NB: Sorry for the long update time, I've been waiting for my beta to finish with this chapter and they haven't, University work getting in the way. So this is the unbeta'd chapter as I felt I needed to post something! Enjoy, and please review!

Lamentably NOT beta'd by the wonderful Dea Hatch.

Chapter 11 – Locomotion Commotion

Dear Harry,

I have received disturbing news. Cornelius, not content with removing me from various positions of power, has begun to pass Educational Decrees, which I believe happened in the future you experienced.

He has appointed his own Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dolores Umbridge, and attempted to have Dementors positioned on school grounds. I was unable to stop him forcing Dolores upon me, but I firmly denied the Dementors access to Hogwarts or Hogsmeade. In the present climate it would be far too easy for Voldemort to bend them to his advantage, even before considering my own personal dislike of the creatures. They, however, may make patrols of public locations. As a precaution I have ensured Order members on watch duty all know how to perform the Patronus charm, as you have specified in your last letter.

On the subject of Voldemort, he is still keeping a low profile. Severus has reported that he is planning something "big" to announce his return to the Wizarding world, but reports that it is a strike on Azkaban rather than the school. You mentioned in your last letter that you are doing some covert training along with your daily exercise. I see this as wise.

The Express today would prove to be a tempting target for him, but the Order is sure no harm will befall the children. I'm sure that in the event of an emergency you would be able to defend the train long enough for help to arrive – positioning Order guards onto it with the Ministry in its current level of paranoia is too risky. Simply request the driver to send for help, and help will arrive as soon as is humanly possible.

Best Wishes.

A.D

P.S: Your friend Miss Granger attempted to apply for a Time Turner, a request which I'm afraid I denied. I feel that it would put too much stress on her during these difficult times.

Harry quickly ignited the letter Fawkes had just brought him and vanished the ash – it would not do to have another occupant of the Burrow read its contents. The thought of having Umbridge in the school made him feel sick, a burning hot anger that blazed in his chest. The woman was despicable, a hair's breadth from being a Death Eater herself. He felt impotent at the Burrow, simply waiting for Voldemort to play his hand so the war could truly begin and Harry could move into a more active role. Half of him almost hoped that Death Eaters would attack the Express, simply so he could have something to do.

Lost in his thoughts, he knelt and stuffed the last of his clothes into his battered trunk, finally forcing the lid of it shut with a final click, which snapped him from graphic thoughts of revenge on Umbridge. He quickly gave himself a once over in the mirror, checking that his new polo shirt and jeans looked fine. A quick tap of each finger confirmed that the rings he had purchased were in place, as he had decided to wear them full time under a simple disillusionment charm. He patted his side pocket to check his Phoenix-stone, as he had dubbed it mentally, was secure. He would be taking no chances with this trip.

"Harry! Harry! Come down, we have to go!" shouted a voice from below him.

"Coming!" he yelled back, dragging his trunk across Ron's untidy bedroom floor and out into the landing. He made it down the stairs in one piece (barely – the stairs outside Fred and George's room were lethally rickety) and emerged into the kitchen, a hive of chaos. Ginny was stuffing toast into her mouth in an un-ladylike manner while Bill and Charlie fenced using spatulas, with Ron cheering them on as the implements clacked together like horse's hooves. Mrs Weasley stood out in the garden, directing Mr Weasley with bringing out the luggage.

"Harry, mate, you're cutting it pretty fine!" said Charlie jokingly as Bill's spatula managed to wallop him squarely on the forehead. He grinned at his brother and they both ducked outside to help their parents while Fred and George made their entrance, banging into Harry, who was standing in the way of the door.

"Shift, Harry, we're going to be late!"

