Soon, the moon rises over the Shrieking Shack. Inside, the four Marauders and Regina sleep.

Eddie and Regina sleep in the same bed; the Shrieking Shack's master bed...if anyone can believe the Shrieking Shack has one of those. Ah, they're so inspirational together; a white wizard and a black witch, lying with one another as if they didn't know that in the Muggle world, their respective races are fighting wars against each other, on some continents... They don't know it yet, but this might very well be the last night during which Eddie and Regina share a bed here, or anywhere...

Outside, a mist rises over the swamp. The noises get more intense...

Below the surface, candirus swim, as do leeches and lampreys. Beneath the surface, as well as a few spots above it, they change into terrifying creatures, with fangs, glowing red eyes, and bloodsucking parts...

In the air, mosquitoes do, too. They're joined, from the jungles, by vampire bats.

Jaguarondis lumber from the shadows, into the moonlight. Some of them are part-kneazel. Even so, they sprout fangs, red eyes, and bloodsucking parts. They avoid their water-borne brethren, and the water in general, but still prepare to take part in tonight's great hunt.

Together, they chant. It's very baroque, and creepy...

We are vampires

We are vampires

We are vampires

We are vampires...

Our masters were once vampires

They envied wizards

They thought that if wizards could have magical creatures

They could too

In our world

There's no such food as something that's not blood

They keep this in mind

While breeding for their own consumption

They help make, enforce, and interpret wizarding law

We don't

Some of us can articulate verbal speech,

But as a Being summit once established,

It takes more intelligence than that to make a law

By night, we pirate and poach

Rather like our Muggle kin do

We don't eat many humans out here

Nevis has always been underrated, anthropologically

So, we stay out here alone

With only our mass-conscripting army for company

Eerily, the lampreys swim in circles, imitating streamers as they go along. In small groups, the candirus swim through, one by one, a hollow log at the bottom of the swamp water. The leeches cling to another log, with their mouths, as if it were a wizard's leg. Here and there, wigglers do whatever they can to contribute to the performance.

The mosquitoes hover here and there, glowing with creepy red light, like sinister fireflies. The bats fly in circles, forming a huge wreath in the sky. Some of them descend slightly, imitating a whirlwind.

Like our masters, they keep chanting,

We long for blood

We care not if it's a wizard's, a Muggle's, a dragon's, or a tapir's

Just as long as it keeps our stomachs from going on strike

Little ever does

We are little bogeys of desire

We're despised by the higher-evolved world

Which makes sense

As much as we abuse them,

They've more than a right to fight back

They MUST fight back

For out here, we assemble an army

We never train, but we're always ready

To cut a bleeding lamb open, like a splitting coconut

No lime in THIS coconut

We like limes and blood both,

But we just can't have them with the same meal

Or any meal

Because who needs limes, when blood does SO much more work...

And yet, never enough work at the same time

Blood and tequila makes us crazy

They run like poison in our own blood

One night with them could kill any of us

Which is a crying shame, considering how long-lived we can be

When no one waves garlic before us

Or stakes us

Or shines UV lights on us...

One bloody Mary is one too many...

And one more is never enough...

Wait... Are we Kenny Chesney, Grace Potter, or ourselves?!

All around, across the sky, a blade slices here and there. The heads of mosquitoes and vampire bats fly everywhere, and splash down everywhere.

A black girl lands in the pathway through the swamp. She wields a now-bloody blade. She wears shades, and has got streaky tattoos all over her bare head. She wears a black tank top.

Meet Erica Brooks, the Daywalker's stray twin. And tonight, as she is on every night, she's on vampire patrol.

From all around, lampreys and leeches crawl from the depths. Some of the candirus become walking catfish, and crawl across the land, towards their doomsday...

"No penises here for you to crawl up, BJers," Brooks sneers. "Tonight, I rearrange ALL your bones into jambalaya sausage style...for those of you who have them!"

With that, she gets to work, with her Yashida steel. Using all kinds of deadly sword techniques, she hits all of the lampreys, candirus, and leeches where they can never possibly resurrect or regenerate. Like any good vampire slayer, she just HATES it when vampires don't stay dead, or small, after having been slain...

Soon, the swamp is littered with the severed appendages of vampires. One lamprey tried to turn into a vampiric basilisk, right before she severed its head.

Its head lies upside-down, in the water. Erica walks out to it, via a land pier, grabs one of its fangs, shakes it loose, and sticks it into her sash. She then washes her hands with a special chemical that'll keep the basilisk's venom from reducing her to a corpse before dawn.

When dawn rises, it'll turn all of these sons of bitches into ash. Erica just knows it...

While finding her way out, Erica chants on her own:

Be at peace, little bloodsuckers

You're lucky you ever found peace at all

Your degenerate races will never know love

Or friendship

Or peace

Or greatness...

Not even your masters can rise that high...

Deacon Frost is an unbearable asshole

He deserves a better funeral than you do

If it were just me attending, heaven forbid,

I'd fill his casket up with UV grenades,

And run away as fast as I could

I wouldn't have to try very hard

I am half-vampire

I can run at super speeds, like Quicksilver

And Whizzer

And Slingshot

And Vijay Nadeer...

Ah, Vijay, where have you gone?

I would've loved to feel your super-vibrating manly body between my legs

As much as I'd love to race with all four

I've got bloodsucking sons of bitches to cleave and carve and smite...

My twin brother once bore the likeness of Wesley Snipes,

But now he's been replaced by that of Mahershala Ali

I've never met my twin,

But I have met some of the Cottonmouths,

Cornell Stokes included

Wish he didn't hate that name

It's such a cool name

At least cottonmouth snakes don't suck blood

Even if they're the most venomous things on the Louisiana bayous...

Erica looks around. The sun's about to rise... She smiles, and changes her chanting tune...

Fare the well, Marauders

Fare thee well, Marauders

Fare thee well, Marauders

I'm going to leave you now

(But HOPEFULLY not for long, as soon as that Moony boy comes to his senses...)

Go to Hel, vampires

Go to Nifelheim, vampires

Ferry thee soon to Hel, vampires

I'M GOING TO LEAVE YOU BOGEYS TO DIE IN YOUR OWN SHIT NOW...

Erica looks around, and sighs. It sucks, that there's no one else here to sing "Pick a Little, Talk a Little," as she sings her own take on "Goodnight, Ladies..."