"They're all dead."
The Aurors walked through the blood bank, barely able to bear the sight.
"Why do these Muggles have to be so bloody?"
That was one Auror's question.
Fair enough. In the Wizarding World, even the utterly evil Killing Curse let people pass away peacefully. It certainly didn't leave blood splattered all over the floor.
This wasn't the first incident involving vampire deaths, either.
They would report it to the Ministry of Magic to handle.
But none of them realized that a vampire hunter and a woman had been here.
On the outskirts of London stood a manor no one had set foot in for a long time.
Its grounds were vast, much like Downton Manor in the television series.
Weeds had sprung up in the garden, among flowers of every variety.
The plants parted on their own, opening a path wide enough to walk through.
John stepped into the manor once again.
Silver Hand Manor.
Its glory was gone.
Once, pure-blood families had raised their glasses here, and celebrated wizards had reshaped the Wizarding World amid laughter and conversation.
Only the elite of the Wizarding World could set foot here.
In those days, before the Wizarding Kingdom had been established, wizarding society had been divided, developing separately in different countries.
Just like the magic schools, they had been full of barriers between one another.
Only the arrival of the Wizard King had brought those divided factions back together.
The Wizarding World had grown stronger.
As John returned, he almost seemed to glimpse the shadow of his former self.
"This place needs a gardener," John said, standing in the garden.
He reached out and stroked a beautiful rose in full bloom.
Then he raised his hand and slowly spread his fingers.
A black, smoke-like substance drifted from