Hello Everyone!
Angelia Reader here with a new Harry Potter fanfic! If you have read my other fanfic, The Aftermath, then think of this as an alternant universe where the light lost the key battle at Hogwarts. The stories are in no way related. I hope you like this one, and that it will do as well as the other.
I don't own Harry Potter!
Enjoy!
~Angelia Reader.
Prologue
Move.
Duck.
Aim.
Shoot.
Don't stop. You're dead if you stop.
Eyes burn with hatred into his. The other rushes forward.
Fire.
Gone. He's gone now. Nothing but blood and meat.
Move.
Another comes.
Fire.
Click.
Damn out of bullets.
Holster the gun. Grab the wand.
A flash of green.
He's gone now too.
An explosion to his left.
Don't look over there. It's not important.
Duck.
A flash of light goes by his head.
It missed.
Damn it missed.
Fire.
Destroy.
Another comes now.
Young, so young.
A flash of light.
She's gone now.
Her parents will mourn.
They should have kept their daughter away.
This is war.
Pain. Pain in his shoulder.
Turn.
Grab knife.
This is war.
Strike.
This it war.
Move.
War.
Death around him.
Friends gone. Enemies gone.
It doesn't matter right now. All that matters is survival.
He's a machine. Just a machine.
He's death.
"He's here!"
Fuck…
They've just lost the battle.
Pain in his scar now.
Agony. He wishes for death.
Run
"Run!"
The sound of running around him. He turns and fights the crowd.
He has to get to Him.
There.
Power, so much power. Already a pile of dead around him.
He runs toward him. His wand is raised.
A flash of green light.
Fuck I missed.
Their eyes meet and He laughs.
He's playing with them. He could kill them all if he wanted.
"Retreat!"
It's over.
Five years and it will never be over.
The familiar sensation of squeezing. He's gone for a second. And then he's there.
He looks at who made it. Not many.
To few.
"Fuck."
They were losing the war. So many are left on the battle field.
"Harry!"
He turns. His hand on his blade.
Oh her. He takes her in his arms.
"You made it. Ron?"
"Here Mate."
They both made it.
"He was there."
"I know."
"Your shoulder."
"Nothing. I'm fine. How many?"
"Thousands. It was a trap."
Fuck.
To many dead.
They should have stayed home.
"You're a hero Potter."
That's what he had said.
No, no heroes here.
War had no place for Heroes.
They walk hand and hand. It's time to regroup.
To few here.
They reach the tent. It's already filling with the wounded and the dead.
Even as he watches more medics appear with bodies.
To many dead.
He feels weak. He's hurt worse than he thought.
Fuck.
The world spins.
"Mione…"
He's falling.
He's gone.
Thank you for reading Everyone! I know it's a bit short, actually it's really short, but it's important. There will be actual exposition in the next chapter, but I had to show you the mindset Harry is in. I got this idea from another fanfic I read and wanted to try that style. I'm sorry if it seems like I took your idea Mistress Slytherin. Please forgive me if I have offended you. I hope you all enjoy this, because it's going to be a wild ride.
~Angelia Reader