Harry shrugged at Ron, who grabbed the last forlorn piece of toast from the table and headed out into the sunny front garden with him. The Weasleys were travelling to Platform 9 ¾ via Muggle cabs, which had yet to arrive. Finally they managed to pile all of the luggage and Hedwig's cage up in an untidy pile, waiting for the nondescript cabs to arrive, which they did in short order. The pair of drivers looked decidedly apprehensive at having to take so many odd objects (thankfully they had thought to shrink the brooms and put them in the trunks), but the promise of money was a powerful one, so they loaded up their vehicles.

Harry, Ron, Bill and Charlie travelled in one of the cabs, with the rest of the Weasleys journeying in the other. Mr Weasley had slipped Mrs Weasley some calming drought earlier in the morning, which seemed to stop her noticing Percy's absence as much. During the trip Bill cast a discreet privacy ward between them and the driver so that they could talk freely, and the main topic of discussion was Quidditch. Truth be told, Harry didn't think he would be staying on the house team; he didn't have the time to worry about sports. He didn't dare voice his opinions in a car full of Quidditch fanatics however, but made sure to avoid talking of Gryffindor's chances that year.

They reached King's Cross in good time, having a good half an hour before the train left with which to gather themselves and greet friends. Tipping the cabbies generously, the ensemble of redheads and Harry walked merrily into the modern, glass roofed station, which reminded him strongly of a cocoon. They subtly angled towards the disguised magical barrier and went through it in pairs, Harry and Ron going through last.

Harry emerged into a cloud of thick steam, a typical characteristic of Platform 9 ¾ on September 1st. Figures flitted in and out of the fog from the gleaming red train like ghosts, and Harry stuck to the Weasleys as best he could, only pausing to nod or greet a housemate or friend who burst from the impenetrable steam. He caught sight of Neville on the far side of the platform, talking quietly to his grandmother, and, to his anger, Lucius Malfoy, who was talking to Draco. The Weasleys began to load their luggage onto a middle carriage as Harry stared intently at Lucius, until the older aristocratic man finally turned to look at him through the bustling crowd. Harry gave him a look of hatred, while Lucius replied with an irritating smirk.

Harry loathed the blonde aristocrat, he really did. With that, he turned to mount the train and receive a hug and kiss from Mrs Weasley, who looked teary-eyed as she surveyed her children. Hermione hadn't shown up yet, or so it seemed, so Harry and Ron set off to find a compartment in the last carriage, which they managed fairly quickly, as not many people had got onto the train yet. They sat in relative silence, peering out at the passers-by through the mist from the Express, waving occasionally to people they recognised. Harry tried to block out the memories of the people he was looking at dying, screaming in the burning ruin of their school as the world fell apart around him. He was trying to put the past behind him in that sense, but he couldn't forget entirely.

"Harry, Ron! How are you!" said a familiar voice, and Harry whipped his head around to see Hermione framed in the doorway, a big smile on her face and a trunk trailing behind her. Her hair was as bushy as ever, and she still looked oddly young in Harry's eyes, but it was still Hermione. She didn't look particularly different from the end of the previous year, bar slightly straighter teeth. Harry found it odd that they still stuck out in an overbite, but reasoned she had not shrunk them yet. She gave him and Ron a quick hug, admiring Harry's dragon fang, and they gave her a rundown of their holidays in return. She had received only some of the information of Voldemort's return in their letters, communication not being all that safe, so most of it was news to her. Frankly she didn't look as worried as Harry thought she should be, then again, she was only thirteen and couldn't possibly understand the threat he posed.

"I suppose Dumbledore will be able to defeat You-Know-Who and his followers with this Order of the Phoenix you just told me about," she reasoned. "After all, you said there are more of the Order than there were the first time around, and they're better organised. And isn't Hogwarts safe? Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who ever feared, after all."

Harry wanted to agree with her logic, but knew for all her intelligence Hermione was wrong on this occasion. Voldemort wouldn't be deterred for long by Hogwarts' formidable reputation, just as he wasn't in the previous timeline. When it came down to it, a concerted assault on the ancient castle would probably see it come clattering down, along with the hopes of the Wizarding world. Not to mention that it would have to be him who killed Voldemort, not Dumbledore.

