Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian

While Harry held Vladimir at bay, Harry's clone carved through the vampires with ruthless efficiency. Two vampires lunged from opposite sides, fangs bared and claws extended. The clone spun effortlessly, its blade flashing through the night air. Both attackers collapsed to the ground in pieces, their bodies motionless.

Mira's brow furrowed in deep concentration as her small hands moved deftly across the enchanted rings. Her eyes darted to the scrying orb, tracking the battlefield.

"Two more… oh! And another one from behind."

The clone pivoted sharply, its sword slicing upward just as a third vampire leapt at it, the blade cleaving the creature cleanly in half mid-air. The group of vampires hesitated only a moment before five of them charged together, snarls ripping through the silence. Mira's lips curled into a smirk. "Nice try."

The clone stepped back, its movements fluid and calculated. Three of the attackers pounced in unison, but Mira guided the clone into a sweeping low strike. The blade cut cleanly through their legs, severing them in a single motion. Before the vampires could scream, the clone struck again, finishing them without mercy.

From above, another vampire dropped, claws outstretched to strike. Mira had already seen it coming. The clone ducked at the last moment, spinning on its heel, its blade arcing upward to split the attacker mid-leap. The creature hit the ground in two halves.

The remaining vampires faltered, their earlier confidence replaced with visible panic. "It's just a sword!" one hissed, backing away, eyes wide with fear. "How is this possible?"

Another vampire's voice broke through, shrill and desperate. "It's fighting just like the knight!"

The vampires, now desperate, attacked in wild flurries, their movements erratic and uncoordinated. But Mira's control never wavered. The clone flowed through them like a shadow, every strike precise and deadly. One by one, the elite warriors fell, their snarls turning to dying whispers as they crumpled to the ground.

---

Vladimir watched in horror as his elites—his pride—were slaughtered. Fury twisted his face into something monstrous, his crimson eyes blazing with rage. With a snarl, he broke away from Harry, darting toward the clone that was decimating his forces.

"Going somewhere?" Harry taunted, stepping in front of him, wand raised.

Vladimir's voice was a snarl of frustration. "They are mine! I will not watch them die!"

"Funny," Harry shot back, his voice steady despite the burning in his muscles. "Because you're watching it happen pretty well."

With a flick of his wand, Harry unleashed a bolt of thunder, the crackling energy forcing Vladimir to leap backward, his cloak billowing. But Vladimir's rage had reached its peak. He lunged for Harry's throat, moving faster than Harry could react.

Harry barely managed to conjure a wind barrier. Vladimir's claws slammed into it with enough force to send Harry skidding backward across the ground. His muscles screamed in protest, exhaustion creeping closer with every second.

Vladimir's claws dripped with black energy as he smiled wickedly. "You're fading, Knight. I can see it."

Harry raised his wand, lightning crackling along its tip. "And yet here you are, still talking."

Despite his exhaustion, Harry held Vladimir at bay, watching Mira's clone from the corner of his eye. Mira's control was flawless. The clone moved with an effortless precision that mirrored Harry's own fighting style—perhaps even better. Pride swelled in his chest. She's incredible. Compared to the way he had controlled the clones to fight the Acromantulas, this was perfection. Harry couldn't help but think: Looks like I've got a partner for future battles.

---

As Harry pushed Vladimir back, Mira was swiftly finishing her task. The clone danced through the remaining vampires, its glowing blade cutting them down one by one. The last of the elite warriors screamed before collapsing as the clone severed it with one clean strike.

In the sanctuary, Mira whispered proudly to herself, "Done."

Vladimir froze mid-step, his red eyes snapping toward the battlefield. Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the faint rustle of ash drifting through the night. The clone turned to face him, its sword still glowing faintly, and Vladimir's fury erupted into raw desperation.

Vladimir's gaze darted between Harry and the clone. Without the clone, Vladimir knew he and Harry were evenly matched. But with this new opponent, he was outnumbered—and outmatched.

"Damn you!" Vladimir roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "You leave me no choice!"

Spreading his arms wide, he began chanting something low and guttural, his words vibrating through the air like an ancient curse.

Harry tensed, expecting a final spell, something explosive or devastating. The atmosphere thickened, the air turning crimson as an unnatural fog swept across the clearing. Harry's vision warped, the battlefield twisting into shades of red and black.

"What is this?" Harry muttered, waving his wand. He summoned a gust of wind to clear the haze, but as it began to lift, he caught the faint flutter of wings—small, quick, familiar.

"A bat?" Harry cursed under his breath. Realization hit him too late. He's escaping.

By the time the thick fog dispersed, Vladimir was gone—past the wards Harry had so carefully laid.

Harry clenched his jaw, already considering transforming into his Thunderbird Animagus form to chase him down. But before he could move, Vladimir shimmered back into view just beyond the wards, shifting back into his humanoid form.

Vladimir's voice echoed across the clearing. "You've won nothing, Knight. I will return with more, and you will fall."

Harry watched as Vladimir vanished in a flash of blue Portkey light, his final threat hanging in the cold air.

---

The silence that followed was almost eerie. Harry lowered his wand, his breathing ragged, as he surveyed the battlefield. Ash blanketed the ground like dark snow—the remains of Vladimir's so-called elite. The clone turned without a word, its glowing blade dimming as it strode back into the house.

A faint pop broke the silence. Mira appeared beside him, her small form trembling with exhaustion, but her face beamed with pride. Her hands shook slightly as she wiped them on her robes. "We did it, Master Harry."

Harry managed a tired grin, his voice warm despite his fatigue. "You were brilliant, Mira. If the vampires knew they were killed by a house-elf, they'd turn in their graves."

Mira blushed shyly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Harry sighed, forcing his aching body to move. There was still work to be done. He needed to erase all traces of the battle—burn the remains of the vampires, clear the scorched ground, and restore the hill to its untouched state. The last thing he needed was for curious Muggles to stumble onto the scene. That would lead to Aurors sniffing around, and Harry had no interest in explaining what had happened here tonight.

As he worked, his mind replayed the events of the night. Vladimir Dracul had escaped, which was unfortunate, but it didn't take away the victory. A victory that struck a sharp blow to Voldemort's alliance—the vampires, the Zirkel, all of them. They had brought a small army to his doorstep and achieved nothing. His sanctuary stood untouched, stronger than ever.

Two massive assaults in one night, and still, he remained standing.

By the time Harry finished restoring the battlefield and resetting the wards, the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon. He wiped his brow, exhaustion tugging at his every step, but there was a grim satisfaction in his chest.

They will be too scared to come again, Harry thought, his eyes hard as he inspected his wards. I've shown them what a Knight-Wizard can do.

"Even if they come," Harry murmured to himself, resetting his wards. "I will be ready."

With that, he turned and began his long walk back to Hogwarts. His sanctuary was secure, the battle won, and he still had classes to attend in a few hours.