Harry counted to three. Hermione felt his wand slash the heavy night air. A chain of fireballs, scores of them, flew out and sped at the Death Eaters. Agonised screams split the sky in two. Hermione watched several bodies stumble away, covered in angry flames, flailing hands dabbing at the fire, futilely trying to save their doomed lives. It was totally surreal. The acrid smell of burning flesh would linger in Hermione's nostrils for the longest time.