Blurred Lines Mods (blurred_mods) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-01-02 20:23:00 |
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Who: A fuckload of people
Where: The Ministry of Magic
When: 5:15-6:00 pm, 2 January 1980
What: TAKEOVER
Rating: R
Status: complete
PART 7 OF 7
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]
Death Eaters swarm to Level 1 to Portkey
It was obvious when the wards holding people in had come down because the DMLE began Apparating out of there, and Severus couldn't blame them for making the decision to run. After all, the numbers were such, and in the small space of the DMLE, the Death Eaters had made a huge impact in such a short period of time. As the Auror he'd been fighting disappeared Severus cast a shield charm around himself. It would be pathetic if he were to get injured at this juncture after having made it through an entire battle, hell, the destruction of most of the Ministry of Magic.
Severus held off thoughts of cynicism regarding the capabilities of the Ministry as he glanced around to see who was injured and to see if he could find Demetrius, or Aquila, both of whom he had lost track of in the ascent into the DMLE. As a Death Eater turned, he recognised Demetrius' mask, and the sight of obviously burned clothing on his arm, made Severus blink and quickly move across the room towards his friend.
"Come on, let's move. They're leaving and we need to get to the portkey," he said, more sharply than he intended, and still not willing to use Demetrius' name even though most of the 'good guys' had already cleared out. "You all right?" he added, as he reached his friends side and realised just how badly his skin appeared to be burned.
Blinking, Demetrius looked at Severus and frowned behind his mask. "I'm...fine," he said. Though he wasn't really. He was ready to go though and despite the dull, throbbing pain that seemed to punctuate every step (and the sharp pain with every breath), he started to walk. "I guess we'll have to hurry," he added.
"Are you all right?" he asked as an after thought, though Severus did not look particularly injured. But there was no time to be wasted as they dodged around wreckage. They could walk and talk at the same time, anyway. It wasn't particularly difficult.
"Like hell you are," Severus muttered vaguely annoyed, but mostly a bit worried. It struck him for not the first time that he really hated being on two sides of this war. It meant that instead of one side to worry about whether or not they were injured, there were two, and that whatever the outcome, whatever his personal perspective, he really didn't want to lose his friend. That had occurred to him earlier in the week as well when the Aurors had been poking about Demetrius in regards to the disembowelled body. It was unlikely, he thought wryly as he glanced around the department, that any Aurors would be bothering Demetrius again.
"We will have to hurry," he said simply, wrapping his arm around his taller friend so that the two of them could make their way more quickly towards the Portkey that was on Level 1.
"And I'm fine," he added, quickly, supporting Demetrius around half of a blasted wall that was nearly blocking a door. Almost as an after thought, he waved his wand at the debris pushing it out of the way. "Just a few scratches, so nothing too serious. Right now we're going to go, you're going to pick up the love of your life, and then you're seeing a healer." Severus spoke low enough that they wouldn't be overheard, but he also didn't plan on allowing anything other than that specific turn of events to happen. Demetrius was moving as if he had broken bones or some sort of injury that made it difficult to move, outside of the arm.
His head was spinning, but leaning on Severus was making it much easier to stay upright. "Right. I don't need a healer I just...need some rest. I got a desk dropped on me, you know," he said matter-of-factly as they walked. Hunching a little more and wincing, he touched his ribs with his uninjured hand. "Ow. Damn."
Looking around as they walked, he was impressed at the damage. "I dueled Meadowes," he said with an edge of pride in his voice. "It was horrible fun," he continued. "But she put up quite the fight, though I expect that's why it was fun. Then I came up here with Gaius," he added, his voice lowering a bit.
"You got a bloody desk dropped on you and you don't need a healer?" Severus glanced sideways at his friend, who was clearly not thinking well. He noticed Demetrius' wince, but there was no time if they were going to actually get to the office before the Portkey left. Luckily they were almost there and Severus was determined that they would both make it to Azkaban. If nothing else, Demetrius needed the opportunity to be the one to get Corbina out of her cell. Severus could have otherwise honestly cared less about whether or not he made it, if it were only for him he'd been trying to get there.
