Grey clouds loomed. The sensation of being tugged by the navel and carried throughout the world in less than a second made him wince. He did not feel nauseous, but he had nothing in his stomach to actually be nauseous about. He landed with grace, such an extraordinary circumstance, just outside the gates of Hogwarts. Milliner had actually been kind enough to let him go with little fuss. After mentioning Hogwarts, the man had actually encouraged him to go with his usual hard-engrained speech of 'go and profit from the occasion'.

It was as he took a step forward, that he felt the castle.

No, more than the castle it was the shroud that he felt. It hummed. It twirled. It spun and it lamented. Deaths and blood had circled around the stones. Darkness like nothing before had crept through the halls. What was 'creepy' for a human was nothing more than the sign of a weak shroud for him, gifted of Necromancy from his blood.

He brought up his right hand, gently touching the wooden doors of the entrance as they slowly moved apart. The shroud was thin, but not unguarded. He could feel it. Powerful fetters and wards prevented him from doing anything to it. He could not summon forth the wraiths or bind them, he could not tear apart the shroud even if he ever became able to…but this place was something Ambrogino Giovanni would have probably sold somebody's soul for.

Harry took small steps as he watched with fascination the golden statue of the first Headmaster of Hogwarts and of the architect, both standing at the entrance. He took more steps forward, guided by the sound of cheerful whispers. Just outside the door of the dining hall, a man with a wooden peg leg and a glass eye stood. He could have looked menacing, had he been anything more than a mere human wizard.

He did recognize the man however: he had seen him more than enough times with the fuss over Voldemort's destruction, and he had been one of the judges to his own rigged process.

"Alastor." He smiled. He always started with a smile: it unsettled his enemies. A vampire was not a brutish hulk who tore through opponents with claws, nor was he a Ghoul whose only purpose was to obey. A vampire was the friend of everyone and the enemy of none, of course until the daggers started flying.

"Harry," the man replied. The vampire resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He could have done a mess, like with Albus, but he just knew that Alastor Moody had never once called him Harry to begin with. The man was probably feigning the familiarity. Were they observed, he wondered?

"How have you been?" The auror asked. "Are you a teacher too?" The glass eye twirled in front of him, and for a single moment he was just on the verge of forgetting everything about pleasantries and rip both of his arms off…but he didn't.

Whoever the man was, he was but a pawn. A misinformed pawn of someone else and he didn't actually care to correct it. If the man had killed Moody, then all was well in the world. If the man wanted to kill Albus, then he didn't care. If he wanted to butcher all the children and students in the great hall, excluding a selected few he would personally shield, then he wouldn't even lift a finger.

He was here to repay his Life Debt. A vampire always has to pay his debts after all: the Camarilla was based upon that. Minor debts, common debts, major debts and Life Debts were the various degrees a vampire could end up being indebted to someone else. Unless one was a Sabbat cultist, debts had to be repaid. It showed your trust. It displayed how effectively your word was worth.

This didn't mean you couldn't have some leeway with them. If you were asked to steal for an elder to repay a favour, nothing prohibited you from leaving behind a trail to the elder in question. Of course a smart elder would already supply within the debt the requirement of not leaving behind any trace willingly. He just had to 'protect' his sister. 'Protection' could be many things. The Putanesca family 'protected' the shopkeepers in Sicily by breaking the legs of those who didn't pay their 'protection' fee.

"Yes," he replied with a smile, "I'm the new Ghoul Studies Professor. You know, being a vampire and all." He walked towards the dining hall's door, ignoring the stiffening of the fake auror. Whoever he was, he had spent a long time away from the newspaper. The news of the brother of the Girl-Who-Lived being transformed into a vampire had run across the world. Even the rocks knew of him.

