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(Enchanting Melodies) Chapter 449: Blood and Grass
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 14:00:29 +0000 UTCChapter 449: Blood and Grass
21 June 1995, Nurmengard
Daphne Greengrass didn’t think that war would be like this. To be perfectly honest, she fully expected Harry to immediately deny her involvement in the war, and that she’d pressure him into joining. She never expected that he’d just go along with it, even if it was obvious that it was through great reluctance. He hated it with a passion, and she could see the guilt on his face during their time together before the task before the battle even began. Fortunately, logic won out. This was the biggest trick when it came to dealing with Harry. If you give him a logical argument, then he’ll consider changing his mind. Otherwise, he tended to be as inflexible as they came.
There was an arrogance to it, which could arguably be deserved given just how frankly bullshit he tended to come up with. He often found very efficient ways of winning using very abstract plans layered on top of one another until his enemies ended up tangled by their own actions. He was scarily good at it, but he never did that to her. He tended to be very straight with her, especially after their relationship became official. And so, when she told him that she wanted to be involved and used the future kids’ words as proof that she would be involved anyway, he accepted, even if he very obviously hated the idea.
She wouldn’t really admit it to anyone, but the weeks before the final task were some of the best times she ever experienced. There was a certain freedom that came with the idea of her time being limited. She did what she wanted, was transparent with everyone, and best of all, she spent time with Harry who acted the same way. Her family and friends were safe in Greece, under enough wards to protect them in case things went wrong. Astoria was healed, which had been her life’s goal, and would hopefully live a long and wonderful life. This was the best she could do, given the circumstances. She knew that after Ragnarök, things would be different. How different it would be, still puzzled her. Harry had dozens, if not hundreds, of contingencies, to make sure that they’d survive it. Some of them were pretty absurd, but it did show that he cared.
Nevertheless, Daphne had gotten what she wanted. She wasn’t just a part of the war but held a very critical role in it. It was proof of Harry’s faith in her and her capabilities. She was proud of it, and yet, now she understood why Harry didn’t want him involved.
This wasn’t a clean duel with absurd spells and counters like what happened in Olympus. This wasn’t one of her practice matches, that ended with a knockdown. She stared down at the battlefield and saw screams, blood, and death, nothing more. It hadn’t started like that, not even close. Marinakis appeared in a bolt of lightning, reassuring her that Harry’s fight with Dumbledore went well, and then gave a wonderful speech. Vlad managed to break the wards from the inside, just as he promised, and the army charged ahead.
Only they weren’t met with vampires as they expected, but inferi. No, calling them inferi would be like calling Hogwarts a hovel. No, they were more than that. For one, they could cast spells, and a few of them had some very recognizable family magics. She even saw someone using Light magic in a very similar way to Blaise, someone conjuring hundreds of golden gems and banishing them, with a flick of their hands, and someone using ice magic that was very similar to her mother. It hadn’t taken long for her to realize that these inferi were dead mages and that Grindelwald somehow managed to get them to use their family crests. Of course, they weren’t exactly as powerful as the normal mages. They couldn’t generate magic and so had limited reserves which the Dark Lord charged, likely through the wards, and they weren’t as tactical.
Dealing with them would have been easy if it hadn’t been for the gigantic wave of vampire thralls that accompanied them. They shielded them with their bodies and overwhelmed the Lycans trying to reach them. Things didn’t look up until Marinakis finally decided to take them seriously, and turned into a gigantic being of pure lightning, razing them with just swipes of their swords.
Of course, that didn’t last for long. The leviathans came, which Perseus countered, but there were these weird fire elemental versions of them that also caused a lot of damage. That was until they finally released the weeping angels.
She didn’t know why Harry called them that, or why he liked having them cover their own eyes. They were extremely creepy, to say the least, terrifying even. There was just something unsettling about things moving when you couldn’t see them, and it didn’t help that they could almost kill anything with their claws being enhanced with soul magic. They were also almost indestructible when they were seen since Harry time-locked them whenever they were observed. These things were an army onto themselves, literally used in conjunction with a few spells that Harry taught the mercenaries, they literally started to carve their way through the armies. A few vampire Elders managed to stop them, but not enough, never enough.
Daphne walked to the centre of the battlefield, wearing the uniform of one of the mercenaries, and using an illusion to hide her face. She conjured a shield of ice, stopping some spears of darkness from hitting the squad of Lycans and mercenaries accompanying her, and then killed the vampire lords attacking her by sending a volley of her own. The rest of her squad followed along with her. She couldn’t use her druidic magic during the fight. It was too distinctive and would easily reveal that she wasn’t a prisoner inside the fortress. Instead, she used Ice magic, which was slightly more common, but still deadly enough for her.
She knelt down and saw a Lycan with half his chest torn off, trying desperately to survive. He wouldn’t make it long. If he had been in Saint Mungo’s and had a small arsenal of healing potions, maybe she could have done something, but not in these conditions.
