A Fat Target

A line of fire appeared in the void above Amosta's head, flickering like a sheet of parchment being consumed by flames. The line descended, scorching through the pale space, and everything it swept over was plunged into darkness. Before Sirius and the others could react, their vision went black, and the dizziness they had felt before struck them once more.

Whoosh—

As though waking from a great dream, the Ministry of Magic Congress Aurors amid the shattered ruins rubbed their bleary eyes, struggling to shake off the stiffness in their thoughts.

"Merlin's beard!"

Clarity returned to Sirius's gray eyes before anyone else's. When he saw the scene around him, he sucked in a sharp breath and instinctively sprang up, landing on a slab of concrete with one end sticking up beside him.

Sirius's cry made everyone even more eager to see what was happening. Eriel even pointed his wand at his own face and cast Aguamenti.

Gasps rose one after another. Like startled locusts, people leaped up from the ground, desperately pulling themselves free of the crimson sludge as thick and sticky as asphalt. The entire hillside was drenched in ghastly red, and the air reeked of putrid blood, as if it had been soaked in a downpour of gore.

"What happened, Amosta?"

Squatting on the concrete slab, Sirius used a spell to clean his trouser legs and shoes. Wrinkling his nose, he looked at Amosta, who hovered several feet above the ground with a faint smile on his face.

"Where exactly were we just now? And what's with all this blood? Didn't you completely get rid of that monster?"

"Dumbledore and I pulled that Vampire progenitor into the spiritual world. Judging purely by the strength of its soul, that Vampire's soul was very powerful, so Dumbledore and I couldn't