Retreating to his bedroom with Ron right behind him, Harry finally sat down on the bed and began unwrapping the strange new wand. It had indeed been constructed by Mr. Olivander, using polished black walnut; it measured a full 14 inches long, with an unusually thick handle about an inch in diameter.

"That's a real beauty," said Ron. "Where did you get the idea for it?"

"Couple of old books in the library," said Harry, admiring the new wand's luster and graceful shape. Olivander certainly did nice work. The thick handle made a particularly satisfying grip. Harry gave it a few test waves. "Wingardium leviosa!" he said, pointing it at a nearby suit of armor. The armor rattled and clanked, but failed to float.

"Well," said Harry thoughtfully, "I guess I'll need some practice with it. After all, this wand didn't exactly choose me, as they're supposed to."

He tried another spell: "Fulguritim!" Only a tiny, faint spark issued from the wand tip. "Can't do much damage with that," he said dejectedly.

He tried a couple of other incantations with relatively minor effect.

"I guess I'm going to have to ask Hermione if I can see her spellogenesis notes on power-boosting functions. I just can't seem to get this new spell to work, and I'm not sure about this wand either."

Hermione was, of course, delighted to tutor her friend. And she had numerous suggestions for how to boost the power of any spell.

Harry also asked Professor McGonagle how to increase the power output of a weak wand, and she gave him several formulas for juicing it up. Afterwards, Harry retreated alone to his bed and concentrated on bringing together all that he had learned about new spells.

Fulguritim! he said, pointing his new wand at the marble bust of Pallas-Athena over the bedchamber door. Unfortunately, despite the various extra power functions that Harry had added to the spell's formula, it still yielded only a tiny spark dribbling out of the tip and falling to the floor. Harry felt himself getting a little angry at the new wand's poor performance, after all the galleons he had spent on it. Nothing seemed to be working for him lately. He slapped it down on the top of his dresser and stormed down the stairs to find Ron.

The bedchamber was now empty of people. Harry's wand was vibrating quietly. It rolled across the dresser top until bumping up against his water glass. A small arc of electricity suddenly erupted from the tip of the wand, but no one was there to see. It set one of Harry's socks on fire, and a house elf appeared instantly to put it out and clean up the mess.

Once inside, they immediately saw that the brothers had not been squandering their time since leaving Hogwarts. New inventions abounded everywhere. The "Mask of Merriment" caused the wearer's face to become a humorously distorted caricature of the face of any person he looked at. "Weasley's Whisperers" were tiny imps that would whisper test answers into your ear during an exam. "Weasley's Whizzing Wiseacres" were indoor fireworks that would bounce around a room giving off colorful sparks and loudly insulting every person they came close to. "Flounder-Foot Funballs" were tiny swelling-potion capsules designed to be scattered across a dance floor or classroom. Whoever stepped on one by accident would burst the capsule and get the potion on his foot or shoe, which would promptly swell up to ridiculous proportions, making it very comical to walk. The capsules could also be special-ordered with other potions inside, such as a jelly-legs potion, a non-stop-dancing potion or a levitation potion, all guaranteed to produce hilarious results on the unwary victim.

Harry tried to get Fred and George to join them in The Three Broomsticks for a celebratory mug of butterbeer, but the brothers were far too busy collecting money from their throng of customers. So Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione headed out by themselves, stopping off at Honeyduke's along the way in order to stock up on sweets. They spent a long while at Quality Quidditch Supplies admiring the latest model of the Firebolt racing broom, this one with proximity sensors to warn of approaching bludgers.

By the time they came out it was dusk. The sun had just set and the cold sky still glowed lavender in the west. Harry marveled at what a thoroughly satisfying day it had been as he watched what appeared to be a distant flaming meteor fall slowly from the sky, leaving a smoky trail in the fading twilight over the far end of town. It gave a small flash as if having exploded just a few dozen feet above the ground, then a loud report accompanied by a jarring concussion reached them and suddenly they realized that something was wrong. That was not one of the Weasley brothers' fireworks.