Meadowes. An Order member more than likely and Demetrius hadn't said what the outcome of the duel was but Severus could tell from what Demetrius had said, and how he had said it that it hadn't been good. He pushed the knowledge away for later when he'd have time to think about it, and with pushing the knowledge away, he slapped down several mental walls around those thoughts at the same time. "Did you then?" He said, calmly and with no display of emotion. "You get all the fun, Demetrius," he added. "My department just surrendered with a little white flag and everything."
The sarcasm was as much to keep Demetrius feeling as if everything were perfectly normal as anything. And they were here. Severus pushed open the door, to find other Death Eaters already gathered around what had to be the portkey to Azkaban. "Here we are then, stiff upper lip, Demetrius. You've still got to rescue people."
5. 6.10pm The Death Eaters Portkey to Azkaban
Giant narrative from Walden
Walden's instructions had been simple enough that even the giants could follow them through. He'd met them on the coast after the long journey across the icy landscape of northern Norway and that's when the waiting began. Walden and Allag, the leader of the colony, shared a few more words and then the Bubble-Head charms were put in place. Walden said goodbye and then was gone with a crack, leaving the five giants alone at the edge of the North Sea.
"We go now," Allag instructed, the language of the giants thick and muddled against the call of the sea.
"You still trust the man?" asked Nasvik. "We still go through with the plan?"
Allag nodded and looked around at the others. "He helped us and we help them. It is fair." Nasvik, Bodoborg, Grongnes, and Trondlo all nodded in reply. If the leader went forth they would follow. Allag turned and then took two large steps toward the cold water. In just seconds he was up to his neck and he motioned for the other four to follow. They did.
The trek beneath the waves was not an easy one and many times the giants felt a desire to turn back. There were trenches and currents and a bit of wildlife that threatened to cause a problem but they pushed on and after hours of stomping the abnormally large creatures found themselves at the base of the island that held the prison. Trondlo moved close enough to the shore so that he could poke one eye above the waves. The fortress was enormous and it looked desolate. He submerged himself once again and joined the others to wait.
They continued to wait and then, finally, there were red sparks shooting through the water and they knew it was time. Allag led the charge out of the sea and he saw Walden not far from where he was now standing. There was not much ground to stand on but the giants made due with what they were given. Each creature gave a thunderous bellow and with lightning speed they began to bully the thick stone walls with fists, feet, and heads. Each blow was accompanied by grunts and growls and in just a few moments the bricks and mortar began to crumble, if only a little, and so they kept on.
It didn't take long for the human guards to become aware of the visitors and they poured out of the prison with their wands at the ready but the sight of the giants and the Death Eaters quickly scared them into submission and so they put their wands down and surrendered without so much as a fight. The dementors also came to investigate and then, instead of swarming and fighting, flew to the highest point of the prison and seemed to wait. Now it seemed the only thing that stood between the Death Eaters and their families and friends were a ridiculous amount of stone steps.
Marius/Tabitha
Marius knew that Bellatrix would see to his father, and it was more Rabbit's place to look after Corbina than it was his, as much as that pained him. He was not troubled though, because there was one other person in Azkaban that meant something to him. Tabitha. He had not seen her husband in the commotion of the Ministry Battle, and he was not certain how much use he would be anyway.
Marius had expected some resistance, but he met none. It was not difficult to find Tabitha's cell, and he raised his wand amidst a dozen or so equal explosions and blew the door off of its hinges.
"Tabitha?" he asked, keeping his wand raised in case she wasn't in her proper mind.
Tabitha had pulled herself up off the floor the moment the door was blown away, backing up against the far wall away from the entrance. She growled low in her throat, attempting to keep herself pressed back in the shadows of her cell. She was more wolf than woman at that moment, despite the full moon not being near. On some level, she recognised Marius' voice, but it didn't quite register in her mind that he was a friend -- she was starving for blood, for flesh, and Tabitha felt threatened by the sudden appearance of another living being after having been alone for so long.
