BS"D

N'mine.

The barrage had ended briefly, each side taking just a moment to rest. The quiet London road where the battle had broken out was now reduced to scattered mounds of rubble and falling walls. Dotted about, the Order members crouched, wands at the ready.

At the center of the line, facing the enemy, Harry stood with Ron and Hermione, watching Voldemort, who stared calmly back.

"It is over, boy," Voldemort said, his whisper carrying across the road. "You are surrounded and your friends are wounded. Surrender to me," he said, his cold voice growing louder, "and perhaps I will spare the-" Voldemort stopped suddenly as a cheery jingling music sounded in the distance. One by one, heads turned towards the approaching jolly circus tune. It was growing closer…just down the street opposite….

"ICE CREAM!" Lucius squealed leaping from behind his rubble shelter. He tossed his wand in the air, and darted past the astounded Dark Lord and Golden trio, a gleeful giggle trailing behind him. The Death Eaters looked around at one another, bewildered, before Lucius's voice came again from down the road. "Ice cream!"

The Death Eaters looked at each other, shrugged, and leapt after him.

I'll explain: The weather was nice today. The window was open. The ice cream truck rolled by.

There's a thought: Do they actually have Ice cream trucks in England?

This one's in your letter, Rick, right above the notes on Paradise Lost. You can't miss it.