Kicks

Updated 6/16/15


They thought him an idiot. He knew he was not surrounded just as well as he knew that Dementors were not on their way.

He glanced at Tonks, who was lying supine in the mud. He felt bad for stunning Tonks, but he knew, with his newfound clarity, it was necessary. He returned his attention back to the forest. He was more alert than he had ever been before. His eyes wide and the thrill of the fight throbbed in his veins.

Harry watched as Savage and Dawlish – two Aurors he'd met once before – moved between the trees noisily, readying themselves for an attack.

He knew as soon as he saw Fabian and Gideon walk into the meadow. They were Order members he knew were long dead. No way he could have imagined them, just like there had been no way he could explain the events in Grimmauld Place. It was then that it all the pieces began to fall into place.

Savage emerged from the trees whooping. He knew he should let the Aurors take him with no fight. If he did he could explain the situation. But every fiber of his being protested the idea. Who would believe him anyway? He would be sent to his death, not given a chance to talk it out.

Harry bit out a bark of laughter. "Oh yes, I see I am surrounded indeed. How ever will I escape?" He didn't know why he was acting this way, egging them on. He was angry. Very angry. Angry at Dumbledore for leaving him to die, angry at the Aurors sent to attack him, angry at Voldemort, angry at Neville.

With a snarl, Savage slashed his wand viciously in the air. The movement sent a blinding red light toward Harry. A stunner, not unexpected. Harry stepped out of the way of the spell, almost loosing his footing in the mud.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled. He watched Savage bat the spell away, another, darker spell on the tip of his tongue.

Behind him, he heard a rushing noise and quickly turned to see what was coming his way. Ropes. Unexpected. So, the stunner had just been a distraction the allowed Dawlish to attack from behind. Sneaky.

Harry ducked under the ropes Dawlish had sent. The twisted fibers grazed the top of his head. Harry began to panic. He had to get away. He was in over his head. There was no way he could escape.

The ropes rushed toward Harry again, this time from Savage's direction. Cruel laughter echoed in the air. Harry rolled in the mud, standing up quickly only to have to jump over another set of enchanted ropes. Breathing hard, Harry had a sudden strike of inspiration. It had gotten him out of trouble once before, so why not now?

Harry backed up in order to have both Aurors in his field of view. They crouched defensively on the opposite side of the pitch. Harry could see what he needed just behind them, laying on the ground. Harry raised his wand, causing the Aurors to tense, and shouted "Accio broom!"

Harry could have laughed at the looks on the Aurors' faces as a broom hopped into the air and sped towards him, successfully hitting an unsuspecting Savage in the back of the head. Then the Aurors ran, chasing after the broom and gaining ground on Harry.

He snatched the broom from the air with an outstretched hand, quickly swung his leg over it, and pushed off the ground. He was not quick enough. Harry felt a hand clasp around his ankle as the broom launched into the air. He shook his leg, trying to get it off. The extra weight hurt. It stretched his leg and put pressure on his joints. Harry could see Savage dangling in the air, his hand firmly affixed to Harry's leg. With eyes narrowed, Harry flattened himself to the old broom, urging it to go faster and higher. Spells whizzed past his head and Harry let out an uncharacteristic growl of anger. He aimed his borrowed wand at Dawlish and returned a volley of curses.

Savage was yelling, but the wind rushing past Harry's ears blocked out the noise. They were above the treetops now. Harry knew he had to make a drastic move. He dodged Dawlish's blasts as he turned the nose of the broom toward the ground, putting the broom into a steep dive. The ground rushed faster and faster toward them, the wind whistled loudly in his ears. Harry pulled up hard on the broom, making it level off feet above the ground.

Harry winced as the broom gave a lurch as Savage smashed into the ground. Savage was being dragged now, through the mud and rocks, slowing the broom down. Harry was amazed at the man's iron grip, for he still did not let go.

"Get off!" He practically screeched. Savage sneered in return.

Harry raised the broom higher, more determined than ever to shake Savage off. Dawlish seemed to have regained his senses and sent another a barrage of spells at Harry. He thanked Merlin for his Seeker skills which allowed him to easily maneuver around each curse.

Harry zoomed past Dawlish, who yelled something indistinguishable to Savage, and into a roll. Savage flailed about, helpless to the momentum of the move. Harry hissed in pain. Savage would not let go. Harry brought the broom back up to his previous height, thinking fast. Savage's grip tightened even more, constricting the blood flow to Harry's foot.