Then again, Harry was stronger than he was the first time around, and he had the crucial element of surprise over his foe. However he still couldn't shake the niggling doubt in the back of his mind, the one that made him think he wouldn't be good enough, and that he would fail the Wizarding World like he had before. He had, after all, never beaten his nemesis in a fight...

His contemplative pessimism was dispelled when Neville asked if he could have a seat, which the trio readily agreed to. Harry idly lay back and waited for the train to depart while listening to what had happened on his friend's holidays; apparently Neville had spent it making a greenhouse while Hermione had educated her parents on Voldemort. Each to their own, he thought to himself absently as the train's whistle blew shrilly and the train rolled out of the station, Mrs Weasley and Mr Weasley waving frantically until it was out of sight.


Harry had dozed off shortly after the train had departed – he was feeling strangely tired after all the explaining he and Ron had done for Hermione. No one else had entered their compartment bar the sweets-trolley witch, which made for a welcome change from Malfoy poking his nose in. The Express was rolling through a picturesque section of countryside, flat grass on each side which was peppered with small woods and hedges with a dusting of flowers; greenery as far as the eye could see; they were about half-way through the journey.

Harry drifted back into consciousness, but kept his eyes closed. He listened to the murmuring in the compartment, but perked up when he realised it was about him.

"He was a bit weird this summer," Ron whispered conspiratorially to Hermione. "Bit... distant, you know? More like Bill or Charlie. And he kept using all this long words and stuff, wasn't like Harry at all. And he keeps spending time in his room alone, and I saw him with Bill's old books..."

"Maybe he's just been reading a bit, unlike you Ronald," Hermione replied fussily. "Honestly, if Harry is just being a bit more mature than you then I don't think it's much to worry about. Although I think we do need to keep an eye on him, with You-Know-Who being back and all."

"I dunno, Hermione. Maybe he's just stressed or something," Neville said. Harry wondered about his lack of reaction to Voldemort being back, but reasoned Ron and Hermione could have told him while he had been asleep. Irritation flashed through him like a burst of fire; had he given them permission to blab secrets that he had entrusted to them? He calmed himself down as best he could, reasoning that they were only children, after all.

Harry brushed their superficial comments aside about his behaviour; they were completely correct, and he would have to come clean to them eventually, despite wanting to keep them out of the war.

He then realised that he needed the toilet as a matter of urgency; perhaps drinking the water Bill had brought for the cab journey in one go hadn't been the best idea. Waking up gently and politely excusing himself, he walked down to the facilities in the middle coach they were in, ignoring the wide-eyed first years who occupied some of the compartments. He locked himself in the small cubicle and went about his business quickly before checking himself over in the small grubby mirror above the wash basin. He certainly didn't look bad, but still a bit... boring, for the person supposed to save the Wizarding world. Perhaps I should ditch the glasses, he thought to himself idly.

It was at that moment that there was a tremendous screeching sound, like a banshee being tortured, and the train came to a short and definitely unplanned halt. Harry was knocked off balance and smashed his head into the mirror, shattering the glass and his spectacles as he did so, and swore viciously.

"What the fucking hell was that?" he spat while quickly running his wand over his face to heal the cuts he had sustained and repair his cracked glasses, and he then carefully brushed the broken glass from his person. He checked he had everything still in his pockets and opened the door of the cubicle a crack, and saw that everyone in every compartment in his vision was peering out of the window; some of the younger ones were crying in shock. Harry quietly exited the bathroom and looked out of the carriage door he was next to, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. What he saw thrilled and scared him at the same time.

Ten Death Eaters, robed and masked, standing solemnly like sentinels on the right side of the train, evenly spaced along the Express' entire length. He guessed that there were probably ten more on the other side too; the situation definitely wasn't as good as it could have been.

