Chapter 58: Dungeon Observations (2)

Phineas was confused and quickly rushed to the cell from which the scream had come. The sight inside left him stunned.

The women who had been crying out moments earlier had already turned into the same desiccated corpses he had seen before—lifeless and shriveled.

Beneath their bodies, a dim red light pulsed across the floor and walls, weaving intricate patterns like glowing threads.

Phineas, having recently received Ravenclaw's inheritance, immediately recognized that these weren't ordinary patterns, but an ancient magical script—vampiric in origin.

Unlike runes studied at Hogwarts, this rare language belonged to old vampire clans. In theory, even most vampires today wouldn't recognize it, let alone use it. That it was now not only present but actively functioning made the scene all the more surreal.

Though Phineas couldn't decipher their exact purpose, he quickly realized that these runes appeared in every cell—and they were the cause of the drained bodies. The women weren't killed violently or left to starve. Their blood had been magically extracted.

It seemed the vampires didn't visit this place often. Instead, they waited until the captives had all perished before clearing the bodies and replacing them with new victims.

But why store blood this way? Vampires traditionally fed fresh from the source. This process lacked the satisfaction and flavor of fresh blood—and yet it was clearly intentional and systematic.

Conflicted and unsettled, Phineas pressed his wand against the cell's lock.

Like the other cells, this one was protected by anti-alohohomora enchantments. But wizardkind, he knew, had an oversight: most magical protections were aimed at spells, not physical tampering. They didn't consider non-magical lockpicking methods.

Phineas wasn't trained in Muggle lockpicking, but he had developed his own method—by modifying wand transfiguration magic.

Wand transfiguration was an obscure branch, seldom taught, mostly used by Aurors. Spells in this category could transfigure one's wand into temporary ears for eavesdropping, eyes for surveillance, even a nose to follow scents.

Phineas had innovated a practical version: he could transfigure his wand to morph into the internal shape of a key.

Inserting his wand into the lock, he cast the spell. With a soft click, the door unlocked.

As he stepped into the cell, the red runes hadn't fully faded. He felt a faint tug—like something trying to siphon the blood from his veins. Fortunately, the magic had nearly finished by then. Any later, and he might have shared the women's fate.

Just then, another scream echoed down the corridor—another cell, another victim.

"Is this on a cycle?" Phineas wondered. "Random activation?"

He still couldn't understand the purpose behind storing blood this way. Vampires didn't need blood to survive—they could eat regular food. True, some were bloodthirsty, but most modern vampires lived quietly among wizardkind. What, then, was this for?

Shaking his head, Phineas knew he couldn't delay. These vampires had made him part of their twisted scheme. They'd pay for it.

And right on cue, the system appeared again.

'As someone who seeks to become the strongest wizard, how can you allow others to trample on you without consequence? Show the world what happens to those who provoke you.

Mission: Revenge against the vampire clan.

Rewards: Calculated based on the level of destruction inflicted.'

Phineas's expression sharpened. Revenge it was.

He knelt and pressed his wand to one of the ancient runes.

He might not understand the formation, but destroying it would be easier than casting it.

Drawing on the Ravenclaw inheritance, he summoned a complex rune—one that would destabilize any magical structure it touched—and etched it forcefully into the floor.

As the rune activated, the entire cell vibrated. A crack split through the wall, and the glowing red runes fizzled out with a sharp hiss.

Even without knowing the full extent of the ritual, Phineas was certain now: these runes formed a blood-extraction circle. Breaking even one part of the formation would collapse the whole system.

The screams from the other cells stopped abruptly, leaving only ragged breathing and sobs of relief.

Phineas moved quickly, repeating the process to disable the rest of the cells and free their occupants.

After speaking to them, he learned that most were either Muggle-born witches or Muggles. A few had magical training, but the vast majority were helpless.

In each cell, it seemed, there had been at least one witch—likely a way to help contain the group with minimal effort. Witches posed more threat than Muggles, and concentrating them made surveillance easier.

One of the witches stood out. Just nineteen, she had recently graduated from Durmstrang and joined the Swedish Ministry of Magic as an Auror. She'd been captured during a vampire raid.

By some stroke of luck, the blood-siphoning rune in her cell had not yet activated.

Given her training and combat experience, Phineas handed her the wand he had taken from the red vampire he killed.

After teaching her his lock-opening trick, he stepped back from the task of freeing the rest.

There were too many captives, and time was running short. He'd let the young Auror handle the remaining locks.

It was time to move on—and find a way to bring this twisted fortress crashing down.