...Last Battle?
He delicately picked his way among the corpse littered ground. He dully thought about how he was grateful to be desensitised to this sort of thing, other wise he migt have started vomiting in the bushes. As it was, he felt slightly nauseous, and his face had taken on a decidedly green tinge.
He averted his eyes from a bloated rotting corpse sunken into a nearby puddle, it's flesh a pale greyish pink. Almost imediately, however, his eyes were caught on another corpse burned dark-red, curled up in a ball on the sidewalk. Cautiously tiptoeing up to Privet Drive, avoided a group of cadavers by nearly walking into a dieying hedge.
He shuddered at the squishing sounds up ahead, obviously spelling the end of more lives. Eventually they stopped and the thunderous footsteps receded. He just barely picked out the soft snick of the latch and sighed ion relief.
He stepped over Privet Drive's walk, carefully avoiding any decaying creatures and sprinted for the shed. He pulled the hose out and hooked it up to the faucet. He firmly bent the end over double and turned on the water. He trudged over to the walk and washed the worms down the walk and into the gutter.
"At least their won't be any more rain," A ten year old Harry Potter muttered, "I won't have to deal with this again 'til September!"