The blonde walked over a few corpses of mercenaries, doing her best to make it so it wouldn’t affect her. It made her doubt the reasons why she wanted to come to the war in the first place. This wasn’t what she imagined. She expected a noble fight, one army against another, with their own wiping out the enemy completely, not this. The grass looked almost red with the blood spilt. Or maybe it was the vampires’ blood magic. Who cared anyway?
The sad thing was that this was all just the surface of Harry’s plan, nothing more than the first layer, the distraction. She didn’t envy her boyfriend’s position at all. She stared at the small army of dead people, before a member of her squad shook her, “Are you alright?”
She nodded without saying anything, not trusting her voice. It was time for her part of the plan, the part that Harry trusted her to do. During the entirety of the battle, Daphne discreetly used her version of her druidic magic, which she had used to combine with blood magic.
Beneath the very battlefield, her crimson roots started to move around, encircling where the wards used to be, and slowly morphing into a very simple, yet very powerful magical circle. Every death, either from the vampires, the mercenaries, or the Lycans, fed her roots, empowering the ritual she had adapted for this use. There was an irony to the fact that this ritual was originally designed by Lily Evans, the woman that Grindelwald murdered, and who still gave him trouble even beyond the grave.
Harry had been the one to propose the plan, but he obviously hadn’t liked it, not just because of Daphne’s involvement, but what it represented. They didn’t need to fight a true battle. All these deaths, which she was witnessing first-hand, didn’t mean much, not really. No mercenary or Lycan was going to stop Grindelwald; Harry was. Harry knew that perfectly and instead chose to make use of the deaths to hurt the Dark Lord instead of changing it. It was the right move, she knew that. She had made the calculations, just as Harry had, and this saved far more lives even in the short term, but using human lives like this… It made her uncomfortable and from the looks of it, even Harry didn’t like it at all.
In a way, all this fighting was for Daphne to make her move, and it was a lot of pressure, to say the least. Every single person she saw, dying, was there to power her spell, the remaining of their life force slowly seeping down to the ground and being absorbed by her roots. Meanwhile, she was slowly moving the roots to their optimal positions, in the forms of the runes that she had learned from Harry’s mother.
Blood magic was based on sacrifice, on making a deal with either the world itself or with someone, while keeping the balance. Lily liked to say that with enough power, you could change the world and shape it to your desires. What Daphne sought to do was beyond ambitious, and that meant that she needed a lot of power. It still wasn’t enough, but it was getting closer. She could almost feel it, the deal almost being struck, the world ready to be changed with every death.
She walked forward, being protected by her squad until the entire area surrounding her was covered in darkness. The noises of spellfire and death disappeared. Her squad’s leader gave her a commanding look, “Stand behind me.”
That was the last thing he said before being impaled by a black blade. She sent a spear of ice at the source, only for it to fade away in the darkness surrounding her. She barely blinked her eyes, when she heard another squelch and saw someone else fall down, dead. Whatever was attacking her was too fast, and her protectors slowly fell apart one by one. She felt something try to come for her, and she used her ice magic to such the heat out of her surroundings, freezing the attacker just inches away from her neck. It was her own version of Harry’s Ice Age spell, which she had trained herself to do.
She released a wide area curse, to break it, but all she heard was a giggle. Nevertheless, the curse morphed into a counter, which dispelled the shadows around her, revealing what seemed to be a grinning Vampire Elder, “What do we have here? A lost little girl thinking herself a warrior. It’s a shame that you would die here. You have potential.”
Damn it. She wasn’t supposed to engage any Vampire Elders. The weeping angels were supposed to handle them, but there didn’t seem any of them around. Before she could say something, a gigantic wolf seemed to leap and take the vampire with him. He threw the elder away and turned towards her.
He turned back into a human form and Daphne recognized him immediately, despite the Lycan being covered in blood, “Lupin?”
Her former professor nodded, “Harry asked that I make sure you wouldn’t be hurt.”
Before Daphne could respond, a deep chill crawled up her spine.
They were surrounded.
From every direction, the shadows thickened and twisted; dozens of Vampire Elders emerged like living statues from the darkness. Each wore different robes of ancient make, their eyes glowing crimson, mouths split in knowing grins. This was a game to them, she realized. They didn’t think that they would ever lose, not against them.
Daphne could hold her own, but not while finishing up her ritual. She turned to Lupin and gave him a knowing look. He nodded, understanding, “I’m assuming Harry has something for you to do. I’ll hold them off. You finish whatever you’re doing.”
As if waiting for them to signal, one of the elders raised his withered hand and the shadows obeyed.
Blades shot forward.
Lupin didn’t flinch.
He dove in front of Daphne, a wand already slashing through the air, conjuring a golden shield just in time to block the first wave of shadow darts. The force rocked him back, but he didn’t fall. With a snarl, he shifted—bones snapping, fur sprouting as his body morphed into a massive, silver-streaked wolf.
