Grey clouds loomed. The windows reflected his image through the haze of the darkening sky. The sun had barely gone down, and there he was looking like a melodramatic hero, staring at the last lingering lights. Merlin, he missed the sun. He didn't miss the harsh blaze or the scorching rays of his runs with his trainers. He missed the sun's warmth on the skin. He missed the feeling of drinking cool water when thirsty and of eating warm food when hungry.

Now all that trickled down his throat was crimson blood. Not that he was displeased by it, and on occasion he could hold down food like a human, although he later would purge it out of his system. The hunger was something every vampire felt, and yet once that was gone, once the vampire was regularly fed…the Beast was the other problem.

It was sadly ironic that humanity's need to socialize with others mixed with the angered nature of the Beast, whose sole desires were the hunt and the gorging on more food. He stiffened slightly, as he heard the tell-tale sound of a wooden peg leg approach. He stared with an amused gaze at the fake Moody, who seemed to have yet to see him.

Considering he was half in the Shadowlands, he didn't doubt he was quite difficult to spot. The wails and moans of the deceased, of the Wraiths and of the Spirits lingering by were music to his ears. Alastor passed by him, his spinning eye probably nothing more than a prop if he couldn't even see him. He left him go, not interested in the fact that he seemed to be heading for the Potions' master's cabinet of potions and ingredients.

He began to walk upwards instead, making his way towards the dining feast. The Invisibility cloak was folded and safely tucked away in the safest spot he could think of: behind the painting of that poor excuse of a vampire. As he entered the dining hall, he was once more surprised to see Severus Snape stand up and leave. Quite in a hurry too, judging by how he took the exit furthest away from him with uncanny speed.

There were a few snickers at the students' tables, but as he sat down his eyes met for a brief instant the disapproving glare of the Headmaster Dumbledore. He smiled gingerly back, even fluttering his eyelids in the personification of 'sainthood' a Daeva had sworn worked.

Of course if you have enough Ascendant and Presence to do so, anything is legal, possible and can work to get you out of jail. Even chewing one's nails was erotic, for some Daevas. He drank from the usual chalice, as the owls flew down and delivered their mail.

He froze as two parchments settled down nicely in front of him.

One was more of a thick parcel than a letter, and the second was instead a postcard. Out of the two however, he feared the postcard.

The postcard was a fetter.

He could feel it by merely touching it. He could understand that the spirit of a postman had been relentlessly pursuing the card and he knew that the Wraith would be carrying a message only for his ears. He shuddered because of the name written on the postcard, revealing to him the grisly name of the sender.

Augustus Giovanni.

The Antediluvian-who-walks. The only one who successfully drank the life out of his sire, becoming one of the most feared aspects of Vampire society to have ever existed in the World of Darkness: the last time an Antediluvian had woke up, typhoons had quaked India. Augustus Giovanni wasn't as powerful as a true ancestor, but he was powerful. He was really powerful.

He had never been ousted of his position. He had never been challenged. He had never —if ever— been assaulted or otherwise had risked his life. There was only one explanation for the postcard: Augustus knew. The man had to have known, from the moment Dumbledore had talked to him probably, that he would be going to Hogwarts. The Postcard had been sent at the very least three days earlier. So at least one day before the Headmaster of Hogwarts had even come to meet him.

There was only one word, written in Italian, upon the postcard.

Profitta.

Profit. The law of the Giovanni family. The only law of the Giovanni family. To profit was to be efficient. To be efficient was to be a made-man. And to be a made-man was to become more proficient in profiting. He stilled because he could not, truly, believe the message to have come from the head of the Giovanni family itself. He had been embraced by a Dunsirn, by mistake, and that was more than enough to actually warrant his eternal destruction to the hands of the Camarilla Archons.

The Giovanni however were independent. The Giovanni had sworn beneath the pact of Thorns neutrality of arms. In that way they had doubly profited by selling to both sides. The Giovanni were bankers, financial gurus, stock holders and much more. They were Mafiosi last, but that didn't mean they weren't as ruthless as the worse Nosferatu could be. It didn't mean they weren't as fierce as the worse enraged Sabbat Brujah.

