An Ill Wind - Mod Journal (illwindmod) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-06-07 23:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !! group: death eaters, !! group: ootp, - 1980/06 june, bellatrix lestrange, calypso bones, caradoc dearborn, christian avery, edgar bones, remus lupin, rodolphus lestrange, thorfinn rowle |
AOM - Part Nine!
Who: Order VERSUS the Death Eaters
What: IT'S A TRAP
When: 7 June, evening
Where: Hogsmeade
Rating: R-ish
Status: Completed log, multiple posts!
Caradoc VERSUS Thorfinn
Thank Merlin Caradoc had the night off, or else the silver goat that had appeared in his room as he sat reading in bed would have been a terrible surprise to the patrons of The Leaky Cauldron. Listening to the message, the young man felt a shiver of fear down his spine, and sat up, merely dropping his book to the ground. Panic swept over him, not knowing if he should have gone then, if he had to tell Tom where he was going (and thus come up with an alibi and a lie), and he jumped to his feet, knowing he wasn't ready to fight anyone. Sometimes he felt absolutely cowardly, for not being so willing to jump into a battle, though he knew it was his job, and inevitable at that. He sighed and rubbed his eyes in frustration, hating himself for feeling scared, only to then try and calm himself. He closed his eyes and remembered what they'd all said about the mask, and. . .well, he'd procrastinated on getting that. Suddenly, he remembered, and called out, "Accio ski mask," a black muggle hat that covered his entire head, save for eye and mouth-openings, shoving it in his pocket quickly. "Goddammit," he cursed to himself for being practically in his pajamas already, and meanwhile who knew what was happening. Getting his shoes on, he soon was sent another patronus, this time a dog, and in Edgar's voice.
With that, he rushed out of his room and down the rickety staircase to the main floor of The Leaky Cauldron, trying to keep his cool and repose as he waved a goodbye to Tom behind the bar. It was painfully difficult to smile at a time when he felt so terrified, and knew what he was up against, but he laughed and called out a cheery, "Have a good night!"
Hurrying out the door, he immediately apparated off to Hogsmeade, the mere second upon landing pulling on his mask. "Jesus Christ," he sighed to himself, immediately casting a strong Protego around him, really the only spell-casting he felt confident of. Knowing he couldn't do much to stop the attackers, he tried to play to his strengths, and set off to at least defend the defenseless, wand held tightly in his right hand, almost fearfully so. Hopefully nobody was hurt enough yet that they'd need his protection.
Surprisingly, Thorfinn was calm. Small things tended to excite him, things like a warm pie or the sight of an unsuspecting muggle wandering along the lonely, dark streets of London when he was close enough to witness the mild worry that would shuffle and dance across their faces whenever they casually glanced behind their shoulder with terribly masked apprehension. Those small things, the fresh pies and the perfect-for-being-a-voyeur-on muggle, were easy to come by; things like this did not happen every day. In fact, they seemed to happen so infrequently that Thorfinn often wondered how and why he didn't whinge more to anyone who would listen to him. But whinging from Thorfinn was not exactly the sort of exhibit that would draw people in numbers to come and see and listen to. Perhaps it had simply not set in yet, what was about to occur. His brain was, after all, not exactly the fastest moving body part he owned. It needed to see, to witness, before it could feel. The calm before the storm. Or whatever it was people tended to say, he didn't know.
Despite still feeling annoyingly calm, Thorfinn's head darted downwards when he heard the sound of something crunching underneath the sturdiness of his black boot. A skull? Bones? Something really exciting? No, unfortunately. It was simply a stick to a tree that didn't seem to be anywhere close. The stick was enough for the Death Eater to waste a few confused seconds wondering about its existence, as though a stick in the middle of Hogsmeade was such a foreign concept that warranted all of Thorfinn's brain power getting used up. It didn't. So he gave it a rough kick and kept moving, tugging his bottom lip roughly between his teeth and holding his wand proudly into the air, hoping to have the advantage on whatever one of them he came across first.