Harry quickly shut himself back into the bathroom, feeling as though he was being shocked with electricity. Death Eaters were attacking he school train, forcing innocents into the war from the start. Forcing himself to remain calm, he quickly brainstormed ideas. He had several options: fight, send a message to Dumbledore for help, or try to get the train moving again. A few seconds of deliberation were all he needed as he reached into his pocket for the smooth texture of the Phoenix-stone. He would fight, but also try to get the message off. He felt a calm come upon him, the anticipation of a conflict.

It was time the Death Eaters knew who they were messing with.


Avery chuckled darkly as he surveyed the train with an imperious gaze. This was going to be too easy. The scarlet steam engine had been stopped by simply killing the driver, a morbidly obese Squib. The Dark Lord preferred subtlety, but since when had subtlety ever sent a message?

The Death Eaters were back, and the Mudbloods had better start running.

To his right Thorfinn Rowle, a beast of a man, growled softly as he cracked his knuckles. The Carrows, ugly as sin behind their masks, giggled softly, relishing the looks of horror on the students' faces. The remaining six were new recruits, taken from the scum and detritus of humanity that littered Knockturn Alley. The Dark Lord had been displeased with the group who had caused the ruckus in Diagon Alley, and consequently discipline amongst the rookies had increased. On the far side of the train Gibbon and Selwynn commanded a group made up almost entirely of fresh recruits. All of them were masked and anonymous, which added to their mystique.

Avery was confident. Who ever heard of children overpowering trained killers? Their orders were to kill the Mudbloods on the train and do what they liked with any of the half-bloods. If possible Potter was to be captured, despite Avery not knowing precisely why. Then again, he knew better to disobey the Dark Lord. The Phoenix, that mysterious masked figure who had been spotted around the country, was also an object of the Master's attention, but not the focus of the mission. The objective was strictly hit and run, but Avery had already decided to try to take down any foolish Aurors who interfered – anything to earn his Master's trust.

"Hold your positions," he barked sharply. "Let them tremble in fear. Alecto, secure the engine. Ensure that the driver is dead and that no one enters it. Everyone else, wait for my signal to attack."

A chubby, squat Death Eater moved from the ranks to the scarlet steam engine and, with an unfeminine grunt, tugged the body of the driver from it onto the ground with a sick thud, the corpse hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes. Avery smiled as he heard some of the younger children begin to cry at the sight, their sobs muffled by the glass windows.

He would give them a few minutes to collect themselves, and then he would order the massacre.


"Vestum!" Harry whispered, feeling the familiar rush of power and painful shin extensions that accompanied his transformation into his alter ego. He looked down at the carpeted floor into a large shard of mirror; a hooded, unidentifiable figure looked back at him. Perfect.

He apparated out of the cramped bathroom into the Prefects carriage near the front of the train; he had a split-second to take in the plush, open plan space with comfortable couches and a small selection of food and drink before a wand was shoved rudely into his face.

"Freeze, Death... oh holy shit!" said a familiar voice. Harry took advantage of the wand owner's hesitation, grabbing the boy's wrist and twisting it away in a deft movement designed to use the boy's weight against him. He knew the boy was stronger than he was at the moment, a fifth year by the look of him, but if he needed to he could use the strength-enhancement ring he was wearing.

He studied the boys face, then nearly choked in shock. It was Cedric Diggory, and he had a look of shock on his face that mirrored Harry's, had anyone been able to see under his hood. "Kill the spare" echoed in Harry's mind, and he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The first person Harry remembered seeing die stared him in the face, looking scared but very much alive.

"It's the Phoenix!" a girl yelled behind him. Harry let go of Cedric's wrist gently, and backed up slightly to see who he was dealing with, wincing slightly at the pain the leg transformations brought on. He quickly brushed aside his surprise at seeing Diggory – now was not the time. There were sixteen prefects, fifth and sixth years, and a seventh year; the Head Girl. His stomach jolted as he realised Percy was absent as the Head boy. Harry only recognised Cedric, but then again, he didn't really need to know who anyone was apart from the Head Girl. They bunched up in a group as he turned to look at them, as if he could attack at any moment.