Other people came out of their shops to look at the black cloud of smoke hovering in the distance, and as they did so another flaming object could be seen streaking slowly down toward the outskirts of town. It exploded in a flash like the first one, just above the rooftops, and a second later another loud report was heard. The distant frantic noises and screams of panicking people began to grow louder.

"What's going on?" said Ron, mystified. "Harry, I think the town may be under attack," said Hermione. "It makes sense. Wouldn't the only completely wizarding town in Britain be an important strategic objective of Voldemort when the war starts? Maybe this is the beginning right here."

At that moment Ron pointed in horror directly above them. "Look!" he said, as no less than five fireballs grew larger by the second, streaking down right at them.

They dived under an overhanging porch just as the five fireballs detonated directly over the houses and shops around them. The explosions were deafening, windows were shattered, and Harry felt a hot glow in his skin from the heat flash. Thus far, however, no buildings had actually been destroyed.

Over the tumult and crowd noise Harry suddenly heard a magically magnified and sickeningly familiar voice booming from down the street. It was the voice of Lucius Malfoy, calling out to the frightened townspeople who were running all about.

"Don't be afraid!" he shouted, "You are merely witnessing a demonstration of the power of the Dark Lord. Your houses have been spared."

Several more explosive concussions rocked the neighborhood, resulting in more screaming and chaos.

"The Dark Lord could reduce Hogsmead to cinders in an instant," Malfoy went on, "but instead it is his desire to protect this town and have all of its citizens join him in his holy crusade against the muggle world and the mudbloods who contaminate our race. Come out! Come out of your houses and pledge your allegiance to the Dark Lord! Riches and plunder will be yours to share in the days to come!"

Harry could see Malfoy and his group coming slowly down the street now, Malfoy tall and elegant in a flowing black cape and black riding boots, Bellatrix Lestrange and her hulking brother Boris on his right and the massive figures of the Death Eaters Roland Crabbe and Gomer Goyle on his left. And they weren't the only ones involved in the attack; gliding down the sides of the street, half in shadows, were dozens of dementors! Harry felt his insides freeze. He instinctively grabbed in his cloak pocket for his wand, only to find that he had brought his new thick-handled wand but not his trusty wand with the phoenix feather core. The new wand had been a disappointment so far, but it was all he had.

As Harry clutched his wand, unable to move, the phalanx of dementors closed in upon him, coming ever closer. "I must conjure a patronus," he thought desperately, but he couldn't think of a single happy thought that would generate one. His mind was filled with fear and despair, augmented by a growing feeling of intense hatred and a desire for revenge. Malfoy... Crabbe... Goyle... And the vile Lestranges, the sadists who had driven Neville's parents to insanity with the Cruciatus curse, and who had murdered Harry's beloved godfather, Sirius Black. They all deserved to die horribly, thought Harry.

The dementors were nearly upon him now, but they could no longer suck happiness out of him because he harbored none; only a consuming rage. The wand began to tingle strangely in his hand as he raised it to point at the dementors. Though he did not believe that he could generate a patronus in his present state of mind, he shouted "Expecto Patronum!" To his amazement a familiar white vapor began to pour from the thick-handled wand, congealing into a patronus-but not Harry's stag patronus. What was forming before him was an enormous snake patronus!

"Kill them!" Harry hissed in parseltongue, and the giant snake lashed out, striking down the nearest dementor. The black-hooded figure fell and lay motionless on the ground. The opalescent monster struck again, at another dementor, which also fell to the ground. The others were now backing off rapidly as the misty snake struck down a third and a fourth. The first two that had fallen had been slowly shriveling and were now emitting billows of black smoke, like burning tires. The second two now appeared to be shriveling as well.

"A patronus that can kill?" mumbled Harry... "Is that possible?"

"It must be," said Neville, cowering behind him, "because you just made one!"