When that moment did happen, Thorfinn smiled gleefully to himself and tried to resist rushing forward and using sheer body strength, and the one-up he tended to have on people in the department, to take down this dark shape of the enemy. Or at least he hoped it was the enemy. It had to be the enemy, didn't it? It made him even more gleeful to refer to the dark shape as 'the enemy', and, thankfully, that seemed to be the stick that broke the camels back; he was no longer quite as serene and bored as he had been only moments ago.
With a quick jerk of his hand and a few large steps forward, Thorfinn let out a hearty laugh.
"Hello!"
Caradoc was the furthest away from a sense of calm that he'd ever been in his entire life. Actively fighting wasn't his thing. . .at all. He knew it, too, he wasn't excited to jump into battle. He was the bloke who sat around in the background and cast eavesdropping spells on teapots! This did not bode well, he kept thinking to himself as he turned constantly, wand blasting away rubble that flew his way, dodging wayward hexes that threatened to shoot through his Protego. Unable to see through the calamity, he ran quickly forward into the fighting, eyes darting from side to side, shaking with fright and hesitation. As long as his shields held, he was good, he thought. Then again, he'd never really had to protect himself from this kind of battle.
Seeing buildings levelled around him, Caradoc cowered behind the shielding spell from his wand, deflecting bricks blown out into the street and losing his focus for a moment. Standing upright again, he saw and heard a towering hooded figure coming towards him, unmistakably a Death Eater. At first, he felt rather foolish and weak for being utterly terrified at how bleeding tall this one was, but soon enough the young man bit his lower lip and gained his resolve. He let his shielding spell down for just long enough to point his wand at the ground his opponent stood on, yelling out the incantation, "Expulso!"
With a brain that was suddenly whirling, Thorfinn took a few more steps toward the unfamiliar shape after booming his friendly hello, one that resembled the cheerful sort of clatter he would make whenever returning home to his grandmother, an extremely old woman who could not hear unless he was using his outdoor voice around her. Thankfully Thorfinn could hear just fine; the sound of things, and hopefully people, crumbling in the distance whipped across his eardrums like rough ocean currents against sharp rocks. He didn't, however, remember to set up any sort of protection charm around his large being before quickly inviting himself into his own private battle, but, again, it was a almost a cocky idea that made him believe that the bigger man always beat the tinier man.
It only took a small shift, perhaps an inch or two, for Thorfinn to avoid the spell that was suddenly speeding his way. Instead of making contact with his head, or with the ground that he was standing directly on top of, it blasted into the ground near a bench, causing the entire thing to shudder and shake and, in another second, explode upward into the air. It surprised him, and he was tempted to look back at it, but instead of doing that he threw himself forward, trying to avoid stumbling on the ground, which was still trembling slightly, and quickly shouted "Crucio!" so loudly that his eardrums started to hum.
Hell, even coming from the tiny man, he still had the belief that towering giants always beat those smaller than them. He tried to think clearly, tried to block out his fear, all that Eastern spirituality junk he busied himself with in his free time completely escaping him just when he needed it. Cursing to himself as his exploding spell was dodged, Caradoc took the opportunity to run backward, muggle trainers being rather helpful in that way. Great. He was relying more on his footwear than actual spellwork. This was what it had come to for Caradoc Dearborn. He shot up a Protego Horribilis in front of him as he hurried backward, quick on his feet, head darting quickly about as he tried to think of what to do, tried to see what he could use to protect himself. Doc knew full well it would be a mere stroke of luck to actually cast a spell able to stop anyone himself, so he had to find something he could use to do it for him.
As quickly as he could, he jumped out of the way and let his shielding charm down long enough to summon the bench now hurtling toward the ground, holding it between him and the Unforgiveable curse thrown his way. It didn't hold long, though, as the Crucio blasted it into pieces and hurled the young man backward, the sheer force of the dark spell too powerful to have him maintain his footing. With a pained grunt, he landed on his back, though was at least happy he'd avoided the torture from the spell. Grit and gravel stuck painfully into Caradoc's palm, he stifled the pain in his hand and back and held his strong shielding charm from his wand held in front of him, quickly jumping to his feet again.