"You," he said, pointing at the Head Girl and trying to seize the initiative, "how far are we from the front of the train?"

"Umm... its just in front of this carriage, but the door into it is locked," the Head Girl, a pretty Indian girl who was looking surprisingly calm, replied. "What do you intend to do? Arn't you supposed to be working for them?" Harry noticed that every person in the Prefect's carriage had their wand out. He decided to try his hand at diplomacy.

"If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you before you had even realised I was here. Now, listen to me and you might make it out of this alive. I'm going to see if this train has any defences, and try to contact the headmaster and the DMLE. You need to disperse yourselves throughout the train and try to get the sixth and seventh years to organise a defence. You won't stand a chance against the Death Eaters in a straight fight, but trying to stop them getting onto the train is a lot easier. If things get rough, just run. I'm going to try to get us all out of this mess, but I can't promise miracles." Harry's voice was magically deeper than normal, and he was pleased with the confidence it projected.

"Who the hell says we should trust you?" said one of the prefects, a snobby looking Slytherin. "Like Nisha said, you're working for them!"

"Christ, don't argue! I'm probably the only chance you have, moron. Like I said, if I wanted you dead, I'd have killed you. Now get moving!" Harry barked, relishing in the authority he wielded, the rush of power. The prefects jumped slightly and obediently, yet nervously, filed out of the carriage to try to help the students, while Harry turned to the back door of the carriage, and tried to open it. Like the Head Girl had said, it was locked. Harry quickly used Alohomora to get it open, with no success. Evidently the driver wasn't to be disturbed by anyone but the tea lady. Finally, in a fit of frustration, he spoke the words to activate his strength ring and punched at the space just above the handle.

To his shock, his hand went straight through the thick wood as though it were paper. He didn't feel any different, but evidently the silver ring was working. Disreputable though he may be, Borgin sold quality stuff when you had the money for it. He quietly deactivated it; mindful of the warnings Borgin had told him about harming himself while using them.

He swung the door open to reveal a chubby Death Eater heaving the body of the huge driver out of the cramped cabin. It contained a small chair, several levers marked with speeds, two large red buttons and one entrance outside, which was currently blocked by the Death Eater. He studied the intruder's bulging profile with distaste, and recognised Alecto Carrow, a despicable sadist and one of the only female Death Eaters. She turned, her twisted face thankfully covered by a smooth white mask, and stopped in shock. Harry saw a vague image of himself in the mask's slightly reflective surface; red robed with hypnotic flames, standing tall and imposing.

"Good evening, Miss Carrow. I believe you have a pressing appointment."

"With what? Who the hell are you?" Someone, Harry thought, hasn't been paying attention to the news.

"I? I am the Phoenix. And your backside has an urgent, overdue appointment with the solid ground outside."

Carrow snarled behind her mask and raised her blackthorn wand quicker than Harry would have thought possible, but she was too late. Harry kicked her in the chest, causing her to stagger and cling to the entrance to the cabin for support, and then nailed her with a Blasting curse from his wand. She sailed out of the door with a howl and a sizzle of burning flesh, crashing into the grassy turf outside with a satisfying crunch. Harry grinned to himself.

He ignored the shouts of surprise from the Death Eaters outside and quickly scanned the control panel in front of the chair. The levers were mainly for controlling the train, but the buttons intrigued him. One was marked Compartment Locks and the other was marked Emergency. He pressed the Compartment Locks button with a gloved hand and heard a loud clicking sound as every door in the train locked itself. Perfect, he thought, that should buy the students some time. He was about to press the second button when he noticed movement in the corner of his vision, and was abruptly tugged very rudely from the cabin by his ankles by the largest Death Eater he had ever seen, jostling the levers on the control panel as he did so, and inadvertently starting the train up again in a billow of steam and the shriek of a whistle.

