A flicker of gratitude flashed through Dorian's ruthless blue irises. He conjured a dagger, held it tight, and plunged it into the skull of the nearest Auror. The six, paralyzed on the ground, met the same violent and swift death. The third-floor hallway was filled with the scent of blood. Dylan averted his gaze as his hated companion severed the head of one of the victims, separating it from the neck, and then, still drenched in blood, brought it to his mouth and drank to his heart's content. Finally, he threw the skull down the corridor, as if in a macabre game of bowling.