Thorfinn's first impression was that his fellow fighter was going to run and search for a place to hide. The cowardice approach, perhaps, the one that was either a brilliant idea or entirely foolish, depending entirely upon the outcome. In enraged him briefly, or at least long enough for him to let out a sound that was half amused, half annoyed. If it was going to come down to hide-and-seek, he might have a chance at winning, but the chances of victory decreased if it became a running game. That worry was playing on his mind as he kept his body moving forward, trying not to let the little git leave his eyes. It would hardly bode much confidence in the Death Eater's chest if this person managed to get away without even a bloody nose to show for it, nor would it make explaining to the other Death Eaters very easy. He'd rather have a tale about how he crushed someone's head under his foot or ripped off their arm than he would one of chasing someone until he got too winded to continue.
The Crucio curse that had left his wand only moment ago seemed deliciously destined to make contact with his fellow fighter, at least at first; and at least until another bench appeared. Another roar of rage left his lips and he loudly cursed at the thought of these lousy benches seeing more action than either of them were. If he would have acted quickly enough, he could have closed the space remaining between their bodies and thudded himself atop the little git who had just avoided his favourite spell, but he too was too busy trying to keep his footing and didn't even notice that Caradoc had fallen to the ground until he was already slipping back up to his feet.
"Clever," he barked, lumbering forward, so close that he was tempted to reach out his arm to see if he was close enough to wrap his fingers around a neck or arm or whatever, even if he wasn't nearly that close. Instead, he shouted "Incendio" while aiming his wand at the tiny, shadow-filled building not far from where Caradoc was standing.
If there was something Caradoc was capable of being, it was clever - a proficient dueler, however, he was not. At the moment he was wishing to switch that skill-set of his, but had to focus on other such things. . .not getting killed being one of them. Backing up to a darkened, small building, he braced his wand in front of him as he tried to stop his head from spinning, realizing what was going on not quickly enough to run from the strong Incendio shot at the wall.
Flames shooting out at him, he felt his shirt catch on fire, letting out a loud yell and instantly dousing himself with an Aguamenti to douse the flames. Frigid water pouring over his body, he wiped his masked face and continued to move backward, speed impeded by the sloshing shoes and sopping wet clothes he was covered in. Wincing as the cold water seemed to make the burned skin of his back hurt even more, he glowered at the figure that kept on coming closer and yelled out an Obscuro aimed at his attacker's face, hoping to at least buy time or lose him completely.
Thorfinn wanted an explosion of fire. He wanted to see the orange and red flames lick at the sky, float so high that everyone else could see that something was on fire and that he was to thank for it. Unfortunately, it was hardly much of an explosion, perhaps just more like the fire that would angrily cackle within the confines of a fireplace. It had also been a slightly foolish idea; even though he had managed to harm his target, a long flame, almost with a mind of its own, bounced backward and caused the bottom of his black robe to start on fire. He had hardly noticed it until the hairs on the bottom of his leg singed into nothingness and alerted his skin to the presence of white-hot heat. His leg shook once, twice, then once more until the invading little flame vanished, leaving an oddly-shaped hole in his robe.
Water, of course, was a clever idea, and the Death Eater was tempted to credit the masked-face person on another clever idea. But then he felt something over his eyes, blackening out the world momentarily. Without even bothering to remove the blindfold, Thorfinn blindly sent a Tripping Jinx in the last place he had seen the wet figure, waiting only a second after saying the spell to claw at his face, digging his nails into both his flesh and the blindfold in an attempt to yank it off for good.
It felt like an explosion to Caradoc, seeing as he had been facing away from the fiery building completely and had perhaps gotten the initial blast of orange and red flames licking right at his back. He was yelping as he tried to extinguish the fire, only after the Aguamenti had dissipated seeing his attacker caught on fire as well. The young bloke got a bit cocky as his blindfold worked effectively, and had set a drought charm on himself to rid his clothes of the freezing water, only to get the brunt of a tripping jinx. "Shite," he hissed, falling over his fumbling feet, rolling over onto his back and trying to wriggle away from the man, at least far enough to shoot another spell at him. As long as he stayed on the ground until it wore off, he figured he was good.
As the other man towered over at him, Caradoc quickly shot a "Duro!" in the direction of the blindfold, hoping to get to it before the Death Eater had time to take it off completely - and hopefully while it was still wrapped around his eyes tightly enough, while trying to remember what spell he used when he had a tripping jinx used on him back in school. Of course he forgot this just when he needed it, of course.