She lunged for him immediately, reaching out to grab onto him with her claws. Her time in Azkaban had weakened her, made her slower, as was obvious when she stumbled toward him like a desperate, starving animal, hungry to taste meat again. She was unwashed, too skinny from the meals served, and her clothes were in shreds from the full moon she had suffered through in a cage for the first time.
Marius had known this was possible and as Tabitha lunged at him he stepped aside slightly and gave her a hard push sending her toward the wall. It wasn't his intention to hurt her but he wasn't going to let her sink her claws and teeth into him either.
He cast an incarcerous spell only so that he could reason with her before releasing her.
"Tabitha, you must calm yourself. It is me, Marius, and I have come to rescue you, but you need to stop this. We will leave and I will apparate you directly to a muggle home where you can chew up anyone you see, but you can not hurt me. Tell me you understand that," he directed firmly.
Shoved toward the wall, Tabitha whirled around to face Marius again, refusing to keep her back to him. The ropes from his spell bound her before she could try to attack him again, topping over to the ground once they wrapped around her legs. Muggles... humans; the promise of escaping this place as well as easy prey helped her focus slightly more, but Tabitha was still not quite herself. She struggled against her bonds, snarling madly. "Yes. I understand. Untie me. Get me out!" she demanded, voice hoarse and angry with her fury. She didn't want to be in this horrible place anymore, where she was watched by things she could not see -- she wanted to leave here and eat, and then she wanted to see her husband, and God help whoever tried to stop her.
"It's me, Tabitha," Marius said, this time more gently. "I am going to remove your bindings and get you out of here, but if you attack me, I am going to have no choice but to stun you until you have had time to adjust," he warned.
With a flick of his wrist the bindings fell to the floor around Tabitha but he kept his wand on her. Werewolves could be tricky and Tabitha more than most of the rest.
"I will have to touch you to apparate us," he said evenly. He didn't want her getting tempted to lash out at him, so he still kept his wand up even as he approached her. "After you have had your fill of muggle blood then I will take you to a hotel where you will stay while I search for your husband. I did not see him at the Ministry though I know he was there."
Touching. Apparating. Tabitha did not feel like being touched at the moment, recoiling slightly as soon as the bindings fell away from her. Could she run out of here? No, she didn't know where here was, and the whole place reeked of illness and death. The stench made her want to gag. She didn't reply, but merely nodded as she moved closer to Marius so that he could reach her to apparate them out.
Tabitha appeared to be coming around, if at least slightly, and Marius placed a hand on the top of her arm. All around him he could hear the pop of apparition, and so he and Tabitha were only two among many. He had known exactly where he would take her. Tinworth.
Walden/Eva
Once it was clear there was going to be no one trying to stop them, Walden charged forward into the prison. There were so many thoughts ripping through his head but there was one thing that was focused loud and clear at the front of his mind. His sister was somewhere within the walls and though the pounding of the giants rattled him slightly he went forth.
"Evangeline!" His voice echoed off the walls and he heard responses from various prisoners but he did not recognize them. Walden climbed staircase after staircase, his cries to his sister ringing through the barren corridors. There were a few others ahead of him, also desperately searching. They would climb to the very top if they needed to.
It wasn't difficult to spot that there was a disturbance in the fortress. The sounds were jarring, rumbling noises--rock crumbling underneath force. Evangeline was jolted from her fitful sleep and she sat up to blink tiredly in the darkness. Were the voices? It was difficult to know for certain. Voices could either be real or, if her months inside Azkaban taught her anything, they weren't. But voices made up by stretches of time in solace were quiet and soft, hardly making the air shiver. The sounds bounced off of the walls were insistent and unarguably real. What was happening?
Then she heard him. "Walden?" Eva's voice was hoarse and she scrambbled towards the iron bars of the cell to hear better. "Walden?" she called out again, her voice gaining strength as she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the staircase.
He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of his sister's voice. The rest of his comrades were arriving around him, each of them rushing to the cell doors to greet the ones they'd been without. Walden clutched his wand in his hand and he rushed to the far cell where he'd heard his name.