It just meant they smiled before sending someone else to twist your neck.

As if holding the Holy Grail, he gently placed the postcard within the inner pocket of his robes, before moving to have a look at the parcel. He frowned slightly at the lack of sender, but still proceeded to open the package carefully. A dream catcher emerged, made of thin and bristle wood, probably holly. He recognised the shard's colour, and if he weren't sure his wand had been destroyed, he'd say somebody had grabbed the shards and glued them back together.

"I had a nightmare."

"Let's build a dream catcher then."

He blinked as his eyes moved slowly towards his sister's form. The girl was nervously looking at him, her eyes somehow moving up and down from his face to the form within his hands. That would have been heart- warming to say the least, and he was sure, terribly so, that if he had been a mortal he would have melted. The problem was that he wasn't a mortal. He was a vampire. Vampires…

He sighed. He was frozen in time. He didn't sigh because he wanted to, but because he knew that was the correct thing to do in the situation. Just like he blinked when he remembered to, or breathed when he remembered to: he didn't need to do those movements, those actions, but he did them nonetheless.

His emotions were nothing more than echoes of his mortal ones. His actions were nothing more than strength of habit made manifest. He could not forgive his sister, because he had died in spite of her. He could feign forgiveness, he could feign coming to terms with and 'forgiving' her, but he couldn't, truly, forgive her. He couldn't change his static self. He could fake it of course, smiling, accepting apologies, following rules, but he could not change.

His eyes trailed once more over the dream catcher, before quietly putting it on his lap and standing up to leave the table.

"I think I'll go and talk with Professor Snape for a while." He smiled as he excused himself, slowly walking out of the dining hall. His footsteps echoed in the silent corridor, as the paintings snored softly around him. A low pitched wail was heard behind one of the doors of the corridor, soon followed by a rattling of the paintings' frames all around him.

He touched the postcard and then hurried along. Speaking with Professor Snape would wait: he had a chat he could not postpone with a wraith powerful enough that Augustus himself had bind it.

He barely managed to run into an empty classroom, when the Wraith materialized, literally tearing through the Shroud and the protections of Hogwarts as if they were nothing more than soft butter. The Wraith looked ancient, filled with hatred and rage. Half of its ghostly body had been torn apart by an explosion, and he was clad like a soldier in the First World War. The postcard had probably been written as a message to a beloved one, but never delivered.

Such anger and hatred for the message being defiled was probably only staved by the effort in following it.

"Give. It. Back." The Wraith wailed; the empty desks around them clattered and splintered, as the wood broke and cracked from the Shroud bearing its weight down on the surrounding area. "Give. It. BACK!"

"Deliver your message!" He snarled, as his will and blood hummed and his vitae burned to speak back to the lingering soul. The soul was barely away from becoming a Spectre, and he couldn't help but think of this as a test from Augustus himself. If the soul transformed, a Spectre of such power within Hogwarts could pretty much rival Peeves, making him look like an innocent schoolgirl; especially because Spectres were not only malicious, but murderous.

"Augustus is…angered." The Wraith fought, but could not stop itself from speaking, "He wishes…Ambrogino…to come and study…a favour, he offers…in the Giovanni…he fully will bring you…money he will grant…power…control…no longer Dunsirn, but Giovanni! Now give it back!"

The Wraith howled in pain, as its essence began to break apart, just as Harry ripped the postcard into shreds.

"You. Will. D—"

"I banish you back to the Shadowlands, Wraith!" He yelled out loud, his will draining as his Vitae burned. Shackles of smoke and blood emerged from the blackness that surrounded the Wraith, who with an unholy scream launched itself against him. Just as the torn ethereal body was about to hit him, the chains tensed, and would have choked the Wraith had the creature held any need for air.

The cold murderous gaze of the Wraith soon turned to fear.

"Please, no." With that last muffled scream, this time with a tone of plight, fear and grief, the creature disappeared within the inky darkness of the room's furthest corner. Harry fell down on one knee, gasping for air. He knew he didn't need to breath, and he wasn't actually sweating to begin with, but those actions were familiar to him, and the effort had been great to begin with.