The Death Eater had no idea if his jinx had worked; he was too busy clawing blindly at something latched onto his face, something that was going to drive him completely mad if he didn't get his vision back. It was like fighting blind; he hated fighting blind. Not that he had ever fought while blind like this, but still. The darkness was his enemy, and he needed the light to see. Obviously. Clumsiness and darkness went hand-in-hand. What would he do if he could never get this blindfold off? He was, of course, over-thinking the situation, as it was not exactly that difficult to remove something covering his eyes, even when he was suddenly so impatient and eager to see. To his credit, it was tighter than the average blindfold, and a battle with the covering was warranted.
He did, however, manage to tug it up and over, just far enough so he could see, but not far enough to remove it from the top of his head completely. It was in that initial moment of having control over his eyes again that he noticed the valiant fighter on the floor; his jinx had work. A smile came over his face, though vanished in a mere second or two when his own fumbling, perhaps because he suddenly tripped over something on the ground, gave him just enough distance to avoid the stone spell shot at him; accidental luck. Pleased that it had missed, again, Thorfinn's foot eagerly came out and searched for flesh, for something to kick, for any part of the person still on the ground.
Caradoc tried to stand once as his attacker tried to remove the blindfold, only to fall over his flapping feet once more. His best bet was to just try to crawl away, simply using his arms, which was made increasingly difficult as he had to keep shooting spells with his wand arm. He strained to crawl backwards, useless legs trailing after him, broken glass and hot shrapnel stabbing into his hand with each eager grasp at the ground. Seeing the Death Eater free himself of the blindfold, he grumbled again as his stone spell was dodged, raising his arm to shoot a blasting curse at the man. . .
And then his stomach erupted in dull, aching pain, his breath being literally kicked out of his lungs. Caradoc gasped with a gurgle of pain, getting kicked squarely in the gut and chest, feeling a rib crack under the pressure. Eyes watering with each desperate breath, he felt dizzy from the intense pain, even worse as he tried to get a decent gulp of air. Caradoc lay on the ground and extended his arm quickly, hastily, yelping a blasting curse with a distressed groan, hoping the near proximity would at least break the man's leg.
This was the sort of fighting that Thorfinn strove for. Anything that didn't involve being good with a wand was generally something that he was acceptable at, and something that kept the Death Eaters from kicking him out or killing him or taunting him more than they already did. Or at least he assumed that was the case; he may not have been able to constantly hit his targets or throw off spells that were actually strong and lasted for a long time, but he was able to whack and kick at things when it came down to it. The feel of his toe meeting flesh was something he relished; hands around a neck, fingernails clawing, bones breaking.
It wasn't too difficult to sense that his foot had made contact this time, thankfully, for it had been a rather fierce kick, one that took a lot of energy. Or so Thorfinn thought. Another gleeful smile sprouted on his lips, mutating into a bit of a smirk as he heard a quiet wheezing sound. He did it again, aiming for a similar spot; he thought he had made contact again, though perhaps he didn't, as there was suddenly a different feeling, one that was momentarily numb for a few seconds. That numbness made the onslaught of pain even worse when it came, pulling and tugging and tearing at something in his leg. This may or may not have been clever on Caradoc's part, for Thorfinn was falling forwards, crookedly suspended in mid-air, until he came crashing down on top of the other body. It was chaotic, too chaotic for Thorfinn to take much advantage out of this position. His hand came out to punch what he thought was a face, but then the pain in his leg caused his body to shudder and then roll to the left. The hand had that just given the blow subconsciously reached down in a hopeless effort to cure the pain with a simple touch.
Oh, no, Caradoc knew first-hand that the kick took a lot of energy; or, more accurately, he knew first-foot. Feeling dizzier as he couldn't get a full breath of air, he raised his arm to block another kick, only to get struck right in the sternum, feeling another dreadful crunching noise. In a way, he almost laughed at the appropriateness of how this duel had gone - a muggleborn fighting one of those who wanted to kill his kind, getting beaten to a pulp muggle-style, the more damaging blows being caused by brute bodily force rather than magic. The pain in his chest felt as close to a cruciatus as Caradoc could imagine, never having experienced the Unforgiveable himself, but if he had to say what he thought it felt like, this would be it. The Ravenclaw was usually a "conscientous objector," or a "pacifist," if he had to give it a name, and perhaps other men had experienced fights like this before, but this was new and agonizing to him.