The very sight of her gave him chills and he found himself frozen inches away from the bars. She was there, his little sister, just an arms length away. "I'm going to get you out of here. Stand back." He waited for her to step away and then he extended his wand, sending a blasting curse at the lock. It didn't move. He tried again with the same result. With a frustrated cry he tried once more and this time the latch shattered and the cell door swayed defeated in the stone frame.
Walden stepped forward and pulled the door open, staring disbelieving at the woman in front of him. In a second he had closed the space between them and he was crushing her against him in an inescapable hug. "You are never leaving the house again."
Her brother was here. Eva could feel her tears welling up at the sight of Walden, despite the apparent look of horror on his, despite how terrible she might have looked. He was here. She will be fine. She obediently stood back and ran to the far corner of the cell, her heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest as the walls shook from the curses Walden hurled at the iron latch. And then he was there. Evangeline didn't attempt to stifle her sobs as her brother engulfed her in a hug that was almost cutting off her air supply. A laugh even escaped her lips when she heard Walden's proclamation. "That took you long enough," Eva said as she pulled back from the hug.
He felt her sobs against his chest and he bit back the emotions threatening to tumble forth. No matter how hard he tried he could feel the burn of tears in his eyes but it didn't matter. He had a second chance to protect his sister and he would make sure that nothing like this would ever happen again. She would get married and settled down into a perfect life, never having to worry about being tossed into a cell.
Walden laughed at her response. To him she seemed the same. The familiar spark was even still there, twinkling in her eyes as she looked up at him. "I am good, this much is true, but even I cannot pull off a jailbreak in a fortnight. Forgive me?"
"I suppose that apology will do," Eva said, wiping her eyes with the heels of her palm. It could have been worse. It could have been much, much worse. She tried to smile at Walden but faltered, grimacing instead as she heard the bangs of cells being broken open. "Walden," Evangeline suddenly grabbed his arm, panic crossing her features. "How did you get in? Did you get hurt?" Even in her state, she knew that the efforts to break in the prison could be costly.
He shook his head and laughed. Two months in prison, she was finally free, and she was worried about the well being of others. He was not injured, not even a bit. Truth be told, Walden couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so good. "Do not worry about me, little sister. I am more than fine. The banging you heard was a help to us, not hindrance. Things are a bit complicated but I will explain them to you once we're back in London, safe and sound. I promise." He tugged her against him once more and kissed her forehead and then gave her the most reassuring smile he could.
Fenrir/Clara/Alecto
Azkaban was not a very nice place. It was all grey rock and damp and bad and sometimes Clara passed little rooms that had people in them, and they all seemed really sad. Probably because they couldn't go anywhere she supposed, but she didn't really care about them. Ignoring them, she headed down the corridor, looking for the big cells where Fenrir was.
Pretty soon she could hear him, making angry-sounding noises somewhere ahead. Speeding up, she trotted along until she found the door where the noises were coming from. There was a big bolt on the door and she reached up, tugging on it until it started to slide open with a sharp noise. "Fenrir! Fenrir it's me!" she announced, putting all her weight on her feet so she could pull the door open. "I ate the Minister's husband! He's still alive but she was really mad, it was fun!"
Fenrir had started off the day furious and his mood hadn't improved. He had yet to think of a plan to get out of here and the next full moon was rapidly approaching. He could feel it even if he'd lost track of days since he'd been in here. He could always feel the moon and what phase she was in and he knew it was coming. He wasn't sure he could keep doing this, keep spending the full moon confined in this tiny cell. So he was assuaging his frustration by pacing back and forth across the length of the cell and growling and snarling every swearword he knew.
He whirled suddenly when he heard the scrape of the bolt on the door being pulled back and he bared his teeth, ready to pounce on whoever was there, whatever guard was stupid enough to open his cell. But when it did open, it wasn't a guard who stood in the doorway, it was Clara.
Clara! If she was here then his Army and perhaps even the Death Eaters had to be as well.
