Harry sighs. "It's... good, I guess, to meet you, my name is Harry, conjure it at your own risk. And try not conjuring me, either. And- indicative things- that is irrelevant, I didn't say anything, nothing was said. Anyway. I'm kind of quietly amazed that you can do terrestrial summoning and you haven't heard of the Vampire War, but long story short vampires are dicks, I killed a bunch of them, now they're kind of at war with the wizards and most particularly at war with me. They would really like me dead."

At the mention of spells out of old books, Harry would feel an urge to spit on the ground and turn around twice, but he's not actually a grizzled prospector. Instead, he puts on his most potent Warden Face. "And as a warden of the White Council, I'd like to inform you that spells out of old books are a terrible idea. They lead to things like Chicago being eaten by necromantic death tornadoes. That kind of thing can get your fool head chopped off for being a warlock." This ominous pronouncement is slightly weakened by the fact that he's wearing only a threadbare towel. Most of his pronouncements will probably be weakened by that, really. "It's good that you checked you can reverse the spell, though. Some idiots do this stuff on a whim and just assume that whatever they do can be reversed, because why would magic ever permanently inconvenience them?" (He's not talking to his past self here, why on earth would you think that? That's very uncharitable and not at all true.)