Back in the Shadowlands, that Wraith would slowly be consumed and die. Its soul completely destroyed. That was the ultimate death. He chuckled grimly as he stood back up.

He turned to leave, but narrowed his eyes at the sight of the slightly ajar door. Somebody had watched him. He hurried towards the door, opening it and looking down the corridor both to his right and to his left. There was no-one. He walked out of the room slowly, before shaking his head. He needed those Wraith guards as soon as possible. It was the only way to be completely safe, after all.

He entered the classroom and reached for his desk, before turning to stare at the seventh year students he would be teaching.

Hermione was in the first rows, already with her quill and her white parchment in front of her, ready to take notes. Next to her Neville was bashfully nervous, but seemingly doing the same.

"Long night," Harry intoned calmly, "Is the normal salute a Vampire gives to another. Vampires' activities are generally at their peak during the winter months, but especially during the longest night of the year: the winter solstice. Now, can someone tell me why that is?"

Hermione's hand was already up in the sky, and as he nodded pointing at her, the girl replied.

"Because they have a longer time in looking for their prey, and they can bite more than a single person."

"Incorrect." Harry shook his head lightly. "It is not the duration of a night that marks a Vampire's activity. The winter solstice falls on the twentieth or the twenty-first of June. Someone now wishes to try again?"

"Vampires love skinny dipping at night?" A Slytherin snorted back.

"Some do." Harry replied with a chuckle, "Those who do would probably have your neck snapped, your bones broken, and would probably enjoy slurping down your entrails while you are still alive, but no, that answer is wrong again." He was mellifluous as he spoke, the light smile never leaving his lips as the Slytherin paled. "Someone else?"

"People go on vacation elsewhere and are easier to hunt down." A Ravenclaw, Padma Patil, spoke clearly. "Vampires can't generally enter well-guarded houses, but hotels, bungalows, and countryside bed and breakfasts are easier. People go in exotic places and as tourists they are fair game to the vampires of the place."

"Correct, Miss Patil." Harry nodded. "Ten points to Ravenclaw." He turned to the blackboard, chalk in hand. "Vampires are territorial." He wrote down neatly, "They are cunning and witty. They play on the wizard's poor knowledge and present themselves as a dashing gentleman, a charming lady, a kind and tanned bloke from the beach, and thus they enter your social circle." He quickly drew a stick figure, surrounding it with a circle.

"Humans are social creatures. Left alone, a single human withers and dies without external contact, his brain starts to literally shut down…and the same can be said for a vampire. Vampires need to feed on blood, but while the normal bred uses brute strength, the Elder type uses speech, charming gazes and seductive winks. The 'summer' escapades that you may partake of at night, maybe in a bungalow along the beach with an endowed girl might be nothing more than a Vampire feeding on your delusions."

He drew a set of stick figures around the board, connecting them with lines. "A vampire is a social climber first and foremost. A Vampire is polite, kind and charming. In the end, an Elder Vampire has no need to force himself on the victim: the victim herself willingly gives most of the time. The first thing to understand, however, is that while Vampires can be recognized easily by their pale skin and their pointy teeth, many who feign being alive employ charms cast by relatives to resemble their living states."

A hand rose in the air, courtesy of a Gryffindor. Harry nodded and waited.

"What was the bit with Malfoy that you did, Professor? Nobody could follow you as you did that!"

"That… That is one of the reason Elder Vampires are feared more than their normal counterparts, Mister Finnigan." Harry acknowledged. "Vampires can defeat the boundaries of their human bodies, becoming stronger, faster and tougher for a brief period, albeit that leaves them thirsty for more blood. An Elder Vampire can merely use at will said abilities, and having a cunning intelligence behind said powers, they can be used to devastating effects. Many wizards die each year for trying to 'bring to justice' Elder Vampires and miserably failing."

Hermione's hand was now once more up, and so he sighed and pointed at her to give her permission to ask the question he knew she was bound to ask.

"If Elder Vampires are smart, why isn't a diplomatic solution searched between them and the ministry?"

