WRATH

When Harry stepped through the door into the darkness, he fell, tripping on the first sandstone step that had come to him. But he didn't hit anymore stairs. He fell through the glittering blackness, passing out from the sudden fear and the disgusting swooping feeling in his stomach. When he woke up, he didn't know what to think.

He was on a large boat with several other young men. They were all wearing army gear and carrying guns, and Harry was shocked to see that he was too. The boat he was on was made of heavy steal and was plowing through the water at an incredible speed. Mist and water splashed on to Harry and the other boat crew as waves tossed and turned every which way, the black clouds above threatening a thunderstorm. Harry could see a beach in the distance lined with barbed wire, steel barricades, and bunkers.

A commanding officer was walking amongst the men, yelling orders into their ears and offering support.

"There will be no failure! We take the enemy this time! We will destroy everything in our path! We will find the Furies and kill them all!" screamed a large man from the front of the boat. "We will win! Nothing can stop us no---"

A bullet whizzed through the man's head, splattering blood and matter everywhere as he fell to the ground. Instantly all the men ducked down as bullets began to hit the sides of the ship and fly by overhead. Harry was terrified. He had never seen anything like this at all. In the sky, planes started to fly towards the beach, their engines drowning out all noise, except for another officer yelling orders at them as the boat ran ashore and stopped.

"Open the doors, good luck men!" he yelled. Harry looked to the front of the boat as it opened, the door falling to form a ramp on the beach. The men in front of him took two steps before a machinegun opened fire on them, cutting them in half. They began screaming in agony as more bullets hit the group. "Over the side!" yelled the officer.

Harry saw that men were launching themselves over the side of the boat and into the water in an attempt to get to the beach. He followed suit, narrowly missing bullet-fire as he fell into the cold dark water. Finding his footing, he kicked the sand and began to struggle to the beach. Bullets were hitting the water with loud whizzes and splashes, many narrowly missing Harry by near-inches. His gear was weighing him down but he was able to push himself out of the water and closer to the beach. He took refuge behind a large metal obstruction and tried to take in the scene.

It was absolute and complete chaos, unlike anything Harry had ever seen. The planes overhead were dogfighting, large rounds firing at each other. Some dropped bombs onto buildings in the distance and many were shot down, flaming missiles that arched toward the ground and crashed into bunkers. Machinegun fire and bullets from the opposing forces clanged against metal and hit the advancing troops that Harry had been a part of. Harry was trapped next to the structure and couldn't move. There were too many bullets, and Harry had no idea where to go or what to do!

Suddenly, a huge BOOM rang out near Harry and he instinctively ducked under the water. Coming back up, he saw that a plane had crashed near him, skidding and bouncing up onto the beach. Oily smoke poured from the husk it once was, and small fires lined the beach. Harry knew it was time to move, lest another plane fall on him. Bracing himself, he moved forward. Bullets whizzed by, striking the sand and dead bodies as Harry ran as hard as he could. He didn't want to fire his gun and didn't want to stop. All he had in his sights was a small trench dug out of the earth where other men were diving and covering themselves frantically.

Too focused on getting to the other side, Harry didn't see the man lying in front of him and tripped, falling head first into the sand. Harry rolled over as a spray of bullets shot at the spot where he was just lying and tried to get up. Something was caught on his leg and Harry tried as hard as he could to move, but he couldn't. Looking down he saw that it was the man who he had tripped over. His legs were missing and he was screaming out in agony.

But right then and there Harry felt a bullet tear through his shoulder, splitting his skin and sending a fine red mist of blood into the air. He stopped pulling at the man who was grabbing on to his leg and howled in agony. It felt like it was burning through him. Everything in Harry's being focused on the sharp pain in his shoulder. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Anger and hatred intensified inside Harry and he felt furious at everything before breathing in deeply and getting his bearings.