He thudded into the steps leading up the cabin and hit the ground hard, still in the grip of the Death Eater. Overcoming his surprise, Harry lunged for his wand, which had fallen onto the ground when he had been grabbed, only to have his arm stood upon by a second Death Eater, causing a stab of pain to shoot up his wrist.

Bugger, Harry thought wisely. Shouldn't have been too overconfident there. He squinted against the bright sunlight as he looked down the business end of the Death Eaters' wands. The smell of dirt and fresh grass filled his nostrils, and he tried not to sneeze.

"Hello, Phoenix. Our Master has taken special interest in you, seeing as you are intent on foiling our glorious conquests. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't mind if you're dead or alive." The Death Eater said mockingly, grinding Harry's arm under his foot.

Harry inched his hand into his cloak, his ankles still stuck fast by the massive Death Eater at his feet. He groped for a moment until he found the smooth butt of his handgun.

The Death Eater standing above him (was it Avery? Harry thought he recognised the voice), opened his mouth to utter the two words which would end Harry's life.

Harry took advantage of the fact that the fools hadn't thought of pinning his other arm and knocked the wand roughly aside with his palm, withdrawing his gun with the same hand in one deft movement. He sat up quickly, stomach muscles stretching in protest, and brought the gun butt down onto the head of the massive Death Eater, who was positioned by his ankles, causing the man to howl in pain and stagger back. Once he was free, he rolled away from his enemies and grabbed his wand, getting to his feet on the grass beside the train.

Which was moving. Harry quickly checked around him for other Death Eaters. The seven others on the right side of the train were either watching him or watching the moving train, waiting for the signal to attack. Carrow was getting up some distance away, rubbing her chest (not a pretty sight) and looking for her wand.

"Attack, you fools!" shouted Avery, training his wand again on Harry. The second Death Eater, who was looking dazed, pulled out his wand as well, forcing Harry to dive to one side. From the other side of the locomotive Harry heard the sounds of spellfire, cracking wood and breaking glass with bursts of energy. Evidently the Death Eaters had decided to launch a salvo at the side of the train. Harry cursed and continued to roll on the turf, spells impacting where he had been moments before and sending up small fountains of dirt and rock. The remaining Death Eaters, including Alecto, had decided that the Phoenix was more fun to shoot at than the train packed with schoolchildren.

"Contengo!" Harry cried, pointing his wand at the ground and rolling into a crouch. A red shield blossomed around him, absorbing two spells that would have hit his unprotected back. Avery, Alecto, and the huge Death Eater were ahead of him and the remainder were behind him, casting spells into his back. The train was passing quicker now, beginning to gather speed. He was already level with the second-last carriage; soon he would be exposed to the ten Death Eaters on the other side, who were still firing spells into the coaches.

Harry grunted, gritting his teeth slightly in the effort of maintaining the shield against the multiple impacts of spellfire. He had to get to the main engine and push the Emergency button, as this certainly qualified as one. Apparition into such a small moving space would be lethal, and he needed to keep tabs on the Death Eaters. He glanced up at the beige carriage rushing past him, full of schoolchildren watching him be pummelled by a plethora of spells, and noticed a ladder on the section where the last carriages joined each other rushing along to meet him. Harry whispered the words needed to activate his golden speed ring, and smiled when the world appeared to slow slightly, spells becoming threads of vibrant light, and the train moving at a sedentary walking pace.

He dropped his scarlet defence, holstered his wand and pistol, and leapt for the ladder as it slowly drew level, deactivating the ring as he grabbed the smooth metal in his hands. Avery tossed another Killing Curse, which detonated against the train, narrowly missing Harry's head and showering him with splinters. As he climbed the relatively short ladder, Harry pulled his pistol out again and started to fire wildly over his shoulder. He smirked when he heard a scream from one of the anonymous Death Eaters; there was one down for a while. Finally, after what seemed like a ridiculously long time to have his back exposed, Harry reached the top of the ladder and climbed onto the carriage's flat roof.

