A new kind of war. I got the picture in my head and knew I had to write it.
I own nothing, the characters are JKR's, the inspiration is Sushi's, the plot is mine and the lyrics are Iron Maiden's.
Stephen Weasley (see 'Farewell') makes an appearance.
Wash away the Dawn
When it all comes down the line
And the lights they turn to greed
And you race off with your tyres screaming
Rolling thunder
And the people choke with poison
Children cry in fear
But you've got your fast bullet
One way ticket outta here
-Iron Maiden, Public enema number one.
Harry crouched down behind the wreck of the car, it was little more than a burnt out husk, at some unknown time in it's past the fuel had ignited and it had exploded into flames, but it would do.
He couldn't let them see him.
Thunder rolled and lighting filled the smoke-blackened sky, it had been raining incessantly for the past few days and the cracked, blasted concrete did nothing to stop the rising mud.
The sun would be rising in a few minutes, although no one would be able to tell the difference with the clouds and smog.
The city reminded Harry of pictures he had seen of London after the Blitz, ruined and burnt down, rubble clogging streets like clots in an artery.
The distant explosions, screams and crashed did little to dispel the image.
It was not the screams so much as the sound of running feet that had caused Harry to seek shelter behind the ruined BMW, that and the flashes of light which kept getting closer.
It had been two years since the muggles had discovered the wizarding world.
One year, eight months since they had declared war of the wizarding world.
One year, four months since the Ministry had been betrayed from the inside and annihilated.
One year, three months since Hogwarts had closed under the muggle threat.
One year since he, Ron, Hermione, their parents and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, those who had survived, had gone into hiding in Grimmauld place.
He'd barely been out since.
The war, from what he could gather from the fragmented news they'd received, was being fought, not by the best fighters in the wizarding world, but by the best killers.
The Death Eaters.
The Aurors were good fighters, but they were Dark wizard hunters, not muggle killers, they'd never been trained for anything like this.
The Death Eaters had stopped their attack on the wizarding world the moment war had been declared, and turned full force on the muggles.
With a crash and screaming curses, the runners and their pursuers raced into the alley where Harry was hiding.
The runners were three members of the Muggle military, their uniforms so torn Harry couldn't make out the regiment.
The pursuers were Death Eaters.
There were five of them, they all still wore their masks and remained anonymous.
They were screaming in rage and bloodlust, blasting the muggles with curses at every chance. The muggle men were trying to get a clear shot with their rifles without staying still enough to for the wizards to curse them.
One of the masked Death Eaters, who had lost his wand, drew a long, thin bladed knife and flew at one of the men, who raised the butt of his rifle to defend himself.
One of the muggles went down, hit by Avada Kedavra, the other raised his rifle and got on of his attackers, the bullet scouring his shoulder and knocking him down.
The soldier fighting the knife-wielder landed two punches on his opponent before the knife slashed open the back of his had, severing tendons and forcing him to drop his rifle. Lighting flashed again, illuminating the bloodstained steel and the muggle staggered back and the Death Eater slashed with the blade, gutting the man.
The small alley was suddenly filled with the charnel house of blood and excrement. The soldier's horrified shrieks of agony resonated deafeningly as he collapsed on his knees in the filthy mud, blood staining the rainwater red, entrails splattering in the gutter.
The last soldier had his back against the wall opposite Harry, firing his rifle at every opportunity at the Death Eaters. One bullet clipped the side of the car where Harry was hiding.
"Crucio!"
Howls of agony.
"Crucio!"
Harry clapped his hands to his ears to keep out the ear-piercing noise.
"Crucio!"
The soldier flailed about in the mud and rain, limbs twitching and spasming uncontrollably.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The screams ceased, the alley silent save for the splash of raindrops and the moans of the still-living muggle.
There was a laugh from one of the Death Eaters, and a soft thwack as one of them kicked the dying man.
"Filth." The wizard's throat was hoarse from howling curses.
"You will never win this, muggle," He address the soldier, "Lord Voldemort will have this war and your kind with be destroyed like the vermin you are."
"Finish it Stephan." Another spoke up, voice tired.
"All right Avery, Avada Kedavra."
The moans ceased and there was five loud pops as the Death Eaters disapperated.
Harry shuddered, wet through and freezing. He'd been sent out to make contact with one of the few who was both 'outside' and on their side, Snape.
Still no sign of him.
Sometimes Harry wondered why McGonagall tried, with Dumbledore dead in the Ministry attack, there really didn't seem to be much hope. Even if the wizards won the war (which seemed very likely), Voldemort wouldn't have to fight for the wizarding world, it would be handed to him on a silver platter.
And if you were someone like Harry, you were dead either way.
Harry stepped out from behind the destroyed car, avoiding the bodies lying broken on the road, before sitting down on the kerb, he'd better wait for a few more minutes for Snape to turn up, useless as it may seem.
Another scream rent the air, evidence of the city war taking place only a few streets away.
The rain came down in sheets, washing away the blood of the corpses.
Washing away the dawn.
Nasty, nasty, nasty...-laughter-
Skull Bearer.