The mastermind behind Hogwarts

Chapter 136 Team Battle! Hogwarts Pureblood Army vs. Quinlan Vampires!

After a two-hour flight, Moriarty and his party left Paris, and the French Auror arrived late, not until they could no longer see the Eiffel Tower.

At nine o'clock at night, the temperature dropped, and a chilling cold descended upon the port city of Marseille. However, the romantic French Muggles were completely unaware, as the company of those around them was like a small stove, radiating warmth and sweetness.

The wizards also did not feel cold; when the cold wind blew, they only needed to cast a simple warming spell on themselves.

Vampires, being dark magical creatures, are even less susceptible to cold; their body temperature remains at an extremely low level, below the average human body temperature, throughout their lives.

Isaac kept telling vampire stories, trying to pique the girl's interest in vampires.

The woman sitting in front of him was clearly fed up and closed her eyes.

If it weren't so cold, she would cover her ears, but now she can only tuck her hands into her sleeves.

Tonks wanted to give her a warming spell, but Isaac politely declined. Isaac seemed to have licked enough; he was waiting for the girl to get too cold so he could give her a warm hug.

The purebloods watched the whole thing unfold, and Leon sarcastically remarked, "I believe Mr. Lucius won't die at the hands of that old Jew! Do you know why?"

The trait of being a "simp" is hereditary; if the grandson is a simp, the grandfather will definitely be a simp too!

I can already picture what the old Jewish man looked like in his youth—ah, exactly like Isaac, with a Muggle girl, or maybe an elf girl, in any case, not a normal female vampire—and embarking on a love-hate relationship...

Unfortunately, the simp ended up with nothing! The old Jewish man left the scene in despair, becoming a loser in love.

So? Guys, do you get it now? Mr. Lucius—the noble pure-blood patriarch—lost to an old sycophant? Is that even possible? Impossible.

"Excellent analysis," Moriarty said with a smile, clapping his hands. "After graduation, you could open a detective agency in London; business would definitely be good."

Leon was quite pleased with himself, but he simply waved his hand, implying that he was hiding his true abilities.

"Sir," Marcus flew over from the front, "Isaac says we are about to enter If Island, let us prepare."

Moriarty's expression turned serious: "All personnel on high alert."

Ten minutes later, they entered the island. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at Château d'If. Isaac recited a vampire spell, and Château d'If was torn in half like a painting, revealing a black castle. Strangely, the gate was wide open, and the inside was brightly lit, with two old men in black cloaks standing inside.

"Grandfather?" Isaac ran over excitedly. "You were waiting for me at the door? Really? Is it Easter today?"

"He's just like a child," Tonks whispered.

"He's just a child at heart, actually older than your grandmother," Moriarty said casually, his gaze following Isaac before shifting to the old Jew.

Isaac ran to the old Jew, recognized the other old man beside his grandfather, and exclaimed, "It's you? The devil!"

Demon Lord?

A vampire calling an old man a demon?

Moriarty looked at them solemnly.

The old Jew's smile vanished in an instant, and he coughed lightly. "Isaac, don't be rude."

The old man, known as the Demon Lord, slowly twisted his neck, giving Isaac a warning glance before meeting Moriarty's gaze.

Moriarty could clearly see that he had white hair, a high nose, a angular face, bright red lips, and was wearing a long purple trench coat with a large, high collar...

Wait, white hair?

During the summer vacation, also in France, Moriarty killed a white-haired vampire. At that time, it seemed that an elderly vampire said that the head of the family would not let Moriarty go.

Could it be...

Moriarty gradually came to understand, and the white-haired old man also took two steps forward.

"Moriarty Slytherin?" His voice was hoarse and particularly unpleasant, as if he had a piece of burning coal stuck in his throat.

My name is Kao Quinlan.

Months ago, you killed my grandson on the underground exchange! I also warned you not to step out of England.

Now Moriarty understood.

In order to investigate George, he traveled from Greece to France, killing countless vampires, including one with white hair.

As for the warning?

The vampire elites once gave him a letter.

The letter contained two paragraphs.

"The reason our people have been targeting elves lately is a legend about a headless vampire ancestor—Old Jew."

"If Moriarty Slater had never set foot outside England in his entire life, he could have avoided a bloodbath. If you ever come to France again, please be sure to visit my Cheryl Gorge – Quinlan."

This is an explanation, and also a warning.

Moriarty first learned about the headless vampire ancestor from this letter.

This is also the first time that it has been discovered that the vampire elites are divided into two factions.

