3
Harry wanted nothing more than to go back into that hospital bed, curl up, and go to sleep, but he had felt Voldemort and knew that he was close. That was why he was currently dressing back up in the cloths that he had gotten to the hospital in. Dragon hide boots, pants, and shirt, basilisk armor, a belt that carried most potions that he would ever need on the battle field and after, and a manticore vest that was apsolutely covered in pockets containing healing potions vertatsium, crutatious relief, blinding dust, metal corroding potions (for getting our of jail cells), and fairy dust (guaranteed to make you fly with just one happy thought). Also attached to the vest was a dagger, some throwing stars and knives, and a spoon. He loved to see the faces of the death eaters when they realized that he was going to attack them with a spoon, and then again after they realized that he was going to win the confrontation with the spoon. Apso-bloody-lutely hilarious.
It took Harry less than a minute to dress completely and do a weapons check (with the aid of magic) and then he was hurtling down the hallway almost running into a nurse on his way out of his room. "Sir, you need to get back in bed!"
Harry did not even pause in his stride, instead he called over his shoulder, "Voldemort is on his way here!" Well at least that seems to have given her a start. Everybody knows that he is dead and then here I go blathering about the dark lord being back. Heh. Hope nobody shoots me for being insane. For all of the advancement of wizards in comparison to muggles, they still had no equivalent to the elevator. At least this staircase appears to go down the whole way. Three more floors to go. Two. One. Harry burst into the main lobby frightening everybody in there with the expression on his face. It looked like he was about to murder someone. Before anyone could aim their wands he was out of the lobby. Several wizards followed him out trying to save society from this obviously insane man.
"Avada Kedavra!" a green light, then a boy across the street from Harry fell down, his face a mask of surprise. Yells. Screams. It was starting all over. Harry kicked into action.
"Furnunculus." He whispered as he wove other spells through his fingers, keeping up a steady stream of minor curses and hexes. He was actually better without his wand, but considering that wandless magic is supposedly only used by the most powerful (and therefore evil in most peoples eyes), he tried to keep up the guise of only using his wand. The Unforgivables were being thrown about like candy and it looked like he was the only one to be using minor curses and hexes. The Unforgivables and other such spells might take out an opponent on the first spell, but they took too long to cast and way too much magic. His minor spells, if used wisely, could do the same damage except more widespread. He caught one man with a slashing curse across the throat, another with boils in his eyes, causing the man fall to the ground trying to claw his own eyes out.
All of the dark wizards had now turned from their pointless torture and killing spree towards the only apparent threat, who seemed to be having no problem at all not only keeping thirteen of their brothers back, but also taking out four of them with a simple wingardium leviosa. Damn, they were going to wake up with major headaches.
"Run!" Why can't I ever be around people with any sense? Why does everybody always seem to just sit there and stare in horror like they have never seen blood. These days, who hasn't? As if a spell had been broken, people scattered in all directions looking for decent cover. Several men ran up to the town center and pulled on the long chain that hung to a memorial. Sirens went off and Harry felt a jolt of magic flow through him. Incredible. An alarm system. Imagine how many lives we could have saved with this.
At the sound of the sirens, the death eaters tried to apparate out, only to find hastily erected anti-apparation wards. When they tried to run, a large brick wall was erected on three sides of them. The only way out was through the demon man that had single-handedly taken out almost half of their raiding party. Nervously they gestured to themselves, trying to keep an eye on the relaxed stance of the demon. All of them then quickly pointed their wands at him and in unison, "Crucio!" The demons eyes widened comically.
4
Harry dodged and twisted, avoiding being hit by all but two. His body buzzed with pain which he quickly swallowed. Even two of these are less than one of Voldemorts. That is just pathetic. Ignoring the pain that was telling his body to curl up and scream, he launched himself at the death eaters sending off curses in a frenzy that would hit soft spots, like the throat, eyes, or major arteries. Four were taken out of the running before he could even reach them with his sword and dagger.
Harry slashed and hacked, twisting, jumping, and rolling instinctively out of the way of any magic, letting it flow around him. To his rear, he sensed a troupe of wizards. Damnit. The spells were significantly lighter so Harry kept his back to them and kept slashing at the death eaters in front of him. "Light!" Harry heard someone shout before suddenly he was practically punched off his feet by the force of some magic. Quickly he regained balance and tried to blink away the brightness that had blinded him. He could not see, but that did not mean that he was defenseless. Voldemort had, albeit unknowingly, taught Harry to operate just as well without his sight when he had locked him in the dungeons of the Riddle Manor. He had also spent countless hours blindfolded in the forest fighting off mock ambushes. This was just like all the practices that he had had, except he knew that one wrong move here could result in him being killed. While the other wizards were lashing out randomly, trying to kill him with pure luck Harry knew that he had to act quickly. These wizards were almost more dangerous blind than they were with sight because they did not choreograph their moves, instead they picked a random direction and fired off a killing curse. He quickly took out the last two with a well placed slashing hex and a stunner, then turned to the wizards behind him and raised his wand in a defensive manner. No need to make them think that he was about to attack them. Harry tried blinking to clear them, but he could not even make out shadows. Some of their magical signatures however were familiar. Dumbledore, Tonks, Remus, and Shacklebolt. Those he did not worry about. The ones that Harry worried about were the dozen or so that he could not identify. His face, after so many years of training, reflected none of his nervousness. "Albus, my mind is my own." Harry felt Dumbledore's magical signature retreat from his mind as if slapped. He could just imagine Albus' face; it would have flashed surprise for a brief second then be covered up in that damned small smile and twinkling eye. If you blinked, you would have missed it… or if you were currently blind…