He pushed the wooden doors open, and the silence descended in the dining hall as he walked forward. 'Moody' followed behind him, keeping his stiff and gruff behaviour. Harry's eyes scanned through the students, and then he saw her. In Gryffindor garbs, with her face staring at him as if she had seen a ghost. Her long red hair and light hazel eyes, coupled with a thin nose and a soft cheekbone made her stand out. She had probably lost weight from the distress in losing her parents, and was now looking at him with small tears forming on the sides of her eyes.

He heard a small gasp coming a bit further down the Gryffindor table, and he returned a grin to the brown haired seventh year girl better known as Hermione Granger.

Then, he settled his piercing sight on the staff table.

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore stated, standing up from his seat. "Students of Hogwarts, let me present to you your two new Professors. Alastor Moody is an ex-auror, who will be taking on the class of Defence against the Dark Arts," the fake Moody merely grumbled, moving his fake eye around in twirls and scaring a few impressionable first years.

"Harry Potter is instead overly qualified for the position of Ghoul studies, and I am sure you will enjoy the new insight he might provide." The 'overly qualified' could have been avoided, but he merely smiled as he sat down at his seat among the staff.

The ghosts that had loomed throughout the room were staring at him, as if suddenly realizing something was amiss. He nodded to acknowledge the man on his side, displaying his usual happy grin even though he would have truly liked to chop up the raven haired professor. Severus Snape seemed to understand that he was skimming on the edge of surviving the night, for he excused himself over some extremely delicate potion working to be done.

Harry scoffed. The man had merely postponed the hour of his departure from the living.

"Now a few words for those who have chosen Ghoul studies: since the arrangement was hasty, no books were inserted in your list for the year. The school owls may be used to order what supplies your professor will tell you, so do not worry. Now, I think a few words from the new staff would be much appreciated."

Harry's keen ears caught the familiar blubbering of Ron Weasley 'bloody hell I want to eat' and Hermione's 'Maybe I should take ghoul studies' soon followed by 'My father will hear of this, a vampire teaching!?' of Draco.

He looked at Alastor, who simply stared back at him from the other end of the table. Calmly, he stood up.

The murmurs died down as he coughed slightly in his fist. "Long night," he whispered to the hall, "Is the traditional greeting of a vampire. Vlad the Impaler is said to be the first vampire that has ever walked the Earth. Many other vampires have lived, married and procreated in the world since then. Yet I wonder how many of you know this. Who among the muggleborns knows of someone else, than Count Dracula? Who among the purebloods know of what a vampire can really do? Well, there is a reason vampires are feared by Wizarkind. You may have magic; you may consider yourself superior…"

He chuckled, "But know this: no unprepared horde of wizard may stand even the slightest chance against a single prepared elder vampire. You, blondie." His finger pointed at Draco.

"How would you go about killing me?" He queried with a smile. Considering Draco's boasts of 'if he bits you Pansy, I'll kill him myself' had been heard by his ears.

"I am Draco Malfoy! You will address me with respect you subhuman beast!" Draco snarled back.

Harry smiled sweetly. He'd do as a first impression.

"Stand." And Draco stood.

"Clap." And Draco clapped.

"Sit." And Draco sat.

"And I will not—Pansy why are you—Blaise? Crab, Gregory what are you looking at me for?" The blond man muttered looking around.

"And you want to know something fun?" Harry hissed at the entire student body. "Orders can be given within a mere speech, and you would be none the wiser."

"What my colleague has yet to admit however." Here Alastor took the word, "Is that wizards can train themselves to resist the so called Domination of elder vampires just as they resist the Imperius curse."

"Still, tell me Draco Malfoy," Harry commented offhandedly. "How would you go about killing me? A jinx? A curse? A hex or a charm maybe? Tell me, I'm curious."

"Fiendfyre." Draco snobbishly retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Correct." Harry acknowledged, "And then? Not every wizard has Fiendfyre ready, what else?"

"Incendio? Calling a firestorm? Vampires are not that strong!" Draco exclaimed.