The Old Jewish family and the Quinlan family.

But now, the old Jew is standing with Khao Quinlan, does that represent a united front?

The old Jew noticed the coldness in Moriarty's eyes, gave a friendly smile, and seemed to have something to say, but was in no hurry and did not speak for the time being.

Quinlan continued toward Moriarty, step by step, saying one sentence after another: "I know why you came to France."

Yes, I led the group that killed Lucius.

Lucius's blood was drained by several viscounts of my clan, and I personally cut off Lucius's head.

I know you come representing the pure blood of England—seeking revenge! I happen to be one of the few vampire dukes of France.

Look at this, what a wonderful fate!

The Quinlan family has a grudge against you; the British pure-bloods have a grudge against the Quinlan family.

You brought thirty-five people—ah~

Needless to say, I know you are all purebloods. Your pretentious so-called etiquette is ridiculous to me, but it doesn't matter!

I……

They also brought thirty-five vampires—the Quinlan family—who have appeared!

With a soft "whoosh!", thirty-five dark figures darted out from the shadows of the castle and landed behind Quinlan.

Quinlan stopped in his tracks; he was now only ten meters away from Moriarty.

"Let's get to know each other here—according to your wizarding tradition, let's have a grand duel, 36 purebloods versus 36 Quinlan vampires!"

The Jewish Marquis and the Old Jewish family ensured that the outcome of the duel was valid and that the process was undisturbed.

The old Jew stepped forward at the opportune moment, nodded slightly, and said, "Mr. Slytherin, I declare that the Duke of Quinlan's statement is valid. At the same time, I regret to inform you that due to internal vampire issues, I have no choice but to stand aside and witness this duel."

Furthermore, Lucius's death had nothing to do with the Old Jewish family.

"Yes, it has nothing to do with the old Jew! The Quinlan family has nothing to hide from admitting what they've done," Quinlan said impatiently. "Lucius was in a hurry to return to England, so I intercepted and killed him. It was a very simple matter. Moriarty, have you thought it through? Will you agree or not?"

Kunlan's eyes flashed like lightning, unleashing the full power accumulated from thousands of years of killing and bloodsucking, like a raging storm, carrying the stench of blood as it swept over.

The purebloods gritted their teeth, glaring at Kunlan with a shared sense of vengeance.

Moriarty made a grasping motion with his right hand, and the Slytherin Staff appeared out of nowhere. He slammed the staff on the ground with a soft "click," and the water elemental magic surged forth!

The raging cold front crashed headlong into the blood wind, shredding it to shreds.

Moriarty narrowed his eyes. The Grand Duke of the Vampires' strength probably already surpassed that of the four Deans, second only to Dumbledore!

Quinlan laughed heartily: "You're the one who caused this cold wave—freezing the Eiffel Tower, aren't you? Very well, I can't wait to drain your blood. I'll ask you one last time: yes or no?"

"Don't agree!"

Isaac ran out from behind the old Jew and shouted to Moriarty, “Don’t answer! There’s a reason he’s called the devil. He’s killed 638447 people! And that’s just what’s recorded.”

Exposed, Quinlan glared coldly at Isaac and said in a muffled voice without moving her lips, "Little guy, go back and I'll pretend nothing happened."

"Don't even think about it." Isaac retorted stubbornly, "Your outburst just now hurt my beloved!"

He ran towards the woman, who had already fainted from fright. Isaac picked her up and stood behind Moriarty.

The old Jew looked helpless, while Quinlan chuckled. It seemed that the story of Isaac had already spread among the vampires.

Quinlan wanted to lash out, but he couldn't because of the old Jew. Although the latter was a marquis, one rank lower than his duke, the old Jew still had powerful backers.

"Go back, Isaac," Moriarty finally spoke. "Take your loved ones home. You don't need to get involved in this battle."

"So you're agreeing?" Kunlan smiled cruelly.

"Do I have a choice?" Moriarty laughed inexplicably.

"Unfortunately, no! Hahahaha!" Quinlan laughed as he stepped forward, the vampires behind him stirring with anticipation.

"Yeah, no? I didn't even consider a choice; I just wanted your life."

"A wonderful idea, I'm here, come on, come on!" Quinlan stretched out his sharp red nails, pressed them against his chin, and his face flashed with bloodlust and madness as he strode toward Moriarty.

Moriarty walked up to them, staff in hand, and the purebloods exclaimed, "Sir—"

Ten meters isn't a long distance; they're about to meet...

(End of this chapter)