Smoke and dust obscured the view. Spells flashed through the air. It smelled like blood, fear and destruction. Who was a friend and who was foe was not always clear. He came with the simple mindset: all Slytherins are the baddies and the rest is good. This belief was shaken when one Slytherin from his old year had saved his head against a deatheater. With a sadistic smirk she informed him that 'not all snakes are poisonous bastards'. Since then they had lost each other again. He should invite her to a butterbeer or better a firewhisky when this is over.
Well, right now it looked more like a huge fat IF he survives this. It didn't look too good right now. To be exact it looked quite bad. In the last second Sam managed to get a shield spell up, before something nasty could hit him. He was alone against three deatheaters. For the first time he really registered that he could die here. When he heard about the battle at Hogwarts, he had turned up without thinking much. After one frustrated year of hiding and running away for being muggleborn he had been happy about the chance to kick some asses. He knew that he was not always on the bright side of the spectrum and a bit of the stereotype Gryffindor that charged in without thinking things through.
He ducks from a bright yellow curse in the last second, just to be nearly hit by another one. The smell of burned hair tells him that he either needs to visit a hairdresser soon or that he would die with a terrible haircut. His three opponents rapidly fire spells at him, most he doesn't even know, but sure doesn't want to find out what they do. He conjures a shield charm that is glowing with each impact. He feels how it grows weaker the longer he has to hold it up. He doesn't know when and what had hit him, but his leg stings terrible and his pants wetly stuck to it. His eyes fanatic scan the area in hope to find a way out, any way, but they are in one of the classrooms and the door behind his attackers. Only a couple more spells and he will be defenseless, he knows and he has the feeling they know too. He will not sit here and wait for that to happen. With a scream he breaks his charm and blows some of the tables in the fanatics faces. It could have worked, but it doesn't. One of them blocks the tables and another fires an disarming spell at him that he doesn't see, because the tables blocked his view. The spell hits him hard and makes him loses balance as his wand flies or of his hand. He falls on his butt and can only fearfully watch as the other two deatheater push the one in the middle towards him. That one had been the most insecure of the three. With disgust Sam realizes that he will be the first kill and initiation ritual for a deatheater hotshot wannabe. His hands search the ground for anything that could help him, as the black dressed bastard walks towards him and hesitantly lifts his wand. His hand finds a small stone and he throws it. As he does, he sees the ring on his finger and remembers how he got it.
He had been on the run, hiding in muggle London, keeping off the radar, but with an ear for any information about what was going on. It was pure dumb luck that he ran into the Weasley twins. They had shared a dorm for nearly seven years and he has been friends with them as well as an outsider could be. Sam had spent over half a year avoiding all that is magical and started seeing it as a threat. But those were the Weasley twins, if he could trust anyone not to turn into a deatheater it should be the Weasleys right? After a second deciding to run or not, he invited them to a pint in a muggle pub. He didn't regret it. For the first time since Voldemore's second terror regime, he heard about all acts of resistance that happened, telling him that not the whole magical community went crazy. They laughed and he learned about Lee's radio station. At the end they gave him the ring. It was a prototype that couldn't distinguish between friends and foe once activated. A little gadget they called 'last resort defence ring'. The words to activate it were:
"Never will I go down without a last fight against the evil!", he screams at his enemies.
With this the ring starts to glow and he losts some control over his body. He feels like a puppet whose strings are pulled. His hand with the ring lifts into the air a glancing light emits from it and himself. It looks like shiny ribbons come out of the ring wrap themselves around him. He feels himself levitate from the ground. His one leg bends in a strange way behind the other knee. His stretched hand lowers itself and together with the other hand forms a heart in front of his chest. He is shocked to hear himself shout:
"I will punish you for your evil doings in the name of love and justice!"
The heart his hands form glows pink and grows around him until it explode in sparkling glitter. The glowing ribbons seem to have found their final form. Sam is lowered back on his feet and looks around to analyze the situation. The three deatheaters have a relaxed stance and unfocused eyes. Classic signs that they were hit with a confusing curse, but they started to slowly come back to their senses. A look down on himself discloses that his jeans and shirt are gone and he now wears a light blue, remarkably ugly lace dress with a fur collar and a gigantic hat. He hears the twins in his mind telling him.
"The remarkable battle armor not only protects you from all kinds of cuts, but has some integrated small healing and vitality charms to make sure you are on top of your game."
His leg hurts less the than before. But before he can examine himself further his three opponents start to move again and his mouth shouts without his consent.
"Justice shall come upon you!"
From atop his hat he hears a croaky scream. The next moment he sees a rancid vulture takes flight from his hat at the three in front of him. It tries to scratch them with its claws and peak them where ever it can. The others twin's voice comes up in his mind.
"The self-controlled attack unit, follows you and will try to distract those you order it to attack."
"And lastly your close combat weapon. It is charmed to feel light in your hands, but will hit your enemies like a 50kg sledgehammer."
He recognizes a bright red handbag in his hands. For a moment he is confused, but he doesn't have time to wonder because one of foes got out of his confusion and shock and raises his wand at him. He takes aim and hit him with the handbag against the head. Once more he shouts without control.
"Feel the power of love!"
The man falls down and doesn't move anymore. The next one he ramps it in the stomach and then hammers it down on his back as he bends down. Before the last one could get rid of his vulture, Sam kicks him in between the legs and snatches the wand closest to him to disarm them and tie them up. For good measuring, he gives one of them a last kick to the rips.
He finally managed to take a relief breath. A laugh bubbled up in his throat. He was still alive, against any reason. Part of him wanted to sit down and let others deal with the rest, but the Gryffindor in him wouldn't let him. He took a peek under his dress and saw that he really wasn't wearing anything else, but some long underpants with lace ornaments on them. He took his wand back into his hand and the three extra wands he put in the handbag, which he had in his weaker hand. When he turned back to the door he remembered the last words the twins told him unison about the ring.
"And the most imported thing it gives you it motivation. And if you don't feel motivated by following the example of one of the bravest and most admirable Gryffindors alive that showed everybody that badassness is ageless, remember if you die is in this getup."
The vulture still peaked at the unconscious deatheaters, when he was near the door.
"Come... Justice. There is still a lot to do!"
The bird lost some feathers and if you look closer you could see that it was a transformed rubber chicken, but Sam didn't care as it landed back on his hat and he ran out of the door.
A.N. Harry Potter isn't mine.
Please leave a review and tell me what you think. Have a nice day.