A revised scene

Hey all, and welcome to....quite a unique post actually. I haven't done this before but then again, I've never gotten so many complains in a single chapter by you guys. There's a first time for everything.

So in my SOW Ch.14, the fight scene seems to have been a little underwhelming to some. Mostly due to Harry not winning on his own. Well, I've re-written the fight scene and while Harry still won't win on his own, hopefully this one is better. 

Enjoy!

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Chilling wind howled through the Dartmoor forest, the trees bristling under its might. The night's darkness spread thickly— dominating the lands, bringing with it a silence that cannot be broken easily.

But deep within the forest, surrounded by dense thicket, there lay a large clearing—almost a kilometer wide— that seemed to defy this natural state.

Charred and smoking debris littered the clearing, its once-green grass now blacked, all of it blanketed by a thin layer of smoldering water. And amidst the pieces of wood and stone—large and small—four cloaked beings danced between a shower of spells.

The silence was the easiest to break. The unnatural whooshing and crackling sound of their spells made sure that it had no room to exist.

The darkness on the other hand, was broken by multiple sources. One hung high in the sky, a bright ball of light that illuminated the entire clearing.

Second was a multitude of colours that tore through the air, throwing their own hue of light around that mixed well to defeat the darkness.

The spells that were cast—unleashing the multitude of colours—came from only the three however. The three who moved together, fighting against their lone enemy that held strong against their relentless onslaught stubbornly.

That loner's name was Harry Potter, and he produced the third source of brightness.

A net of thin pointed rocks, like arrowheads—alit with fire—hung around him like a shield, all tightly bound under his control. They revolved around him slowly, blocking any incoming spells from his enemies, striking them down with bullseye accuracy. The arrowheads burnt with such intensity, that their glow turned to be the final nail in the darkness' coffin, thoroughly vanquishing it from the area.

But that wasn't the only thing the arrows would be nailing tonight.

The team of three did their best to keep their enemy on the defensive, launching spells after spells, hoping to overwhelm him with their number, combined power, and skill.

And yet, they couldn’t pierce through the sphere of fire and light.

Harry dealt with all of their attacks as if a child’s play, his fiery stoneheads keeping pace with the enemy’s casting as they struck down spells after spells, intercepting their paths precisely.

His Occlumency enabled him to divide his mind in two; one kept account of spells aimed at him, the other patrolled any spells wanting to change his environment. Transfigurations weren’t allowed to happen, conjured objects were pierced by dozens of arrowheads, and when the trio of dark wizards finally had enough and decided to wash him over with their own fire, he let go.

His control over magic wasn’t great enough to manipulate the storm of flaming arrowheads while casting spells at the same time.

Thus, the moment one of his opponents stepped back to create their own inferno, he rained down death upon them.

Together, as one unit, the arrowheads stopped circling around him and moved forward to form a wall at his front. Then, keeping the unity, they sped through the air for his enemies—bearing down upon them like glowing needles.

"Stick to the plan!" Screamed the woman, having taken the leadership of their group.

A large blue shield materialized into being, curving around the group to cover them behind a small semi-spherical dome.

Two of the three tied themselves into maintaining the shield, the woman and Mathew, while the remaining member—Krafft the crippled—kept shooting annoying spells to keep Harry busy.

The flaming arrows smashed against the blue shield, hiding it under their orange glow. He could see cracks slowly forming along the surface, increasing ever so slightly with every impact.

Harry decided to give it a final nudge and crack it open. He stepped forth absently, letting the cripple’s spell fly over his head. Without having to maintain the storm of fiery stones, he was free to cast magic again.

A small dotted shield formed at the tip of his wand. When the next spell chased after him, he hit it right in the middle, sending it back to its caster who jumped behind his teammate’s shield with a curse.

Now free of the annoyance, Harry let loose a quick half-assed Bombarda right in the middle of the splintering shield.

“Krafft!” The alarmed woman screamed a second before the spell struck.

The Bombarda exploded upon impact, its powerful flames mingling with the peppering of arrowheads to pop open their shield like a pinata—which died down in motes of blue light.

A second shield formed barely in time to block the last round of flaming arrows, but it was powered by a single wizard. And a wizard who’d barely cauterized his recent dismemberment, no doubt still distracted by the pain. It was simple to conclude that no matter how good of an occlumens he may be, Krafft wasn’t at his finest.

