Being shouted at by the normally-calm Dr. Flynn did wonders to get the girls into gear. Suited up in the thick and heavy yellow rubber suits within a record five minutes, Daphne found herself waiting outside the vault beside Orianna. She couldn't help but feel a sense of security as she stood behind the gigantic, hulking suit of heavy armour plates and some sort of mechanical 'muscle' that they called 'hydraulic actuators'. The plates looked thick enough to absorb even the strongest blasting curses that she herself could throw. Its helmet was in the shape of a proud eagle, with its pitch-black lenses rounding off a thoroughly intimidating look.
"So, Aveline is staying behind?" Daphne asked.
"Yes. Partly to keep Astoria company, and partly because mother feels that someone needs to make sure that the boys are taking their radiation medicine," Orianna replied. The suit's helmet filters were giving her voice an oddly distorted cast, which made it quite difficult to understand what she was saying. "Are you sure that you want to come along for this? It is quite a long walk,"
Daphne nodded. "Absolutely. I want to see for myself the actual effects of this...radiation,"
Orianna seemed to regard her with thinly-veiled skepticism. Did she truly think her incapable of engaging in a walk, no matter how long it was? "Well, if you are certain. It is quite a long walk,"
A long walk was the understatement of the century. How the Muggles had managed to carve out the miles and miles of dark, narrow sewer tunnels, the blonde young lady did not know - and did not wish to know. If it was not for the air-filtration gear in the hot and sticky yellow rubber suit she was wearing, she imagined the stench that would be wafting off the greenish-brown muck in the trench below and nearly retched.
Come to think of it, she had never imagined sewage to be...well, green. And certainly not glowing, either, no matter how faintly. The wrist-mounted device on Amanda's wrist was also emitting an ominous ticking noise, which seemed to grow quicker the closer she was to the disgusting liquids that seemed to drip and seep down from all the holes and pipes around the tunnel.
"It's a good thing that Aveline, Astoria nor the boys chose to come with us," muttered Orianna as she kicked down yet another sewer grate. The suit of 'powered infantry armour', as the Flynn matriarch called it, allowed her daughter to perform truly terrifying feats of strength. She may have been strong enough to beat down Marcus Flint with a single well-placed punch to the gut in Hogwarts; but not once had she ever thought of seeing someone literally kick down welded steel grates with about as much effort as one would put into cracking open an egg. "This is quite a long walk,"
"And one that is not helped by the constant detours," Amanda added. Her wrist device was giving off so many clicks that it sounded much like an angry rattlesnake. "The path up ahead is unsafe," declared the scientist. As if they even needed a device to tell them that, given the way that the sickly green slime ahead was as luminous as the brightest Lumos that any of the witches in their group could cast. "There appears to be an alternative path to the right-wait, did you see something move there?"
Daphne squinted, trying to make out whatever it is that Amanda was pointing at in the middle of the green slime. She gasped in shock when something did move underneath all the goo. A human. Or at least something with a humanoid shape. It was slowly rising to its feet, the slime dripping off its body. Its clothes, the only part of it that was not glowing a sickly green, were virtually scorched off, with only scant tatters about its waist and thighs. Its upper body had nothing but half-rotted flesh where it was not glowing, which seemed to be rotting away and sloughing off, only to regrow almost as quickly as it had fallen off.
A feeling of dread and unease washed over Daphne. This thing - whatever it was - greatly resembled her father's descriptions of an Inferi. Did a dark wizard somehow perform the dark ritual to reanimate a corpse?
"Orianna. Daphne. Zoe. Weapons at the ready," whispered Amanda. She unholstered the strange blocky pistol from her hip and aimed it straight at the creature. "British Army! Do not move!" she shouted, flicking on the light under her weapon.
The only reply she received was a low, rattling groan. The Inferi-like creature turned about and stared blankly at them. It shuffled slowly to the side, towards Orianna; shambling about unsteadily on its decaying legs, until-
"ORIANNA! WATCH OUT!" Amanda yelled. It lunged with a feral snarl towards her daughter at blinding speeds. Orianna, caught by surprise, only barely managed to block the creature's furious blow with the forearm plate of her armoured suit. "TAKE IT DOWN!"
"Stupefy! Stupefy!"
"Petrificus Totalus! Incarcerous!"