"Alas I must admit you are right again. Incendio can burn a vampire very well. Conjuring a firestorm too can burn a vampire to a crisp…The question is: what type of vampire are we talking about? Tell me, would you believe yourself able to pronounce the incantation for Incendio from where you stand, should I wish you harm?"

"Of course." Draco scoffed, "there are two tables between us, and—"

"You sure, Draco?" Harry whispered softly at his ears. The blond boy yelped as he jumped nearly on Goyle's lap. Harry slowly walked back towards the staff table, smiling gently as he saw the stiffening postures of the Slytherins. "No unprepared force may defeat a prepared elder Vampire. Acknowledge this, understand this, and maybe you won't die because of one. " He snarled the last part out with effort, as he sat back down again.

"And know this: no books will be required for my study course." He commented.

He smiled then and waited for dinner to proceed. He wondered what Albus had planned on feeding him with. Raw meat was a possibility. His Dunsirn heritage might even make it agreeable, but he found it unrefined. The Wizardry world didn't know that 'Elders' were something way out of the league of any wizard. What they considered 'Elders' were but vampires who had been discovered and hadn't been 'maddened' by their loss of humanity.

The Camarilla had jumped on the occasion of avoiding a breach of the Masquerade, and thus for the wizards there were two distinctions: Vampires, mad and foul beasts who could do nothing but try and eat during the night, and Elder Vampires, who instead could be reasoned with and could control their impulses. It was sort of elating being referred to as an Elder, whereas he was nothing more than barely a Neonate, an unwanted Infant of a mad Dunsirn.

Thankfully his sire hadn't survived. He on the other hand had.

He was still debating whether his survival had indeed been lucky or not, when a goblet of blood appeared in front of him. He gave a curious glance to it, before turning his inquisitive gaze towards where Dumbledore was seated. The man gave him back an encouraging smile, and he rolled his eyes as he began to drink from the chalice.

He had missed the rant on constant vigilance by whoever Moody was, but it didn't much matter to him. Harry stood up from the staff table at the end of the feast, and was soon hounded by a few Seventh year.

"Professor," a timid voice squeaked, "It is good to see you again." Neville Longbottom smiled. The Seventh year Hufflepuff had grown since the time he had been a scared teen, afraid of what his grandmother would say for having been sorted in the house of badgers.

"Oh Harry, you're a professor now!" Hermione Granger literally gushed. The Gryffindor girl had been isolated by her peers during her first year at Hogwarts, and as a brave and loyal Hufflepuff he had befriended her and made her join Neville, Hannah and Susan.

"How are you faring?" Hannah asked quietly, her eyes settling on his pale skin first, while her gaze was sorrowful.

"Is New York really a city where nobody sleeps?" Susan quipped in, her stern face so much reminiscing him of that of her aunt, albeit now she was sporting an awkward smile on her face. "Are the muggles there unable to, or it's just a saying?"

"Calm down." Harry replied with a smile and a hearty chuckle as the barrage of questions came in from the Seventh years. "First off I'm glad to see you're all fine, secondly I'm fine myself and thirdly New York's muggles sleep just like everybody else."

"When will your lessons be?" Hermione asked with keen interest. "I started Ghoul studies in my third year as an elective, are the lesson going to be at night?"

"Yes." Harry nodded back. He cast a gaze at Albus, who seemed to be waiting for him near the dining hall's doors. "Shouldn't you Prefects lead the students to their dorms?" He asked then.

Hermione and Neville both had the decency to splutter and move, while Hannah just quietly looked at him for a moment more before nodding to herself and leaving. Susan just stared at him for a moment, before whispering.

"What are you going to do?"

"Uhm?"

"You don't really want to be here, do you?"

He sighed. Susan had always been the perceptive one. He shrugged and smiled again. "I'll be keeping an eye out on my sister."

"I'm not offering you the condolences: I know you don't want them." She murmured back.

"I don't need them to begin with." He replied, before waving the seventh year goodnight. He was about to move towards Dumbledore, when Lillian moved hesitantly near him.

