Hogsmeade had been turned into a battlefield for the Death Eaters and Aurors. Paved roads had been long uprooted to be used as weapons, long-standing buildings and structures had been damaged or used as material for transfiguration. . . nothing was spared as the magic-wielding combatants wreaked havoc trying to eliminate the other side.

Quinn flew over said battlefield, shooting spells, curses, and conjured ice weapons to weaken the enemy side. He observed the battlefield, seeking a skirmish that met a certain requirement. He flew fast and wide around the village until he found a battle that met his exact requirement.

He floated above the street where Aurors occupied one side while Werewolves occupied the other side. He gathered his magic in his throat and breathed out a blaze of fire that spread out like a spark thrown in spilled kerosene. The fire spread from the middle of the street, spreading towards either end, pushing both sides back. When he had enough space and felt that neither would instantly start shooting, he descended down that was smoldering in fire at places.

“Werewolves,” he amplified his voice, “give up this foolish act, and I shall let all of you live. . . if not, I will have your lives forfeited.”

He raised his to one of the buildings and formed a claw for a yelp and yell to sound as a Werewolf in Lycanthrope form flew out from the roof. He had noticed the sneaky one trying to sneak over to the Aurors side to ambush them. It was impressive, he thought. Most Werewolves weren’t able to have control of their mental faculties while transformed and mostly worked on instinct and desire.

“Kuak!”

But impressive from the enemy side wasn’t good for him, thought Quinn as he gripped the Werewolf’s neck harder while making sure its claw-bearing limbs couldn’t reach him. “Surrender— for only a terrible future lies ahead of you,” he said, at the same time, freezing the Werewolf in a slab of ice, leaving only his head and neck out.

He was met with an outcry of boos and threats along with a barrage of spells and curses that he blocked effortlessly.

“Last warning, or else your fate will be like this,” Quinn clapped his hand, and the body of Fenrir Greyback nailed to a wooden cross became visible behind. He let the Werewolves take in the sight before speaking, “Your leader is dead. Without the might of Fenrir Greyback, you are not allies to Death Eaters. . . you are slaves that they will use and discard when you turn useless. Drop your wands, empty your pockets. . . don’t forget to get rid of the potions.”

He stepped behind the cross and spoke only to the Auror side. “Try to parade Greyback throughout the village; it might get the Werewolves to surrender. Don’t let your guard down even if they drop their wands; they have a potion that can help them transform,” he warned them before taking to the sky once again.

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– (Scene Break) –

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James Potter apparated into Hogsmeade and immediately took off running into the village. He had gotten the news about the Giants, Werewolves, and Vampires joining the fray and had immediately passed off his duties to a trusted one before coming here.

‘Damn the orders,’ he spat as he skidded to a stop when he saw Death Eaters fighting other Aurors. They had their back to him, and James didn’t let the opportunity go as he shot stunners into their backs— he didn’t even have to take everyone down as the other Aurors overwhelmed them the moment the deadlock broke.

He didn’t care if he was asked to stay in the headquarters and act as communication when he— a Senior Auror— could be on the field, adding substantial firepower to their side. He tore through the streets, shooting anything he could put his eyes on. But his main aim was to find Sirius; as long as he did that, they could fight together and start sweeping the Death Eaters.

He was about to turn a corner when a spell zipped past him and would’ve hit him if he didn’t pull back his torso. He stepped back behind the corner and got ready to face fire.

“Don’t hide now; come out and play, Prongs!”

James scowled when he heard the words. It wasn’t Sirius’ voice, neither could it be Remus. . . and that only left one person who called him by that name. He peeked out the corner and immediately stepped back when a spell zapped by him. But in that brief moment, he had confirmed his suspicion.

“Peter,” he shouted and at once moved away from his spot.

“That’s Wormtail to you, Prongs. No need to sound so distant; we are best mates, aren’t we!” called Pettigrew as he motioned the Death Eaters behind him to spread out. “We haven’t met in such a long time; I know Padfoot is here; let’s call Mooney here and have a complete reunion.”

James cast a bubble charm around him and carefully floated up to the top of the roof of a building. With a higher vantage point, he could see how the Death Eaters moved on the ground.

“Oh my, how rude of me,” Pettigrew said again as he stealthily moved around, “I didn’t offer my condolences for Harry’s death. Poor boy, he was unlucky to live so long. If he had only died when he was a babe, he wouldn’t have gone through such a stressful life. I mean, ignorance is bliss, isn’t it,” he stopped and strained his ears for any sound.

James clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He knew Harry was alive, Lily had told him, but he hadn’t seen the face of his son, so there was a scare in his mind that maybe. . . that maybe. . . ‘No, I can’t think like that,’ he thought. ‘Harry’s alive; he’s alive.’

“Poor-poor boy. It’s a pity that I couldn’t kill him myself. I still regret the day I let him get him away at the graveyard. Though I did get the pleasure of seeing the light drain out of his eyes as he was struck by my Lord’s Killing curse. It eased some of the pain I felt in Azkaban.” Pettigrew paused before saying, “No reaction? You have changed, James; I didn’t remember you being so cold-hearted. . . but maybe I remember incorrectly— you did almost kill Severus.”

