All That's Left: Chapter 5

Sweet Revenge

George looked above him. Fifty Dark Flyers rode above him. How could he attack them all at once? He was, for the first time in years, scared for his life, scared for Fred's life. Where did Fred land? Is Fred hurt? Is Fred safe? All these questions kept going through his head and he had no way of knowing the answers, and he hated that fact. Fred could be dead for all he knew, and what could he do, but ride under fifty wizards that live to kill, who live to die. They would take their own lives to fight for the Dark Lord. They often would perform suicide attacks on Dumbledore's armies, diving into them with swords, and explosives. Hatred filled their bodies. Those that were once good were now poisoned by the Dark Lord's powers. Those that were once the best Quidditch players on the earth, now used their broom skills to serve the one wanted to destroy the earth in which the played on, and they went along with everything. They would do what they were told, and many times, achieve. Their souls were now poisoned and black. There was not but a shrivel of love in their bodied. They hated each other, they hated everyone except the one in which they served. They wore black robes, with silver shoulder armor, and a black helmet with a slot for the eyes and silver horns coming out of the top, with razor sharp tips. They gave the appearance of black and silver demons. The wore silver and black chain-male, caried swords in their scabbards, and wore a utility belt with small explosives attached. They carried daggars, and poison fluid which they poared from the air to burn the below's skin, and send them to their painful death's. They were heartless, and George had to take them on, all alone, without the slightest bit of aid. George thought and thought, but nothing came to his mind. Until George remembered something he'd picked up on, in the time he co-owned the shop in Diagon Alley. A round-about attack, a circle, that acheives a huge beam with the spell, rather than a small spark spout. George circled under the enemies quietly, drawing a red circle under them. George flew lower, held up his wand, and screamed and inncantation. "CIRVEUS STUPEFY!" he screamed, and red light beams came from his wand, connecting to each part of the circle, and a huge beam shot up at the Dark Flyers, knocking all but four off their brooms, to fend for themselves, broken on the ground, as Fred would have to do. George drew his sword, and began to fight the four that were left. He stabbed, he jabbed, he sliced, and he killed. There was one left. One who seemed stronger than all the others. One who could hold his own against many, let alone one. George stared at him, and he stared back. "I guess it's just you and me now," George growled. The large Dark Flyer nodded. George saw his hand moving toward a switch at the front of his broom. The Dark Flyer pressed it, and the front of the broom spilntered away, and coming out of it, was a spear. George saw another switch, and the Dark Flyer pressed it before George could stop him. Twenty smaller spikes came out of the tip of the spear. George flew toward him, and got a slice at the Dark Flyer's chest. He heard the Dark Flyer groan in pain, and his eyes became angry. He flew towards George with the spear and the spikes. George ducked under the broom, and chopped at the spear, and the spear fell from the broom. The Dark Flyer began to loose balance without a front to his broom, and George took advantage of that. George flew up at him, and slashed at him, again and again. George took his sword, and stabbed him in the chest. The Dark Flyer then ran the back of his armored hand across George's face, bloodying Georges nose and lip. George couldn't breathe anymore. He saw the Dark Flyer and him self in the air, bleeding, George from the face, the flyer from the chest. George lunged at him, and circled him. He held out his sword, and sliced the neck of the Dark Flyer. He saw the Dark Flyer struggling for life, and for breath. George wanted him gone. George cut the head from the Dark Flyer's neck and watched him fall. He had gotten his Sweet Revenge.