Lucius Malfoy had been watching the confrontation with a mixture of affront and amazement. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, just as Harry turned on him. Too late Harry tried to block. His wand flew from his hand, clattering across the cobblestones as Harry was thrown down hard.

"Expelliarmus! Stupify!" shouted Boris Lestrange, disarming Neville, Hermione and Ron in a single flash of power, knocking the three to the ground in the process.

"You have been a nuisance to me and my son since the day you arrived at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," said Malfoy. "It would give me the most intense pleasure to kill you now, but my master has reserved that privilege to himself, and consequently I have been instructed only to capture you for him." A momentary sneer of displeasure flashed across Malfoy's hate-filled face.

"However," he said, brightening, "I have no specific orders relating to your meddlesome little friends, so I think we shall now indulge in some fun. Bellatrix and Boris, I'm sure you would enjoy dispatching the Longbottom boy; Crabbe and Goyle, you may take care of the Weasley boy, and I have something very special and very painful for the Granger mudblood. Shall we then?"

As they raised their wands Harry's rage seethed out of control, and his mind focused to a diamond-hard point. "Accio wand!" he shouted, pointing his finger, and his thick-handled wand jumped off the pavement and flew into his hand like a shot. Time seemed to stand still as Malfoy, the Lestranges, Crabbe and Goyle slowly turned on him in shock and surprise. The wand was now burning-hot in Harry's hand-- he pointed it at Boris Lestrange and shouted "Fulguritim!" just as he pointed his at him and began uttering "Avada Kedav..."

An enormous lightning bolt at least five inches in diameter erupted from Harry's wand and struck Boris Lestrange square in the chest; in an instant the middle third of his body vaporized and the remaining pieces crackled into black cinders. The blinding flash and incredibly loud concussion knocked Lucius Malfoy backward but he kept his feet, whereas Crabbe and Goyle ended up flat on their backs and stunned. The bolt had passed right through Boris without being diminished in the slightest, had exploded the trunk of a large oak tree behind him, and then melted a bronze statue of Cornelius Fudge in the courtyard across the town square.

Harry leveled his wand at Malfoy and instantly felt Malfoy's evil mind enter his own, frantically searching Harry's thoughts for the countercurse. "There is no countercurse, you murdering piece of filth!" shouted Harry triumphantly. "Fulguritim!"

"Protego!" cried Malfoy in desperation, and a silver shield materialized in front of his chest just as another massive lightening bolt exploded from Harry's wand. The bolt struck Malfoy's shield, and passed right through it in a shower of narrower arcs that struck Malfoy's body in a dozen places, knocking him across the street and into a trash bin. Crabbe and Goyle had sat up dazed, and were leveling their own wands at Harry, but a cascade of reflected arcs of electricity caught them too; their wands burst into flame and their bodies flipped through the air, crashing through the storefront window of Nobleman's Wizard Wear.

Harry was seething like molten lava now. His eyes had begun to glow red, as he considered momentarily whether to go ahead and vaporize the unconscious bodies of Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle or to search for a new target. Sensing another presence, he wheeled around in a flash and leveled his wand point-blank at the nose of... Professor Dumbledore.

"Fulg..." he sputtered.

"That's quite a remarkable spell, Harry," said Dumbledore with a genial smile. "I dare say that Mr. Malfoy will agree with me, once he comes to and stops smoking. Marshals from the Ministry will be here momentarily to take him and his friends into custody. Now, Harry, I think you had better give me that very interesting wand, if you don't mind."

Harry was breathing hard, his eyes still glowing red like hot embers. Hermione was huddled in a corner, looking at Harry in horror. Neville was in shock, still gazing at the cindered remains of Boris Lestrange. Ron, an awe-struck look on his face, managed to speak first:

"Whoa, Harry! What was that!"

"The wand, please, Harry?" said Dumbledore politely.

"Uhh," said Harry, confused. "Are you...? Did we...?" The embers were dying in his eyes.

