Authors Note: This story came to me with such a precise vision. It will be very different from my other stories as the chapters will be short and intense. Also - Harry and Hermione will not appear until the end of the next chapter.
Your thoughts are so important. PLEASE - if you read, review. Even two words count - as long as they are your own. As for Hooligan. I have most of a chapter done and it should be posted shortly.
ENJOY!!
Chapter One: Scenes from a Battle
Across the British Isles, a blood red dawn streaked the sky. A stiff north-east wind snapped banners, standards and flags taut throughout the day. Cresting high tides slapped jetties and threatened to pull apart piers and pilings as the sun started its downward journey to late afternoon. The rumble of thunder shook the earth. The crack of lightening seared the cloudless sky.
Londoners, Scots, Welsh and Irish kept their windows locked, doors barricaded and marketplaces vacant. Children did not cry. Men did not begrudge staying indoors. Women were quiet.
Muggle or wizard, squib or witch did not matter. All were aware that the building blocks of life: earth, fire, wind and water were turmoil. The four elements and the secrets they carried were now the instruments of survival and conquest.
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Riders clad in leather pulled the reins tight against the bits forced deep into the dragons' mouths. Dipping and swooping, the downdrafts from their wings knocked Death Eaters, werewolves and other Dark allies off their feet. Smoke, stench, swirling dirt and the ugliness of battle came into sharp focus as his dragon's belly nearly scraped the ground before a forceful extension and contraction thrust them back into the sky. A flicking of the animal's tail had him turning in his saddle. A masked, robed figure slid off one of the longer spikes at the base of the beast's tail, leaving a discernable smear. Tumbling down, through the layers of smoke blowing dust, to the field below, his cries were swallowed by the wind that made the air currents treacherous to navigate. Twisting front, a red-haired man pulled his dragon's head to the left and began to spiral upward. Levelling off, he waited. Within moments, eight more dragons and their riders' re-formed attack positions behind him. A wicked gleam narrowed his eyes. Calling out his command, he turned his head into the wind and set his heels into the flanks of his dragon. Primal and powerful, the animal surged forward. This time, he pulled the creature to the right. Diving once again, all nine dragons sliced the sky as they plummeted. Leathery wings nearly folded flat against their bodies, the dragons bowed their flexible spines towards their prey. Glancing around him, momentum pulled at his cheeks and stung his brow as he gave the signal. He lifted his hand and then let it fall, unleashing the predator in the beast. Mimicking their leader, all reins fell slack against the dragons' necks. The ground was rushing up at him and adrenaline thrummed through Charlie's veins as he heard the bit clank freely inside the animal's mouth. He felt the ribcage of his dragon expand and swell between his knees. Leaning forward, clutching onto the spiny mane and gripping the saddle with his thighs, his eyes sparked with anticipation when the animal turned and aimed its head at the melee. Grit flecked his teeth when he inhaled a needed breath through open lips. The sound of curses - magical and explicative - roared in his ears. The dramatic snapping of eighteen wings unfolding pulled a war cry from the nine riders as they glided over enemy lines. Fire spewed from the dragons as they incinerated everything left, right and centre. The beasts' deep breaths transformed the Riddle family fields into a hell on earth.
Feeling the beast completely exhale, Charlie snatched up the reins and with a practiced motion, re-secured the bit - and attached retainer - firmly in the recesses of the animal's mouth. A certain tension settled over the animal as they once again sought the sanctuary of the sky. The ability to produce fire had once again been capped. Clapping the dragon on its neck, knowing that the scales would send the vibrations of his touch to the creature's sensitive receptors, he conveyed his gratitude and respect.
Looking behind him, seven of his comrades took up a defensive formation. Scanning the fray below, it was a moment before he saw a sight that turned his stomach. A blinded Short Snout, trailing a nearly severed wing, was being taunted by a pack of snarling werewolves as it defended the mangled body of its rider. Shallow breaths and brief spurts of fire told him what happened. Closing his eyes and looking away, a sequence of events played out in his mind. The dragon had been hit with a Conjunctivitis Curse. Unable to see, the beast nicked the ground, crashing. Its flesh tearing and ribs cracking as it tumbled. Tangled in the slackened reins, unable to free himself, the rider was crushed repeatedly with each impact. The animal was dying as it blindly fended off each attack.
Opening his eyes and steeling his face, Charlie un-strapped his wand from his thigh and pointed it at the flagging dragon. Timing the words Incendio Inflamare with the split second the dragon converted breath to flame, the creature, the rider and a vicious werewolf in mid-leap burst into flames.
Turning away from the sight of the burning carcass, Charlie re-sheathed his wand and pulled the reins to the left. The chill of high altitude bit through his protective leather gear. An unexpected flash of combustion ignited far below him. Hovering safely behind D.A. and Phoenix lines, he waited.
Ron's plan may work after all…
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