A/N: So you may have noticed a title change in the chapters, don't worry, nothing in the story has really changed. As always, I just wanted to thank you all for you support, it means a lot to me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter V: Let's Make a Deal
(Neville P.O.V)
The halls of the darkened castle seemed even gloomier than they had the day Neville had left for the Holiday Break. The already miniscule population of the castle had at least halved after the loss St. Mungos and of the students that remained an ever-present dread was trapped behind their eyes. McGonagall had tried to give a speech to lift the spirits of the students, but not even the presence of Aberforth Dumbledore seemed to ease the castle's burden.
Neville had lost count of the number of times he'd ascended the stairways of Hogwarts. Yet, never before had he seen the packed corridors so dead. Members of the S.P.I.R.E would do what they could to send a swift smile or wave his way, but most of the students walked past him numbly, their heads glued to the floors.
A hushed sob broke through the castle's silence. Three Second-Year girls sat huddled on a bench, their arms both wrapped around the girl in the center. "It's going to be alright Brooke," The girl draped in Gryffindor Attire said, "Remember what Harry told us on the train during our first year. He's going to beat V-Voldemort, we're going to be fine."
"Yeah right," The girl in the center muttered. "He's not here because he knows he'd just be a sitting duck. He knows he can't beat the Dark Lord, that's why he's hiding."
"He's not hiding, he-,"
Neville continued his climb unable to hear the whimpers of the girls below any longer. Damn, he thought, things definitely aren't looking good. He shook his head clear, the stone wall on the seventh floor that acted as the door to the Room of Requirement greeted him silently. A door just a tad larger than him appeared and opened with a rusty creak the training gear within on full display.
Hermione sat curled in a red couch beside the fire. Her cinnamon brown locks tied back so as not to obscure her view from the pages of the bible sized book in her hands. Neville studied her, the way her lips would wind up into a grin when she read a funny passage. The way she'd scowl at the poor decisions the characters in her stories would make. Nearly everything the girl did was beautiful to him, and Neville couldn't count how many times it was her sweet smile that helped him remain on course.
Hermione face glowed in the candlelight. The fire never failed to bring an amber glow to her brilliant brown eyes that always left the Hufflepuff boy without words. Silently, she patted the cushion beside her. Hermione's head nestled atop his chest, the two reunite before the flames of the fireplace. "We should really get ready to start the training."
"I know," Hermione whispered. "But until people start to arrive, can we just sit here for a while. Just the two of us."
"Sure." Neville's hands combed through the witch's hair. Hermione smiled up at him gently as he leaned down to press his lips against hers. A satisfied sigh left the girl's lips as she rolled away from his warmth. "It's almost sad really, we've been talking so much about this war and training, I hardly know how to talk about anything else. What did we even talk about before this world went to shit?"
"Homework, probably," Hermione laughed.
"Remember when we thought that doing homework was the most important thing in the world?" Neville chuckled at the thought. "Merlin, how much things have changed."
The witch did what she could to force another smile. It had done little to lift his spirit, but Neville appreciated the effort all the same. Hermione's hand rested against his cheeks and gazed into Neville's eyes softly. "This is going to sound horrible, but in this moment right here, it doesn't feel like everything has changed for the worst."
Neville pressed his forehead against Hermione's. Her curly hair danced with his and for the shortest of moments, the world hadn't felt so turbulent. "We'll get through this, no matter what."
"Without a doubt," Hermione replied.
The two broke from each other at the sound of approaching footsteps. Neville and Hermione rose to their feet and the couch vanished behind them. The knock was subtle, but loud enough and Neville invited in those that remained of the S.P.I.R.E. Katie and Lee Jordan glowed the brightest when they'd entered the Room of Requirement. Neville wasn't a Gryffindor, but he'd appreciated the ease the two brought into the room with them. Susan, however, had the opposite effect. It wasn't that she tried to be a downer, it was wholly unintentional, yet, the times were far from kind.