Harry found it in him to kick the man off of him and stumble away, heading towards the trench. He fell into it, feeling terrible. Nothing had ever hurt him like this before. It was making him breathe deep and drip with sweat. A man with a red cross painted on his helmet came up to him, pulling out a kit of medicine.

"Let me take a look at it!" he yelled over the din of the battle.

"What's going on?!" Harry cringed as the man ripped his uniform open and applied pressure to the wound.

"You're a new guy? Damn, you unlucky prick!"

"Why? What is this?" asked Harry again. The pain in his shoulder was excruiating but it was beginning to fade. It was transferring into annoyance and Harry wished he had never taken this strange trip. He felt like the whole wizarding world should rot, that they could all just die and that everything that happened to them was their own fault, but something deep down inside of him knew this was the right thing to do. That something eased his wound, made it twinge with relief for just a moment.

"We get out of here if we kill the Furies!" the medic yelled.

"What are you...?!" Harry started to call out, but a loud screech interrupted him. Looking to the sky, Harry knew exactly what the man was talking about.

There were four very large birds converging on the battle. Harry could only compare them to birds because they flew; he had no other frame of reference for the hideous monstrosities in front of him. Their veins glowed like molten lava and the strange substance poured out of them, sizzling and boiling the ground and water below like acid. Tight, black, leathery skin folded over expansive wingspans and broad, muscular arms. Their hands and feet had razor-sharp talons and were lined with defensive spikes. Their faces were ghastly: mouths twisted and stuck in a constant scream, distorted and elongated like a funhouse mirror. Harry knew, in that moment, at the sight of these terrible beings, that he was definitely and without a doubt in Hell.

With the appearance of the Furies, the whole battle changed. Everyone, even the people who were shooting at Harry, had turned their attention on the beasts. Planes in the air started firing everything they had, as did the soldiers. The air exploded around the Furies, and Harry could see that they were getting hit with the artillery, even if it didn't seem to be making any difference. All Harry could do was stare as three creatures dove towards the beach. One of them stayed in the air, mercilessly latching itself on to a plane and tearing it apart with its mouth and talons. When the pilot ejected, the bird effortlessly grabbed the man and began to tear at him, limb from limb.

The three that came to the beach were even more destructive. They flew low to the ground, slamming into people, bowling them over like dominoes. Their teeth and claws bit and scratched at everyone. Their hands grabbed at men and threw them high in the air like ragdolls. They would scream all the way down, until they hit the ground with thuds like tumbling rocks.

Harry and the medic ducked low in the trench as one of the Furies flew overhead, the harsh sound of its screams and the deep beating of its wings putting a strong fear in Harry.

"Come on!" Harry yelled. With his good arm, he grabbed the medic and the two began to crawl like insects in the trench. From feet in front of Harry, a soldier fired a rocket straight at the nearest Fury. It grabbed the rocket with it's claws and held on to it as it hissed and shuddered. The Fury aimed the rocket at one of the bunkers and let it go, sending the artillery straight through a window and into the building. Rubble and ash exploded outwards, covering Harry and the medic. Spluttering and coughing the two climbed out of the trench and towards the freshly bombed out building.

"What are you doing!?" screamed the reluctant medic. Harry didn't answer because he didn't know. They just needed to get some cover away from the noise and the terror. Finding a corner in the burnt out building next to a blackened corpse and some broken weapons, Harry slumped against the room's wall and tried to will the pain in his shoulder away. The medic faced him.

"What do I have to do to get out of here?" asked Harry. The medic looked incredulous.

"You're kidding, right?" Harry grabbed the man's collar and brought him face to face.

"I'm not! Tell me now!"

"Kill one of the Furies. Get a free pass!" said the medic. Harry looked back at the man.

"How many people have killed them?" he asked. The medic shook his head.