Harry felt another steely hand clamp around his calf, tugging on his jeans, before the pressure around his ankle moved. Harry looked down at Savage, who was trying to hoist himself up onto the broom. His right hand was locked around the tail of the broom, and left pushing against his leg. Savage managed to loop his leg around the broom. Harry knew it was only a matter of time before the Auror was on it completely.

Without thinking, Harry kicked out behind him, hard. Savage grunted in pain as Harry's foot connected with his shoulder. But the man pulled himself closer the broom, trying to roll himself atop it. Harry kicked again, this time missing. Savage reached out and grabbed Harry's shoulder and pushed himself up. Harry to slipped and dangled precariously from the broom, his legs and arms still wrapped around. He very nearly lost Charlie's wand. Savage, a smug smirk plastered on his bleeding face, had control of the broom now. Savage reached out to pluck the wand from between Harry's fingers, Harry took this opportunity to bite the offending hand. Savage winced and drew back, causing the broom to swerve wildly, allowing Harry time to pull himself upright.

"End of the line, wizard." Savage had his wand pressed painfully against Harry's throat.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing that Savage wouldn't dare do a thing while still in the air. So Harry did the only thing available. He elbowed Savage in the face. There was a sickening crack and yowl of pain as Savage's nose broke. Harry turned the broom hard to the left, shaking the wizard behind him and almost sending him off the broom. Savage hung upside down, legs still on the brooms, hand covering his nose and wand below on the muddy ground.

Savage let out a gale of mirthless laughter. Harry glanced over his shoulder distractedly, only to see a great plume of smoke billowing from the tail of the broom. Harry did a double take; it was on fire! He didn't have enough time to put it out. He would have to ditch the broom and run.

Harry turned for the forest. Harry heard Savage grunt as he flew into the thick mass of trees, swerving around each. He could hear Dawlish's panicked shouts below, sending volleys of unknown spells at Harry. Harry returned the attack from the cover of the trees.

Harry swerved the broom around as he sent a cutting hex toward Dawlish. It sliced his face, drenching it in sanguine liquid. The broom gave a resounding shudder as Savage, still attached to the bottom, slammed into a tree. The man gurgled before he fell limp and plummeted toward the ground.

Harry was relieved to have the man off the broom. He began to choke on the smoke that was filling the trees.

Dawlish was running toward Savage now, firing stunners as he went. Harry lowered himself and shot a jet of water at the flaming broomtail. Dawlish bent over Savage, looking around him and speaking rapidly. Harry thought Levicorpus and was gleeful when he saw it work. He watched Dawlish flail upside-down in the air.

Harry flew over intending to tie Dawlish up. He was surprised, however, to see that Dawlish still had his wand and was still flinging spells. Harry dodged a nasty looking purple stream of light, only to roll right into a confundus charm.

Harry felt the disorientation and confusion wash over him, as if he had drunk too much Firewhiskey. He flew pell-mell through the trees, crashing into branches, trying to get to Dawlish. He veered off course and slammed into an oak tree. Harry cried out in pain as he smashed his injured leg into the hard tree, letting go of his broom in the process. The broom continued forward, out of control, hit another tree and splintered into pieces. Harry fell, his mind still clouded with pain and confusion. He landed with a thud in the thick muck of the forest floor and sharp pain exploded across his chest. The snapping of twigs and shuffle of leaves alerted Harry to the presence of another.

It was Savage, breathing heavily.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Harry's body went rigid, his limbs snapped painfully to his side. He was sure he let out a pathetic whimper. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was going to happen next. Several cracks rang through the crisp air. They talked in hushed tones to Savage, who spat a mouthful of what Harry could only assume was blood on the ground.

"What's up Dawlish?" cackled an unknown woman. "Just hanging around?"

A series of chuckles and groans echoed through the trees. Harry opened his eyes. The pain made his head swim.

"What did he use?"

"I think I know. Cunning little bastard, eh?" The voice made Harry's heart skip a beat. He looked for the man.

"Savage! You didn't stun him?" An Auror rushed over to Harry and blocked his field of vision. "Stupid mistake Savage. Stupefy."


The Aurors took down the anti-apparation wards as soon as they had received Dawlish's urgent call for help. The forest was on fire, Savage might be dead, and the boy was going to escape. What a mess.

When they arrived, well, none of them had expected the scene before them.