Too dizzy to notice if his blasting curse had worked, his vision got blurry as he wasn't getting enough oxygen to the brain, he tried to strain his eyes to see just as a heavy body fell right on top of his crushed chest. Not able to breathe correctly, knowing something was very, very wrong just by the way it felt to inhale and exhale, he tried to reach his arm out to hex the other man, to do anything, to try to get himself help. As he did, he felt something collide with his face, causing Caradoc to weakly slump backward, losing consciousness slowly. The pain in his lungs and ribs far outweighed the broken nose he was certain he just received, and he reached out in one last, desperate attempt, aiming a weak Defodio at the other man, just trying to get him away with a blast of sound. Even in his traumatized state, he had a feeling it was too weak and insipid to actually move his attacker at all.
Caradoc only now realized how typical this was for him, as he slipped away painfully into unconsciousness, that this was the result not of Pureblood maniacs sending a curse to end his life, but a mere blunt trauma that any muggle could suffer.
There was an unmistakable river of anger running a course through Thorfinn's veins, like a wild stream in the middle of the untouched parts of the Amazon. Occasionally, he was a good sport. There were times when he could accept that he was getting kicked and hit and hexed; it was easier to accept that fate when he was fighting someone worthy of actually committing someone's injuries. Not someone like this. Not someone who seemed to almost allow him to make this more of a hand-to-hand combat style fight. A victory, maybe. At least he had an injured leg to show for it; maybe he could gain someone's sympathy, a pat on the back, more invitations to dangerous and elusive tasks. A slightly bizarre thing to be thinking about when he was half on top of another bloke's body and clutching a leg that felt like it was going to rip off, like meat off a chicken bone, when he tried to get up.
The thoughts of some sort of compensation fled when the last weak spell aimed at him wavered and eventually faltered. He couldn't see much of anything, as he had his eyes closed, but he could sense that he was suddenly alone, at least for the moment; there was no one there to fight back. With that encouraging thought, the Death Eater rolled once more so he was on his stomach, then used his arms to shove himself upwards, shakily teetering. The pain didn't vanish, or even deteriorate in the slightest, when he got up, so he had to keep one foot raised and remove the pressure that stepping on the ground caused. It was almost like he was a child trying to out-balance another child by standing on one leg for longer than an hour.
After he was sure that he had his balance, Thorfinn quickly tightened his grip on his wand. "Imperio!" The spell left his wand, easily finding its target. There was a lot he could do, really, but whatever hair was left on his body was standing up and could sense that something was...not right, so his fun had to end. Before that could happen, however, Thorfinn made the limp and lifeless body of this mystery guest walk over to an unharmed building and smack into it, once, twice, three times until there was a red stain on the light brown wood. Then he casually whipped his wand away, letting the body fall roughly to the ground. Without paying it a single bit of attention, the giant Death Eater turned around and started to limp away.
Remus VERSUS Christian
PLACEHELD - Summary from Taylor: "christian is already fairly injured from his fight with stu. after he pulls himself up off the ground after THAT mess, he spots remus nearby after some greyback/remus interaction, and he uses the cruciatus curse on remus. they duel, and christian ends up knocking him down with presumably something dark. she had in her notes that there could be some blood loss and that remus would be knocked out and presumed dead."
Edgar & Calypso VERSUS Bellatrix
Bellatrix was, truthfully, growing tired. Not physically as she had a seemingly limitless reserve of energy when it came to duelling and her injuries were all quite minor, although she would undoubtedly be sore in the morning. But was beginning to get bored with her own games and now it was time to finish the task they had set out to accomplish. Kill the Order, return home, avoid the wrath of her sister, celebratory sex with her husband, sleep. But first she needed to deal with the man in front of her. Her third cousin of the night, she thought with an amused little smirk. Well maybe she could have a little fun with him before she killed him she decided as she sent a silent cruciatus flying at him.
