Chapter One:
The First Storm

It was the beginning of the end.

This he knew with certainty. The dawn had come with a deep and haunting blood-red sunrise. Animals all over were silent, they hid in their burrows or within the darkest places they could find. It was beginning; they were going to fight and they were going to win or they were going to lose. Either way, thousands upon thousands would die.

Balls of fire hurtled across the sky and hit the earth with an intense burning and roaring. Earthquakes ripped through the ground and waves higher than the horizon swept over those who had the misfortune to be in their paths.

Harry sighed. Ron and Hermione were inside the hospital, trying to calm the younger children. The adults were searching for a way to save as many as they could. Muggle and magical folk alike were huddling together for comfort inside the silent halls of the great castle.

The muggles had been brought there for safety after an attack on their village, Somers-field. The small village was located a mere few miles outside of Hogsmeade and the inhabitants were a mixed bunch. Most had the blood of a magical being in their bloodline somewhere and they all had some sort of magical gifts, even if they couldn't handle a wand. They were called the Wicca.

Bright and thickly lashed emerald eyes looked up into the ruby sky, hoping to spot the rescue squad that had been sent to the villages and cities that had suffered the worst in the first storms. His husband was in that group. Harry stood up, his long black braid falling forward, and with one last look at the sky, he went inside the hospital to try and help as best he could.

Review please. Like? Dislike? Should I write more? Or should I never be allowed to write again?