On the second day, the sun gleamed brightly above Athens, casting golden beams over the city.
Moriarty and Lilith rose slowly, descending the staircase of their quaint hotel. They approached the innkeeper to inquire about Professor Quirrell, only to discover he had already departed for Shengbo Saran.
"Breakfast is ready for you two," the uncle said warmly, setting down Sovalanji meat rolls, Bugassa bread, and a pitcher of chilled, clear milk. Lilith took dainty bites and smiled sleepily. "I slept so well last night. The bed was comfy, and I think the hotel must've cast some kind of noise-cancellation charm. Huh? Wait—what's that?"
She stared in shock as a small black snake slithered up Moriarty's wrist.
"Relax," Moriarty said casually. "This little guy is one of the snakes I summoned yesterday. They've been keeping watch for us, and they've already made contact with the local serpent population."
As he spoke, the tiny black snake transformed into a strand of ink-black script across Moriarty's wrist. He read the serpent's report, his eyes flickering with interest, and the writing gradually faded away.
"What did they say?" Lilith asked curiously.
"A group of vampires have been tailing us. After breakfast, I'm going to draw them into a secluded forest and take care of them. You'll stay here at the hotel."
Moriarty gave a small, sly grin. Another opportunity to earn points. With any luck, some reckless vampires would walk straight into his trap. 777 truly was a lucky number.
Lilith recognized that look in his eyes and sighed. She knew what he intended to do—he'd done it before. "This is Athens, not London. Quirrell's with us now, and if there are more vampires around, it's even more dangerous. Be careful, alright? Also, I'm not staying cooped up in a hotel like some helpless canary—I'm coming with you!"
"I appreciate your concern," Moriarty said coolly, locking eyes with her. "But be realistic. If you come along, you'll only slow me down. And if you remain here, the vampires won't dare attack the hotel. You'll be safe—and that's how you can help me the most."
Lilith glared at him, stubborn and dissatisfied. She knew he was right, but the thought of sitting idly while he faced danger was unbearable.
"Don't worry," Moriarty added, finishing the last bite of Bugassa bread. "First, I'll head to Shengbo Saran and contact Quirrell. Then the hunt begins."
Lilith nodded silently. "Be careful," she whispered before retreating to her room.
Moriarty changed into a vintage tuxedo and threw on a luxurious cashmere overcoat. After instructing the uncle not to leave the premises under any circumstances, he headed toward Shengbo Saran.
As expected, he found Quirrell at the vampire-themed bar, shrouded in dark robes, eavesdropping on conversations from a secluded corner.
The ever-flirtatious Mrs. Kewa was there as well, clinging to any male nearby, as shameless as ever.
Moriarty ordered a Long Island iced tea and, drawing attention to himself, generously purchased a fine drink for every patron present.
Cheers erupted: "To the generous young Brit!"
Moriarty ignored them. Their trivial opinions were meaningless. His focus was solely on the greedy fools hiding among them.
Mrs. Kewa tried to sidle up to Moriarty again, but Quirrell interjected, pushing her aside. When Moriarty invited him to join forces in hunting vampires, Quirrell agreed without hesitation.
"I never thought I'd have the chance to adventure alongside a great Slytherin like yourself! Maybe I'll even write a memoir—something like Lockhart's!"
Though not yet possessed by Voldemort, Quirrell was a competent wizard. After exchanging toasts, the two left the bar and strolled casually through the streets—though they were well aware they were being followed.
Moriarty's ghost snake made locating vampires in daylight almost trivial.
Quirrell demonstrated his skill in Transfiguration, transforming his black scarf into a crow that soared overhead to provide aerial surveillance.
After walking northwest for nearly an hour, they reached the base of a hill Quirrell identified as Ares' Knoll—a low, rocky elevation just over a hundred meters tall.
"This hill's terrain isn't suitable for large creatures—it's rocky, with sparse trees. Perfect for limiting the vampires' movement," Quirrell analyzed. "It's also ideal for Transfiguration-based combat."
Moriarty summoned his snakes—both ghost snakes and the locals recruited by his familiar.
"There are eight of them, all half-bloods. It's possible there's a leader hidden among them. You, me, and the snakes make four. We'll thin out the minions first."