Edgar had, after being thrown bodily by Alecto and crashing into what was left of a sidewalk, lost sight of Calypso in the aftermath of the last duel, and he was panicking. Where the fuck was she? The street had been swallowed by pandemonium--buildings were falling apart and exploding, it seemed like buggering everything was on fire... This was ridiculous and overwhelming. Looking about, trying to spot Calypso in the insanity, Edgar ignored his surroundings. The cruciatus caught him right in the middle of his back, bringing him to his knees, screaming.
Now she had his attention. Bellatrix did not let the curse last long, only two brief agonising
minutes before she lifted it. And then she gave a lazy flick of her wand and a giant flaming crossbeam from the nearest burning building was ripped free with a loud crack and came hurtling straight for Edgar's head. There was a long, slow creaking noise from the structure itself, just moments before a deafening crash as a section of the roof collapsed but Bellatrix was far too focused on her prey to notice or care.
Disoriented and feeling as though every inch of his body was on fire. It took Edgar a moment to find his bearings, stand, and face his attacker, just in time to see the flaming beam hurtling in his direction. Edgar dove out of the way, and the beam smashed into another building and starting another fire.
"Expulso! Diffindo!" Edgar shouted after jumping to his feet, having rolled a slight distance away. A silent incarcerous and stunner followed, and then, after throwing up a shield charm, Edgar cast oppugno on a nearby pile of rubble and started pitching chunks at Bellatrix one by one.
Bellatrix threw up a shield as soon as Edgar turned and his attacks crashed harmlessly into it one after another. As soon as the red jet of the stunning spell hit, she dropped the shield and sent back a flaying curse designed to divest him of his skin, quickly and painfully. Except as soon as she cast the spell, the first of the rocks connected with her shoulder and she was jarred back, sending the curse flying off course. It connected with one of the few villagers who had not yet fled the scene, a young girl who could not have been more than eight, standing and screaming for her mummy with tears streaming down her cheeks. The girl and her skin fell to the ground in two separate unmoving piles. Well that worked too. More important was the rocks and rubble that were still flying towards her and Bellatrix gave a broad wave of her wand that vanished both the rubble that was flying towards her and his arsenal. Another attack, this time one of midnight blue light that set out to kill whatever flesh it touched.
Watching the little girl when Bellatrix's curse hit, Edgar's heart sank, but he didn't have time to react. He whipped up another chunk of concrete toward the her quickly approaching curse, catching it midair, causing more rubble to go everywhere. He threw up another shield charm, followed by, "Stupefy!" then a silent deprimo and jelly-brain jinx. He glanced around wildly for Calypso but still didn't spot her, now getting angry. "You'll have to do better than that!" he snapped, looking rather wild, his hair falling out it's ponytail, dress robes torn, everything covered in blood and dirt.
"Says the man resorting to stunning spells," Bellatrix sneered as she dodged a bit of flying rubble and threw up another shield as soon as the curse had fallen from her lips. She was, admittedly not expecting the second attack that came at her but it was just as easily deflected by her shield. Did these people know nothing? Silent spells first, if you must speak at all. Not that she was going to offer a lesson in duelling to her opponent, beyond showing him how it was done properly. She could have sent all manner of evil curses and creations flying at him, summoning the darkest magic that she knew to show her just what she could do but instead she decided to fight at his level, to show him just what even simple spells could do. In the right hands. Without a word, Bellatrix advanced on him, letting a blindingly bright yet harmless flash of green light burst from her wand, followed by a series of silent incendios and expulsos fired off in rapid succession.
Edgar threw up another shield charm at the flash of light, holding it against the seemingly endless streams of fire and blasting hexes. The last expulso broke through his shield and sent him backward (fuck was he tired of soaring through the air) landing on his back again, causing him to wince and swear out loud at the pain of it. He was convinced that at this point he'd done some permanent damage. Still he hopped back up on his feet, panting, and cast another shield before two silent slashing hexes, a gouging hex and a "Confringo!" aimed for the middle of the street. If worse came to worse he could just whip some more rubble at her.