Whatever effect that Daphne or Zoe were expecting, this definitely was not it. The creature's glowing hide simply caused the spells to fizzle harmlessly. It wasn't until Orianna decided to kick its legs out from under it that it was rendered harmless, scrabbling about aimlessly on the ground with shattered knees. And even without its lower legs and leaking its luminous blood from the stumps, it still tried to claw at the nearest person. A futile attempt that was ended by a blast of green energy from Amanda's pistol, which blasted its head apart.
"Orianna, are you alright?"
"Affirmative. Only superficial damage to the suit's paint," the girl replied, inspecting her suit's arm. Sure enough, there was a gouge in the paint, though the silvery gleam of polished steel shone from beneath, flecked by little bits of eerily glowing green. "Though I think that this suit might need decontamination. Zoe, a little help?"
"Scourgify," Zoe intoned, giving her wand a flick. Thick white soapy foam immediately engulfed the power armour's arm, scrubbing away the green muck that had stuck to it. "I think that did it. Mother-in-chief, what is that thing?"
"It...appears to be a...'uman," murmured Lucille in awe, as she poked and prodded at the corpse with a scrap of steel. "Or razzer, was one. What 'orrific mutations. I did not for a moment zink that such a thing was even possible,"
"Was this...this thing...created by this...radish?"
"Radiation. And it appear so, Daphne. We shall 'ave to take a few samples of it on the return trip, so that Amanda may examine it more thoroughly in our laboratory,"
Fortunately, there was not much further to go from the tunnel filled with the green glowing sludge. A few more broken steel grates, and a few more holes-in-walls, and they had finally come to a narrow tunnel where several goblin guards were posted. They raised their weapons, goblin silver arms glinting in the dim torchlight, and stomped loudly on the stone-lined floor while their warning bellows thundered through the tunnel. "State your business! You are on Gringotts property!" one of them shouted.
"Colonel Amanda Flynn, British Army Medical Research Corps! I am here to provide assistance, as requested by King Ragnok the Seventh!"
Their shoulders relaxed slightly, though their weapons still remained up. "Approach slowly and make no sudden moves. We will see if your claim is true,"
Daphne had never been in the lower parts of Gringotts before. Most wizards had only been permitted to visit the upper floors, unless they were retrieving something from their vaults in person. Gilded and silvered marble tiles gleamed on the floor of the lower foyer, kept clean by some unknown enchantment; gigantic bronze busts of bygone goblin heroes glinted in the light cast by the crystal chandeliers hanging overhead; and various blades, axes, maces and other weapons of goblin silver hung from the display cases on the walls, each one made of intricately-forged gold and silver.
If she had visited it on a normal day, she would have been awed by the exorbitant wealth that the goblins held. But after seeing the death and devastation on the surface, she could only see the decaying trappings of a decadent, doomed society on its last legs. Especially when one could see the numerous bodies lining both sides of the hallway, each one draped with a white funeral shroud.
"Take off your masks and helmets, girls," Amanda instructed them. She had taken her own armoured helmet off, looking no worse for wear after the long walk. Lucille was likewise doing the same, though she was wiping as much grime and sweat from her face as she could. "Cool off before you are affected by hyperthermia,"
"Hyperthermia?" Daphne asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"Overheating," Zoe answered him. "Trust me, feeling too hot is not a good thing. Say, Mister Goblin, you wouldn't mind if I conjured some water, would you? I'm burning up in this suit,"
"Hmph. Go right ahead, witch," the surly goblin nearest to the brash redhead answered with a shrug. Nodding gratefully, Zoe conjured a jet of cold water, spraying her face quite liberally while moaning in relief. "God, that feels great. These suits are soooo hot,"
"Could you also do that for me, ma cherie?" Lucille asked, cupping her hands together and holding them out. A couple of splashes of water later, she looked much more refreshed. "Merci,"
"How is it that you are not overheated, Orianna?" Daphne asked. She had cast a burst of cold air from her wand rather than water, thinking that it would be much cleaner and quicker than spraying water everywhere.
"Power armour suits are air conditioned. I thought you all had put cooling charms on your suits?" answered the humourless triplet with a shrug. "Though really, should we be having this discussion right now? I thought our objective was to deliver medical aid to the goblins affected by radiation poisoning,"
"Yes, of course. If you could please lead the way to where the sick are, master goblin, it would be much appreciated,"
Down a twisting staircase, through a broad corridor, and down yet another spiral staircase. Every floor that they descended, there seemed to be even more glittering gold and gems encrusting everything that they walked on or could touch. In fact, by the time that the goblins finally took them to Gringotts' throne room, Daphne was certain that it was all solid gold and silver.