"Welcome back everyone," Neville said. He cleared his throat, "I hope everyone enjoyed their holiday and-,"
"Neville," Susan said, "Let's cut the crap. You met with Harry and Michael, right? How are they holding up? After the attack on the hospital, I just, we just-"
"It was a bad loss," Neville confessed, "But we aren't the type to give up. Harry, well, actually Daphne, she has a plan on how we can get another win against Voldemort." A proud fire burned in Neville's chest, none of the students wavered at the man's name any longer. "Here's the fact of the matter. We all knew it would come to this eventually, but I have a strong sense that we are going to be involved in this war. When that time comes, you need to be at your best. That should be our primary focus, okay? Being ready for when Harry needs us."
The S.P.I.R.E nodded in agreement and dispersed to stop their warm up, everyone besides Susan. The Hufflepuff stood still, like a statue, her eyes glued to the floor. Neville approached her warmly, "Things are going to be okay, Su, I promise." She nodded numbly, "Michael," Neville continued, "He'd never admit it with Claire around, but he still cares about you. That picture of you two in Diagon Alley, during what I can only guess was second year, he still keeps it with him. He loves Claire, but he hasn't forgotten about you."
Tears streamed softly down Susan's face and a watery smile appeared distantly. "Thanks, Neville. I'm- I'm going to get to work now." Neville nodded, "For what it's worth," The witch said, "Nobody could fill Harry's shoes, but you're doing a good job."
Spells battered and dispersed against shields and Neville yelled commands and drills from his high post. Hawk-Like would be the way a bystander might have described the Hufflepuff, not detail passed him by. Susan's shield spell needed more refinement. Cho's redactor curse wasn't completely on target every time, but for a group of students, they were fierce, even without their big guns. Sweat nearly created a river in the hall before Neville dismissed them all with words of encouragement. For as hard as Neville pushed them, he'd never asked them to do more than he'd have done. He needed them all to survive, they'd lost enough good wizards already.
Hermione pointed silently to the clock on the wall. Neville nodded, then together, they departed from the room of requirement, and shuffled soundlessly towards the Gargoyle. Would anyone have given them a hard time? Not really, but Neville was in no mood to give explanations. The Hufflepuff and Hermione reached the stone statue before Neville hissed, "Draconifors."
The Gargoyle spun and revealed the staircase behind it. Hermione cleared their six o'clock before together they climbed. The Mahogany Door of the Headmasters' Office greeted them for a moment only to be pulled open by the once head of Gryffindor House, Minerva McGonagall. She waived them in and shut the door behind them. The ruby-red hilt of Gryffindor's Sword instantly swallowed Neville's attention and Headmistress McGonagall released a tired sigh.
"I had suspected as much when you'd told me Potter had created a deal with the Goblins," McGonagall's eyes sank, "The Sword of Gryffindor is a priceless relic of this schools history. Whatever it is that Potter intends to trade it for, I only hope that it is worth it."
"It will be," Neville said. He walked towards the sword and wrapped his hand around the handle only to jump back with a shout. A burn seared his skin, though vanished instantly and McGonagall chuckled, "What was that?"
"I suppose I should have mentioned it," McGonagall said. Her hands gripped the gilded handle, "Only a true Gryffindor can wield the blade." Her nimble fingers ran along the blade, "I will ensure that this gets to Harry safely. In the meantime, I would encourage you to get some rest. It is regrettable that our mistakes are a burden now upon you youngsters, but I will do what I can to atone for the part I played in this reality."
"Don't blame yourself, Professor," Hermione whispered, "There's more than enough blame to go around. We can sort out who is most at fault once Voldemort is defeat." The elderly witch smiled at Hermione's words. A rare occurrence, but understandable, Neville couldn't seem to hold back his grin either. Hermione Granger, the friendless nerd had turned into quite the fierce warrior herself.