"What?" he said with a frown, momentarily disorientated by the unexpected sight as well as what the vampire had said. "The Minister's husband?" He smiled viciously and headed for the door. "Good. Glad you left him alive because I'm going to rip him limb from limb and send the bits to her one by one."
He stopped in front of Clara and cupped her chin in his hand. He wanted to make sure he had her attention. "Now what the fuck is going on? Is it just the Army or are the Death Eaters here as well?" He gave her a small shove out of the door. "Tell me as we get the fuck out of here."
"Everyone is, we went to the government too." She hopped out of the way to keep her balance, scrunching up her face as she tried to think of the important stuff he'd want to know. "They told me to guard the big room with the fountain in it and I had to stop anyone leaving and they went upstairs to take over the place and we all went up and some magic thing brought us here so we can get everyone out. Alecto is coming too but I was faster."
His strides were longer than hers and she moved quickly to keep up, two steps to every one of his. "They were making magic at the air, I don't know why. I guess she's down here."
"Yeah she's down here," Alecto said, coming up the stairs slower than usual and turning into the corridor. She was still cloaked and masked, but it was her voice emanating out from behind the silver. There might have been more, some comment about the leech having found him first because she didn't have anything better to do (like, say, fighting and getting fucking hurt - OW) but she forgot all about that upon clapping eyes on Fenrir. Sure, he looked like hell, but, "Fuck, it's good to see you again." She didn't go running down to throw her arms around him or anything (and only partly because she wasn't sure how high she could actually lift her left arm) but she did grin like a loon in the darkness behind the mask.
The news about the Ministry brought a momentary jolt to Fenrir's stride then he grinned viciously. "We got the fucking Ministry? Fucking excellent. Hope nobody killed that Minister bitch. She's mine. Along with her husband and her daughter."
He dismissed that from his thoughts when he heard Alecto's voice coming from behind the Death Eater mask. "Feeling's fucking mutual, darlin'," he said with a grin as he came up to Alecto and threw an arm around her shoulders being a little careful about the mask. He'd copped enough shit in the prison without burning himself the moment he got out. He repeated the action with Clara with his other arm and raised an eyebrow at Alecto.
"Get us the hell out of here, will ya, girl? You good enough for that?" he said, just the barest hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "I smell like shit... nah, worse than shit. I need a fucking bath, a healer and to find some kind of replacement wand until I get a new one. The fuckers snapped mine."
Corbina/Demetrius/Rabastan
A less stubborn man than Demetrius Mulciber would have likely suggested someone take the portkey to Azkaban in his stead, given the state of disarray he was in. His ribs were surely at least fractured, if not broken. He was missing a sleeve and his left arm was covered in burns, his nose was broken and to be perfectly frank, he was in a lot of pain.
But the bullheadedness that would surely be the end of him someday was prevailing, and he had been leaning on Severus for support since they had left the Ministry. So now he pushed himself off of Severus, determined to walk on his own, even just because of how pigheadedly stubborn he was.
Plus, he still had his dignity, and he couldn't compromise that by using his best friend as a cane. So they were there, the giants had been a nice touch, but he was looking for one specific person. Though for a moment he wondered if he should be seen in this ridiculous state. But he went anyway. The stairs had taken a lot of his remaining energy. So he took out his wand and pointed it at a door, causing it to burst open. Leaning against a wall between two cells, he took a shallow breath, listening to the sounds of the giants pummelling the prison somewhere in the distance.
Then he hoped he had bothered with the right door.
The monotony of the daily grind in Azkaban caused a person to realise extremely quickly when something was even slightly different from usual, which happened to be the case that Friday. Corbina could hear some sort of a commotion coming from outside of her cell, and being able to see, at least, that the noises weren't erupting from Rodolphus's room, moved instead to try to peak through the small window that faced the circular staircase.
It was likely a good thing that she'd gone for the window rather than the door, as a few moments later the bars burst open, the door clanging into the stone wall. Turning slowly away from the window to face the now very-open doorway, Corbina stared rather blankly at a very disheveled, very bloody Demetrius Mulciber.
