13 The Power Within

He could see. The lightning sparks were giving off a beautiful blue glow, allowing him the gift of sight once more. The sparks did not seem particularly powerful, but they were immensely bright. He had no idea how, but he had created a source of light.

Harry continued to run through the woods, arms outstretched like a makeshift magical flashlight. It was comforting to realize that he wasn't defenseless. He could still . . . talk to snakes, and slightly change his looks, and even could use wandless magic . . . which he had no idea to use, and couldn't even control at the moment. He no longer felt half as comforted as he had moments prior.

He stopped suddenly, hearing a shriek to the left of him. He immediately turned, running in the general direction that the panicked voice had originated from. He eventually reached a small clearing in the woods, where he quickly stopped and pulled his hood up.

There were nine other magicals in the clearing, six of whom were males wearing the same black robes as those in the camp. The last three were all female, wearing satin robes. Each seemed to be around twenty.

All nine had their faces obscured by hoods. One of the girls was lying behind the others, clearly unconscious. Two of the six men were also lying on the floor, incapable of movement. The rest were locked in a ferocious duel.

It was a very impressive sight; the young witches were holding their own against four fully grown wizards, although it was clear that none of the men were all that talented. Another one of the males fell to the ground.

Those witches could wipe the floor with me in a fraction of a second.

The two remaining women both dodged a few curses sent at them before one turned to the side, sending a stunner at one of the remaining three men. Her aim was on point; the man fell to the ground, unmoving.

"Expelliarmus!" roared one of the two remaining men, not a second after other had fallen

Unfortunately, turning to the side did not prevent the witch from being hit by the disarming charm. Her wand soared through the air, landing just behind the two wizards.

"Stupefy!" yelled both remaining wizards. A red beam of light shot out of each man's wand, hitting both girls straight in the chest. They swiftly dropped to the floor.

"Well, well, well." said the other man, both of them now moving closer to the girl as they began to pull off their robes, "We're going to be having a bit of fun now, aren't we?"

The sky over the clearing slowly filled with clouds, thundering weakly, yet violently. Three or four small bolts of lightning struck within the clearing. A gentle drizzle started falling upon the remaining magicals.

Before he could stop himself, he ran into the clearing, separating the witches from the remaining two men.

"Leave them alone!" he whispered, not particularly interested in speaking loud enough for them to realize who he was. If they were at all associated with Voldemort (and Harry was beginning to suspect that they were), then finding out who he was would not be the best course of action.

The men turned their attention to him, before laughing madly. The man to the right stepped forward, before looking at Harry's hands with interest.

"That's a neat trick, kid, but I don't care for parlour tricks. You can either get lost, or we'll make you watch before we kill you."

Harry remembered the way women had acted during the duel, as though it were a normal occurrence for someone to try and take them for their own, as if after years of running, they had finally been caught. They shouldn't have to feel like that. Nobody should.

Once more, several miniature bolts of lightning struck different parts of the clearing. A bolt even landed on one of the unconscious men. Harry had no doubt in his mind that the man was dead.

The men grew slightly wary. The two of them looked around them, watching as the sky darkened, as the wind strengthened slightly, and as the bolts of lightning running around Harry's arms began to encompass his entire body. The bolts became far more violent than they had been previously, as though they were desperate to find something to harm.

Harry could feel his body being bruised and burnt underneath his robes by the bolts, but it didn't matter. It was highly unlikely he could have stopped it, even if he wanted to. He even tried to get the bolts to weaken slightly. Nothing happened.

Harry focused every part of his mind and anger onto the males before him, attempting to stop them in any way possible. As he did so, he felt his body burn with pain, far worse than any he had ever felt before. He tried not to scream, but within only a few seconds he could no longer hold it, and so he yelled.

As he did so, thin bolts of lightning shot from his hands, repeatedly striking each of the six men before him. The pressure of the wind completely decimated the higher parts of the few trees in front of him in front of him, turning what was once wood into particles almost as small as dust.

The men were not spared; their bodies broke down into hundred of pieces, and the two that were still conscious screamed in agony. Once the bodies were far from recognizable, the lightning that had been striking the men disappeared . The storm that had been raging above, vanished entirely.

So did the bolts that had run across his body. Unfortunately for Harry, the bruises and burns did not. Even worse, his magic was gone. It was not cut off from him, as it had been when he had been messing around with electricity earlier. It was completely gone, Harry couldn't at all feel it within him. Whatever he had done had seriously drained his magic.

But that was something he would have to worry about later. Right now, Harry needed to get out of here, as far away from the unconscious women as possible.

Checking that his face remained unseen, he turned back to the girls. They were now slightly injured, small rips and tears appearing in their robes here and there. There was also the occasional scorch mark here and there. Harry instantly turned to leave.

He didn't have his wand on him. If he was seen, there was nothing he could do to make anyone forget. He doubted he would have wiped someone's mind either way. He hadn't yet forgotten about Lockhart. Besides, he didn't yet understand the theory behind the spell, not having properly learnt it.

Harry couldn't believe what had just happened. He had killed not one, but six different people. He was panicked; did this mean he was a dark wizard of some sort? He couldn't be a killer.

He quickly remembered that he had killed Quirrell in his first year, which slightly calmed him down. Nothing had happened then, he didn't become some sort of dark entity; he had done it to help people, to save others.

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