"BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!"

Zeph dropped his textbook with a start and sprinted like a shot upstairs to the common room. A red light was flashing ominously on the wall, and the sound was screaming out from it. Zeph gasped, and charged back down, where he began to issue his orders calmly. He was fourteen years old.

Since the oldest boys like Peter had left, Zeph had ended up as one of the leaders, he'd never quite worked out why, and now that Wolf was away recruiting for the Order of the Phoenix in Australia, they were on their own. He must be in charge and organize the others, or they'd be too late.
"You all know where to go," he said. The others listened to him seriously. "Take your wands. Storm, take the new ones, and go in small groups every thirty seconds. Run! Cub, Rocky and Willow go last. I'll go to HQ and find out what to do."

Zeph grabbed his wand from his desk as he passed, charging out towards the door, rapidly casting a Disillusionment charm on himself as he ran. As soon as he was out of the front door, and hopefully invisible, he transformed into a phoenix and 'CRACK' he was gone.

He reappeared with another flash a second or so later, outside another large house in a dark gloomy area of London. It looked a very unlikely place for the headquarters of an order of light wizards, fighting endlessly against the dark, but here goes.

He switched easily back to his normal form, removed his charm and pounded heavily on the door. It was opened a second later by a red haired woman who gaped mistrustfully at him. She had her wand out ready to attack him. He did look somewhat suspicious, he thought, with his naturally messy hair and scruffy clothes - as always when Wolf was away, general standards had dropped considerably.
"I'm a Lost Boy," he gasped. "The Death Eaters have been summoned!" She went pale, then at once controlled herself and was all business. She snatched a small statue off a shelf. She shut her eyes for a second, then told Zeph to take hold of it.

It was a portkey. He found himself in a large basement ringed with a single row of pegs, like his old school cloakroom. On these were hanging a number of long white robes.
"Quick! Listen!" the woman shouted above the general panicked chatter. The room fell silent at once. "Who's commander? Okay, who's the strongest wizard." There was a moment's silence.
"Zeph, Dumbledore said you were the commander, didn't he?" Cub asked.
"That's you?" she asked Zeph. He nodded. "Then start moving boy! We've not got much time." That helped him immensely. If she'd been kinder, he felt he'd probably have collapsed with nerves, but this stern tone steadied him and he was able to start.
"Angie, Trent and Brat, go over by that wall. You aren't fighting; you'd be killed in an instant. Help if you can while we get ready, then stay here!" he instructed promptly. The three youngest children went over to the wall.
"Good," the woman said, appreciating his speed. "We've got to intimidate them, else they'll never take heed of a bunch of kids, since they don't know your skills like I do. Dumbledore wants you as close to identical as possible, and spooky. White hair, white clothes and a white robe from the wall. You can all manage to do that? Good. Zeph, you need to take silver instead. Thaddeus Lupin, you're the metamorphmagus, aren't you?"
"Yes Mrs Weasley."
"Do white, but as identical to Zeph as possible. You two will be the ones they'll see the most clearly. Come on! Zeph, Harry doesn't know about you lot; work out how to tell him and Dumbledore who you are without You Know Who guessing it."

Zeph grabbed the one silver robe hanging by the door and pulled it hastily on. He glanced down at his clothes and muttered a single word to change their color.
"Aglens!" He then tapped his hair and it too shimmered silver. The woman, Mrs Weasley Cub had called her, was running around helping the others bleach themselves properly. He turned Cub white, then stood still to let him copy his features as accurately as possible. In no time at all, they were formed up in neat rows and standing on a silver cloth Mrs Weasley informed them was another portkey.

Zeph clutched his wand tightly as they were jerked out of the cellar to a new location. He looked around, his face thrown into shadow by his deep hood. They were in a field somewhere. On the far side, black robed figures were Apparating one by one. In the center of the field stood Voldemort himself. Facing him was Harry Potter, with Dumbledore standing closely behind him. Behind them were some adult wizards, supposedly from the Order, and Harry's two closest friends. It was a rather pitiful group compared to the solid ranks of Voldemort's Death Eaters.

Everyone was staring at Zeph and the Lost Boys, people on both sides looking equally fearful and confused. Zeph, standing alone at the front of the ranks flicked almost casually into his phoenix shape and his own side regarded him with a good deal less dismay and more desperate relief. At a whispered command from him, they flicked back their hoods and everyone stared at them even more.

Zeph gave them a moment to consider it, then marched slowly forwards, Cub pacing in time behind him. They knelt theatrically in front of Harry. It was only then that Zeph saw a number of prisoners, including Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, chained up in Voldemort's lines. It was not looking good.
"We are Dumbledore's Army, the Lost Boys and servants of thy will, Lord of the Light. I am the commander. I come to you on the West Wind, and we humbly await your divine command and stand ready to carry out your every bidding and slay for you those who dare to stand in your way."

Dumbledore's wrinkled face showed no signs of recognition, but when he saw that Harry was totally bewildered, he replied readily enough in the same archaic form.
"Fly on then, Zephyr, and dispose of our foes."

Zeph winked at Harry, who appeared speechless from the shock, and strode back to his own lines after an ironic bow to Voldemort. A few gestures with his wand and the battle began. The wizards of the Order ran to catch them up, their irretrievably hopeless position salvaged by a band of about twenty odd children.

Zeph squared off grimly against Lucius Malfoy, who he had been told often was regarded by many as Voldemort's second in command and the leader of the Death Eaters.
"Avada Kedavra!" the man shouted, pointing his wand at Zeph as a green bolt shot from it.

Zeph smiled negligently. The only way to defeat that curse, other than to have someone die to save you, was something now considered common knowledge among the Order. That was to love and be loved. Zeph had learned, with great difficulty, to love and honor his enemy to add some extra security, and he knew that the love and respect of his friends protected him too. Malfoy looked horror struck as Zeph laughed unfeelingly. With one swipe of his wand, Zeph swiftly disarmed him and sent a lightning bolt streaking through his heart. It was a quick and easy death, far more than Lucius Malfoy had granted any of his victims and Zeph felt no guilt at all at providing this fitting end to the Death Eater's life.

One by one, the Death Eaters were falling, through their own overconfidence and a great reluctance to break from the conventions of traditional duels, which the Lost Boys had long since discarded if they'd ever known the at all.

In the center of the field, Harry was fighting Voldemort, aided by Dumbledore's own energy pouring into him like wildfire. He was holding his own, but now more, and Zeph gasped as he stumbled.

Harry fell heavily. His wand snapped with a resounding CRACK! Zeph knew that it was all over now. Harry was staring at the shards of his broken wand unbelievingly. Suddenly Zeph knew what he could do to help him.
"Harry!" Zeph yelled, remembering Mr Ollivander's cryptic comments. Harry whirled with instincts honed on the Quidditch field, and caught the wand as Zeph plunged back into the fray, fighting on with wandless magic, something he'd only just begun to learn, and with his fists as Muggles had done for centuries.

Suddenly there was stillness, as five of the Lost Boys brought down the last Death Eater and Voldemort fell to the ground. Then Zeph watched, horror-struck, as Harry toppled slowly to the ground.
"NO!" Zeph screamed. They couldn't have won the war, only for Harry to die, could they?