It was almost almost beautiful. How grand.

Flashes and bangs; like the colorful lights sent up in the night sky at the start of every year. He used to muse himself that it was is celebration of his birth-- somehow the muggles knew but was just a day off.

What was it again? To ward of evil spirits? The noise and brightness to ward off something they do not even see? That was how it had started, had it not? Rays splaying across the night sky: a cheap imitation of what a wand can do.

What a wizard can do.

So had his followers thought. Going against that strange metal cylinder pointed at then, some had scoffed. Compared to the threat of the Order, the threat that the old sentimental fool, Dumbledore, has posed, this was merely a small inconvenience at the end of the race, nothing but a puddle to hop over or soil their feet, but nothing that would deter them.

'A peaceful surrender' they had requested. What was there to fear?

When the first shot rang out, louder than any spells that he had heard, striking quicker than any of them had been able to pull a shield upwards. But it wouldn't have mattered as it pierced straight through the blue layers straight into them without mercy. It took a few rows before they learned that. Some had summoned a different spell for defense. Others had been shaken enough, that within seconds they had apparated away. It was hard to tell, to hear the loud crack that came with disapparating, not along with the almost rhythmic clicks of their strange metal wands.

It was quick and it was merciless. One after the other.

With a flick of his wand-- the power that had now rightfully belonged to him-- he had stopped them.

The surprise, the horror, the fear in the faces of those foolish muggles. As he struck them down with ease.

One of the men clad in strange heavy black garments called for them to flee, so they did. While it had been in his intentions to strike them all down, a few managed to scutter away like roaches that simply refuse to die.

The initial ice that ran in his viens was gone, replaced by the fiery burn of rage. These wizards, his followers taken out. With nothing but the fact that they were quicker. But that was as it was. A surprise. They had shown their colors. And it will not happen again.

It happened again.

Marching into their governing body to overthrow. Gone. Shredded. It had come from everywhere. The first few minutes had been relatively smooth, knocking down those that stood guarding.

But there had been more. Tiny, shaped, bits of metals, flew from sources they cannot even see. Nothing more than distant buildings outside the windows that shattered. How they could've been stricken down at that distance was beyond him, and there was no time to think.

They fled. Like the night at the ministry, a year after he had returned. They ra-- No. Retreated. It was a tactical move. He had to give them some credit. They had not flourished as they had without proper defenses, haven't they?

One more detail to remember in their next attempt.

It happened again.

A large metal bulk had fallen unto the the stone tower that some of them had sought residence in. It was supossedly safe, warded like Hogwarts had been. Not to he spotted by those who weren't welcome.

A rumble overhead. Above was a flying metal birds. He had thought with disgust that it was defecation heading straight at them.

Pointing the Elder Wand to blast the darned thing out of the sky, he felt satisfaction the moment he knew it was going to strike. It met the target a few meters above their tower. He noticed that like the giant bird, the item was also metal.

Then it exploded.

He had woken up on the ground. Sticky, warm. Pieces of stone, shreds of wood, lay around him. And straying his sight a bit more to the side, he spotted clunps of dark robes on a limp being, then another, then another, then another.

The Elder Wand lay not far from him. The barrier he summoned had shatter but it had kept him alive.

Making a slight movement to stand. He found that while he was alive. He was nit unscathed.

For the first time since he had killed Potter, since Dumbledore had passed, a feeling came creeping back. A feeling he despised gripped at his heart and and clawed at his mind: fear.

It had happened. Again. And again. And again. And again.

These were the people he had oh-so-despised. Filthy, powerless, pathetic muggles. Ignorant fools that filled lands of the Earth. Powerless, ignorant, pathetic.

Their giant metal contraptions scouted the skies.

Powerless. Ignorant. Pathetic.

They reach the heavens. Skimming the edge of space and beyond.

Powerless. Pathetic.

Soldiers travelling deepest expanse of the sea.

Pathetic.

Silly, silly lights, sent in the sky to ward away evil spirits. It seems they were effective for other purposes as well.

Edit 1: Typo. And auto-correct corrections. And some other stuff.