A flash of green light burst from the tip of the wand, striking the vampire squarely. In an instant, the creature crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
"That was the Killing Curse," the woman explained. "The incantation is Avada Kedavra, and the wand movement is a bolt of lightning, cast from top to bottom. It's the most feared of the Unforgivable Curses—an instant death spell. If you're hit, there's no surviving it. Only one person has ever lived after being struck by it."
She paused, then added, "Our well-known saviour—Harry Potter. No one knows exactly how he survived, but don't expect the same luck. If you ever see this curse aimed your way, dodge. Even grazing it could kill you."
"There is no such thing as a silent casting for this spell. It requires absolute intent, murderous will, and a forceful voice."
She sighed and gestured for the vampire under her control to step forward. Her wand rose, aimed directly at its chest.
"Heart-breaking and bone-cutting!"
A brilliant white light surged from her wand and struck the vampire. Instantly freed from the Imperius Curse, its body convulsed, limbs curling in agony. It collapsed, writhing on the ground, mouth wide open in a silent scream.
"Silencio!" Phineas barked, sealing the vampire's mouth shut before it could shriek. The creature was left to moan in pain through clenched lips.
The Auror gave another weary sigh and continued, "That was the Bone-Cutting Curse. Aim your wand, and focus all your hatred. Picture the worst pain imaginable, unleash all your imagined tortures onto the target. Only then will the curse manifest properly. If your intent falters, the spell won't do much—it'll barely cause a stumble."
"Lastly, you should know: while the Unforgivable Curses aren't technically difficult to learn, their power depends on the caster's magical reserves. Without enough magic, even Avada Kedavra may do no more than cause a nosebleed."
Phineas nodded, his face grim. He turned back to the vampire, still twitching on the floor, and raised his wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light shot out once more. The vampire went still.
The Auror stared at him in shock. She hadn't expected Phineas to learn the curse so quickly—let alone have the magical power to cast it effectively.
The curse was as foul and terrifying as its reputation. And Phineas had felt it—his heart darkening, an insidious whisper echoing in his mind, pushing him to kill again.
He clenched his jaw. These were spells to be used only when absolutely necessary. More than simple magic, the Unforgivable Curses corrupted the soul.
He turned to the others.
"Get ready. We're leaving. If you can cast spells without a wand, do it. The goal is to reclaim wands and survive. Fight, and fall back if you must."
A wizard without a wand was practically defenceless. While wizards relied heavily on their wands, Muggles used firearms or their fists. Against vampires—especially the stronger ones who had taken wands from fallen prisoners—wandless wizards stood little chance.
Phineas knew most wouldn't make it. He was willing to use their escape—and even their deaths—as cover for his own.
He slipped his wand through the door's edge and cast the Imperius Curse on a guard vampire, forcing it to kill another. The distraction worked. With the guards eliminated, the group burst out of the dungeon.
A system message flashed in his mind, but there was no time to check it.
Two dark wizards among the escapees grabbed fallen wands, bolstering their firepower. The group advanced, fighting through every vampire that blocked their way.
For a time, things went smoothly—until one vampire spotted them and screamed for reinforcements. From then on, the escape turned bloody. Casualties began to mount.
---
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts…
"Professor, is there any news about Black?"
Fred and George Weasley stood in Professor McGonagall's office once more. Ever since Phineas had been taken, they'd been relentless in their pursuit of answers.
The usual mischief in their eyes was gone. No more late-night strolls. No more pranks. They were serious—determined.
To them, Phineas had been taken because he protected them. Many students believed the same. After all, Phineas had thrown himself into harm's way for others more than once.
Despite months of effort, his situation hadn't improved. But his bond with the Weasley twins had. Even Hufflepuffs, previously indifferent, had warmed to him because of his loyalty. And in Gryffindor, his reputation had started to shift. No longer was he seen as a traitor like his brother.
Fred and George had become his most outspoken defenders. They even assisted professors in the search, offering whatever help they could.
The head of the noble House of Black had been kidnapped from within Hogwarts itself—an embarrassment for both the school and the Ministry of Magic. Public confidence in wizarding institutions was shaken.
Some pure-blood families hoped Phineas would die, giving them the excuse to seize the Black estate. But as long as he remained missing, any such action would be seen as predatory and dishonourable.
Even among the worst of the pure-bloods, reputation mattered.
Phineas's disappearance caused a storm of gossip in the wizarding world. Was Hogwarts still safe? Could the Ministry be trusted? Both questions dominated the Daily Prophet.
The Ministry, desperate to regain control, was seeking opportunities to intervene at Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall sighed deeply at the twins' persistence.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley," she said, her voice tired but kind. "We still have no clues as to Mr. Black's whereabouts. But I promise you, we are continuing the search. For now, return to your dormitory. You need rest."
"But Professor…" George started.