Daphne Stands her Ground

"Incendio!" the masked men shouted in glee. "Expulso!"

Bathed in the red glow of the dancing flames around her, Daphne's grim face contorted in anger as she watched her family's livelihood turn to ashes before her eyes. Her eyes flashed as she took in her surroundings; over half of the greenhouses were gone.

She counted five adult men among the vandals. Too many to fight head-on; she would either need to sneak attack them one by one while they were distracted with their fun, or take them out all at once. The first option would take too much time, but how was she supposed to incapacitate so many enemies at once?

The glass panes of the greenhouse next to her flew into pieces, showering her with tiny fragments of reinforced glass. Daphne blew a sigh of relief; they hadn't found her; they were still shooting randomly at things that were still intact. Those idiots had just shot the Mandrake greenhouse! If they accidentally broke one of the pots, they would immediately regret it…

That was it! Daphne had her plan: if they were forced to listen to a Mandrake's cries for too long, the only fate that awaited them was a painful death. But if they blocked their ears or were out of range, they would simply be knocked unconscious after a while.

Daphne crept into the greenhouse through the side of the building; without its glass walls, she didn't have to take the front entrance. She winced as her footsteps produced crackling noises as she walked on the broken glass, but fortunately, her enemies were all too preoccupied with breaking more things and setting fire to more plants to hear.

She selected the biggest pot she could find and stood on tiptoes to examine its contents. Good, she noted. It contained a fully grown Mandrake, and the soil was nice and loose, perfect for what she had in mind. Now, all she needed to do was get all of those yobs in the same place, and she then she would be able to take them all out in one fell swoop.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Daphne whispered, swishing and flicking with her wand.

The pot wobbled a bit, before flying straight up, suspended ten feet in the air above her, and one foot behind her. The next part would be a little more difficult, but Daphne had seen Oleandra do it often enough. Time to break out the crocodile tears…

Daphne took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing what she would do, before running towards the vandals, crying loudly, "Help! There's a fire!" doing her best impression of a scared little girl; which for all intents and purposes, she actually was. Despite having just turned fifteen a few months ago, she still looked like a twelve-year-old, her age frozen in time the moment she had taken the Bloodline Atavism potion three years ago.

The vandals froze momentarily, perhaps perplexed as for why a small girl would be warning them of all people about the fires they were currently lighting. They exchanged a few looks, before slowly encircling Daphne.

Feeling slightly intimidated, Daphne extended three fingers from her left hand, granting her the protection of Elhaz. Daphne's wand was hidden up her sleeve; she was holding it reversed in her right hand, so that its pointy bit still pointed upwards, where the Mandrake pot was still floating. Thank goodness nobody ever looked up…

"Well, well," said a man that reeked of rotten flesh. "What have we here? Surely our employer wouldn't mind if I took a little bite… You know I like 'em young, am I right, lads?"

"Boss," said another of the men, who was looking at a photograph he had pulled from his pocket. "That's the kid we're not supposed to touch until—"

"What Malfoy doesn't know won't hurt him," the smelly man scoffed. "'sides, it's not even a full moon, yet… I wonder what'll happen if I bite her now…"

Daphne's heart hardened. Werewolves!

"I'm afraid nobody will be biting anyone tonight," she said coldly; and then she let go of the magic holding the pot in the air, before manipulating her tentacle-like hair into blocking her ears.

Gravity regaining its hold on it, the Mandrake's pot dropped like a stone, cracking open the skull of the Werewolf right behind her. The pot burst, and freed from its confines, the Mandrake started to shriek. The Werewolves howled in pain as they held up their hands to their sensitive ears, before dropping unconscious one by one, blood streaming down their heads as their eardrums burst. Another one bites the dust!

But the one who had threatened Daphne refused to fall; still blocking his ears with his palms, he barrelled towards her, apparently intent on tackling her.

"Thursaz!" Daphne yelled, curling her fingers in the sign of the Thorn.

The Werewolf grunted, but did not fall, as the full force of the Giant's strength rune slammed into his gut. He instead kept running towards her, and Daphne had to dive out of the way to avoid getting knocked over. She had learned from Professor Snape's one Defence Against the Dark Arts class that Werewolves were extremely resilient to magic, but she hadn't expected him to shrug off a full-powered Thursaz!

The Werewolf kept going instead of turning towards Daphne; and he stamped the life out of the poor Mandrake, who had just shrieked its last.

"Finally, some peace and quiet…" the Werewolf growled. "And now, on to business…"

"Stupefy!" Daphne shouted.

The crimson bolt of magic struck the Werewolf, but he merely staggered, before starting to run towards her. He was fast, like a blur of grey. And in a flash, he was almost upon her already.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Daphne cried in desperation.

But the Full-Body Bind did not even slow him; and in a flash, he had her by the neck. He removed his mask, before licking his lips and lifting Daphne's body so that he could look her in the eye.

"Too naïve!" the Werewolf snickered. "Did you really think such soft-hearted Jinxes would work on a Werewolf such as me? Do you really think so little of us that you would not even bloody your hands? We are the terror in the night! If you want to even hurt us, you've gotta go for the kill!"

"I— I try not to think of your kind at all, really," gasped Daphne as she tried to squirm out of his grip; but with the proportional strength of a twelve-year-old, there wasn't much she could do.

"Then maybe this will give you something to think about," he snarled, as he opened his mouth wide to bite her. "A little souvenir from Fenrir Greyback, to remember me by…"