"Because, plainly put, the ministry is made of imbeciles," here he grinned as a few murmurs came from the students. "Now, now, let's ask a nice question to you, mister Zabini." Harry began calmly, pointing at the dark skinned student of Slytherin.

The boy tensed, but looked back at him calmly.

"Let's say…that you like eating pie." Harry began calmly, "You like it so much, in fact, that you need to eat a pie a day because otherwise you feel sick."

"I'm not much of a sweet tooth, sir." Blaise replied curtly, but then grimaced back into silence at Harry's stern glare.

"Now, you eat your pie calmly and with decorum. And you leave behind the plate. There are, however, uncouth citizens who enjoy pie just like you, but they break the plates after they have finished eating pie. Of course the restaurant can't have all of its plates broken, but since he can't distinguish who enjoys pies from who doesn't, and since the restaurant doesn't wish to kill its customers, it decides to brand them all." Here Harry's mile became feral, "A brand that requires yet another customer, one who doesn't love pie, to swear that his pie-eating friend will not break any plates. And so after you have been branded, you can eat your pie in peace again…nice, and simple right? It's only a tattoo after all…what bad and evil thing could come from that?"

He turned to the chalkboard and began to draw the runes for the tattoo.

"Anyone in here who is taking Ancient Runes: tell me what this array does."

The moment he finished with a flourish of chalk the drawing, Hermione gasped soon followed by a few of the Ravenclaws.

"That's a suicide mark!" a voice commented.

"Ten points to whoever said that!" Harry boomed back, turning with his robes billowing. "And now, mister Zabini, your friend becomes your enemy. Maybe he doesn't like you any longer, maybe he moves overseas, maybe he is sleeping with your wife and you find out, maybe he is Imperiused, maybe he blackmails you for money…or maybe he just asks you for sexual favours. Some do, no need grimacing: those are the least of the problems." He rolled his eyes. "And the next moment, with no court, no judge and no sentence…puff." The chalk he had been smashing with his right hand flew in the air, in a cloud of white powder.

"And you burn up. Now tell me, Mister Zabini, would you take a brand to eat pie, knowing that not eating pie will kill you, and taking one might get you killed?" Harry smiled wickedly and took a step forward.

Blaise shook his head without saying a word, and the Vampire nodded. "Fifteen points to Slytherin, Mister Zabini. Now, let's continue the lesson…"

"Professor," Hermione's hand was raised once more, and she seemed to be actually desperate to ask.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Did the ministry brand you? And if so, who is your guardian?"

Harry smiled and inclined his head to the side. "No, but not for lack of trying on their part."

"Isn't that illegal then, sir?" Neville piped in.

"No, because I am no longer a British citizen: I am American, and thus fall under their laws concerning vampirism which are far more...humane than the ones in our backwater ministry."

The rest of the lesson passed by in silent scribbling, and by the time it was over his eyes settled on the Seventh years that had chosen to remain behind.

"Well, what can I do for you, Miss Granger?"

"Can't you forgive Lillian?" Hermione remarked carefully, her attitude turning slightly cold. "She's not at fault in all of this."

Tell that to my Beast, he thought grimly.

"I have forgiven her." He replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Then give her back the cloak: it's one of the last things that belonged to her father, Harry. The house burned down with both of them inside! There weren't even the bodies to bury!" she glared at him then, her light brown eyes displaying her anger with their cold gaze.

"I did not take the cloak because I was being petty, Hermione." He retorted, "I took the cloak because it was a security risk. She cannot go around the castle alone, beneath the invisibility cloak, and hope that being invisible is all that she needs to be safe."

Hermione bit her lip, her logical side acknowledging he was right, but her emotional side trying to counter it. The girl held her heart on her sleeve…like everyone else. Only he and the kindred knew the subtle art of hiding their emotions, their true thoughts. Occlumency paled in comparison to their façades, Legilimency was nothing when they decided to seek the truth, Veritaserum was meaningless against those who made of lies truth and of truth falsehoods.

The sun could burn them to charred remains…but they could burn nations and smile all the same.

"Now, if there are no more questions, you may go." Slowly the remaining students trickled out, and as the last one left, Susan who smiled sadly at him, Alastor Moody trudged in.