Calypso was in a near panic as she circled around the bit of Hogsmeade she had been standing in with Edgar. It had been bad enough when they had been separated while she was trying to assist in putting out the fire on the Hog's Head, but this time she was really and truly panicking. She didn't like being around him when he was not only protecting her, but at least when she was there she felt like she was helping in protecting him. Besides that, she just needed to know he was okay.
But when she finally caught sight of her husband, she was fairly certain he was not okay and it made her heart pound. The flash of green light made it even worse, but she continued toward him and the Death Eater he was dueling with, her shield up, and just prayed for some kind of miracle.
That was just enough. Bellatrix was tired of these games and as soon as she had successfully deflected Edgar's attacks, she gave another broad wave of her wand that disintegrated all of the rubble from the exploding street before it could reach her. Her eyes flickered briefly towards the woman rushing to Edgar's aid and a dark smile crept across her features as she recognised the face of Calypso Bones. Another flash of green light burst from her wand, this time far more deadly as she silently cast the killing curse, not at her cousin but at his wife.
Oh fuck. Edgar didn't even think twice when he saw the streak of green light, and ran for Calypso. A shield charm was going to be useless against an unforgivable with that kind of force behind it. He didn't know that he had enough strength left to deflect it with just his wand, enough time to get a bit of rubble up to catch it before it reached Calypso. It was take it for her, or what? What else? He needed to divert it, or reflect it; he needed to put something between it and them. He got to Calypso and blocked her, then without considering the consequences, conjured a massive mirror just as the killing curse reached them. It struck closer to the top than the middle, which was just at Edgar's head. The force of the curse against the mirror sent the bulk of the sharp, broken pieces into his face and chest while another massive chunk embedded itself in his stomach all while he flew backward, crashing into Calypso before landing and thwacking his head against the concrete sidewalk. He blinked dizzily and barely recognized the piercing pain all over his body and the stream of blood before he passed out.
Calypso spent just a split second blinking and trying to clear her mind, the impact of being thrown backward startling her for just a moment. Somewhere within her she knew that she needed to keep herself focused if they were going to get through this alive and that was what brought her to. When Edgar had crashed backwards into her, she had fallen almost completely beneath him, her legs beneath his body but not positioned well enough to keep him from hitting his head. For a second she couldn't understand why Edgar wasn't getting up again, but as her vision focused and she saw her husband it became perfectly clear.
"Oh, Merlin, oh - oh," Calypso stuttered, pulling herself to her feet while she stared in horror at the bloody mess that was her husband. She had to keep her wits, though - she knew she did - and she tore her eyes away from Edgar and to the direction that the curse had came from. Her wand was still tight in her hand and with a wave of it she put a shield up before shouting out a gouging hex and a, "Stupefy!", hoping feebily that they would make it to where she wanted them to go and then dropped to her knees to at least attempt to heal something on Edgar.
Bellatrix had to duck quickly to avoid the few exploding shards of the mirror that flew in her direction, dodging out of the path of Calypso's attacks in the process as well. She pulled herself upright and was about to round on the couple yet again to finish what had been so irritatingly blocked when her attention was diverted by a far more appealing target as Albus Dumbledore arrived on the battlefield.
Rodolphus Narrative
After fighting Moody, Rodolphus had had enough of petty battles and decided that is was time to have a bit more fun. Some of the buildings around the Hog's Head had already been ignited, but there were still many that could be easily torched, spreading to the rest of the village and wreaking more havoc. He sent several long streams of fire at neighboring businesses, including Honeydukes, The Three Broomsticks and Zonkos. After a few quiet moments, Zonkos exploded, his fire having met with their extensive stock of display and stored fireworks. Dragons and pinwheels exploded in the sky above the battle, a rather ironic celebratory sight that Rodolphus couldn't help but grin at under his mask. Next he sent a handful of sparks off some distance away, hoping they would catch the homes and other enterprises behind the high street. He threw similar hexes at trees that hadn't yet been blown up in the battle, along with the grass, bushes and other vegetation.
Next he used simple blasting hexes to take out much of the now burning structures, collapsing buildings here and there that Augustus had not, whipping beams and flaming furniture into the midst of the battles, aiming for the resistance.