Hummingbird [TomRiddlexHarryPotter]

Flight of the Raven

Clouds of dust clogged the air, rubble littered the cobblestone, and the morning light filtered through a haze of fear and drab overcast.

Cutting through the fog, the air sang with the hissing flashes of spells. All being of variant origin and lethality as they flew past his running body, missing him by just a hairsbreadth as he leapt over the larger rubble and brickwork. Stumbling through the ruins of what used to be Diagon Alley. Powerful spells struck vacant shops to his left and right, causing them to crumple like card houses as he sprinted through the war zone.

He had to gain just enough headway to be out of sight, so that he could slip into one of the buildings and hide for a minute because he knew ... he wouldn't last much longer.

He could feel the sizzle of curses spitting past him like tiny falling stars. He heard the devastation they wrought when they made contact, narrowly missing him. Each one crooning like a death knell in his skull.

His eyes burned with the dust and smoke that had slipped under his cracked spectacles, creating a film over his vision. He was inhaling enough smoke to make his chest tight and contract his airways painfully, it felt like he was breathing out more ash and smoke than he was breathing in. His body was numb with adrenaline and the only sensation that seemed to permeate it, was the pain and protests of his body.

Harry veered sharply to the left and practically flew down the narrow and winding paths that made up Knockturn Alley. The devastation there was less drastic, but not by much, as the dark-affiliated marketplace had long since been scourged by Aurors and 'cleansed' by the new regime of the Light.

Finally seeing his chance, Harry shot around a bend and climbed through a shattered display window. He didn't stop until he was crouched behind the counter deeper in the shop and out of sight. The gutted shop still striped with scorch marks from the spells from when its owner had been 'forcefully evicted.' He could hear spells still being cast and the ominous thudding of footsteps on the cobbles just outside the shop where he hid, but nobody passed the glass-littered threshold.

Harry's breathing was labored from the exertion of being chased up and down the abandoned wizarding market, but he forced it to be as quiet as possible. His body was tense, lips trembling in pure, visceral terror. If he wasn't holding himself so rigidly, he knew he would be shaking like a leaf where he crouched. His wand was gripped so tightly in his sweaty palm that it might have either snapped or been permanently warped—it was already damaged enough in the earlier fight—if he ever made it out of there alive.

'When,' he fiercely corrected himself, 'not 'if', but when he made it out alive,' because the other scenario just wasn't an option.

The scent of smoke, rain, and brick dust burned the inside of his nose and dried out his airways, wracking him with the urge to cough, but he forced the need down with all his might. It would be so much easier if Harry could just disapparate, but the in-laid wards throughout the alley prevented it to protect against thieves and spontaneous attacks. Though there were apparation points at different ends of the alley, he had no doubt that they were currently being guarded, or at least there were too many enemies between him and those spots.

He was sure that all exits and floos had been shut down as well. A mouse in a trap.

On top of it all, Harry's wand was cracked along its wooden length. He could still cast a few shields and a defensive spell or two, but even if he made it to the dissapparition point, he knew his wand would be done for once he apparated. There was the elder wand in his bottomless bag, but he'd lost that somewhere in the alley during the scuffle.

He was quickly running out of options and means of escape by the second. Something would have to give, and he would have to take a risk before it was too late.