"Well, Harry…"

"Oh Alastor, would you mind giving me your wand?" Harry smiled back kindly as the man obeyed without a second thought.

"I…Wh—" His only eye widened as he saw the wand pointed at him.

"No constant vigilance speech, huh Moody?" Harry snarled back. "You don't know how much I hate seeing that face, whoever you are." He whispered, "But let's put something out in the open: I don't care what you do, or for who you're working, or whatever reason you have. Don't tell me. I don't want to know. Leave me alone, and I will do the same with you." He commented. "Give me no reason to suspect you have anything against Lillian, and I will have no reason to come and hunt you down. Understood?"

The fake-Moody sucked in air sharply, before nodding slowly.

"Now make an unbreakable vow on it." He hissed out, feeling the Vitae burn as his mind clashed against that of the fake Alastor. The man tried to fight, but it was useless.

Dominate was nothing like the Imperius curse. Dominate was more subtle, stronger, and it was a complete lie and misdirection that people could train to resist it. Another bit of falsehood scattered in what being a Vampire truly was.

Once Alastor had properly sworn not to attack him and to leave him out of his plans, he bid the man farewell. The fake was confused slightly, he could see it as he left him behind, but it didn't matter. He had no doubt the man would think something else to fill the forgotten time. He quickly reached for his office again, hoping to find the chalice of blood just like the night before.

He was not deluded, and as he avidly drank from it to restore the precious Vitae he had burned, he began to formulate a plan.

Vampires were not fighters. They were masterminds.

Ambrogino wanted in. There was the Triwizard Tournament.

He skimmed over the papers on his desk, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as the other two schools. He could do this.

He just needed to gather the courage to write a very elegant letter to the Vampire known as the rudest jerk in the history of the Giovanni family to bring him in. He stilled just as the quill was about to settle on the paper. It wasn't actually possible: the schools had already given a list of the faculty members that would participate. There was no way to put Ambrogino in that way.

Maybe he could puncture the wards?

He snorted, that would require the headmaster's will.

As he settled into reading the way the tournament would be held, and the fact that the students were to be exonerated from the lessons, he brought up an eyebrow at the mention of what the tasks would be.

Taking a golden orb from nesting dragons? Really?

Saving a friend from the castle's lake…that was even —sort of— normal.

Finally a maze, where at the end a cup would have to be taken to be portkeyed back at the entrance of the labyrinth…

To be portkeyed back.

The labyrinth was within Hogwarts ground still, the Headmaster would have to grant a 'hole' for the cup.

Yes.

He could use that.

He smiled as he settled back against the chair of his office. He was still smiling when the door opened, to admit Susan, who sat down on the chair in front of him with a huff. Her Prefect badge was clearly displayed on her chest.

"Shouldn't you be doing your rounds?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you be assigning homework to the Seventh years?" she retorted cheekily. The Hufflepuff girl looked hesitantly around the office, before finally taking a deep breath. "I can't keep silent."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What is it, then?"

"Tonks," she began, "She's…she's seeing someone else."

"And that concerns me how?" his gaze went down to his nuptial ring, before returning upwards to Susan. "We are through, aren't we?"

"Yes, but…"

Harry remained quiet, waiting to hear what was meant to rile him up that had the girl scared.

"She's seeing a werewolf." Susan hastily added.

"This still does not—"

"She's seeing Remus Lupin!" The girl blurted out, "Your father's friend!"

He blinked. He tapped on the surface of his desk with an uncaring attitude before turning his monotone voice on.

"And I should care because?"

"You're going to be at Grimmauld place with her, right? Well…they're both there too! Sirius…"

"And how do you know that?" he asked, slowly tensing up as his eyes gazed harshly on the Hufflepuff.

"My aunt was asked by Dumbledore to provide external protection, she assigned the aurors." Susan was now shyly looking at the floor, biting her lower lip as she did that.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" He finally relaxed, perplexed at such a sight.

"I…I need help." She bashfully whispered, "Neville wants to try and put his name in for the Tri-wizard cup. I can't let him do it. Can't you talk with him and convince him otherwise?"

