"...Parker and Pitcairn ordered their men to hold fire, but a shot was fired from an unknown source." -"The Battles of Lexington and Concord", Wikipedia

April 19, 1775

Jack Potter slowly woke. He first became aware that the sun was rising, and then that his head felt like it had been on the wrong end of several curses. He groaned weakly and tried to get up, but only succeeded in knocking over a bottle of wine. The clatter sent another wave of pain through his aching head.

"Jack Potter!" a voice said urgently.

He answered with several mumbled curses, before realizing he was seeing the silvery glow of a Patronus, and hauled himself as upright as he could. The Patronus was a big dog - Munroe!

"Potter, I have been dispatching Patronuses to you for hours, kindly respond! The regulars are out and bound for Lexington. The Sons sent Revere to call out the militia, but you must ensure the word reaches the ears of all who need hear it, Statute be damned. Then get your bleedin' arse to Lexington Common, John Parker's mustering the militia, we do not know whether the regulars have wizards in their ranks."

It took a few moments for this to get through to Jack. When it did, he scrambled to his feet, swaying unsteadily, took a step, and landed on another empty bottle of wine, which broke. None of the glass got through his boot, so he staggered to the water jug, seized it, and emptied it on his head.

"Right. Lexington." He thought it over. "Munroe and I, we can Imperius the regulars' commander, make him turn them back. Problem solved, no one winds up dead. Right."

The tension among the men grouped loosely on Lexington Green could be slashed with a sword. No one was certain what to expect: some men loaded muskets grimly, others tried to persuade themselves and others that the regulars were not coming, and a few prayed. The sun was finally starting to rise, but all this did was throw glare into the already tired eyes scanning the road to the east.

Captain John Parker's sore throat was irritating him and making thought difficult. He had received word perhaps two hours ago that the regulars were in fact coming, and had told the men. Some still did not believe it, he knew, but they would find out soon enough. The problem was what to do when they did come.

He tried to think. His militiamen were hardly trained soldiers, and were almost certainly outnumbered. Without more men, he could do nothing. If the alarm had reached Concord, the stores were safe, and he need not act. But if he simply gave the order to disperse, the regulars would think they could do whatever they wished. He thought of the wars to secure the frontier and whip the French, and the courage of the men who led his army. He could not fail them.

"Company, form up! Parade ground formation!" he called, decided what to do. He would show the regulars.

His men formed up, shifting nervously.

"Stand your ground, don't fire unless fired upon," he said as loudly as he could, then, ignoring the pain in his throat, "but if they mean to have a war, let it begin here."

Jack Potter, meanwhile, was staggering about trying to find his hat, his coat, the musket he had to carry for deception's sake, and several other things that might be somewhere in this room or might be in the pub or might be stolen and he did not have the foggiest idea where they were. He kept finding more empty bottles, and found another wizard, a friend of his, unconscious behind Potter's overturned table, but only found his hat and coat when he chanced to look into the fireplace and discovered someone had shoved them up the chimney, God only knew why. He yanked them out, swearing, and put them on, surrounding him in a cloud of soot.

It was times like this he thought the Church maybe did have a few good ideas.

He could not find his musket at all, and gave it up as a bad job. Snatching up his wand, he stood, deliberated as carefully as he could, and whirled into the crushing black of Apparition.

The Green, meanwhile, was the scene of total confusion. Regulars rushed toward the militia, soldiers and officers shouted wildly. Everything seemed to be happening fast. Major Pitcairn saw Adair's advance, and afraid his men would panic, shouted at the rebels causing all this trouble to disperse. Captain Parker was trying to tell his men to do just that, but could scarcely be heard in the chaos. Muskets were leveled, officers bawled orders, time seemed to have sped up -

And a resounding crack split the air as Jack Potter materialized in the front rank of the militia.

Pitcairn and Parker bellowed, but without effect. Regulars fired, militia fell screaming and fled, others fired, Pitcairn stood watching, unsure what to do...

And Jack Potter crashed to the ground, his wand falling from his hand. He had seen the muskets raised, got out the first syllable of a Shield Charm, but to no avail...

Oh, hell, he thought, as darkness closed in around him.