(Daphne P.O.V)
There are view things more stressful than the lifestyle of a fugitive. That was the lesson, Daphne, from her stroll through Diagon Alley. They were the good guys; in theory, they shouldn't have had to hide, but if there was an enemy in the crowd, Daphne shuttered at how many lives the enemy would sacrifice for her capture.
The alley was relatively clear of civilians, at least, of those on the street, though a few men nodded at her politely. Aurors, Daphne thought, Diagon Alley was heavily trafficked, and the Ministry did all that it could to protect it. It was the 'all that it could' portion that had been of concern to the once Slytherin.
The waves of thralls that the vampires could conjure dried her throat the moment she'd thought of them. If the vampires had launched an attack on a place like this, they'd lose a lot of thralls, but the aurors couldn't keep them back forever. She forced her icy pools shut; let's try to think positively for once, Daphne.
Emmeline's hand rested on her shoulder, comfortingly. She'd been thankful to have the skilled witch as her partner on the mission inside the bank. Of course, Sirius had volunteered to join, but they'd scrapped that idea quickly. The Godfather of Harry Potter had the same ability as his godson in how they both were quick to get under people's skin. The goblins had an even shorter threshold for patience than even that. Remus, too, had volunteered in his best friend's stead, but his status as a werewolf worried Daphne. The goblins were far from a judgemental lot. Those three, along with Michael and Moody served more use outside as protection for her from reinforcements.
The gilded 'G' of Gringotts never held an ominous presence to Daphne in the past. Daphne grew up with far more gold than she imagined could be spent in a lifetime. That status had made her the equivalent to royalty when in the gilded marble halls of the bank. Daphne didn't miss the money exactly, but the peace it provided, she longed for that. Her nails dug into her palms, and she allowed a heavy sigh from her lips, "Here goes nothing."
In all Daphne's years, she'd never once seen stagnation in the Goblin's halls. So when the buzz in the hall came to a complete stop, her stomach curled. From beneath their desk, the goblins brandished swords and daggers. Daphne was rather accustomed to the sight of wands in her face, but the goblin-made steel nearly broke her impassive facade. A goblin with a sword far exceeded the danger of an average wizard. Wizards may have fought, but the goblins, they were a warrior race.
"Daphne Greengrass," A retched goblin hissed from his post, "You've made a mistake coming here."
"You won't attack me, not without hearing me out first," Daphne replied with a voice of ice. "You're warriors, yes, but nothing excites you quite like a deal."
"There are no more deals to be made, I'm afraid," Another goblin said. This one, Daphne recognized, it was the Potter's Goblin, Griphook. "I'm afraid that Lady Carmilla has offered us terms that you could never match." The goblin's eyes narrowed, "I will give you a chance to leave here; I'm not foolish enough to think there wouldn't be hell to pay if word got out that we'd killed you. I acknowledge Potter's strength and that he'd return this bank to the ground if we were even to lay a finger on you, so we will let you leave in peace. On the grounds that you never return, of course."
"I'm afraid I can't agree to those terms," Daphne stood her ground firmly. "Please, I know you think we have nothing that can match the Vampire's offer, but we, the Order, feel strongly that we do. If you decline our offer, so be it and we will meet on the battlefield at some other time, but please, hear us out."
A cold silence radiated through the room, but Daphne didn't budge. Her face remained like a statue. She couldn't show weakness or desperation. If the goblins believed that even for a moment that the Order had no Plan B, Daphne feared the terms would be far higher than anything Daphne had to offer. Griphook glared at her with eyes that glistened like freshly polished daggers, then he smiled.
Griphook lifted his hand, and the goblins sheathed their weapons. The knot in Daphne's stomach released, but she bit down on her tongue to stop an involuntary sigh of relief. Griphook gestured for her to follow, and she did so. The goblin's words hadn't stopped her from her visual scan of the hall with every step. Until they'd made a deal, the Order couldn't afford to trust the goblins.
