Harry Potter characters do not belong to me but to J.K. Rowling.
In Terms of a Name
Privet Drive was silent and dark; the street lamps had long since been extinguished with a small silver Putter-Outer to avoid Ministry intervention about magic use in the area. The Order of the Phoenix member Elphias Doge, current guard of Privet Drive had been roped, gagged, and clubbed to death. Wards were then placed to both ensure magic would not be detected by the magical government and disable the wards protecting their target. The plan was to ambush the summer abode of the entering-Sixth Year "Boy-Who-Lived", Harry Potter. The black-clad group of seven cautiously approached a rather boringly normal home, Number Four, Privet Drive. The lights within the house were off. A muttered, "Alohomora," unlocked the front door.
Their orders were simple: kill the boy and his relatives. After this first task was accomplished, they were allowed free reign to torture, maim, and kill as many Muggles as they liked in Little Whinging, so long as Morsmordre was cast into the sky directly above that dratted Potter's future ex-home when they were finished.
Upon entering they eyed the neat foyer that led to the living room and kitchen. With a swift hand gesture, the leader motioned for them to go up the somewhat-creaking stairs to where the bedrooms were located. Once up the stairs, they separated into groups of twos and a three and headed for the sleeping quarters of the house's inhabitants. Quietly opened doors hissed, "Avada Kadavra!" and were briefly illuminated with brilliant green light. The Dursleys were no more. The last door at the end of the hall, they now knew, housed the Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die.
Malicious grins were etched identically onto each of their faces beneath their skeletal white masks. They gathered before the only door in the house with a combination lock on the doorknob. Another whispered, "Alohomora," and the lock was quietly plucked off.
There was a feeling of wrongness in the air that had disturbed him from his fitful sleep. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and reached for his glasses and wand on his nightstand. Although his trunk and all other magic-related possessions were locked in the cupboard beneath the stairs, he had kept his wand on his person. He was never so glad of that decision as he was now. The street lamps were off—as opposed to usually filtering into his room through the window. His snowy owl softly hooted her discomfort and flew to her owner, landing on the bed beside a discarded The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
A series of creaks indicated that a number of people were coming up the stairs. Tensing, he quietly told his owl to leave for the safety that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry provided. The owl's intelligent tawny eyes locked with his, and an unspoken wish to be safe was passed between them. Opening his window, he watched as his familiar disappeared into the night.
He turned sharply and crouched near the window as his doorknob jingled, signaling the removal of the lock. His door slid slightly open. A wand pointed through the small opening and Harry shielded his eyes as a small hiss sounded right before a bright viridian light exploded from his bed. The door fully opened to reveal a full hallway of Death Eaters.
"Did you get him?" one of them asked.
"I did not miss," replied another. They converged on the scorched bed, only to discover the object of their task missing. "Where the bloody hell is Potter?" roared their leader. They glanced around the room, only to spy their assignment escaping out the window.
"After him! Amycus, Alecto, Rosier, you three follow him out the window! The rest of you, downstairs! Surround the little runt so that he can't escape us!" snarled the leader.
He panted as he slid down the roofing directly beneath his window, dodging curses along the way. Twisting, he flipped onto his stomach as his feet reached the edge of the roof. He fell, fingers catching the edge of the roof before dropping down the rest of the way to the ground. Shouts coming from the front of the former Dursley residence spurred him to sprint down the street in the opposite direction.
He really had no idea where he was heading; living with the Dursleys had not allowed him the pleasure of becoming familiar with his own neighborhood. He could hear the hammering of feet against pavement behind him over the pounding of his heart and the roaring of his blood in his ears. Hexes and curses sailed past him; he had only used his wand to erect a protection charm.
Where is Dumbledore? Where is the Order? His mind generated a multitude of scenarios that could have kept the Order busy as he continued to outpace the Dark Lord's servants. He knew he couldn't continue to run; his energy was being severely sapped. Reaching a dead end, he whirled, wand at the ready to take down the nine Death Eaters.
The Death Eaters chuckled at their cornered prey. One of them stepped forwards. "Scared, boy?" he sneered.
