The two young men sprinted out of the room, down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the front yard of the Burrow, still hearing the oblivious crowd on the other side of the building. They stopped beside Fred, who looked scared, but who was keeping a stiff upper lip, and Lee, who looked infinitely relaxed. His cigar was blazing on the grass beside his feet, and he was still allowing the smoke to drift out of his mouth and into the air. Not a word was spoken between the four, they simply stood and waited.

After five minutes, Harry became inpatient, desperate as he was for his enemies to appear.

"Lee," he asked, "Where the fuck are they? Shouldn't they be here by now?" He spoke calmly, though his eyes never ceased in their movement.

"Well they can't apparate, can they," began Fred slowly, "We've got a similar charm on here as they've got on Hogwarts."

"That'll change fings," said Lee, "'Cause that means they'll be comin' in by broomstick, won't they? No way they'd fuckin' risk an unauforized Port Key. And the Floo Network's well controlled, innit?"

"Yeah," responded Harry, "Yeah, it'll be broomsticks."

And as though at Harry's command, several cloaked figures appeared high in the sky on the horizon, rapidly closing in on where they were standing.

"Steady yourselves mates.", said Harry.

A spell of a violent red colour screamed between Harry and Fred, landing on the grass behind them and igniting a large fire. Harry raised the gun in his left hand and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet up to the group of Death Eaters, and knocking one off of it's broom in a shower of crimson. The sight of one of their own dead on the ground fifty feet below them had a serious affect on the Death Eaters. They unleashed spell after spell, each one seeming more and more dangerous as it connected with the ground or house around the boys, who had sprinted to the bits of debris around the yard for protection. They drew their wands, and fired a constant stream of bullets and curses towards the dark figures above them. Harry could here Lee Jordan screaming at the sky, the maniacal tone of his voice having a chilling affect on the scene.

Luckily for Harry, Lee, and the twins, the Death Eaters above them had a great deal less cover than they, and soon the original eight who were flying towards them were sliced down to three. The boys ran out from behind their cover as one of them landed on the road in front, and discarded his broom, sprinting towards the house, his wand a constant blaze of green. The other two, it seemed, were flying far two fast to land, but soon displayed their plans, as they each flew through a window in the upper reaches of the house.

Lee and Harry looked at each other, and Harry nodded. Lee sprinted to the front door, his dreadlocks trailing behind his head. Harry turned to the one Death Eater in the front yard who was, in typical fashion, surrendering to Fred and George as he realized he was outnumbered.

"You got it under control lads?" screamed Harry.

"He ain't going fuckin' no where, Harry!" George responded.

Harry nodded again, and ran towards the door. Fred and George had done very well, suffering only a few cuts each. Harry himself was untouched, and Lee had sustained no injury except a small gash on his left hand. It had, thus far been a much easier battle than he had anticipated. The house was quiet when Harry entered it, and he climbed the stairs rapidly, but silently, until he reached Lee crouching on a landing.

"I got one of the fuckers, 'Arry," whispered Lee, "Body Bindin' curse. Be'ind me."

Harry peaked in the room behind Lee, which was filled to overflowing with suitcases and trunks, and was occupied by one Death Eater, laying completely immobile on the ground. The light from the window reflected in his eyes. He was crying.

"Lee," hissed Harry, "What have you said to him?"

"Nuffink, fuck. What the fuck would I say?"

"Well he's fuckin' cryin'."

"'Ow's it my fault 'ee's a fuckin' coward 'Arry?" His voice was rising slightly.

"It's not, it's not," said Harry, trying to calm him down, "Just I didn't expect it that's all. Listen I'm going to go get the last one. He's up higher isn't he?" Lee nodded. "Good," Harry continued, "Don't do anything stupid."

And with that he continued up the stairs, more slowly this time.