The placard before Daphne read simply: Ragnok. The room wasn't far from the main hall and looked far from regal. The placard didn't even have the goblin's work title, though Ragnok didn't need one. The Head of Gringotts name was known to everyone with a sizable fortune, and the legend said that no two men made a deal without Ragnok's knowledge.
Griphook's claw knocked against the redwood door, "Sir Ragnok, we have a visitor with a deal to offer the Goblin Nation."
The goblin sweat profusely in the silence that followed. The cocky goblin that met Daphne at the front of the hall now stood with his head hung low, unable to remove his eyes from the smooth tile beneath him.
"Enter." Ragnok's voice was gruff and rugged. Griphook whispered a silent prayer at the reply and pushed in with haste. Daphne stood motionless for a moment, only for Griphook to send her a nasty glare that screamed for her to fall in.
Daphne did so. Griphook lowered his head when he entered, and Daphne followed suit. Respect and honor were touchy issues with the goblin race, and Daphne didn't intend to step on any toes. Even with a bowed head, she could make out Ragnok's appearance. Like the other goblins, Ragnok had sallow skin and wiry hair that showed a glimpse of male pattern baldness. He had a hook-shaped nose and jagged teeth that Daphne could see even behind his tightly pursed lips. To his right rested another goblin-made sword, but Daphne didn't figure he really needed it. If Ragnok wanted to, Daphne figured he could tear a wizard apart with his hands alone.
The head of Gringotts adjusted his glasses and dismissed Griphook with a wave of his hand. Griphook bowned so deeply that his nose brushed the floor then departed as quickly as his legs would carry him. Ragnok cleared his throat, and with his permission, Daphne rose to her full height. "Daphne Greengrass," Her name sounded like shattered glass from the goblin's mouth,
"How can I help you today?"
"I've come with an offer for your nation, Chief Ragnok," She replied.
"So I've heard," Ragnok said. "Let me be clear though, I didn't invite you in because I believe this negotiation to be fruitful. Wealthy as the Greengrass family may be, all the gold in your father's coffers wouldn't be enough to undo the deal arranged between my nation and Lady Carmilla."
The goblin rubbed his chin, "Yet, I assume you know this, and you look to be rather adamant that you do have something that could garner our favor. You have certainly intrigued me. It is due to this intrigue, and this intrigue alone that you stand before me."
Daphne nodded, "I appreciate your time."
"Obviously not," Ragnok hissed, "As you've done nothing but waste it so far."
Daphne held back her desire to roll her eyes. The goblin hadn't given her even a moment to talk and yet looked irritated with her. She bit down her frustration and smiled, "Chief Ragnok, I know that you have previously entered into a deal with Lady Carmilla and the Death Eaters. I assume you did this as the terms were most favorable to your people. I am also aware that there is little I could do, most likely, to match their offer in terms of benefits."
"Then why have you come, girl?" Ragnok spat.
"Because I've brought you an offer that on your honor you can't refuse." Daphne smirked and reached into her charmed purse. Ragnok's eyes widened at the elongated parcel that broke from Daphne's bag.
Daphne maneuvered her hands carefully around the blade that was sharp enough to split stone. She'd seen it when McGonagall had sent it to Grimmauld Place. The Headmistress of Hogwarts had stressed that only a Gryffindor could handle it, a lesson Michael learned after he'd tried to copy Harry's hold on the hilt. Daphne had held her fair share of swords; she'd taken many from Astoria, who played the knight with the decorative blades that used to line the walls of her family home in her younger years, none of which were as light as the Sword of Gryffindor.
She'd heard rumors of the goblin's craftwork. Professor Binns had rattled on and on about the magical properties of goblin steel. Daphne never believed them to be as marvelous as the ghost made them out to be, but as much as Daphne hated to admit it, she'd been wrong on that front. The goblin blacksmiths were in a league of their own.
Ragnok's pupils dilated when Daphne rested the blade on his desk. He reached his claw towards the blade, only to be stopped by the grip of her hand. "Not yet," Daphne hissed, "We haven't come to an agreement just yet."