And the attack the trio of dark wizards faced demanded their finest.

The newly formed shield strained against the onslaught, and Harry launched another shower of spells. Overpowered Bombardas, Confringos, and Reductors headed straight for the barely holding shield.

One thing he was certain about in this fight was thus; As long as Harry took down one of them completely, the tide of this battle will quickly turn to his side.

That did not come to pass however as at the last moment, the other male wizard shakily raised his wand and transfigured the ground in front of Krafft into a wall, tenaciously hanging onto the battle.

The earth wall that rose up from the ground hid the rest of the scene behind it from Harry’s eyes. By the time his spells tore it down—Reductors cracking the wall open while the explosive spells completely smashed it away—Harry was revealed to the scene of a sorry bunch of wizards struggling to their feet, the last round of arrows having been successfully defended.

A sense of muted annoyance broke through his occlumency, welling up in him as his enemies straightened again, all three standing together now, their wands held ready with frustrated determination glinting in their eyes, looking like dark chitinious marbles in the night.

The fight hadn’t gone for long yet, but to Harry—who was counting every second as being away from the people who needed him—it might as well have been a life time.

Then, they began casting. And for the first time, Harry faced the might of all three auror-level opponents at once—this time properly.

The one-armed man started first, almost pettily stepping ahead of his peers, his wand slashing down with a sickly green glow. The other two joined him next. The woman gave birth to a firestorm again, big and powerful— though not quite what he'd witnessed from Dumbledore. The last one targeted Harry's surroundings, and he could sense a sharp command to change, within the spell.

Alone and outnumbered though he may be, this wasn't the first time he was facing such a situation. And he dealt with it as ever—with the precision of a surgeon.

He slipped past Krafft's killing curse calmly, his wand shooting a powerful Depulso overhead—aiming towards the fire that had just finished taking form of a horned serpent. He didn't bother seeing the results, turning blithely to shoot two quick Reductos at the rapidly transfiguring stone. Which had just began taking form of a lion.

The stone cracked, interrupting the magic; the fire scattered over his opponent—his Depulso strong enough to break the woman's control; and Harry calmly ducked under another killing curse from the cripple.

"Merlin take you!" The woman screamed—angered and frustrated—as she hastily shielded her group from the wild fire's reach.

But the other two were there to cover her guard, this time working in a much better tandem as they pinned him down under an onslaught of spells. The crippled one was noticeably slower than before, but he still cast faster than most people Harry knew.

The spells ranged from lethal Killing curses, Bone-breakers, and Entrails Expellers to the more mundane Stunners, and Disarmers. Harry danced through them adroitly, fast and dexterous enough to avoid or deflect most of them.

But the only attacks from his own side were the occasional enemy spells that he sent right back to them. He dared not shield against even a single volley, for he knew exactly what fate awaited him there. If he became a turtle against three highly skilled opponents, escape would be nigh impossible. Especially with the route to Apparate completely cut off.

Thus, he did his very best to put up a solid defense without his shield, even taking a page out of his enemies book to launch tiny pebbles at them before hitting them with Engorgio—turning pebbles to boulders and monoliths that deflected a full round of spells.

But the tide shifted thoroughly when the woman joined them. She was the best out of them three. Her spells were quick and powerful, and she seemed to prefer bending the nature to her will when casting magic.

And she was adapting quickly. Just as he was.

In no time, he was facing the same boulders he'd launched earlier—only, now they were raging with fire.

The woman had utilized his own attack strategy to create problems for him.

'Smart woman.' Harry frowned. 'But so very irritating.'

The two men were now casting non-lethal spells rapidly, intending to divert his attention from the boulder. If he responded to them, he would be crushed alive underneath the heavy stone. If he responded to the stone though, he will be stunned and disarmed in no time.

He needed something to answer both the attacks.

So he ran.

Why? Because he had one more advantage no wizard would count on: His physique. If he got his hands on them, they may just as well be the same as Malfoy and his group: Helpless children.

He skipped between the spells, occasionally smacking one or two back to their owners as he closed the distance. The ground was wet, his boots splashing droplets of water around as he nimbly made his way towards his enemies.

The boulders were too heavy for the woman to direct properly—especially alit with fire as they were—and in no time his feet were running directly underneath the stones, letting them soar away overhead.