"May your axe run red with your enemies' blood and your coffers overflow with their gold, King Ragnok," Amanda said as she entered the room. "Alas, I would curtsy if it was possible with my current gear,"
"There is no need for that, goblin-friend," the ancient, wizened goblin on the throne boomed out. His thunderous voice was certainly at odds with his rather frail-seeming form. "May your purse ever be full, and your sword cleave through your foes' entrails. I am glad that you have come in our hour of need, Dr. Flynn. We had almost lost all hope for the sick, and our healers cannot identify what is wrong with them,"
"Time is short. I need my wi-partner-to look at them. The sooner, the more likely they are to recover fully,"
He nodded and barked out an order to the other goblins, who directed them to a series of bedrolls on the side of the hall. As Daphne edged closer to the sick, retching goblins, she pinched her nose closed at the putrid stench of blood and excrement that reeked from them. Their bedrolls were stained a dark brownish-red, and puddles of faintly-glowing vomit started to melt their way into the floor. When Amanda walked within five metres of the nearest goblin, her wrist-computer started to emit a loud series of pops. Her eyes widened in alarm as the popping grew to a loud rattling as she touched one of the goblins.
"Get away from them!" she ordered the goblin attendants, who quickly hurried away. Tentatively, she touched the next ill goblin, who also caused the very same rattling noise. "King Ragnok," she said, after taking a deep breath to steady herself. "How long ago were they sent out above ground, and for how long? And where?"
"Seven hours ago, we sent out our scouts...and they have been ill for the past three and a half hours. They were to determine what had occurred above ground,"
"So approximately three and a half hours of exposure, in a moderately irradiated location. What were they wearing? Could I have an example?"
A goblin guard nearby shrugged and took off his pauldron, handing it to Amanda. Putting it between her device and the sick goblin, she slowly brought her wrist-computer closer, just as she had done before. The popping, while not quite as rapid, was still rather quick. "Halved intensity. This material is somewhat resistant to radiation," she commented, returning the pauldron to the guard. "Lucille, your thoughts?"
"Well, ze first thing zat I would like is for their clothing to be removed, and a bucket of clean water to wash them with," Lucille answered. She had already slipped on her anti-radiation mask once more, as if worried about exposure. "And if possible, dispose of their clothing. In ze deepest garbage deposit zat is available, far away from everyone,"
A thunderous uproar filled the entire throne room. Many of the goblins brandished their weapons and snarled loudly at them, as if they had committed some grave insult. Daphne glanced around fearfully. She had been taught how to behave well in front of well-bred humans, not goblins! Surely disposing of old clothes couldn't be an offence to them?
"SILENCE!" roared Ragnok, forcing the assembled goblins to calm down again. Though just barely. "Dr. Flynn. I trust that there is reason behind your...wife's insulting words? A goblin does not simply throw away the armour he has used for battle for dozens of years. It is a mark of honour to hold on to,"
"The radiation residue is on them. If they had been that long above ground, the radioactive ash from the nuclear bombs would have contaminated their gear," Amanda replied. When the goblin king looked back with no inkling of understanding in his eyes, she explained, "There is poison on their equipment. One that is invisible and undetectable through magical means,"
"I see. Guards! Have the sick ones stripped of their armour, but do not discard them. If they are truly poisoned, then keep them where nobody can touch them!"
"Zank you, Your 'Ighness. I shall do my best to treat zem, zough I fear for the worst," Lucille said.
After three hours of purging radiation from the sick goblins, repeatedly removing their blood and replenishing it with copious amounts of Blood-Replenishing Potions and injecting them with some rather strange Muggle medicines that appeared to induce a ravenous thirst, Lucille finally flopped down on the supply crate that they had brought along, completely exhausted. Five of the twenty-four that had been sick had succumbed to their illnesses, burning up with fever and crying out incoherently as they died in terrible pain. The others, however, seemed to be breathing far more easily, and appeared to be sleeping soundly.
"Zere. It is done," she huffed, removing her radiation suit's headpiece and wiping down her sweaty brow. "I am sorry zat I could not save more. Ze radiation exposure had been too much for them. Zeir vital organs had decomposed far too much to be saved,"
Ragnok looked tight-lipped as he regarded the five new burial shrouds in the corner of his throne room. "Killed by illness. An illness that we could not cure, but you could," he murmured, "A poison, you say? I will hear all that you know about it! How did it come to be? How does it work? And how do you produce the cure?"