The nearest Elder lunged forward, fangs bared, claws slashing—but Lupin ducked low, jaws clamping down on the vampire’s leg. With a violent twist, he tore it off, then finished the creature with a spell mid-shift, setting it ablaze in purple fire as he returned to human form for a heartbeat. The vampire turned to ash, but Daphne knew that vampire Elders couldn’t be killed so easily. Harry found that soul magic worked best, but they could be trapped, and their regeneration could be halted if they were absolutely disintegrated. It was why the weeping angels were so important. They were Harry’s answer to the vampire Elders’ regeneration.
Still, Daphne decided to lend him a hand, and conjured ice to freeze the vampire mid-regeneration. Lupin turned at her, confused, “What are you doing?”
Another Elder appeared behind him. He turned just in time to intercept a shadow tendril aimed for his neck, catching it with his bare hand and biting into it with wolfish teeth. Then, twisting, he cast an exploding charm at the vampire’s face, blowing its head apart in a spray of black ichor, which she also froze halting his regeneration, “I’m stopping them from regenerating.”
“I’ll be fine. You need to finish up,” the Lycan replied.
Daphne didn’t argue—there wasn’t time. Already, three more Elders were moving toward them in a half-circle, conjuring tendrils of the living night that lashed out like whips. She dropped to one knee, planting her palms against the blood-soaked soil, to help focus her ritual, speed becoming far more important than subtlety, given that she was being surrounded.
Lupin roared, the sound echoing like thunder through the cursed darkness. He leapt at the first of the advancing Elders, claws raking across the creature’s face before landing behind it and slamming a stunning spell into its spine. It crumpled, shrieking—but he didn’t stop. He twisted left, backhanded a shadow spear aside, and shifted forms mid-motion, his wolf form slamming into a second Elder and tackling it to the ground. They rolled, claws tearing, teeth snapping.
The third Elder caught him in the side with a shadow blade, driving it clean through his ribs. Lupin howled, bit down on the blade, and ripped it out with his jaws, then hurled a curse at the Elder’s leg, snapping bone.
Then he raised his wand to the sky and a brilliant white glyph ignited above him, pulsing with light, searing into the Elder he had just downed. The vampire shrieked as the light clung to its wounds like fire, halting its regeneration completely, its flesh refusing to knit, its bones remaining shattered.
Huh, this wasn’t a normal form of light magic. This was a mimicry of Dumbledore’s Light. The difference was obvious, to say the least. This had Lily’s fingerprint all over it. Did she plan on fighting Grindelwald some time, and just create a spell just in case?
“Keep going!” he shouted over his shoulder, blood dripping from his mouth.
Daphne gritted her teeth. The roots moved around, responding to her call. She could feel the ritual being almost ready—just a little longer.
Two Elders lunged at her, sensing her vulnerability. Lupin was there again—tattered, limping, bloodied. He crushed one into the ground, blasting it point-blank with another burst of light magic that seared through its chest. Then he twisted, blocking a second with a shimmering ward, before slamming his wand down and releasing a shockwave of Light that sent three Elders flying.
But the shadows struck back. Blades of darkness pierced him. One through the thigh. Two into his back. Another caught him clean through the stomach.
He staggered—but remained standing.
Then more came.
Dozens.
They impaled him like a pincushion, yet he still stood between her and death, eyes glowing with fury.
And then, Daphne’s roots were done. They had enough energy and were in the correct shape, so, she activated the ritual. She sent a signal through her connection with Peter Pettigrew and gave him his final command. She had been somewhat leery of this. To be perfectly honest, she didn’t know what to do with the man who had tried to kidnap her once. Harry had tricked him into being her servant, and all she did with him was order him to help her father using his Animagus form. He really was a sorry excuse of a wizard, all things considered.
She didn’t like using human lives in her ritual, but perhaps, this one deserved it. This was one of the main contributors to the fire of Godric’s Hollow and the deaths involved. This was the man who had leaked the location of the Potters, knowing that it would likely get the entire family killed. This was the man who almost killed Harry once more, trapping him in the Gardens of Avalon on Dumbledore’s orders. It was only fitting that he would take her place and trick Grindelwald.
And just like that, Peter Pettigrew perished, his death achieving far more than he ever did when he was alive. Daphne’s roots pulsed with blinding light, focused by Pettigrew’s death, spreading through the very fortress of Nurmengard. The fortress was almost impregnable, each stone enchanted and reinforced for decades. However, Peter Pettigrew’s body was inside. The dead man started to glow, acting as the focus of her ritual, and the battlefield exploded in light.
AN: Wow, that took a lot out of me to write. The idea was to serve as a contrast to Harry’s perspective. Harry was fighting in a chess match, while Daphne was on the ground seeing everything first-hand. I’m not sure I pulled it off quite right, but I don’t mind rewriting it depending on your feedback. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Anthony
👍
Afterdark230
Very well done, I love how it ties together. Nice to see how it’s done!
Abe 7
Will Lupin survive?? Poor guy never catches a break in any of the fics. Also, nice to see Daphne’s POV. But very much looking forward to the ongoing chess match between Harry and Grindelwald.