"No one yet. I've been here...I don't know how long." And with that there was a loud crash on the ceiling. Harry and the other man crouched down and became silent, looking up. There was a loud thud, and dust from the concrete rained down. One of the Furies was walking on the bunker's ceiling! Harry held his breath and tried his hardest to stay silent as another footstep echoed across the roof. He saw out of the corner of his eye that the medic had crawled away towards the weapon store and had picked up a rocket launcher. He was turning to point it at the roof.

"No!" Harry whispered. The medic looked at Harry, something violent and terrible in his eyes, an anger Harry had never seen before. Harry shook his head frantically. "Don't do it! Don't do it! Please!"

The medic fired the rocket into the ceiling, and with a loud bang and concrete collapsing into the bunker, the roof caved in. Harry leapt onto his stomach into the corner of the room, avoiding the burst of wood and concrete. Looking up into the gray sky, he saw that the beast was flapping its wings and hovering over them. Suddenly, it lashed out and swiped at the medic, who was looking a little shellshocked from the explosion.

Tumbling back, with blood and guts flowing from his stomach, the medic fell back onto the ground and tried to move away, but it was too late. The Fury - quite possibly the largest out of the four Harry had seen - landed in the room and grabbed the medic's head. Crushing it easily in his talons, the medic was no more.

Harry had no time to lose and acted as impulsively as he could. Quickly and quietly grabbing a sharp, splintered piece of wood, Harry ran towards the Fury and leapt at it. Landing on its back and ignoring all the pain in his shoulder and in his body, Harry stabbed the creature in its neck, feeling the wood dig through the muscle and hit the spine. The creature yelled in agony, raising its head and howling. It began to thrash around in the building and Harry held on for dear life. It stumbled and fell on the rubble and slumped against the wall, almost crushing Harry between it and the concrete.

Without warning, the Fury leapt towards another wall of the bunker and crashed through, stumbling and falling down the turf in front of it. It looked violent and furious, hopping awkwardly and trying to find a strong foothold. When it couldn't, it spread its wings and began to take off, much to Harry's fear and chagrin.

The beast began to fly as high as it could, and Harry dug his makeshift spear in even deeper, forcing himself to hold on to it even more. As the wind blew around him, Harry could feel the molten-lava blood the creatures were made of was beginning to spill onto the creature's back, pouring over Harry's hands and arms, burning him like nothing else. Harry grit his teeth and just dug in deeper, feeling the anger and the putrid hatred he had for the Furies begin to build in his chest.

"Come on! Show me what you've got!" he yelled into the ear of the Fury as it climbed ever higher. Harry looked out to the horizon, having an almost three-sixty-degree view of Hell as the vertical climb continued. What Harry saw made him gasp.

As far as he could see, almost endlessly into the horizon, was one large war. Explosions were everywhere. Mushroom clouds dotted the neverending landscape and the smoke and fire of artillery was ever-present. Harry could see millions of planes and bombers zipping through the air, battleships in the water, and enormous killing machines everywhere. There were endless Furies bashing the landscape. Before Harry could comprehend the bottomless anger presented in front of him, the Fury levelled out, and began to dive towards a mountainscape in front of them.

Harry held on even harder than before as drops and mist of the creatures blood flew into him, blinding his eyes and burning his face. He could feel his feet lift up behind him as he held on to the piece of wood, and knew that he was just hanging on by his arms now. Through his blurred vision, Harry could see the mountain in front of him, and braced for impact.

The Fury hit the ground hard and tumbled. Harry let go and rolled over the ground without caution. Stopping on the side of the mountain, Harry got to his feet with a slight struggle and looked at the pitiful creature in front of him. It was still shaken and was thrashing around, but it was slower, more deliberate. It's breathing was labored, and it looked like it was calming down. Like it was dying. It slumped to the ground, barely keeping itself up. Turning towards Harry, it stopped moaning and screeching. The eyelids became half-closed as it looked over Harry with disdain. Harry daren't move at all.

And without warning the creature opened its mouth and spat hot molten blood at Harry. It rushed towards him with great force and all Harry could do was to shield his face with his arm before it completely covered him.