And thus Lucille explained everything that she knew about radiation sickness. To say that the goblins had been utterly horrified by its effect would have been an understatement. Doubly so after Lucille had mentioned that it was a poison that penetrated everything. Behind walls, under the earth; through stone, water, flame and air. A poison that flooded living creatures and inanimate objects alike. Liquid, solid or gas - it didn't matter one bit.
"And this poison...was created by Muggles?" breathed Ragnok, slumping back in his throne despondently. "All this time we had feared and loathed wizardkind so, and yet it seems that we had feared the wrong humans. Such a terrifying poison, created without magic..."
He ranted awhile about the deadly effects of radiation, though soon he came to another realisation. "Diagon Alley. It was a bustling street, full of wizards and witches. And yet, when our scouts reported its condition, they mentioned that there was not a living soul to be found anywhere. Only shadows burned into the ground, and collapsed buildings that had burned nearly to the ground. I know for certain that we goblins were the ones to construct most of the buildings in it, and no earthquake could have caused that kind of destruction. At least a few bodies would have been found. Was this another one of the Muggle weapons?"
"I'm afraid that the earthquakes and the destruction of Diagon Alley were both inflicted by the same weapon, King Ragnok. As is the spread of the radioactive poison that now covers most of London," Amanda replied quietly. "On October 23, 2077, the nations of Europe - no, the entire world - began an exchange of nuclear hellfire. That was what caused the destruction of Diagon Alley, and started the spread of the poison throughout the world. From what information that I am able to gather, the surface is essentially lifeless. In fact, it is impossible to venture outside for long without receiving fatal doses of radiation,"
"And my clan-siblings that are poisoned?"
"I...fear this will not be easy to hear. They will not be able to reproduce. Lucille has treated them to the best of her ability, and even she cannot reverse all the damage that has been caused,"
"Zey will live. I give you my word," Lucille added with an emphatic nod.
"Very regrettable that they cannot father new younglings. But at least they can still serve with distinction as guards. Still, what of the wizards? Have you found any more information about what has happened to them?"
"I believe that the British Ministry of Magic, as well as the non-magical government of Britain, have both collapsed. Unless anyone has found shelter deep underground, the chances of survival are nearly zero, thanks to radiation poisoning. That is not to mention the complete destruction of all infrastructure. Food, water and medicine will be nearly impossible to acquire," replied the scientist. "To put it simply, we may be the last ones left alive in all of London, unless others also have structures such as this one, and have stockpiled food, drink and medicine,"
Ragnok let out an uncharacteristic bark of vindictive laughter. "So it seems that the backstabbing wizards have finally paid their debts in death. The Muggle weapons have already done something that we could not for the past five hundred years,"
Daphne could not take it any longer. "Excuse me? Backstabbing wizards?!" she snarled, "The goblins rebelled against wizardkind! At least thirty times over the past five hundred years!"
She stood firm, even as the goblins muttered mutinously around her. The heiress-no, the Lady of an Ancient and Noble House should never show fear in the face of possible danger. Even if her heart was pounding in her chest, feeling as though it would tear through her ribs at any given moment - she could not for a moment show any weakness. An insult to her person was a grave one that demanded satisfaction. An insult to all witches and wizards throughout Britain? It was a crime that demanded vengeance.
Ragnok moved slightly, and Daphne stiffened, ready to snatch up her wand if he did so much as go for his sword. He, however, simply held up his hand and regarded her with a dismissive sneer. "You might have come with the goblin-friend, Dr. Flynn, her wife, and her children, Lady Greengrass. But that does not excuse you from hurling such a grievous insult against all goblins. Right in front of myself, no less!"
"Please, King Ragnok-"
"No, Dr. Flynn. You know the goblin way. Each person is accountable for his or her own actions. Now, then, Lady Greengrass. Answer my question. What makes you think that it is possible for goblins to rebel against humans?"
She knew this all too well. "The Subjugation Treaty of 1523," replied Daphne confidently. "You were defeated by the warlocks and hit-witches of Britain,"
A peal of mocking laughter filled the throne room. Including that of King Ragnok, who was loudest of them all. "Now that is an answer worthy of a foolish witch who believes everything that she hears or reads! A Subjugation Treaty? Perhaps that of wizardkind, and not goblinkind, if one was ever signed. Do you know the first thing about goblin culture, Lady Greengrass?"
Daphne remained silent. She couldn't answer this one. As much as Professor Binns went on and on and on about the Goblin Rebellions, he certainly did not teach much else about goblin culture.