"Is this what I think it is?" Ragnok salivated at the wrapped sword. "The Sword of Gryffindor?"
Daphne nodded and pulled apart some of the wraps to reveal the ruby-imbued handguard. "What do you want for it?" The words flew from Ragnok's mouth faster than even the goblin intended.
"Well, first, obviously, I want you to cease any further negotiations with our enemies," Daphne said flatly. "I will also provide you with a list of names that you are to ban from Gringotts and clear the vaults."
"But we can't-," Ragnok started.
Daphne reached for the sword, "That's a real shame. I know how much this blade means to your kind and I wanted to return it to you, but I can't very well give it to an enemy."
"Wait!" Ragnok pleaded, "Okay! Okay! We'll stop any more deal-making with the vampires and return to our status as a neutral nation under-"
"Neutral?" Daphne's brow arched, "No, that won't do at all." Ragnok swallowed. "No, I think that if you want this blade, you will swear to me via unbreakable vow to join your people to the war efforts against the vampires. After all, your kind so graciously wanted to demonstrate to me just how skilled they were with their weapons when I arrived here. I'd love to give them a chance to really test their mettle."
"You expect me to swear servitude to you?" Ragnok laughed, "I'd sooner die!"
"Only until the end of the war," Daphne shrugged. She lifted the sword from the table by the loosened wraps, "I was even going to throw in that we'd work to grant you equal status to wizards as a reward for your help too, but you seem uninterested in my terms so I'll be on my way."
She smiled at the Goblin, "You know, the Black Vaults are pretty full, but if you do intend to lock us out as is suspected due to your alliance with the Death Eaters, the Order will have to find other ways to finance itself. These rubies look like they'd fetch a pretty galleon though."
"You'd dare to desicrate the blade of my people!" Ragnok bellowed.
"Sure, I would. I don't actually give a shit about this sword." She yawned, "As I said, I just wanted to do your kind a favor, but you don't seem all that willing to repay me for it, so I'll pass. "
Ragnok lifted herself from his seat and snarled, "Well then since you seem uninterested in negotiating in good faith, what's to stop me from killing you and taking the blade by force?"
She lifted a pendant of a crow and smiled, "Harry Potter is outside, laying in wait. I know that you're normally in here counting your money, so you may not be one to pay attention to the ongoings of wizard life, but Harry kinda has a thing for me, and if you so much as scratch me," Her grin grew, "He'll level this whole building and slaughter each and every one of you. But I know you love to gamble, so tell me, do you want to take that chance?"
Ragnok swallowed hard. The tales of Harry's power weren't foreign to the goblins by any metric. They may have despised the wizarding world, but they knew to investigate their threats, and based on Ragnok's sweat-filled expression, they were well aware of Harry's capacity to be one. "He's the hero of the wizarding world," Ragnok stuttered, "He wouldn't slaughter innocents."
"See, that's the rub," Daphne said with a twisted tone, "He's the hero of the wizarding world, not yours, and from where I'm standing, you and your people look far from innocent." She smirked, "And if you dared to hurt me, well, you'd merely be signing your own death warrant. We humans, we tend to be a race guided by our emotions, and you know, at least scientifically, just what kind of madness love can bring, don't you?"
"You're a wretched bitch, you know that girl?" Ragnok hissed. Daphne nodded indifferently. The goblin reached out his hand but lowered his head, unable to look Daphne in her eyes, "Fine, you have a deal."
"I knew you'd see it my way," Daphne said frostily. She dropped the sword to the ground and pulled her wand from her pocket. "Now, for that vow if you don't mind?"
The goblin did mind, but Ragnok did as Daphne bid him. Daphne's throat burned, and her eyes sunk with the remorse of her action, but the victory was paramount. She nodded towards the dropped sword, and Ragnok raced towards it. He pulled at the fabric that obscured the sword from view until it's goblin steel radiated before him. Ragnok pressed his lips to the blade and peppered it with kisses like it had been a spouse that returned from the dead, and maniacal whispers rushed from his lips like a river before he muttered, "Ancestors, forgive me. I did what I had to do."
