-/- Hairy Scottish Git Productions Presents -/-

(Exterior, night. HERMIONE GRANGER staggers into shot, face streaked with blood, semi-naked from waist up and half-carried by MILLICENT BULSTRODE. They are flanked by GINNY WEASELY, NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM, and RON WEASELY with LUNA LOVEGOOD on his shoulders; all are pale and shaking, and Luna is clutching a Sten gun as if it is her only link with reality. A distant but growing aero-engine drone is audible in background. Pan left, revealing the six are at the edge of the rise at the bottom of Hogwarts' lawn; beneath the rise is a sea of countless DEMENTORS.)

Ron (dazed): What's that noise?

Hermione (exultant, jerking her head up): It's the sound of freedom!

(A Lancaster bomber, flying at extremely low altitude, bursts across the edge of the Forbidden Forest, it's bomb-bays open; as the bombs begin to land among the Dementor horde cut to interior, day.)

(A dark-haired young man, dressed in shabby work clothes, is leaning against a network of metal frames and spars, his head hanging.)

VOICEOVER: They tried to destroy him.

Man: I never asked for this.

VOICEOVER: His enemies are numerous.

Man: I only wanted to be Harry. Just Harry.

VOICEOVER: His position, tenuous.

Man: I never wanted this boy-who-lived stuff.

VOICEOVER: His allies, scarce.

Man: I never wanted destiny.

VOICEOVER: His followers, bizarre.

Man: Seems that was too much to ask for.

VOICEOVER: His plan, audacious.

(He raises his head, revealing ice-cold green eyes and a flash of a scar on his forehead: this is HARRY POTTER.)

Harry: I'm done being pushed. Being controlled.

(Tighten focus on his face.)

Harry: It's time to push back.

(Cut to black. Cue vaguely monastic sounding chant in background.)

-/-A Doghead13 fanfic-/-

(Lancaster bomber slowly sweeps left across screen, wiping to interior view of a cavernous aircraft hanger; we see that the Lanc has just rolled out of the hanger.)

Harry: We can't win this war Dumbledore's way. He'll sit on his hands and do nothing until we've all followed poor bloody Cedric.

(Camera pans forwards, between dozens of aircraft, some incomplete.)

Harry: The Ministry, they're just as much of a problem as Voldemort.

(As the camera continues, the aircraft it passes are less and less complete, until it reaches the bare bones of a gargantuan airframe, resting in cradles, so vast it makes those around it seem toy-like. Harry is leaning against the port side of the nose; several others are standing, listening to him, their backs turned towards the camera.)

Harry: I can't do this alone. I need all of you.

(One of his audience – a short, dark-haired girl dressed in pitch-black Wizarding robes, makes as if to speak; he cuts her off with a raised hand.)

Harry: We have to hit them in a way they cannot understand, predict, or defend against.

Dark-Haired Girl: Harry-

Harry: As long as we leave one Death Eater alive, they'll come back. We all know this. We've seen it before. We've all lost family, or friends... or lovers, Cho.

Dark-Haired Girl: Cedric-

Harry: I know.

(Another member of the audience takes a step forwards; a short boy with mousey brown hair.)

Boy: But what can we do? I've seen what they've got out there-!

Harry: I know.

Boy: What don't you know?

(Harry smiles. Cut to several DEATH EATERS, cautiously making their way across a thickly overgrown field; one of them vanishes in a puff of dust and flying fragments; zoom camera towards a small green metal box marked 'Face towards enemy' a split second before it too detonates.)

Harry: A lot of things.

(Another explosion, kicking up a cloud of oily smoke, wipes the screen to black.)

-/-The Book of Dobby: Per Arcana ad Astra-/-

(Spitfire sweeps up across screen, wiping to top view of three Spits in close formation, racing along only a few dozen feet from the ground, their cannons spluttering. Rapid-fire shots of aircraft dogfighting against broom-riders, an RAF Tornado chasing after an ornately-decorated Stuka dive-bomber, a section of Diagon Alley dissolving into fire and flying rubble, a flamethrower tank opening up on a seemingly endless horde of Dementors, Guards at the gates of Buckingham Palace in full regalia fighting side-by-side with house elves against something unseen that's throwing deadly bolts of green light, a belly view from a heavy bomber as it begins it's run, an entire wing of Hogwarts Castle in flames, finally wipe to Hermione Granger, pale and visibly shaken, seated in the cockpit of a Lancaster in flight, bags under her eyes, a trail of half-dried blood down to her chin from her nose, semi-naked from the waist up, a look of wonder on her face, and her hand resting on the clocks.)

Hermione (soft): She came for me...

(Cut back to Harry, still leaning against the airframe. He's smiling slightly. Luna Lovegood is now standing one side of him, Hermione Granger the other, with Millicent Bustrode and Ron Weasely bracketing them; Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are visible, holding power-spanners, peering out of the partially-built airframe, the Weasely twins are now watching from the far side of said airframe along with Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasely, and there are dozens upon dozens of khaki-clad house elves seemingly everywhere, some of them holding Sten guns, others holding tools.)

Harry: But one thing I know for certain is how we're going to win this thing.

(Cut to black.)

-/-Coming Soon-/-