"We are, first and foremost, a warrior race. Oh, we love gold, that is for sure. But if someone were to threaten us with war, there is only one truth to us. We will return with our shield - or upon them," Ragnok spoke, with a proud sneer on his face. "A goblin that surrenders is no goblin. We would rather see the last of our kind die than to suffer the indignity of a surrender. And here we are, still proudly standing after centuries alongside wizards. I assure you that we have never lost a war against humans. So I'll ask you again, Lady Greengrass. What makes you think that it is possible for goblins to rebel against humans?"
Trying her hardest to go over all the little scraps of information that she could still remember from History of Magic, Daphne pondered about what exactly could have triggered them to do so. Gold, perhaps? But they had long had a history of handling wizards' and witches' gold, as well as their own. Blood? They seemed more likely to duel and kill the supposed offender. Land, perhaps? That would not make sense, given that they simply tunnelled underground for more room to expand.
"I don't know," she replied quietly, feeling rather humiliated.
Strangely enough, the goblins around her sheathed their weapons again, though their angry glares were still upon her. Stranger still, King Ragnok was clapping. Clapping, with a truly amused smirk on his wrinkled lips.
"There we go. The truth was not so hard to handle, was it now? You don't know. And I would wager that most wizards do not know the truth either," he said. "We goblins live long lives. We never forget a slight. And we certainly do not forget any agreements that we have made in the past. The truth is, there was never such a treaty ever made. A ceasefire, yes, between the goblins of the Kingdom of Gringotts and an extinct merchant house in Liverpool, but nothing more than that. So, as that is the case, it is legally impossible for us to be in rebellion against the people of Wizarding Britain as we are not their subjects, is it not?"
"...Yes," Daphne conceded bitterly. She hated being wrong - and worse yet, she hated being lied to. Disinformation was something she loathed greatly, as long as she was the one affected by it. She had to admit that what the goblin king said seemed entirely possible, and made quite a bit of sense when she thought about it. It couldn't be possible that they were rebelling against the Ministry when the Ministry itself was founded in the early eighteenth century.
"The thirty or so conflicts that you have mentioned were, to put it mildly, punitive expeditions by the goblin nation against your Ministry of Magic. Time and again, your people borrowed our gold to finance your arrogant exploits, your extravagant lifestyles, and your grandiose projects. And just as often, your people failed to return the gold and the agreed interest on time. And rather than negotiating an extension of your loans, your people always saw it more expedient to try and refuse our rightful claims to that gold. Many times, we have contemplated destroying the Ministry of Magic and unrepentant debtors once and for all, I assure you. It would truly have been less trouble for our...debt collectors,"
Debt collectors. Daphne bit back a furious retort. Debt collection could have simply been for gold, jewels or other valuables - but goblin 'debt collectors' wanted a pound of flesh from those that they felt owed them gold. Literally. Dither a little too much, make one too many excuses, and a team of 'debt collectors' would take their due forcibly. More than a few of her ancestors had their debts 'collected' by the goblins, who took their payment in blood and flesh, with invariably fatal results.
"However, every time we considered such an option, there was always the case of goblin-friends walking among your people. Those who treated us fairly, conducted business justly, and saw us as equals. We could not go against our ancient laws and harm them, and thus your Ministry was spared. Many, many times. Until now, I suppose. If what Dr. Flynn says is true, and your Ministry has ceased to exist, then we are at a point where all debts and grudges can be considered...settled,"
"So where does that leave us?" Amanda asked.