Quirrell nodded, accepting the plan. But as they began their ascent, the eight vampires—realizing their ambush was discovered—struck first!
Four vampires lunged toward Moriarty. He activated his passive magic—Tides—and moisture slowly saturated the air. The vampires didn't sense the change.
Moriarty slammed his staff into the ground. "Giant of the Rock!"
Chunks of stone gathered and fused together, forming three massive rock giants—each five meters tall with fists the size of adult heads. The giants attacked.
One vampire was struck squarely, flung into the dirt. His black cloak flew back, revealing pale skin and red-spotted arms. He let out an ear-splitting screech and lunged at Moriarty with frightening speed.
"Break to pieces!" Moriarty cast. The vampire dodged.
"So many obstacles! So many obstacles! So many obstacles!"
Three rapid-fire Obstruction Spells forced the vampire to zigzag. The final hit clipped his foot, slowing him down.
"Gouging out the heart!" A flash of crimson light blasted from Moriarty's staff and pierced the vampire's chest.
"Aaaaagh!" The shriek was sharp and unbearable, like nails on slate. Moriarty winced. This vampire possessed an auditory attack!
"Be alert, Quirrell! Their magic resistance is high—standard spells aren't cutting it!" he warned.
Quirrell was already struggling, Transfiguring stone bullets and pelting them at four vampires to little effect.
Two more vampires morphed into clouds of bats, creating a swirling storm of blood-colored wings and overwhelming Moriarty's rock giants.
Another vampire unsheathed a silver sword and lunged straight for Moriarty's throat!
Moriarty gripped his wand in both hands and parried the strike like a duelist. The vampire bared his fangs in surprise—wands weren't supposed to be used this way.
Before he could recover, Moriarty countered: "Water Archery!"
A jet of pressurized water shot from his staff and slammed into the vampire's skull, sending him flying.
A full-grown wizard would've died instantly. But this vampire shook it off, his eyes blazing red as he launched himself forward again.
But Moriarty had already infused him with Tides.
"Quirrell, hang in there! I'll draw them away." Moriarty cast "Come and Go Like the Wind" on himself, activating the speed enchantment on his custom boots and bolting toward the mountaintop. Two injured vampires and the dispersed bat swarm gave chase.
At the summit, Moriarty raised his staff. The ambient water magic merged with the chilling air. "Cry Beneath the Snow!"
The wail of a mourning girl and a sorrowful funeral dirge echoed over the mountaintop. The four pursuing vampires staggered.
One—previously hit in the head—froze solid. The others, burdened by layers of Tides, slowed and clutched their heads in agony.
One hallucinated, picked up a rock, and cradled it like a maiden.
"Whispering Snake!" Moriarty commanded his serpent allies, who coiled around the incapacitated vampires.
Then he rushed to assist Quirrell.
The professor was in trouble—his robes torn, one foot slashed, and a blood bat inches from his neck.
"Fractured!" Moriarty's cedar wand exploded the creature mid-air. He drove his wand into the ground, carving a glowing ice magic circle while simultaneously repelling the remaining vampires with bursts of icy magic.
He pulled Quirrell to safety.
"Their magic resistance is too high!" Quirrell gasped. "Basic spells only slow them down—we don't have enough time to cast in volume. Only the Life-Draining Curse might work!"
"I'll try it. The Killing Curse… it doesn't scare me," Moriarty said darkly.
The Avada Kedavra—simple in theory, but requiring immense magical power and true killing intent.
"Don't!" Quirrell gasped, worried. "It'll tear your soul apart!"
But Moriarty was already focused. His heart pounded. His grip tightened.
"Avada Suo!" he whispered with icy resolve.
The wand bucked violently as a vivid green beam shot forth. Moriarty's soul weighed heavy—but only for a moment.
The leading vampire dropped instantly—lifeless.
The magic circle flared to life.
"Ice Snake Dance!" Moriarty hissed in Parseltongue.
A storm erupted. The Tides recharged his mana and added additional debuffs to the surviving three vampires. Though they broke free briefly, they panicked.
The blizzard swallowed them, and twelve crimson-eyed ice serpents surged from the snow and devoured the creatures.
The battle ended.
Moriarty collapsed, breathless. He had cast two large-scale ice spells and a Killing Curse. His magic was nearly spent.
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