Jagged tombstones jutted like uneven fangs, piercing through the earth, and the air was filled with a stifling scent of decay and blood.
Harry collapsed to the ground, his fingers stiff, the scene before him resembling hell itself—
Barty Crouch Jr's body lay on the ground, split in two by a great sword, still twitching slightly. His innards were fully exposed under the dim light, resembling a crushed nightmare. Not far from the corpse, the armor that had just glimmered fell heavily to the ground with a splash of black-red viscous liquid, and then fell silent.
The dull thud of the heavy armor hitting the ground rang like a death knell, pounding against what little consciousness Harry had left. An emptiness gripped his heart in an instant—
Dead?
...No, impossible!
"Expecto Patronum!"
Harry shouted almost instinctively, leaping forward to pick up the magic wand dropped near Barty's body upon his death, and without hesitation, chanted the spell. A snow-white Hagrid charged out from the darkness, punching at a Dementor floating mid-air, which then fell to the ground...
Of course, all of this was merely a scene in Harry's imagination; in reality, as he had just stood up, he found himself surrounded by a group of black-robed figures that had crept up on him without him noticing.
"Get away! You filthy scum!"
A woman's sharp voice rang out, and the pointed toe of her shoe kicked Harry's arm, sending the boy flying onto another black-robed figure. The onlookers burst into laughter, clearly delighted by the "Savior's" embarrassing plight.
But unfortunately for them, their realization was that their Savior was merely a fourth-year underage student—
"Expelliarmus!"
As Harry appeared unarmed to the Death Eaters, an easy target on the chopping block, none of them stood on guard. So, when Harry cast a wandless Disarming Spell, he successfully snatched a wand from one of the dirty Death Eaters—
Feeling the obstructed flow of magic power within the wand, Harry sighed in relief. Something was better than nothing.
Even at this moment, the laughter hadn't completely faded from many of the Death Eaters.
Only Bella, standing at the forefront, having just kicked Harry, reacted. She unhesitatingly pulled her wand from her tangled, filthy hair, "Cruci…"
"Crucio!"
Harry was faster, his eyes flashing blue as if the world slowed down for him. Without hesitation, he swung his wand, the pale lightning striking Bella, compressing the laugh in her throat into a cock's caw. She collapsed to the ground, eyes rolling back, convulsing.
For a moment, the air froze because of Bella's caw.
What had just happened seared like a branding iron on each Death Eater's fragile nerves, their faces covered by hoods showing disbelief, anger, and confusion.
This Potter kid... How dare he? How could he use the Cruciatus Curse? How could he...
After a short yet "endless" silence, the graveyard erupted into chaos.
"Kill him!" "For the master!" "Break his limbs!"
Dozens of Death Eaters drew their wands, aiming at Harry, tips aglow with dangerous red and green hues, like a pack of enraged hyenas, unwilling to accept their prey intended for some sport had now become the aggressor—
The icy halo representing "Flow Mode" spun rapidly in the depths of Harry's pupils, dyeing his eyes almost entirely. The recent upheaval and the downfall of the armor... In this moment, all his emotions squeezed into fuel potent enough for use—
The spell's trajectory resembled fireflies trailing tails. Observing these Death Eaters, infamous for their viciousness but lacking training, their awkward movements revealed clear openings.
Harry, now as a young tiger cast into a wolf pack, forced into rightful defense; since his fangs were bloodied, there was no need to retreat further.
The boy didn't even clearly see who attacked him first, only catching a twisted shadow and a sudden flash of red—Stunning Spell? Or Cutting Spell? It didn't matter, as he coarsely wielded the greasy, magic-obstructed wand in his hand, swinging it more broadly than usual.
"Stupefy!"
The boy roared, it wasn't even a proper spell, more like a wave of raw intent.
"Boom!"
The Death Eater at the forefront was struck hard in the chest by what felt like an invisible impact drill, screaming as he soared backwards and crashed onto a somewhat tilted tombstone, then slipped softly down as if lifeless.
But evidently, this was just the beginning, with spell after spell quickly appearing around Harry.
The boy instantly ducked, silver-white light halo emerging around him, dodging those spells. Wrapped in an imperfect Apparition, he charged out of the crowd.
Cold mud and gravel spilled into his collar, stimulating the nerves at the wound site. A Diffindo spell narrowly missed the boy's head, slicing off half a branch of a dead tree beside Harry. He kicked forcefully against the ground, staggering as he bounced up, his gaze instantly locking onto the back of a Death Eater at the flank.
"Sectumsempra!"
Without hesitation, Harry recited the spell invented by a certain Potions Class Professor, sharply sending forth an invisible blade.
The Death Eater's back clothing was torn apart like paper, then his wand-holding arm and half of his shoulder — blood spurted like a fountain, cutting through the night air with a shrill scream, shredded body parts flying scattered, the bloody scent drowning out the cemetery's musty odor again instantly.
Watching this, Harry couldn't help but feel his stomach churn.
But his movements didn't pause, like a shadow of death flitting and leaping among tombstones, spells, and Death Eaters.
Every time the boy landed, the magic wand pointed at a new threat.
"Crucio!"
Another Death Eater trying to block him fell twitching after being struck by pale lightning, drooling tears and snot all at once.
"Expulso!"
A Death Eater who had just finished chanting was blasted with rocks and dirt from the exploded ground, forcing his spell to be interrupted.
"Petrificus Totalus!" "Flipendo!"
The petrified Death Eater then flew out, crashing into a large group of "bottles" behind him like a bowling ball.
Harry seemed to dance upon the scythe of death, unsure how much longer he could cast. His wrist waving the wand began to ache, yet the black robes surged in an endless stream like the sea, causing despair to well up in Harry's heart.
He somewhat wanted to reserve the last Killing Curse for himself.
No matter what Voldemort desired from him, all he needed to do was blow himself to bits...
Harry's figure halted; he gasped heavily, observing the crowd sprawling around him and the Death Eaters not far away. He slowly closed his eyes —
"Don't let him breathe! Everyone, attack together! Use controlling spells! Master wants him alive!!"
A voice seemingly of some authority roared.
The sound exploded like thunder, causing the boy's wand-holding hand to pause slightly, making him look up incredulously—
Simultaneously, several spells swiftly appeared, yet the boy still rolled to evade them, following the direction where the voice came from, his wand striking down other Death Eaters along the way. Finally, he found the black-robed silhouette.
Suddenly, Harry noticed the latter seemed to fear him, the man under the hood quivering madly.
"Sectums..."
The man had just raised his wand, but Harry's Disarming Spell hit his wrist almost instantly, sending his wand spinning away. Before he could turn to flee, Harry was upon him, slamming him onto a tombstone with all fours—
"Wait..."
"Enough!!"
Harry brusquely interrupted the man's halting gesture, forcefully pulling off the latter's hood. Seeing the familiar face exposed to the foul air, Harry's pupils contracted sharply for a moment. Then, a hint of relief appeared on the boy's face, "Ha... ha, quite familiar indeed, Professor?"