Wind blew into his eyes and whipped his red cloak up in a billowing mess that rivalled Snape's trademark cloak. He crawled inch by inch onto the smooth metal roof, which was roughly the size of a large duelling arena, and attempted to stand.

Twelve curses from both sides, all of them narrowly missing him, convinced him that laying down was the best course of action. He was on the last coach of the train, and the train itself was moving a moderate speed; enough that someone could stand up, but any turns would send said person careering off. Harry rolled onto his back and breathed out, trying to gather himself before he tried to crawl along the roof to reach the steam engine at the front.

The huge Death Eater apparated unsteadily into his field of vision, blocking out the sun with his colossal bulk. Harry reacted instantly, bringing his fist up into the Death Eater's crotch. The man yelled in agony and grabbed at his injured parts, stumbling and finally falling ungracefully over the edge of the roof. Harry quickly got to his feet, swaying slightly in the wind, and pulled out both of his weapons.

He quickly checked what was happening behind the train. The majority of the Death Eaters were firing ineffectually at the rear of the train, their spells missing or doing no discernable damage. As he watched they slowly got further and further away, and the one he was sure was Avery rounded up the twenty-odd Death Eaters, one of whom was clutching his arm in pain, and spoke to them quickly. Two of them went to tend to their fallen comrade, who was lying motionless on the ground by the tracks, while the rest of them turned to apparate.

Harry heard several sharp cracks behind him, and twirled round while conjuring a silver Protego shield. His swiftness was rewarded as three spells slammed into the barrier with a deep ringing noise, before Harry lowered it and aimed his weapons at the three Death Eaters standing behind him on the second-last coach, in an arrowhead formation. Cold fury erupted in Harry; he felt a need to finish this before someone got hurt.

"Avada Kedavra!" he spat, aiming at the one on the left, as he pumped the trigger on his pistol, feeling it jerk in his hand as it fired. The green Killing Curse, accompanied by a howling wind which was audible over the noise of the train, struck true, driving the life from the Death Eater it hit and causing his ragdoll-like corpse to slide from the roof of the train. The Death Eater in the middle was hit in the stomach by a bullet and doubled over in agony, dropping his wand. Showing a surprising amount of foresight, the man on the right blocked the bullet fired at him with a blue shield and replied with a Avada Kedavra of his own, forcing Harry to disapparate and appear, off-balance, right where the Death Eater he had hit with the Killing Curse had stood.

"Confringo!" he yelled from his advantageous position, sending the Death Eater who was wounded in the stomach flying forward off of the train with an ugly red smoking burn on his back, leaving the stench of burnt flesh behind. He dealt with the final one by simply moving and deftly shoulder-barging the surprised man in the side, sending him tumbling to his death from the speeding locomotive.

Harry paused to catch his breath and regain his balance, feeling adrenaline shoot through his veins and energise his body. He felt alert, the frustration borne of the repetitive cycle of Quidditch and immature redheads that he had endured for the previous weeks washed away in a wave of battle-lust. This was what he had been wishing for that morning in the Burrow; something to take him from the monotony of life with a family who he now felt he didn't really know. At least when he was killing Death Eaters he had some form of purpose.

He turned to keep walking along the roof he was on, seeing that he had a good five or so carriages to traverse, yet no Death Eaters in sight. He had dispatched four at least, so there should have been around sixteen left, but instead there were none in sight. The midday sun was obscured behind clouds as the Express obliviously chugged along through a picturesque landscape of fields, the occasional tree growing close to the tracks flying past in a blur of brown and green.

Harry's blood ran cold as he hopped nimbly to the next roof, and heard the sound of screams from an open window below him. The remaining sixteen Death Eaters had apparently broken into the train.

