"Severus . . . please . . ." Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry's scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air. For a split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backward, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.
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"Good lord, look at what he's done!" Fudge exclaimed.
"Yes, He's killed the Headmaster! What have you done with Professor Snape, Traitor?" Umbridge asked, her sickeningly sweet voice making his headache.
"Aurors, take him!" Madam Bones cried. Someone sent a stunner flying towards him, rendering him unconscious.
Harry Potter and The Dishonoured Guard
A Story inspired by Dishonoured
by: The Madman With Wings
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Six Months Later...
Harry awoke to the telltale clanging of the cell door as the guard delivered 'Breakfast' - nothing more than a piece of stale bread, a moldy slice of cheese, and water.
"You should eat, Potter. This meal comes from a friend." the guard stated.
Now who could that be? Harry thought. All his friends had betrayed him at that sham of a trial. Even Ron and Hermione, who had said that they believed he was innocent, still let him be thrown into Azkaban.
He rolled off his wooden cot and moved over to the tray of food. As he took his first bite of the bread, he bit something that tasted… metal? Harry noticed a note, tucked underneath the bowl. He picked it up and began to read:
Mr. Potter,
Who we are is irrelevant right now. Just know that we have faith in you.
The key to your cell is in the bread. Once you are out, head for the prison's Interrogation Room. Take the explosive there and plant it on the outer door. When the bomb goes off, run. Make for the docks and find the boat with a red lantern. You'll find some useful gear stashed there.
One of the prison guards will leave a weapon just outside your cell.
- A friend
Harry was perplexed. On one hand the note seemed too good to be true, but on the other, the message was too solemn to have been fabricated by the guards. He looked around the cell, noting that it only contained a cot shoved unceremoniously off into the corner.
He sighed, not quite knowing what to do. Harry sat there for what must have been hours, but ultimately decided to follow the instructions, damn the consequences. He pushed himself up and limped over to the cell door, used the key to open the door to his personal hell, and looked around. No alarm went off upon his unapproved exit, no guard came rushing down the corridor to detain him and throw him back in his cell, nothing happened.
Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he quickly whipped his head around, and upon concluding that it was abandoned, checked the area around the door to find a simple iron sword resting next to it.
Harry stared, as it was not often that he saw something that was considered a muggle weapon in the wizarding world, but picked it up nonetheless. He held loosely it in a reverse grip, and started down the corridor, the path familiar to him from his rigorous interrogation.
On turning a corner he encountered a guard, his back to him. In a split-second, Harry had his arm around the guard's neck, using a hold he knew well enough from the times his cousin Dudley had gotten creative in his favorite pastime of "Harry-Hunting".
He nodded once the guard was knocked out, quietly laying him on the floor and searching his pockets. He found a lighter and a sack of coins, and then he stripped the guard and changed into the uniform. It proved to be much bigger but was was warmer than the simple prisoner tunics.
this was just an idea rattling in my head, this could be turned into a fully fledged story based on the reception. Read, Review, Relax
- The Madman With Wings