The old goblin king stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You mentioned that both the government of Muggle Britain and the Ministry are both destroyed. This means that proper governance no longer exists, and that the Kingdom of Gringotts is no longer fettered by the treaties that prevent us from expanding above ground, just as we have done in ancient times. Yet this invisible poison that plagues the surface makes it impossible to do so, and by the sounds of it has also destroyed anything valuable above the ground. The great disaster has also destroyed much of Gringotts' infrastructure, as well as killed many of my clan brothers and sisters. Though we have survived the destruction, the Kingdom of Gringotts is but a shadow of its former self,"
"Perhaps we could create a new society. One of equals, instead of some old prejudiced concepts of superiority," offered Amanda hopefully. "The old world has been scorched clean. We have a chance for a fresh start, without old grudges in the way. It would be more productive for both of us if we were to work together on rebuilding, than to stand stubbornly alone. To create a world where goblin, human or other magical sapients could live in peace and prosperity,"
Ragnok hummed thoughtfully. "What you say does have some merit. It has become somewhat tiresome to recover our debts from the wizards and witches, and it is even more vexing to us that the more we try to reclaim our rightful wealth, the more difficult it becomes to purchase what we require from the surface world. Perhaps it is time to engage in cooperation. You have, after all, proven the benefits of that thus far. You have come to help us when the wizards and witches would not; and for that, Gringotts owes you a great debt,"
"Thank you, King Ragnok, but I have done exactly as any good person should, and that is assist a fellow person in need," she answered warmly, nodding once. If Daphne was not imagining things, there was the slightest curl in the corner of her lips, nearly imperceptible. Was she...planning something? "Future co-operation would benefit us both, I believe,"
"Indeed it will. With the invisible poison in the air, I daresay that we would need your healing assistance more than ever. Ordinarily, we would offer gold for services rendered, but I doubt that fallen bricks and stone would answer to the gleam of coin. In an age where we cannot venture above ground, however? It seems that our expertise in underground construction may be more acceptable as an offering. Even that is an insult to your generosity, considering that you have consistently assisted us without accepting gold or favours in return for the last three years where nearly all wizards and witches refused. That is an act of commendable piety no less than that between a spawn and sire; between brother and sister; between a husband and his wife,"
The ancient goblin rose from his throne. He lifted the heavy golden crown from his head and placed it on the purple velvet cushion to the side before he solemnly walked down the throne, towards Amanda. A royal guard goblin rushed to his side, where he knelt and offered up his empty hands; into them, the goblin king deposited his silken gloves.
"I offer you an alliance and an offer to be your blood-brother, if you would accept, Lady Flynn," he spoke. "Gringotts will stand beside you then, through times of plenty and of poverty,"
Though she arched an eyebrow in what was likely feigned surprise, Amanda nodded slowly. "I accept your offer. I assume that there is some sort of ritual to follow?"
"Indeed there is. An exchange of blood from the hand, to signify the link; and of course, the signing of a formal treaty of alliance between the Kingdom of Gringotts and your...hm...settlement,"
Lucille muttered something about 'unsanitary' and 'unidentified pathogens' under her breath. Daphne had no idea why she would say it was unsanitary; after all, taking small samples of blood was quite routine for many wizards. Particularly those who preferred a more permanent binding ritual, or perhaps more security in protecting their goods. It wasn't even if the knives or needles used to collect the blood were dirty. They were kept as clean as humanly possible, after all.
Judging by Amanda's grimace, however, perhaps she held the same reservations. A long moment passed where Amanda's expression appeared to cycle through various shades of discomfort, much to the confusion of the goblins. Finally, after about a minute, she sighed and slumped her head down, blushing furiously in shame. "I would accept, King Ragnok, but it appears that my armour has gotten stuck from years of disuse. I think I will need some help to get out of this suit,"
The old goblin king blinked once before he burst into uproarious laughter. "By the Deep Ones, Dr. Flynn! You should know that a warrior takes good care of his or her own armour! Not to worry, we will assist you as best we can,"
And thus, the Phoenix Alliance took its first stumbling, clumsy steps into the world. It would be a good thing that nobody would remember it as the alliance which was created with Amanda Flynn being slowly pried out of a malfunctioning suit of powered infantry armour. Had that been the case, Daphne was certain that Amanda would never have lived her shame down.
A/N:
Moving to a new location with only a mobile internet connection and a weak laptop makes for a rather good writing environment. If only through a total lack of distractions .
Daphne, though despising her parents for their controlling nature, is still rather proud of her upbringing, and of pure-blood culture in particular. Contact with the Flynn triplets has softened her perspective of Muggles and Muggleborns somewhat over the first three years of Hogwarts, though that hasn't quite translated to her mother doing the same. Let's see how her conservatism does against the strongly disrupted world of post-nuclear Britain. After all, the only language that the Wasteland understands is blood - the spilled blood of one's enemies, and not someone's pedigree.
Macilnar: There will be minor alterations to the magical world, mainly to do with the relationships between the magical creatures and the pure-blooded humans. Conservatism runs much stronger in this universe, to reflect the fact that the Fallout universe is essentially set in a world frozen in the 1950s-1960s, which is probably second only to the 1930s for conservatism.
A heads-up; there will be a time-skip coming, as the forging of an empire is hardly exciting reading material.
Edit: Removed erroneous presence of Harry and Neville in this chapter. The two boys should not want to have their family jewels cooked by radiation! Well spotted, Macilnar.