"I'm sure they'll understand." Daphne gripped the goblin's chin and forced him to look at her. She had meant the words but refused to show the goblin the slightest glimpse of weakness. The goblins had made a fortune off wizards weak of mind and spirit. "Now, about those Gringotts Accounts you are going to deactivate, one of them belongs to our enemy, Bellatrix Lestrange. You will accompany me to her vault now, Ragnok."
Daphne had placed an added emphasis on the word 'our'. Ragnok didn't need Daphne's reminder, but an extra twist of the knife never hurt when it came to a newly formed contract. "Yes, ma'am. As you wish," The goblin said with a pitiful bow.
(Harry P.O.V)
Harry may have consented to the plan, but that didn't mean he didn't hate every bit of it. Sure, it was a solid plan, and undoubtedly Daphne was one of, if not their best negotiator, but even the thought of his Princess alone in a hostile environment made him feel sick; to see it in practice started to drive him mad. He tapped his fingers against the brick roof of Leaky Cauldron, focused his eyes into the window of Gringotts to the point his vision blurred.
Harry nearly jumped from the rooftop when the goblins had drawn their blades, and it had only been Michael's grip that restrained him. "She's been training hard too, Harry." Michael said, "She can take care of herself, plus she has Emmeline in there with her. Let this play out, will you?"
Michael was right; the Ravenclaw tended to be that a lot after all, but the contents of Harry's stomach still swished and crashed like waves during a storm. He nodded and crouched back beneath the cover of the Cauldron's brick roof. Moody's electric blue eye rested on Harry from the alley between Potage's Cauldron Shop and Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
Don't fuck this up; Harry wasn't quite sure if the words had come from his mind or if Moody had somehow broken through his occluemency. The former was far more likely, but Harry couldn't be sure after he'd seen the glare in Moody's normal eye. She's going to be fine, Harry chanted to himself, everything is going to be fine.
The memory of the dead look in Daphne's eyes after the hospital attack flashed to Harry, and he shook his head to clear the thought. There were more important things to focus on in the here and now. Memory lane could wait. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when the goblins sheathed their blades at Griphook's command. Harry had thought the nightmare over, but it only worsened when the goblin pulled Daphne into an office out of view.
"Rook," Michael hissed, "She has the trigger to let us know when she's in danger. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. It's the only mindset worth having right now."
Harry relented and sighed. His shoulders dropped, and he adjusted his grip on his wand. "Right," He muttered, "But if they so much as touch her, they're going to regret it."
"I'm sure Daphne will remind them of that if she needs to," Michael said with a weak chuckle. "You're a dangerous man now Potter. I'm just glad we're not enemies."
"You wouldn't do too bad," Harry said kindly.
"Spare me," Michael rolled his eyes, "We may have been close before, but ever since-" He stopped himself, and an apologetic look filled his eyes for a moment before Michael wiped it away. "Anyway, the point is, you're in a different league now, Harry. Both your enemies and allies know that now. In some cases, it's not the greatest, but your name gives Daphne some extra weight to throw around during negotiations, and if there's one thing that girl knows how to do, it's how to use her tools to her advantage."
"Not sure how I feel about my relationship being called a tool, but," Harry smiled, "Whatever Daphne needs to use to succeed, I guess."
The seconds passed like hours, and Harry's eyes strained from the constant scan of Diagon Alley. Had they come in the afternoon, they'd have the minimal protection of daylight. It wasn't that the sun did much as the blood clouds could neutralize the sun damage, but the warning would have made a massive difference. The number of civilians it could have put at risk, though, made Harry shiver.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but all the tension raced from his body when Daphne emerged from the bank. Harry always found the Ice Queen's languid glance frighteningly attractive but wished more than ever she'd have expressed something to give away the mission's success or failure.
