Birthday Surprises Chapter 71

Usual disclaimer:  Not mine, don't sue.  Please.  Wish it were mine though.  Ah, if only…  Lolly, xxx.

Dumbledore, Lupin, Snape, Flitwick, Sinistra and Sprout arrived in Hogsmeade to find large-scale destruction.  There was no sign of anyone – not even a Deatheater.  They walked cautiously further into the village, appalled to see just how badly damaged the town was.  The first people they came across were unconscious Deatheaters, guarded by a few of Hogsmeade's residents.  "Have you seen Harry Potter?"  The headmaster asked. 

"Oh yes sir – he went that way."  One of them said, pointing forward.

"Thank you." 

"I don't suppose you'll know when the Aurors are due to arrive?  Only I can't say I'm too keen to be standing here all day guarding these twits." 

"The Aurors aren't here yet?"  Remus asked in horror.

"Nope.  At the moment it's just that Harry Potter and some of the village folk that are fighting."

"What's taking them so long?"  Snape snapped angrily.  Remus' fury was beyond words – the Ministry of Magic was leaving the fighting to a seventeen-year-old boy and a group of untrained, inexperienced village inhabitants. 

"I wish I knew, Severus.  I can only imagine that they're hoping Harry will take care of it himself."  Albus said, his blue eyes glittering dangerously. 

"Come on, at least we can help."  Professor Sprout said soothingly, inwardly cursing the Minister of Magic.  They all walked on, their pace increasing slightly with urgency.  None of them knew just how well Harry knew how to battle. 

***

Harry spotted the six Professors heading towards the battle and nodded to them.  They all looked extremely surprised, to say the least, that he wasn't having any major problems with the Deatheaters.  They came to stop behind him, all of them shooting different spells at the Deatheater that Harry had been fighting. 

"Go over there on the left."  Harry said, pointing to a group of people that seemed to be having a few problems, namely that the Deatheaters were winning their little battle.

"Would it not be better to spread out?"  Professor Sinistra asked.

"No, because I'm doing fine and the people over to the right are doing fine.  The people on the left are about to get killed if they're not careful.  Now go."  

"And who put you in charge?"  Snape sneered half-heartedly.

"Any better ideas, Professor?  I'm willing to hear them, but until then, I'm in charge."

"Perhaps Albus should be in charge."  Professor Sprout suggested timidly.

"Granddad?  It's up to you."  Harry said, throwing a stunner over his shoulder to stop a Deatheater that was approaching.  He held a sword out to Dumbledore, who was busy studying his grandson's determined face.

"No."  He said softly.  "Come on, you heard the man."  He and the others went over to help the others while Harry continued to battle any Deatheaters that were foolish enough to take him on personally.  They didn't succeed in overpowering him in groups either.  Equipped with a wand in one hand, and Gryffindor's sword in the other, Harry was a formidable opponent, and after a while, the Deatheaters drew the conclusion that there was no way that even in small groups they could overcome him.  So they joined together a group of around thirty Deatheaters, keeping the others busy while they were at it.  Harry smirked at them.

"All this trouble for little old me.  My, don't I feel privileged."  He mocked.

"Don't get above yourself, Potty, this will be the last night of your life."

"I wouldn't bet on it.  And name calling?  How juvenile of you."  The Deatheaters, as a group, moved forward, murmuring angrily.  Harry stood his ground, watching them with an amused expression on his face, on eyebrow raised.  "Hmm.  Now this is going to be fun."  He murmured, his eyes glittering dangerously.  The Deatheaters looked at each other nervously – they had never seen Harry so confident before, and it unnerved them.  He was supposed to be scared.  He wasn't supposed to be the leader of the group. 

"Only for us, Potter, only for us."  One of them answered.  Harry just smiled.

"Let the games begin then."  He replied, pointing both his wand and his sword.

"Avada Kedavra!"  Someone yelled.  There was a lot of angry hissing, leading Harry to believe that Voldemort wanted him alive.  He brought the blade of the sword up and deflected the green light.  It hit one of the Deatheaters at the front. 

"Tut tut.  Trying to kill me before Voldemort has a go."  Harry said, his heart turning to stone.  There was no room for a conscience now.  Conscience would come later, but the Deatheater was dead from the hand of his own side.  That would be one death that didn't weigh on his mind.  "Any one else want a free shot?  You have five…four…three…two…"

"Cruciatus!"

"One."  Harry said, dodging the curse.  "No one then?  Oh well, game time."  Without another word, Harry began flicking curses everywhere, using a bizarre combination that kept each of his opponents guessing.  He wouldn't kill any of them – not unless he really had to – but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to give them hell.

***

The other Deatheaters weren't getting on terribly well either.  Still, they managed to kill two of the villagers that had followed Harry, and had begun to fling around the killing curse.  Harry was getting more and more annoyed as the time passed.  It certainly seemed like Voldemort was playing with him, and Harry didn't like the game.  He called over to the others to come over.

"Right.  Let's change the game plan, shall we?"  Harry announced quietly.