"Harry?" She timidly asked, her hazel eyes widening as he did not stop to hear her out. The vampire ignored the girl-who-lived and moved briskly to where Dumbledore stood, now with a frown on his face.

"Mister Potter," Albus scoffed, "she is one of your students. Could you please refrain from being so callous?" He slowly brought up his right eyebrow at that bit of information.

"She took Ghoul Studies?" He asked back.

"Ah, yes." Albus replied with a smile. "Miss Granger, Mister Longbottom, Miss Abbott, Miss Bones and many of your friends too. They all wished to know about Vampires and I'm pretty sure they have been researching for a cure for as long as you've been bitten."

He awkwardly moved his gaze sideways. Inwardly, he was sighing. There was no cure. Vampirism wasn't a sickness. It was a curse. All knowledge of Vampires was false to begin with: how could a cure be envisioned from falsehoods?

"I hope they will stop wasting their time after our first lesson." He replied calmly. "They could do a lot of great things: they shouldn't be clamped down in a fruitless effort."

"Helping one's friend is never a fruitless effort, Mister Potter." Albus answered with mirth in his tone. "It is instead a touching scene of friendship."

"If you say so, Headmaster."

In silence, Harry followed the old wizard through the familiar hallways and past the paintings, taking the stairways down to the dungeons. He actually sighed in relief when the windows stopped showing themselves alongside the walls, bringing thus all the illumination only on the torches. He flicked his eyes in careful annoyance towards the small fires, calming himself down.

The Headmaster stopped in front of a polished black door, with a set of complex locks on the outside. He brought up an eyebrow at that.

"The board of governor asked for you to be locked up when not required attending lessons during the night, during the day you will be free to receive students in your office."

"In New York, I had a booming restaurant, a nice life and respect Dumbledore." Harry whispered calmly, his cold green eyes now turning on the old wizard. "Treat me like a dangerous beast, and you will face one." Then he walked inside, closing the door straight on the face of the Headmaster.

The room was softly lit by glowing torches; a coffin of all things was placed within a corner of the room. A luscious purple carpet covered the stone floor, while a painting of what seemed like a grey skinned man scoffed at his sight. He brought up an eyebrow at the sight of his desk, made of glass and with marble legs, with golden twirls joining it into an opulent piece of furniture. His coffin wasn't any less, since it seemed filled with satin and silk. He nearly gagged when he turned his gaze to where a dresser stood, next to another smaller desk with a mirror on and with its surface literally covered in beauty products.

He gazed, hard, at the man on the framed painting.

"What?" The painting retorted hotly, seeing the glare. "Style is everything for us vampires!" The thing spoke with a shrilled voice, and Harry just shook his head, before sitting down at his desk's chair.

He was in for a long night, but at least it appeared that at regular intervals a chalice of blood appeared on his desk. He sighed.

"I won't die of hunger then."

When he finally crept into Torpor, he was startled to hear the sound of the locks of his door coming loose. He blearily opened his eyes to a now cluttered desk, filled with parchments and scrolls that seemed to showcase what he had to teach to each class from third year onward. He groaned as he saw the door open to admit Susan.

"Miss Bones?" He asked. "Do you have questions to ask for a lesson that has yet to come?" He sarcastically sniped. Waking from torpor consumed Vitae, and he really didn't want to waste it even if it was supplied by the Hogwarts' kitchens.

"Well no," Susan replied. "But when we heard of how you were locked in, we thought 'why not go and visit him, and then aptly forget about putting the locks back on?' and so here I am." She seemed actually abashed at saying that.

"And they sent the niece of the head of the DMLE so that she wouldn't be expelled in case it was discovered." Harry remarked calmly. "Which Slytherin is giving you the ideas?"

"Greengrass," Susan quipped quickly. "Hermione's tutoring her on Muggle Studies."

He brought up an eyebrow at that bit of information. "Daphne Greengrass?"