Harry stood only to be pulled down by Michael just in time to avoid the black cloud soar over his head. Harry gritted his teeth and leaped from the rooftop. He conjured a blast of wind from the tip of his wand and raced after the smoke trail that landed right before Daphne. Sirius and Remus sprinted from their concealed shadows at his right and left, and together the three wizards launched a stunner at the cloud.
Daphne jumped from the spell's path, but the man in the black smoke vanished with equal haste. Harry took Daphne's hand and pulled her away from a new dark cloud that apparated to their left. One after another, the figures descended upon the alley, some familiar, other nothing more than pale forms with bloodshot eyes.
Of the people he recognized, one had earned Harry's complete attention. The cousin of Sirius Black, the woman who murdered Kreacher, tortured the Longbottoms to insanity, Bellatrix Lestrange. The woman never looked stable, but now more than ever, she appeared off and rabid.
"Give it to me," Bellatrix's voice quivered in her throat, "Give it to me!"
She stepped forward only to find herself at the wand point of Sirius and Emmeline, both of whom flanked her. Sirius' grey eyes flashed towards Harry. His Godfather didn't need to say a word; Harry nodded and grabbed Daphne's hand before the two ran. They ducked the barrage of spellfire and sneered at the destruction of the alley, but they need to find somewhere safe to summon Dobby.
"I'm guessing you got it?" Harry said. Daphne nodded quietly, her mind too scattered to speak. Harry pulled at her wrist once more and yanked her into another corridor. "Come on, let's-"
"Going somewhere, are we?" A silky, seductive voice whispered from beyond the shadows. "I guess it's no surprise Bellatrix failed to capture you. Why that man kept her around for so long is a mystery to me, but I suppose if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself."
The woman was gorgeous, scarily so. She shared the typical vampiric features, her eyes were yellowed, and Harry imagined they'd flash red in combat. Her skin was pale, though not a sickening pale; it was more like her skin was made entirely of freshly fallen snow. Her silver hair danced in the winter breeze when she lowered her hood, and her smile sparkled in. the dark alley.
"I'm going to guess you're the one they call Carmilla," Daphne hissed.
"Lady Carmilla," The Vampire Queen corrected, "Let's not be uncivilized now, child."
Harry's grip on his wand tightened. Michael wasn't wrong that his power had grown exponentially, and Harry felt confident he could take the vampire queen. What concerned him was the small space and the fact that Daphne's magical presence, as a matter of fact, everyone else's but Moody's, paled compared to the undead queen.
"Back up," Harry ordered.
"Now, now," Carmilla said with a smile, "I've only come to negotiate. You give me what you took from Bellatrix's vault, and I will call off this attack and let you all leave with your lives this evening. I was on my way to retrieve Bellatrix's treasure anyway; it was promised to me by those filthy goblins after all."
Carmilla blitzed behind the two young wizards in a vapor of blood. Her manicured hand rested on Daphne's throat, and Harry watched on venomously as Carmilla's nails extended. "Your father was a businessman of sorts, right, Greengrass? Surely you respect the honor of a bargain?"
The fear in Harry's eyes vanished with a smile from Daphne, "I'm sorry, but I'm nothing like my father." She slammed her heel atop the Vampire Queen's foot and ducked. Harry needed no further instruction and blasted a reductor curse from his wand.
The spell shot straight through the vampire as she took on her vaporous form once more. Daphne's hand reached for his, and Harry took it, a white hue encompassing them as they channeled their magic through one another. "You want this treasure so bad," Daphne scowled, "Come and take it."
A/N: Daphne may love Harry now, but never forget that she can be a cold bitch sometimes. This chapter really was her and Neville's chance to shine and I think I did alright especially in Neville's section in showing his growth as a leader in his own right. If you did enjoy this chapter, please be sure to Follow, Favorite and Review and until next time, Peace!