"Yes, Harry," we have won the first battle of the war. Voldemort himself apparated on the other side of town, where the first two fireballs came down. Professor Carstairs and I were preoccupied for a time driving him off before I could come and see how you were doing on this front. Obviously you did not require my help." Dumbledore looked around admiringly at the devastation.

The red glow had faded completely from Harry's eyes, and they were turning their normal green again. At last he lowered his wand very slowly, and Dumbledore took it from his hand.

"Amazing ingenuity I must say, Harry," said Dumbledore, examining the thick-handled wand. "Slytherin's index finger?" he said, pointing to the handle. Harry nodded, in a daze now, uncertain of where he was. But he knew the finger still bore Slytherin's snake ring, and apparently Dumbledore had a way of seeing it right through the enclosing handle.

"The actual finger of the most gifted digitomancer in history as the core of a wand...very creative. Considering the original owner of the finger, my guess is that it works best when your mind is full of anger and hatred; in fact, the wand may well stimulate those feelings. And I understand from one of the very frightened dementors that I encountered fleeing the area, that you conjured up a snake patronus with the power to kill. I must presume that it was actually Salazar Slytherin's patronus and not yours that materialized. Did it require happy thoughts to generate? I wouldn't think so. The patronus of a dead person has never before been created, as far as I know, and that may perhaps also account for its unusual lethality. I think the dementors will be highly circumspect about attempting to attack you again, Harry. No one has ever thrown such a scare into them.

"But Harry, you must understand that Dark Magic, even if used in a noble cause, is still Dark Magic. To use it is to let it inside you. Remember this, Harry: you can't stop evil thoughts and feelings from flying into your head once in a while - no one can - but you can keep them from building a nest in there. The Bloody Baron is a good example which I had hoped you would learn from. He was once a handsome man but by the time of his death, by his own hand, at the age of 34, he looked eaten away and aged almost beyond recognition. Did he tell you that he very nearly became a dementor himself, after having utilized the Dark Arts so many times in his life? No? Well, I think he still hasn't decided whether to be proud or remorseful on that account.

"But you, Harry, have many years ahead of you, and are already a bit affected, shall we say, by the connection that was forged between you and Lord Voldemort. You will have to work very hard to remain on the right path. I'd better keep this wand for the time being, while you are recovering your sense of your true self.

"Incidentally, you may be interested to know that the Weasley brothers were of material assistance to me in the battle on the other side of town. A number of the dementors happened to step on some Fumble-Foot Funballs and ended up with feet the size of bathtubs; it slowed them down considerably and was quite amusing. I have invited Fred and George to join us for a victory feast back at the castle. Shall we go?"

Harry was at last regaining his senses, now that he was no longer touching the thick-handled wand.

"But Professor," he said blearily, "my lightning spell... why wouldn't it work before, and why did it work so well now?"

Hermione was regaining her composure as well. "That's what you were working on so hard and wouldn't tell me about? Well it's obvious, isn't it? You never read to the end of Hogwarts, A History! If you had, you would have learned in the last chapter that an electricity-damping spell covers all of Hogwarts... nothing electrical will work there. But you didn't know that, and kept juicing up the power of your spell. Once you got off the Hogwarts grounds and into Hogsmead, it could operate at full power, and you practically fried the town! I don't think Mr. Fudge is going to be very pleased with what you've done to his statue!"

Harry and Ron turned to walk back to the castle, Harry's arm on Ron's shoulder for support. They looked at each other wearily.

"We've got to finish reading that book," they said in unison, and then had to laugh at Hermione's expression of amused exasperation.

Despite Harry's exhaustion as he limped slowly back to the castle, a feeling of hope began to dawn on him and a weak smile replaced the look of depression that had weighed on his tired face for so many months. He dared to think, now, that he just might have a chance next time against Lord Voldemort. And besides that, he thought, chuckling quietly to himself, the next quidditch match against Slytherin and their seeker, Draco Malfoy, was going to prove very entertaining!