Each room was empty on Harry's way up, which meant, that the last Death Eater would be taking cover in his room, at the top of the building. Harry checked the ammunition in his guns; he had barely used any. Beside his door, he paused to listen. Heavy breathing, and the occasional grunt of pain could be heard; it sounded as though the Death Eater had injured himself flying through the window. On the floor between Harry's room and the one directly across the hall, the room through which the man had gained access to the house, blood was glistening darkly, sometimes accentuated by the flicker of glass. An exceptionally loud grunt came from the room, and Harry spun. The floor was thick with blood, and the man leaning against the wall looked like an overgrown pincushion stuffed with jagged diamonds. He did not hear Harry enter, focused as he was on pulling himself up to window ledge. He withdrew his wand as he peered out. With a jolt, Harry remembered the wedding, still carrying on below.

"Oi!" he screamed, hoping to direct the man's attention.

Without paying any heed to Harry's yell, the man muttered something, and a flash of green shot from his wand, raining down upon the congregation. It was the last word he would ever speak, as a bullet entered the back of his skull with a quiet crunch, and he slumped against the frame.

"Fucker..." spat Harry, and he turned to leave.

But as he took his first step, a scream erupted from the garden below him. And another. And then the sound of machine gun fire. Harry streaked to the window, screaming in anguish with what he saw. The Death Eaters that had flown in from the front of the house had been a diversion, nothing else. In the field behind the Burrow stood at least fifteen more, each one with a machine gun; each one firing round after round into the crowd at the marriage. At least twenty members of the party were already dead, lying in the green grass in their suits and dress robes, blood streaming from wounds through out their bodies. In one stride, Harry reached his trunk and grabbed his broomstick, and then jumped form the window, slinging it between his legs as he fell. He streaked over the carnage beneath him and fired shot after shot at the Death Eaters, taking down three in his first sweep, before turning round to double back. He let loose another shot, ripping through the cloak of one of the hooded figures, embedding the bullet in his right eye, and then aiming again. Before he could fire another shot, though, a machine gun bullet caught his left shoulder, and he slipped of his broom, falling twenty feet into the field behind the weeding ceremony. Gunshots zipped past his nose as he lay on his back, concealed by the tall grass. At the first pause, he fired back blindly, rewarded with yet another scream of agony. More bullets pounded the ground around him, and he was grazed by at least three shots in the stomach before one landed firmly in his right calf. The pain exploded inside his head, and it was all he could do to refrain from releasing a blood curdling scream.

"Fuck it, he's dead!" yelled a voice from the yard of the burrow, and the bullets around him stopped, although the noise carried on.

Harry forced himself to sit up, eternal darkness swimming before his eyes. The fight was still raging; the Death Eaters, of which there were only four left, had formed a tight semicircle, all with their backs to him. They continued to let their guns blaze into the yard, although their were few witches and wizards left to be seen.

Fleur's father was working with Arthur Weasley, peeking around a small shed, firing curse after curse towards the assailants.

Three different groups of younger Weasleys were hiding behind different benches and chairs, as were two groups of Delacouers.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as different Ministry officials were darting between trees in the yard, each of them firing curses and conjuring temporary shields.

Fred and George came running around the garage, both of them firing their guns with fury. George dived behind a overturned table, while Fred simply stepped into the open, and carefully aimed before firing and hitting a Death Eater in the face, felling him. He was not quick enough to join his brother behind the table though, and was hit with a shot to the chest, which dropped him immediately.

Seeing his son fall, Mr.Weasley dodged out from behind the shed and screamed a curse viciously, hitting and knocking out a Death Eater. The final two, a man and a woman, finally seemed to realize that their luck had run out. They turned to retreat, outnumbered at least ten to one, and ran back towards Harry, to where they had undoubtedly left their broomsticks. Ignoring all pain except that in his heart, Harry stood up abruptly, staring without expression at his remaining opponents.

Richard, the young Weasley who had tread on Cecil's face several days earlier, felled the man with a very strong curse, while the woman stood, watching Harry with open and unflattering terror upon her face. Harry deliberately raised his gun and unleashed three bullets, hitting her in the mouth, neck and eye. No scream escaped her lips as she was knocked backwards by the shots.

Harry passed quickly into unconsciousness, the petrified eyes of the dead woman glaring at him as the darkness overwhelmed him.