But just as he was about to duck underneath the last one, it shifted. It was sudden and jarring; too unnatural to be real. One moment it looked to follow after the monolith, the next it struck down—directly towards his head.

A pale shield popped into existence in an instance, blocking the flaming boulder from splattering his Fried-brains all over the wet ground.

That slight moment of delay was all he needed to escape, diving away from his rapidly cracking shield, letting it fall to the ground.

The boulder slammed down with a deep thump, sending vibrations through the land that climb up his feet, to his stomach and chest. The fire sizzled down from underneath it as it lay upon the sheen of water, releasing smoke and mist.

Harry had no time to taste success however, as a three way attack suddenly started streaming down at him.

He was alive and unharmed, successfully dealing with enemy attacks—but he'd lost his momentum. And the shower of spells reached him faster than sound, all aiming to tie up his movements.

There was no time for Harry to think, no chance of dodging.

So he shielded.

'Protego Maxima!' He bellowed in his mind, his wand cutting the air vertically to form a blue shield glowing with powerful blue intensity, stopping all three streams of spells at once with no trouble.

Knowing the risk, he tried dismissing the shield to get away, but there was no point. They clamped upon his forced mistake and proceeded forward victoriously with brute force, all three attacking with feverish intensity. Their combined might made his hand shake slightly, needing all his attention in maintaining the shield.

Yet, slowly but surely, he pushed back as well.

Harry Potter may be trapped, but giving up was not in his veins.

'The boulder.' A sudden burst of inspiration whispered. 'Shift towards the boulder, then take cover behind it.'

A brief moment of respite was all he would need to get back in the battle. And hiding behind the boulder was as good a plan as any.

'No.' With his occlumency running strong, his mind quickly cracked through the plan. 'A simple push from that woman, and I'll be a pancake under the stone.'

He will constantly need to fight off her magic if he wished to make the round boulder his cover, which defeated the entire point of the plan.

Worse, if a combined Depulso from all three hit the boulder, he doubted anyone could help him from being crushed underneath it.

For the first time in this fight, Harry Potter was well and truly trapped, with no straight way out of it.

‘Fine.’ He readied himself for an arduous battle of will and power, setting his feet wide as he held against the tide strongly. ‘A long struggle shall be, but I’ll come out the victor.’

It doesn’t matter if he was trapped or not. Doesn’t matter if he could attack or not. As long as he closed the distance between them, they were dead.

One moment. All he would need is one moment of distraction, and he could tear them apart bare handed.

And thus, he pushed. He pushed, pushed, and pushed further back. At first it was a struggle to take even a step, with three chains of spells bearing down upon his shield. He kept hoping one of them will be foolish enough to stop aiming at his shield—perhaps to distract him through transfiguration, perhaps through conjuration—yet it never came.

His enemies were smart. They knew he would need but a tiny room of space—a brief chance of respite—and combined with his inhuman dexterity, he could slip past this noose before it could tighten. And so, they continued their—what must be for them—a mind numbingly repeatable attack to crack apart his shield.

But he held on with an ever greater tenacity. Teeth gritting, hand shaking, and dripping with sweat—he held on. And pushed. One struggling step at a time, he pushed, gaining momentum as he covered the distance, until there was a mere 15 feet of gap between them.

Not that he was completely unaffected by their combined might. His knees were digging into the ground, his palms were sweaty as he held the wand with both hands, his breath was high and panting, his shield starting to form slight cracks….Yes indeed, he wasn't unaffected. Not by a long shot.

But his enemies did not know what awaited them, they did not know his plan. So they stood stationary.

Even still, for all his struggle forward, he was threading upon very thin ice right now. His hands were clammy and shaking, both gripping upon the wand as he moved. His knees were digging into the ground with every push. And his shield was starting to form cracks, widening slowly with each cycle of spells they blocked.

Thoughts of despair tried wrecking his mind, and try though he might—with his occluded mind still focused upon the struggle—he couldn’t keep all from reaching him.

'Is this all I’ll do in the war?' He gritted his teeth, his magic flickering, the cracks enlarging. 'Get stuck here, away from the true fight, struggling against three opponents who did not matter?'

What use was his knowledge? What use was his power?

‘While the two who truly matters to me fight for their life, here I am—landing myself in a pit with no escape all on my own folly.’

This day was truly showing him exactly how much those two meant to him. He hadn't realised how that until now, but he found himself accepting it completely.