"Astoria, her younger sister," Susan quickly corrected herself.

"Ah, I see." He frowned slightly, turning his gaze back to his mass of papers. He could have sworn they had just multiplied. "It seems I'll have to prepare a lesson plan for my first lesson."

"Hermione wanted to pass by later," Susan commented. "She did say something about you being hopeless with organizing things."

He feigned a mock-shocked face, "Me? But the sorting hat wanted me in Ravenclaw, didn't you know that?"

Susan just giggled. "I don't know why, but I doubt it. See you later, professor."

Harry just shook his head lightly, before moving his fingers to settle the parchments with speed and precision. He should find one or two students to turn into Ghouls, and proceed from there in having the pile sorted. The thought soon disappeared as fast as it had come: Vampires, for the wizards, did not have Ghouls. The theory of Ghouls was complex and utterly wrong. Wizardry Britain believed that some sort of wretched physical wraith attached to a fetter was a ghoul, while in truth a 'Ghoul' was a human who was bestowed blood by a vampire.

The human would then become addicted to the blood, and would be able to use said crimson liquid, called Vitae after the vampire filtered it, to do feats beyond humanity's limits. Smashing metal plates, jumping down from four stories high buildings, healing gunshots with ease…a Ghoul could do many things, but the price was substantial slavery to the Vampire.

A slavery that went beyond the mere ordering around, for the slaves of a Vampire always obeyed out of their own 'free' will.

The first letters he read were from the ministry, advising him to show up 'at his earnest speed' to be regularized as a British citizen. They also explained his need to have a human guardian in order to be 'considered tame' and the fact that he had to register and be branded a tattoo on his arm to warn others of his condition.

He tore apart that paper, glad that the Beast seemed to be thinking alongside him for that moment. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the Shroud surrounding Hogwarts, and the Shadowlands beyond. The noises of the ghosts floating in the air became now louder, as he felt the presence of a nearby Wraith moving closer.

He opened his eyes and stood up. There was a Wraith that was unbound to the protection of the castle nearby. The wards probably did not cover all the ghosts, as some might have come later than most. He calmed himself and froze in mid-step. He couldn't do this by day: controlling wraiths, or even going as far as summoning one always required one to be careful and prepared.

To do so during the day, when his actions were limited, was not a smart way to go.

He returned to his desk's chair and began to compile the lessons' plans. Eventually, he hit the mark of time he could remain awake during the day and fell in Torpor once more.

He awoke to the gentle knocking on the door and the slightly flustered face of Hermione, who seemed to be hesitantly smiling at him.

"Professor, I was sent to tell you where your lessons are held."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he grabbed the papers for his first lesson. He had a group of fifth years, who would be starting their lessons on Inferis. He walked out of his office and nodded to the brown haired girl, following her through the halls.

"Everyone's talking about the Tri-wizard tournament." The girl began. "I think they don't even know how dangerous it can be." She added. "People have died in it, and yet all that the others rant on about is how 'exciting' and 'cool' it would be to participate." She shook her head.

"Let youth be youth." He replied calmly. He arrived in front of a classroom on the lower levels of the main staircase of Hogwarts, with the portraits unabashedly sniffing and snoring softly.

He entered the room in silence, the soft murmurs dying down as he reached for the teacher's desk at the end of the small classroom. There were barely twenty students, all from different Houses and yet all holding themselves prim and proper without any sort of hexing going on. On the first rows were the Gryffindors, soon followed by the Hufflepuffs and then the Ravenclaws. The Slytherins were just so casually placed the closest to the door.

All the Slytherins seemed to be sporting crosses and garlic necklaces, and even a few of the other houses members had one of said items, or a lighter at the ready if the student was muggle-born. He didn't know whether to smile or not at that display, and as such he settled on a slight upwards tug of his lips.

