the western portion of the castle. But there are no other restrictions."

Vlad took a shaky breath, taking in the dark path lit only by a scattering of torches. A part of him was screaming to turn around and forget all of this - to turn and run as fast as he possibly could.

But he had been here at the crossroads before, in the maze for the Philosopher's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets.

Turning back had never been an option.

Things do tend to go from 1 to 100 really quickly in the vampire world don't they?

On a more mundane note, this is a shorter chapter than the ones I have been writing recently (and I had planned to make it much longer), but I finally decided that I might as well post what I have written already so that I do not leave you guys dry for another couple of months. As a result, this was more of a "transition" chapter. This entire portion had been languishing on my laptop for a good 3 months now, but I could not quite get the next portion written to my liking.

And as always, please forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes. I do try to read through for errors, but more often than not I miss small thins here and there.

Look forward to the final event next chapter! Till next time!