“I have not changed.” Peter looked up and saw James jump down from the roof. He stepped back to avoid him, but James landed on the ground and kicked him in the stomach. He looked down at the Pettigrew, “You, on the other hand, have changed a lot. I think I like the outside, but from what I’m seeing, the inside must’ve rotten to the core.”

“Always looking down on people, aren’t you, Potter.”

James pointed his wand at Pettigrew, “Isn’t it just you thinking that people are looking down on you? You won’t be escaping this time, so do think about it.”

“Not killing me? You’re going to regret it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“If you look above, you will.”

James looked up and saw a Vampire jumping over him. James’ magic traveled through his wand, and without chant or wand movement, he cast magic with his advanced granted casting. A force field thrummed out of him, blasting the Vampire back.

He looked at James, “Shouldn’t have told me that.”

“True, but that was just one.”

James looked up. He saw that he was surrounded by Death Eaters, Vampires, and Werewolves.

“Even if you’re a Senior Auror, you’re still only one guy,” Pettigrew shrugged and smiled. “Happy death.”

James gritted his teeth and raised his wand to defend himself.

*Boom* *Thud* *Thud* *Thud* *Boom*

In a second, the people surrounding James all dropped down or were struck by explosives and had pieces blasted off them.

“He’s not alone.”

James and Pettigrew looked towards the voice, and there stood Sirius along with a team of Aurors.

James looked at Pettigrew and grinned, “Mooney isn’t here, but I think this counts as the reunion you wanted.”

“I—”

“Don’t care, fuck off,” and with that, James shot a stunner into Pettigrew’s face. He sighed, “Don’t start—”

“Saved your arse,” said Sirius, grinning. “Come on, people, bag ’em up, and let’s move along. After this, we are going to be treated by Senior Auror James in the celebration of saving his arse. Drinking and dining all night long!”

The cheers from the squad told James that he was going to spend as much on food as he did on his wedding.

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– (Scene Break) –

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“What do we have here.”

Quinn tilted his head at the trio standing in front of him. It was a strange combination of people— a young woman, an early-teen boy, and a middle-aged woman. It would’ve been normal if the three shared some facial features, and he could’ve termed them as mother and children, but they looked nothing alike.

The one who had spoken right now was the boy and continued on, “Your blood. . . it’s peculiar. . . I can sense it. Can you two tell?”

“It’s unusually vigorous, his blood. I can feel the power in it tingling my skin,” said the young woman erotically as she rubbed her arm as if settling down goosebumps.

“I can only imagine what it would taste like,” said the old woman.

“A true treat,” said the young boy.

“We should be careful with him; we can’t spill even a single drop,” said the younger woman.

“I have a better idea,” offered the older woman, “what if we breed him? An alive body will be able to produce all the blood we desire.”

“Excellent idea!”

“Fantastic, madam!”

There was one feature that the three strange people had in common. They all shared blood-red eyes.

“Vampires,” said Quinn. He frowned; there was something else, “Vampire, Vampire. . . wait. . . Elder Vampires,” he exclaimed, “you three are Elder Vampires.” That’s why the three of them could sense that his blood was unusual. His blood was bound to be unusual after his usage and research with Blood magic.

“He can tell us apart.”

“Wait. . . that attire of his. Could it be he’s the one they call the Invisible Vigilante?”

“I think you’re correct.”

“Ah, that’s not good. . . The Dark Lord would want him dead.”

“Can we hide him?”

“I believe not. It’d be a great risk, one that might cost the ultimate price. I say that we simply drain as much blood as we can from him and treasure it— consume it over the next millennium.”

“Enough chatting,” said the boy, “let’s hunt.”

The two Vampire ladies opened their mouths, and Quinn could see the fangs in their mouths. But what followed was what set them apart from normal Vampires. All three took out a container each, of different shapes and forms, and opened them for blood to flow out and float around them.

“Elder Vampires— the Vampires who have lived long enough and have studied the mysteries of blood to ascend to a higher evolution of their species,” Quinn said with utter fascination in his voice. “I have read about you and the hemomancy you possess— I never thought I would be meeting Elder Vampires so soon; I mean, your kind is a rarity; seeing three together is a miracle. . . .”

“Are you sure we can’t keep him?” asked the young woman with her pinky on the edge of her red lips. “The Dark Lord doesn’t have to know.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’ll be getting me or my blood today,” said Quinn. He straightened his arms, and liquid silver flowed in his hands until he was holding two long stake daggers.

“Conjured silver,” the older woman scoffed, “that’s not going to work, child.”

“I know, unfortunate that I don’t have real silver with me at the moment,” Quinn’s gloves disappeared, and his sleeves unraveled until he was sleeveless. It started at his fingertips, but gleaming red veins appeared beneath his skin as if his blood was glowing within. “That’s why I’m going to supplement it with something special.” Tiny nicks appeared on his fingertips from which glowing blood flowed out. It covered the daggers until it was absorbed into them, forming glowing red veins over the silver surface.

Quinn grinned, “I always wanted to know. So, let’s find out today. Whose Blood magic will be stronger— yours or mine.”

He gripped the daggers, bathed his body in body magic, and charged toward the three Elder Vampires.

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Quinn West – MC – Momentarily change in focus.

Peter Pettigrew – Death Eater – Underwhelming end.

FictionOnlyReader – Author – I have so many regrets with Pettigrew (I have so many regrets in general with this story). There was supposed to be a great thing with him in the end, but I’m long past able to do it.

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