Thus, he couldn't help but curse himself for being a fool. Why hadn’t he simply taken Tonks’ advice and joined Lily? Was he so desperate for vengeance that a couple of death eaters seemed equal to the lives of his loved ones?

Where was his strength now!? Where were his plans!?

He had felt so ready for this challenge, just this morning. His power was unquestionable higher than most Lvl 6 duelers, his knowledge—while still lacking in specific areas, was more than enough to debate any Hogwarts student. His physique was supreme, and his mind sharp like as a razor.

He had been so confident that this will all work out. Now? Now it all felt like arrogance. Arrogance born out of ignorance.

And the only thing more dangerous than ignorance in the world is arrogance.

“Never again.” He hissed out, spittle and sweat flying out of his mouth as he roared himself back to his feet, the flickering shield—while on the verge of collapse still—more than enough to guard his path forward.

The look of astonishment on his enemies would've been worth celebrating, had his entire world not depended upon the pale blue shield in front of him.

15 feet, 14 feet, 13, 12, 10…

‘Almost there.’ Victory clawed at his chest as his enemies desperately cast away, still rooted on their spot. They didn’t know what he was about to do, but his eyes and roars must’ve shaken them badly enough to twist their faces into grimaces of trepidation.

‘Almost ther—!?’

A streak of light flew past him like thunder suddenly, startling all four duelists. It was aimed at the female one, who ducked under it with a curse….

'What?' Harry blinked, stupefied.

And then came the true attack. A flaming phoenix made completely of fire glided over his head—across the horizon—warming the cool night in its lonesome.

His opponents didn’t just stand there gaping like inexperienced children. They burst into a practical formation at once; the woman disengaging from the other two to defeat the Phoenix with a wave of gushing water.

This was his chance. With the woman —fastest caster of the three—gone, the pressure was let up considerably. He could try to dodge and roll away now, could try to escape his cage…

‘Hold.’ His mind whispered, the strategist speaking out as it surveyed the situation.

And he waited.

Like a cracked glass being reverse-timed, the shield stopped flickering and the cracks healed themselves. The two kept firing spells after spells with desperate zeal, but his magic stood as strong as ever.

‘…Just a sec…’

The Phoenix was powerful. Very powerful actually. But the woman was skilled enough to distract its caster with an offhand spell in the middle as water and fire fought for supremacy. And as the Phoenix lost its constant supply of magic, water won.

‘Now!’

The moment he was sure he wouldn’t be caught up in the clash, he let go of the shield and with his occlumency focused entirely on one single thing: he concentrated.

For one brief moment time almost seemed to slow down. He could see the woman now turning to him—her wand raised to renew the pressure, he could see the succession of spells already heading towards him—the other two enemies not stopping at all…

And he acted.

His hand moved faster than they ever have, his wand dancing through the air like lightning. A small pointed shield at its tip once again formed and accurately struck back each of the incoming spells in three directions.

5 spells in total, all hit back towards his opponents as he leapt away from his position. Two headed for the woman, two headed for Mathew, and one for Krafft. The woman formed a shield in an instant, while Mathew threw himself to the ground with a startled yell, too close to Harry to do anything. Only Krafft was hit successfully, his wand disarmed from his finger.

And as the one-handed wizard scrambled for his wand, Harry closed in on Mathew.

“Avada Kedavra!” Came Krafft's yell.

Harry picked up Mathew like a shield and faced the spell. The man gave a startled yell but could do nothing as certain death hit him right in the stomach.

Moving forward quickly, he threw him towards Krafft, eliciting a squeak. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his mysterious allies having closed the distance and taking advantage of the chaos, disarm the woman.

Harry surged forward, his hands clamping upon Krafft; one stopped his wand from rising and the other squeezed his throat.

Wide eyes stared at him in fear and breathlessness as he choked out. “Please...”

“You should’ve died from the blood loss.” And with a twist of his wrist, Harry broke the man’s neck, his body going limp in an instant.

With a bitter snort, he threw away the dead body, glancing to the last one remaining. She was on her knees, her hands tied tightly in heavy ropes, and standing at her side was a woman of breathtaking beauty.

She barely gave a look at the dead men as she turned to him. “We apologize for ze delay, Mr. Potter.”

Relief spread through his chest at the voice, his tense body relaxing down. Though along with relief mingled a hint of...annoyance.