"Fuck!" he yelled, his words lost to the whistling wind, as he turned and disapparated into the carriage below him – a very risky manoeuvre, but he had little other option. The red-carpeted enclosure was strewn with broken glass and struggling bodies as several Death Eaters smashed windows and dragged screaming children out of their compartments. Before his eyes a thin Death Eater casually slashed a second-year's back and legs with a spell, laughing cruelly as the boy cried out in pain from shallow red slices in his calves. Nearly everyone stopped moving once Harry arrived and stopped himself falling over from the Apparition movement, and the four Death Eaters standing in the corridor seized their victims - mainly frightened second years - and held them roughly by their necks, wands trained at their temples.

"Drop your weapons you bastard, or we'll kill them!" shouted the thin one. Harry gave him a baleful glare from under his hood and muttered the activation key for his speed-enhancing ring. Time slowed for him as he brought his gun to bear, firing four well-aimed shots followed quickly by a vicious set of Bone-Breaking curses to tag any survivors. The Death Eaters were hit by the bullets almost instantaneously in the cramped conditions, and the ones who hadn't been killed by the gunfire were struck in the face by the curses, their heads crumpling like paper bags in unsettling slow motion. Harry undid the enchantment, feeling a stabbing pain in his chest that didn't feel entirely natural to add to the twinges in his legs. The blood-splattered children looked horrified as their captors slid to the ground, blood leaking from their crushed noses and their faces sagging in a way that would have been comical had they not been dead.

Harry spared a glance over his shoulder through the window of the door linking the previous coaches – they were devoid of Death Eaters, to his relief, albeit in a bit of a mess from the spells fired into them earlier. He motioned for the traumatised second years to get out of his way (he could see that their injuries were hardly life-threatening), which they did without hesitation, and he sprinted over his foes' corpses and gave the door into the next carriage a violent kick assisted by a Reducto from his wand, propelling it halfway down the corridor in a cloud of splinters and dust. There were also no Death Eaters in this one, much to his relief. He was beginning to tire from his exertions, and knew that he could not yet win a large-scale fight with his current body.

The next carriage also looked empty, so Harry advanced slowly, his eyes peeled underneath his hood and his teeth bared behind his bandana. As he approached the first compartment, whose door was mysteriously open, there was an apparition crack behind him and a voice hissed "Crucio!"

Harry collapsed, yelling in agony as the Cruciatus Curse hit him square in the back. He writhed and flailed on the floor, fighting the white-hot pain with all his might as his wand and gun fell from scrabbling fingers, his flesh feeling like it was being peeled off with hot knives dipped in acid. He managed to turn his head to face his aggressor; it was Alecto Carrow. Through his pain-filled haze he realised that the thin man who he had just killed had probably been her brother, Amycus, as the Death Eater had fitted the memory Harry had of him.

Pity, he thought. Finally he managed to gain enough control over his erratic motor functions to roll sideways, breaking Carrow's connection with the curse. Harry, from his position on the floor, kicked out at her legs and grabbed his gun, bringing it to bear as she screeched and clutched at her right shin when he slammed his foot into it. He trained his weapon on her but she disapparated with one last furious look from behind her featureless mask. Cursing from the post-Cruciatus aches, Harry got to his feet and staggered past the oddly vacant compartments into the next, and second-last, carriage, the one before the prefects compartment.

This one was also empty, both of students and Death Eaters, and Harry had to wonder where everyone had gone. He disillusioned himself and cautiously approached the closed, un-windowed, door into the Prefects carriage and opened it gently, his wand raised and his gun in his other hand. As soon as he had opened it a crack, the door exploded with a deafening bang, slamming Harry painfully into the ground and causing him to smack his head into the wall of the coach, sending him swiftly into unconsciousness.

AN: I've had some reviews saying that Harry basically isn't being badass or military enough. While I know he could disillusion himself and wipe out the Death Eaters that way, or be a brutal silent killing machine who uses nothing but AKs, that doesn't make for the most fun writing. Also, I'm still working along the lines that his child body is affecting his mind – he isn't physically mature. Bear with me on this, that particular plotline will be resolved...