Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian

A hush fell over the battlefield as Vladimir Dracul XII stepped forward, his crimson eyes blazing like twin embers in the darkness. Behind him, his twenty elite vampires spread out, their shadows shifting ominously in the moonlight. Their claws gleamed, their fangs sharp and deadly. At the center of the chaos stood Harry, breath heavy beneath his helm, muscles aching from the earlier fight. Sweat trickled down his back, but his grip on his sword was firm, and his resolve unwavering.

Vladimir's voice, smooth as silk but laced with cold fury, shattered the silence. "You have humiliated me, Knight. My Covenant—my warriors—reduced to ash by your hand. My best soldiers turned to dust... all because of you."

Harry forced a smirk, though his chest felt tight. "I do aim to please."

"A witty man, aren't you?" Vladimir sneered, fangs gleaming in the pale light. "You won't be smiling when I drain every last drop of blood from your body."

Harry chuckled, despite the tension in the air. "Oh, I'm terrified. Save your threats for when you manage to get past my sword."

A ripple of hisses swept through the vampires, their fangs bared. One, a tall female with silver braids, sneered at him. "Your bravado is foolish. You're outnumbered, and I can see your fatigue. This time, we know what we're up against. No surprises. Just your death."

"And your overconfidence keeps giving me exercise," Harry shot back lightly. He glanced around, mockingly unimpressed. "What's this? Twenty more vampires? Forgive me if I don't tremble. The last twenty didn't fare too well, did they?"

Vladimir's eyes narrowed to slits, his fangs flashing as his anger flared. "Your flippancy will cost you, Knight. You have meddled in affairs beyond your understanding. You've humiliated my Covenant and cost us dearly. You will pay for that."

Harry shrugged and took a casual step back. "Maybe, but it's been worth it just to see you so worked up. Honestly, I'd have been more concerned if Voldemort were here with you. But just you vampires?" He grinned beneath his helm. "I'll try harder to be scared."

"You'll regret your arrogance," Vladimir snapped. "I don't need any help to put you in your place. You are alone, and I have my army."

A low growl of approval rumbled through the vampires as they tightened the circle, cutting off all escape. Harry was drained—the earlier battle had taken its toll. He couldn't handle another drawn-out fight. But Harry had planned for this. He always had a backup.

He grinned through the visor of his helm, and raised a finger. "You think I'm alone?" He tilted his head toward the house. "Let's not turn this into a party, Vladimir. I brought a plus-one."

At that moment, the front door of his house, still standing amidst the wards, creaked open. Out stepped another figure clad in armor identical to Harry's Knight Arthur persona. The second knight's helm gleamed ghostly in the moonlight, unsettling the vampires. Their claws twitched, their fangs bared in confusion.

Harry watched his masterpiece emerge with a swell of pride. This was no ordinary clone—not like the hastily crafted versions he'd used to clear out the Acromantula nest. Those were rushed, built with low-quality materials. But this clone was different. It had taken time, precision, and the best materials Harry could gather. From his testing, it possessed about fifty percent of his own strength. Not overwhelming, but more than enough to handle this crowd of vampires.

"What is this—another knight?!" one of the vampires snarled, its glare flicking to Harry. "What trickery is this?"

Vladimir's rage only deepened. His crimson eyes glinted dangerously as he barked a bitter laugh. "A puppet? A golem? You think this will save you? Do you take me for a fool, Knight?"

Harry smirked beneath his helm. "Hey! Don't underestimate my masterpiece. I take offense to that—it's no ordinary puppet."

Another vampire stepped forward, narrowing its eyes as it studied the clone.

"I recognize this magic," the vampire muttered. "But from what I know, a wizard must control a clone directly. My Lord, he's too drained to fight and control it at the same time. This is just an intimidation tactic, meant to spook us into retreating."

Vladimir's lips curled into a cruel smile, fangs glinting in the moonlight. "Hah! I see through your games, Knight. No more tricks, no more distractions. It's time for you to meet your end."

Harry said nothing, his confident grin hidden behind his visor. Let them think what they wanted. Normally, clones did require a wizard's direct control, and Vladimir's reasoning would have been correct. But Harry had accounted for that. This clone was special. Someone he trusted more than anyone was guiding it now—someone who knew him the best.

Inside the sanctuary, Mira's face lit up with a determined grin as she worked. Her small hands moved deftly over the enchanted rings and scrying orb, her focus unshakable. Her wide eyes sparkled with pride as she directed the clone with an almost uncanny precision.

Master Harry trusts me, she thought, her heart swelling. I won't let him down.

Mira, Harry's loyal house-elf, had watched him grow up. She had been there for every sword drill, every grueling training session. She knew Harry's fighting style better than anyone—every feint, every strike, every defensive move. If anyone could make the clone fight as Harry would, it was her.

"Master Harry's training has made me ready," Mira whispered, her voice full of quiet resolve. She tightened her grip on the orb, eyes alight with determination. "Let's show them."

---

Outside the house , the clone drew its sword in a slow, fluid motion—confident and deliberate. The vampires tensed, their claws twitching, eyes fixed on the figure.

Vladimir's lip curled into a snarl. "Attack!" he barked, his fury boiling over.

The vampires surged forward like a dark tide, the air blurring with their unnatural speed. The clone charged to meet them, its sword glowing ominously under the pale moonlight.

"Focus on the Knight!" Vladimir bellowed, seizing the opportunity to dart straight for Harry.

Harry's wand shot up just in time. The first strike landed—a savage blow from Vladimir's claws that clanged against a hastily conjured shield. The impact sent tremors through Harry's body, shaking him to his core. Vladimir pressed on, launching a relentless flurry of strikes—inhumanly fast, precise, and unyielding. Harry parried each blow with magical barriers, but every strike rattled his arms and drained his already waning energy.

Harry gritted his teeth, shifting his focus entirely to magic. He knew his stamina was low—depleted from the earlier battles. If Voldemort, or someone equally dangerous, showed up, he needed something left in reserve. Magic, at least, he still had plenty of, but the exhaustion dulled his reflexes. Each spell came slower than normal.

"You're tired, Knight," Vladimir hissed, his face close enough for Harry to feel his cold breath. Their powers clashed like opposing storms. "Weak. You will fall."

Harry's wand crackled with electricity, sparks dancing around his fingertips. "Still stronger than you," he growled through gritted teeth.

With a burst of wind, he shoved Vladimir backward and followed with a streak of lightning. The bolt shot forward, sizzling through the air. Vladimir darted aside, the lightning grazing him and scorching the earth beneath his feet. He sneered as he circled Harry, his crimson eyes glowing ominously.

"Magic?" he mocked, his voice dripping with contempt. "Too tired to lift your sword, are you? Relying on spells to mask your weakness?"

Harry forced a grin despite his burning muscles. "After seeing what your kind can do, you don't deserve me drawing my sword. Magic is enough."

Vladimir's snarl deepened, and he lunged again. Harry conjured a second shield, but Vladimir didn't falter this time—his claws tore through the shimmering barrier, sending shards of magic scattering like broken glass. Harry stumbled back, whipping his wand upward.

"Fulminare!"

A thunderbolt erupted from his wand, striking the ground between them. The explosion sent a shockwave rippling outward, hurling Vladimir off his feet. But the vampire twisted mid-air, landing smoothly on his feet. Ash clung to his cloak, his red eyes blazing with fury.

"You're clever, Knight, I'll give you that," Vladimir said, brushing off the debris with a cold, deliberate motion. "But clever won't save you forever."