Smoke clouded their vision. Dawlish was hanging upside-down in the air, a puzzled Savage – who was covered in Merlin knows what – trying to get him down. Not twenty yards away did the offending wizard lay, his body lying straight as a plank.

Sirius Black, the leading Auror of Team 4, quickly went to action. "You too, quick – put out the fire!"

Two red robed witches nodded before rushing off. Sirius looked around, confused. "Where's Tonks at?"

Savage sent a look at Dawlish, "She's at the entrance of the meadow."

"Faye. You know what to do." Faye nodded and skirted past them.

Auror Yewes cackled shrilly at Dawlish's predicament. She sauntered to him and poked him with her wand, "What's up Dawlish? Just hanging around?"

Most of the Aurors still left in the area chuckled, otherx groaned at Yewes' awful attempt at a joke.

"Stop poking me with that thing!" Dawlish whispered harshly. The smoke was beginning to clear, The ymust have put out the fire.

"What, cat got your tongue too?" Yewes smiled.

"This isn't even the appropriate time for that saying! That kid hit my throat with a reducto. He's got good aim." Dawlish hacked violently.

"What did he use," asked Kennedy, "to get you upside-down?"

"I think I know," said Sirius answered. He had used this spell before, with James. "Cunning little bastard, eh?"

The Aurors heads snapped towards the sound of a gasp. The boy.

"Hear that? He awake?" whispered Yewes, turning with her wand outstretched toward the boy.

A black haired Auror rushed over to him.

"Savage! You didn't stun him?" He knelt over the boy, looking him over. He looked back at the group and Savage grimaced. "Stupid mistake Savage. Stupefy."

He grabbed the wand from the boy and gave it to Sirius, "You get this back to Charlie then, okay?"

Sirius nodded and watched his friend put magical inhibiting handcuffs on the boy, ensuring that he could not escape. Sirius turned from the boy; he could not look at him.

"Right, well. Let's get to work –Savage, you should take a seat, you look horrible- I'll get you down Dawlish ol' boy, no worries. Everyone, stand back," Yewes and Savage stepped away from Dawlish, "Liberacorpus."

Dawlish fell to the ground face-first. He made an odd coughing sound before glaring at Sirius,"Gosh Black! Couldn't you have warned me?"

Sirius laughed, "Not a chance! Clever kid he must be using that spell."

Dawlish smiled sheepishly. "He almost had us, again. He's got some pretty nice moves…. For a – you know – kid. Criminal. Shadow. Whatever they call him these days. " Dawlish rubbed his throat.

Savage snorted form his position on the forest floor, "The boy thinks himself witty too."

Dawlish's laughter was joined by another's – Tonks'. Sirius couldn't help but feel he had missed some sort of joke.

"Finally arrived to help us then, Tonks?" Savage snapped.

Tonks, escorted by three Aurors, blushed and hid her head in her hands. "Don't be so moody, Savage. I can't believe I was taken out so early. I didn't even get to do anything!"

Sirius was barely able to keep his eyebrows form flying into his hairline. To take out Tonks so early was not an easy feat.

"We can chit-chat when we get back to the ministry!" Savage growled, as he always did. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"You two should side-along. We don't want you getting even more injured. Hughes, you bring that boy. "

The Aurors spun on their heels, the 3 D's coming to their minds, and apparated away.


Dawlish sighed as he leaned back against the crisp white sheets of the Health Ward. He was on strict orders to rest for a week and speak as little as possible. His throat ached and his cheek stung.

He glanced at the closed curtains to his right, where Savage talked to a medi-witch. He could only imagine the painful treatment Savage was receiving, his injuries were far worse. It was such a Gryffindor move to jump on the boy's broom like that.

Tonks had somehow managed to avoid anything more than a quick physical. He watched her slip out through the doors more than an hour ago, chatting seriously with Black about some sort of meeting and a message. Dawlish was certain he had never seen Black so somber.

Dawlish dared to look at the bed that was five down from his. He could see the steady rise and fall of the boy's stomach. Mustang had insisted that the boy be treated here, not at St Mungos or St Florence, the lesser-known wizarding hospital. He had felt unsafe at first, with the boy in the same wing as them. But now that he looked at him Dawlish felt a surge of pity. From here he would go to Azkaban, where he would be held until his trial.

The boy was strapped down to the bed – just in case – and surrounded by the most advanced wards. He was receiving Muggle treatment for his wounds – broken ribs, injured ankle, crushed wrist, concussion - as wands and potions were not allowed near him; it was too dangerous.