"My name is Harry Potter, and I am an Elder Vampire." He spoke slowly, savouring the word 'elder' as it came out through his tongue: he would have needed three hundred years to even dare aspire at that title normally, but to uphold the masquerade 'sacrifices' had to be made…even if this didn't actually seem a bad one. "I will be your Professor on Ghoul Studies." He began.

"First lesson to learn," he began to write on the chalkboard, "is the distinction between an 'Elder' Vampire and a normal Vampire. Someone already knows some differences between the two?"

A few hands raised themselves, from the Ravenclaws' rows. He nodded and pointed his finger at a blond haired girl who replied.

"An Elder Vampire is more intelligent, smarter and more powerful than a normal vampire." She muttered the sentence with a meek and timid voice, a slight tremble of her lips indicated she was actually afraid to talk, but did so nonetheless.

"Indeed. Five points to Ravenclaw. Anything else?" Harry replied with a nod, before pointing at another raised hand, coming from a Slytherin.

"An Elder vampire is not afraid of Garlic or Crosses. He can resist the need to drink blood at night." The boy with a pudgy face then removed his cross and his garlic crown, transfiguring the cross back into a quill and putting the smelly vegetables on the ground.

"Correct again: five points to Slytherin." Teaching didn't seem that difficult, now that he was immersed in it. He just hoped it would keep up like that.

In fact it did. It kept like that for the entire hour of lesson. As the class walked itself out and headed to their respective dormitories, he settled on the chair and began to scrunch up on the names of his students. It wouldn't take much to memorize them, and it was always a proper thing to know the 'enemy' a bit more.

The door of the classroom opened slightly, as if a silent wind had just then decided to play with him. He tensed and narrowed his eyes. Obscuration was a Nosferatu trademark blood ability, just like it belonged to the Lasombra or any other Kindred who desired to learn it or diablerized another to grab it.

He would need to up his plans on getting some Wraiths to work as his guards, if there were Nosferatu running around the castle. He didn't feel the pull of the beast, but that didn't mean there wasn't an enemy: it just meant the enemy might know a better trick to stay hidden.

Constant Vigilance had been Moody's favourite sentence, when he was trained by the mad man during his youth. He bitterly snorted as that memory resurfaced from within him. The bullshit on Mentor-Apprentice being a sort of cheesy bond was nothing of the sorts. The man had been mental and had remained such. He had slept on the ground and woke up because of freezing water. His summers hadn't been to the beach, but under the harsh glare of the retired auror.

"You're doing a great thing, son. Train hard." For who? Certainly not for himself, since his father had eyes for his little Girl-Who-Lived princess. It wasn't being ignored, because most certainly he had never been ignored. His birthdays had been celebrated just as much as those of his sister, his parents had been there as much for him as for her…but the expectations had hurt. He had never asked if he wanted to protect his sister. One morning, after receiving his wand, he had been asked if he wanted to learn more magic than normal.

The training had started that day. He hadn't realized it then, for he had been young and naïf. When he did understand, it was already too late to sulk about it. The problem was that his Beast would never let him forget. His Beast would claw with whatever tools it had, to make him petty, jealous, and resentful, to make him commit mistakes. A true elder wouldn't have risen to the bait of the petty words of a blond haired imbecile.

A true elder would have silently brought the wizard's entire family into ruins.

"My little boy is all grown-up now." His mother had stopped buying him gifts after his second year at Hogwarts. Money cards were better: he could get whatever he wanted with them. The implicitly unspoken thing was that she no longer knew what he liked or wished for, busy as she was with work and taking care of his younger sister. The girl had been five years old at the time, always touching and scampering around.

Every accidental burst of magic had the girl being the centre of the attention. This was the jealousy of being the older sibling, he didn't know it at the time, but now…

Now he wondered why the Nosferatu was making noise while walking closer to him.

"You are either incredibly daft or surprisingly stupid." He whispered as the noise stopped. "I can hear you."

