Shocking Strength!

With a faint, almost playful smile curling on his lips, Harry surveyed the group before him. His voice cut through the tense air like a blade. "From the looks of things, I didn't arrive too late, did I?"

The flickering firelight played strange tricks on his figure, his form shifting between light and shadow, as though he belonged more to the darkness than the flames. His silhouette stretched long across the ground, an almost otherworldly presence in the chaos. There was something unmistakably different about him; his air, his confidence. He carried himself with a grace and lethality that set him apart from ordinary men.

The silence shattered abruptly.

The crack of muskets echoed through the night as several men fired simultaneously in Harry's direction. Smoke billowed, flames sparked, and the dull roar of gunfire filled the air. Yet the bullets whistled past him, hitting only shadows.