Harry nodded, glancing up at her. “I guessed it would be you. I thought I told you to leave?”

“You will find Mr. Potter, zat we are quite a stubborn lot.” The woman gave him a grin that at any other time would’ve looked the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.

As it was, he simply grew more irritated.

The grin died down slowly, growing uncertain and hesitant. “You do not look happy to see us.”

No, he was not. Even knowing how stupidly irrational it was to delay here, he couldn’t help but feel her timely help had made him fail.

‘Couldn’t even deal with three wizards on your own now, could you?’ A dark voice gnawed inside him.

He closed his eyes, feeling stupid at his thoughts. Her help has just saved him a ton of time and extra effort. Could he have won the fight on his lonesome? Perhaps. Most likely. But there was also a chance of failure, and it would’ve no doubt taken more of his time.

A time he couldn’t afford to waste.

"Thank you." He finally replied, opening his eyes to nod at the woman.

"It is no problem." The woman smiled again, though noticeably smaller. "We would be true cowards to let you fight for us alone. Gabrielle, the small one, is at your safe house. But we had a duty to stay."

‘We?’ He mind caught the word.

He stared further back, and there she was; a silver goddess, her platinum blonde hair swaying lightly from the wind. “Fleur.”

Her face was drenched in sweat as she approached them slowly. Like a magnet upon metal, his voice attracted her attention with a sudden snap, and with a start she looked up in his direction. “Arry!”

With a chuckle, he faced back ahead, approaching the kneeling woman who was oddly silent—refusing to even look at him.

“Well now, let’s talk.” His hand clamped down upon her slender neck. She turned to him slowly, and he realized for the first time why she wouldn’t look at him. Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear clawed in her eyes as she her eyes shakily met his.

“Everything you know.” He smiled. “And make it quick.”

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So that's that. Let me know if this felt better than the previous one.

Now there were a lot of reasons I'd put Harry on the backfoot in the previous version. One of them was the fact that his enemies were meant to be strong enough to push him to his limits. Abernathy is a lvl 6 wizard, and he freely ackowledges these three could push back even him. When reporting to Grindelwald he further confirms that these three were the best out of all those under Abernathy.

Unfortunately I did not properly show how truly strong they were supposed to be. Anyway, I've retconned it now so it shouldn't matter. 

However, I am convinced now that Harry seemed a little weak in the previous version. I can only blame taking Stormlight archive as inspiration, in which the mc has to work and suffer thoroughly to earn his powers. I guess I just didn't feel like Harry's done enough to earn this level of might. But then again, who cares? this is not some serious, uber realistic grimdark fic. Otherwise Harry wouldn't be fated to bang all the hot chicks. So it was my fault mixing two different things. Won't happen again. 

Another thing I wanted to talk about is one of your comments. I've been getting a lot of people saying (in the reviews even) that Harry's actions doesn't match the 'Old war-veteran' that he's supposed to be. 

Firstly, no. Harry is not some old man with copious amounts of wisdom. He was a 20 year old broken boy who never got a chance to live his life properly. One of you was annoyed at him abandoning Lily while knowing the risk, saying it makes him juvenile. Fair but you should've expected it. This is the Harry that didn't care one bit about the possibility of destroying an entire world just so he could get his revenge on Voldemort. He is incredibly set on punishing Voldemort and his death eaters. It has been his main goal since coming to this world, and while he has accepted that he could also enjoy himself while doing his mission, it doesn't change things completely. So when it comes to choosing between his newfound love vs very old hatred and mission, the latter won. Until he realises his own feelings, on it being an incorrect decision but it's too late to change it.

This should've been clear in chapter 11, but like I said in ffn, Harry is not a perfect, mature adult. He is a broken young man healed by his 14 year old self. So yes, his actions will sometimes be dramatic, emotional, powered by his long-term hatred....and a lot more things. He will work things out slowly, over the course of this very arc actually, growing in character as well as in power. But yeah, there are a lot of old wounds that needs some healing (which he'll be getting plenty of ;)), so don't be overly annoyed when he gets a little stupid. 

Anyway, let me know how this scene felt in comparison to the previous one. This hasn't been edited much, so if you guys like it better, I'll polish it up and replace the scene tomorrow.

So do let me know!

I'm off to finish MGO's next chapter now, so good bye, take care, and peace!