His stance was proud as and his voice did not belie the fear he felt as he spoke, "No, I'm not afraid of the bunch of cowards that stand before me. Besides," he added, smirking, "''Tis such fools as you that makes the world full of ill-favour'd children.'" He chuckled a little, as if enjoying a private joke. "Shakespeare," he added with a flourish and a small bow.
Each Death Eater was quivering with rage. Their commander snarled through gritted teeth, "Get. Him." At once a barrage of spells, curses, and hexes came at him.
His most powerful shield was placed before him, and he avoided the curses that managed to break through. Most of these were Unforgivables. Running sideways, he fired his own jinxes and spells, disabling a few of the robed figures temporarily. He evaded more spells as he fled, turning sharply to hide behind a parked Mini-Cooper. Adrenaline sang in his veins, causing him to be painfully aware of his surroundings.
The panting breaths of the Death Eaters reached him. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," a woman's voice mockingly sang.
His hands curled tightly around his wand. Bellatrix Lestrange, he thought with a low growl. Peeking over the car's hood for a second, he fired a spell. "Reducto!" A strangled cry indicated that his aim had not failed. More curses sailed over his head as he ducked. Aiming from underneath the car, he cast several more curses in this manner. "Furnunculus! Incarcerous! Petrificus Totalus! Incendio! Stupefy! Rictusempra!"
He cursed as an "Evanesco!" caused the Mini-Cooper to vanish. He began to run again, only to stop short as several Death Eaters apperated in front of him. He was effectively trapped.
As he looked around, most of the Death Eaters looked worse for the wear. He grinned slightly, proud of himself. The grin was wiped away with a severe expression. If I go down, I'm taking a few of you flobberworm gits with me, he thought grimly.
"Crucio!" The curse slammed into his back, causing him to arch in pain before crumpling into a ball, writhing on the street. He grit his teeth—he would not give them the satisfaction of screaming.
After what felt like an eternity the pain released him, and he lay helplessly on the concrete, his mind reeling and his body aching with the phantom aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse. After a nod from their leader, a Death Eater stepped forwards. "Ah, Harry bloody Potter, you have been such a thorn in the side of our Lord. Tonight, he shall celebrate your demise."
Harry curled his hands into fists. Miraculously, he had managed to keep his wand in his possession. I won't die this way, he mentally snarled, I REFUSE to die without taking Voldemort with me! He struggled to stand, a dangerous scowl etched firmly on his face. Besides, I promised to myself and Sirius that I'd do what I could to live my life to the fullest. Unbeknownst to him, he had begun to glow a vibrant green not unlike the Killing Curse that palpably pulsed with the anger and determination he felt.
The Death Eaters fell back a little, curious and more than a little afraid of this new development. The leader shook himself and bellowed, "Kill him! Kill him!"
A surge of green light erupted from the Death Eaters' wands as the words, "Avada Kadavra!" were cried, all of which were aimed at the teen. The curses seemed to slow before they were engulfed in Harry's ever-strengthening magical aura.
The leader and another Death Eater cursed furiously under their breath as they backed away. With the image of the magically charged boy in their minds, they apperated to relative safety. Both knew they were going to be harshly punished by their Lord for their failure.
Harry's eyes glowed a bright green as he snarled at Voldemort's remaining faithful, his rage completely overriding his logic. With an explosion of his magic, the green aura surged outward, killing the Death Eaters on contact. Yet it did not stop there. The magic rushed onwards, plowing though the houses of Privet Drive and beyond.
The sight of the dead bodies of the Death Eaters jolted Harry out of his single-minded fury. Replaying what happened in his mind, his eyes widened in horror as dread snaked its way to settle in his stomach. He felt quite faint.
I think I've killed everyone within a mile radius, he thought dimly as the staggering realization hit, "Oh bugger…"
And with that revelation, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, blacked out.
So here's to my first Harry Potter fanfic. I hoped you enjoyed it and please, review. Updates will be slow, as I have school and work to deal with. And also, do you know what play the Shakespeare quote is from?