Children of Prophecy (TEMP. HOLD)

Harry I

Another explosion sounded off behind me and I swiveled around to see a swell of bodies blown into the air, landing hazardously, a gruesome pool of blood matting the once green grass. I didn't need to be close to be able to tell that they were all dead. I didn't want to know if they were Death Eaters or students and teachers. A blue light whizzed by me, just barely missing me and instinctively I duck as a green light flew right in the spot where my chest would have been. An angry hiss unleashed a fury of words; Voldemort.

"Hendrickson! Leave Potter to me! He is mine!" Soon after followed a muttering of 'crucatius' and the Death Eater fell into a withering mass on the grassy hill. There was a chill that was frighteningly familiar, but it wasn't near so I decided to worry about the most eminent problem; Voldemort. Said wizard cackled villainously and he spread his arms wide, gesturing to the chaos around us, thin lips stretched into a gruesome smile and almond-shaped eyes alight with malicious mirth.

"You see! Look around you, Harry Potter! All of this death and destruction, you can stop it! You can save your friends from dying, all of those first, second, third, fourth, fifth years inside from dying! Just give yourself up, give up!" My arm lagged. I knew he was lying, that he would kill every muggleborn no matter their age, but I couldn't help but be tempted.

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione's voice called out to me and I saw her, standing mere meters to the left of Voldemort. "Don't listen to him, Harry! He's lying, don't listen to him!" Voldemort's face twisted and his wand shot out, a red light shooting out of the tip without him even having to mutter a word. Before I even registered what I was doing, a 'Protego!' Was ripped from my vocal cords and a protective forcefield was cast in front of Hermione milliseconds before the Crucatius curse hit the shield. Voldemort cackled once again, it sounding more like a hissing wheeze.

"A quick spell caster, well this will be fun!" Henceforward commenced a deadly dance of colorful lights that I could barely keep up with. Voldemort, though evil, was and intelligent and skilled wizard. I was only in my sixth year, countless of years his junior. I could feel beads of sweat form along my temple, dripping down the side of my face. My breath came out in pants and the hand gripping my wand was cold and stiff, despite my hot temperature. I was tiring, but Voldemort looked like he could do this forever. A yellow light flew straight towards Voldemort and he just barely deflected it. Startled, I turned to see Professor McGonagall standing next to me, face stern, eyes steely, and wand poised. Upon seeing me looking at her, she shot me a soft smile before returning her attention to Voldemort. I could see Madame Hooche, and a shaky Professor Slughorn heading towards me with their wands out. They were coming to fight Voldemort.

"Potter, looks like you have some help. Ah, Minerva, how are you doing with the death of your dear friend Albus?" Professor McGonagall showed no indication that she heard him, other than the firing of a wordless spell. Voldemort deflected it easily. Slughorn and Madame Hooch has reach us now. Rapidly we started firing spells, the ones from the Professors mostly wordless, the ones from me loud, spitting, and instinctive. Voldemort's face paled in the slightest and I could tell he was having trouble keeping up. He fired a light brown spell at us that I deflected, but once it hit the ground, it exploded into a blinding white light that forced us to look away. Slughorn quickly casted a spell to diffuse the smoke that resulted afterwards and when it cleared, Voldemort was gone. A quick swivel with frantic eyes showed me that he wasn't anywhere to be found on the battlefield. I smiled tiredly. Temporarily, we had won.

That hardly meant anything though as Death Eaters still covered the hill, casting curse after curse after curse. Our tiny band disbanded and we all went in separate directions to help those who were fighting on our side. As I fought along the side of a fellow sixth year in Ravenclaw, I was surprised to see Malfoy fighting against Death Eaters with a gaggle of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. I would need to apologize and thank him later. Because not only was he fighting on our side, but handfuls of other Slytherins were too and I knew that it was his example they were following. Defeating the two Death Eaters, I moved on, firing my wand as I went. I glanced around for Percy and spotted him about a hundred meters northeast of me, fighting that Atlas guy. I didn't know who he was or where he came from, but by the way Voldemort submitted to him, I had to guess he was even more powerful than Voldemort himself. How Percy was fighting him by himself... it made me wonder just how powerful Percy Jackson was. Despite this though, I could see that Percy was sporting to well. He was limping and clutching his non-sword hand against his ribs. There was blood crowning his temple and brow, some dripping down his face and probably into his eyes. Atlas wasn't looking amazing either and I just hoped that Percy could defeat him without dying. Whoever this Atlas fellow was—or maybe even whatever—, he wasn't someone who could be hurt by spells, that we found out quickly. Percy was the only one who could fight him.