The next moment, his sister's head emerged from beneath what looked like an invisibility cloak. Her eyes were puffy and her nose red, but her hands seemed to hold on to the rims of the cloak tightly.

Silence descended in the room, as the girl held her head low while biting her lower lip. Her red hair was down along the sides of her face, and she seemed to be fumbling from one foot to the other.

"Miss Potter?" He asked calmly reining in the desire to wring the girl's neck. It wouldn't do to go against a Life Debt. "Is something the matter?"

"I'm sorry." She blurted out. "I'm sorry," she looked at him with her hazel eyes, which already were tearing up once more. "I don't know what I did but I'm sorry. I'm sorry —really— sorry." She whimpered as she held tightly on the cloak. "Please don't hate me —you're all that's left."

He raised an eyebrow at the sudden outburst of tears, mumbled words and what-not coming out from the girl's mouth. He listened to her keenly, and he then closed his eyes calmly.

"I humbly apologize, Harry Potter, of any wrongdoings committed against you." He intoned calmly. "That is how you deliver a proper excuse."

Lillian looked at him in silence now, carefully blinking and swiping away her tears with the back of her right hand. "I'm…I humbly apologize —it's right, isn't it?" He nodded as she pressed on, "Harry Potter, of anything wrong I did against you."

"Acceptable." He replied calmly. A Ventrue would have probably crucified her to a cross and then burned her, but he was a Giovanni, and a Dunsirn at that. He could survive with an acceptable excuse. "Now that this is out of the way, why are you outside your dormitory, this late at night?"

"Curfew isn't in effect for fifteen minutes yet." Lillian huffed back, "And I…"

"I didn't catch that." He replied.

"I was told not to go anywhere alone after…after mum and dad died." She whispered. "But I have the cloak and the map, so I'm safe!" She exclaimed suddenly.

"Yes, Hogwarts is really a safe place to be. It's not like there were Basilisks or Possessed teachers around." Harry pointed out calmly.

"Yes, I—" She frowned for a moment. "Wait!" She blurted out getting flustered, "That's not…That's not the point."

"I think it is." He replied calmly. "Or I wouldn't be here." He added as he slowly stood up and walked in front of his sister. "I'm here to protect you, Lillian, because I owe a debt to Dumbledore. There is no sort of brotherly feeling any more in my body for you, nor was I sad for our parents' deaths: I do not care."

Lillian's eyes widened as she paled and took a hesitant step backwards.

"I was fine in New York." He wistfully remarked. "I was fine living my life." He commented, "And of course my life had to be put in second place, because of you, once more." He chuckled grimly. "I'm going to protect you all right: you're to serve detention with Professor Snape for having disobeyed the Headmaster's orders tomorrow night. I'll notify the Professor." He smiled and swiftly grabbed the invisibility cloak, pulling it out of the hands of the girl. "The cloak is furthermore confiscated! It is a security risk I cannot condone."

"That's not fair!" Lillian screamed back at him, but he merely ignored her.

"Life's not fair." He deadpanned, folding the cloak. "Live with it."

Author's notes

Life Debt: in the world of Vampire, when someone does you a favour, you owe then a debt. It may be a minor favour, a common favour, a major favour, or a life favour. (So you would need to owe back a minor debt, a common debt, a major debt or a life debt) Said debts vary depending on what the favour was: if it was continuous, life-risking for who does the favour and so on.

Clearly being alive isn't a part of the deal, since Vampires aren't 'dead' they're 'Un-Dead'. So they live. Harry's Life Debt isn't Wizard-related, if somebody had read the chapter as he should have, he would have noticed it was emphasized how it was Vampiric in Nature.

So the favour was done after Harry was bitten. Not before. After.

That said, the 'canon characters' are Seventh years. The 'Canon but fanon' characters (Astoria, Daphne, Fay Dunbar, Kevin Entwhistle, etcetera) are time-correct. Astoria is one year younger than Daphne, hence she's doing muggle studies as elective in her third year.

That's all for the moment.