He frowned. "Is this the best you can do?"

She blinked, her mouth slightly hanging.

"I mean: this is the most of your Slytherin side? You first tell me and then ask the favour? Susan…" He sighed, shaking his head. "Things don't work like that. First you bait an information, then you ask for help and you deliver once you are certain the help has come."

"Oh." She slowly stood up. "So you're not going to help?"

"I never said that." He replied with a light smile. He drank from his goblet once more, before standing up with a smile and gesturing for Susan to follow him outside.

As the girl stood towards the entrance, the door covering her from the sight of the painting in the office, he swiftly grabbed her. She widened her eyes as he brought his lips to smash against hers with his eyes open. He poured the blood in his mouth, now turned into Vitae, within her throat.

The moment he separated, he whispered a single word, as his thumb cleaned the red-stained lips of Susan.

"Forget." And then he smiled, dropping back to his usual carefree attitude as he gallantly showed her the way out.

"I'll talk with Neville, Susan. Don't worry about it!"

"Thanks Harry, you're a real friend!" The girl replied, seemingly longing for a bit more near him, before finally walking down the corridor. She skipped to a halt halfway, turned to look at him once more, and then dashed embarrassedly back to her dorm.

He returned to his office and smiled.

The painting of the Vampire merely huffed in annoyance.

"Students! Always coming around to disturb the professors! In my times this would have been a scandalous behaviour!"

"Yes, they never seem to know when to stop lowering the bar...such disrespectful actions…" He shook his head with a light smirk.

He was going to profit from this, whether Albus knew it or not…he had bitten off more than he could chew.

Author's notes

Vitae is the 'blood' of Vampires. Vitae can be 'controlled' by Vampire's will. This means that shooting a Vampire does not make them bleed, unless they wish for it. At the same time once ingested, the blood turns into Vitae instantaneously. Then it's just as easy to 'regurgitate' it out.

Vitae of a Vampire has special qualities. It tastes sweetly and is highly addictive, so much that those dependent on it act like junkies most of the time. There are of course different 'levels' of 'bonding'. First tier, second tier and third tier. The third tier is 'absolute' control. 'Shoot yourself in the leg' 'Kill your son' 'slaughter your family' are all third tier commands that can be given. A 'bonded' person is NOT a ghoul.

A ghoul requires an expenditure of Willpower during creation. A ghoul may learn Potence and many other Disciplines that belong to Vampires. A ghoul can use blood of the vampire to heal itself.

Dominate at tier one is 'single command' action. Dominate at tier three is 'command given within a sentence'.

A Giovanni has Dominate, Potence and Necromancy as 'blood' disciplines. Necromancy is divided into 'paths'. The Dunsirn are the cannibalistic Giovanni Bankers. Ambrogino Giovanni is the Scholar of the Giovanni family.

The Shadowlands are the realm of the dead. The 'Skinlands' is how the wraiths call the realm of the living. The Shroud is what separates the two. (The Giovanni's main purpose is tearing it down completely)

The Giovanni family (With surname Giovanni) is the 'main' caste of the family. 'Dunsirn' is sort of a branch.

Harry has 'diablerized' the Dunsirn who turned him, if it wasn't understood. As such he is not a last generation vampire, but one a tier above. (Diablerie does come with negative things, like loss of humanity)

Humanity is what keeps a Vampire sane. A Vampire with 7 of humanity is 'normal' human. A Vampire with 5 is 'normal' vampire. A vampire with 3 is becoming the Beast. (Vampires on lower are Kill on Sight to protect the Masquerade.)

The Camarilla thus uses the excuse of the feral vampires to have the wizards kill them.

Enough of World of Darkness explanations.

The 'cup is a portkey' thing is probably reasonable ONLY if indeed it was originally thought of as a: get out of the labyrinth quickly. Reason for which Albus 'punctured' a hole in the anti-portkey wards to get the winner out of there…Crouch then changed the cup's destination to Voldemort's cemetery. Of course the teachers had to know from the beginning, hence the why Crouch wanted Harry to reach the end of the tournament. (And could help him easily since he already knew what the tests were)