"...Do you need to lie down, Demetrius?"
Turning his attention towards the doorway, he attempted to shrug. "Probably so," he said vaguely, wincing at how muddled the words sounded through his broken nose and the pain in his ribs, so he shifted positions a bit.
"I think it would ridiculous to ask you how you are," he pointed out rather humorlessly. This was definitely not the image of his trip to Azkaban that he had conjured up after too many drinks, though he hadn't expected the fights he had been in either. All in all, this was far more difficult than he had anticipated. Groaning slightly, he tried to straighten up. "But," he finally continued. "How are you?"
"There's a slab over there if you need it," Corbina offered, gesturing towards the "bed" (which was currently littered with tiny origami figures she'd made out of the end-paper that had once been a part of the muggle book Josephine Savage had left behind during her entertaining visit to question her.
"Has it been fifteen years already, or has everybody come by to help redecorate? Is someone getting Rodolphus out?" she asked, her mind filled with questions that she was almost sure would go unanswered, as Demetrius looked about ready to topple over unconscious.
"No, no, I think we're leaving soon," he said, waving his uninjured hand. "It's been two months. I assume Madame Lestrange will be retrieving her husband," he continued vaguely, unsure of his own answer. That seemed the most logical leap of imagination, anyway.
"Though I'd say this place could use some redecoration..." It was very gray, he was now noticing. He hadn't taken in the sights, so to speak, when they had arrived, but it seemed no wonder people went mad here... Perhaps he was going a bit mad, though delirious from pain seemed equally likely.
If Bellatrix was responsible for making sure Rodolphus got out of Azkaban safely, apparently her sister-in-law was doing better than she had been when this entire mess had begun, after the fight she'd had with Sirius. They must have been in Azkaban for longer than she'd thought. Corbina was somewhat annoyed with herself for losing track of the days already, but she knew that people likely lost their minds ticking down the days until their release. Luckily it didn't matter -- it certainly hadn't already been fifteen years.
"I approve of this prospect of leaving soon," she noted, then paused, giving Demetrius another quick once-over. "Your head is bleeding. Give me your wand." She wasn't sure how exactly they planned on getting them off of the island Azkaban was on, and if it involved apparation, Corbina certainly didn't want to wind up left behind in the prison with Demetrius's toes if he ended up splinching himself.
Not really perturbed by the demand, Demetrius pulled out his wand and handed it to her. "I'm going to need that back, you know," he added. "I'm quite aware of the blood..." he trailed off. "I think we'd have to thank Dorcas Meadowes for that," he finished, shaking his head. He felt...fuzzy, though he knew the feeling, it was the same as after Barty had concussed him in August.
Looking around, he wondered when they'd be leaving. It couldn't possibly be taking this long to get everyone together. What time was it anyway? How long had they been at this? Sighing, he knew he was really ready to go home and sleep, he could relish the victory tomorrow.
Even if it wasn't her own wand (which Corbina had spent many nights wondering what had become of hers), there was something comfortable about holding one in her hand again. She silently performed a few simple healing spells on Demetrius, wanting to be sure, at least, that the bleeding stopped and that he'd be well enough to continue standing. "Meadowes again. I suspect she came out of it looking worse than you?" she asked, returning the wand to Demetrius's hand.
"I'm glad you made it. Let's not linger, though. Azkaban is depressing." She moved to look around the corner of the doorway at the ruckus in the hall, hoping that the Dementors wouldn't begin flooding the floor soon. Stopping short before leaving the room, though, Corbina turned back and pocketed one of her origami birds, figuring it might prove amusing someday to have some sort of a souvenir. Maybe after she'd slept for a month and had eaten something that wasn't gruel.
"Thank you," he said, though he knew he'd still need Barty to feel one-hundred percent again. Though he did crack a smile at her comment. "She did come out worse, as a matter of fact. She's dead." This made him happy, for some reason, though he would have been happier if he had been the one that had killed her, and perhaps marginally more happy if he hadn't sullied himself to the point of rolling around on the floor with her like some sort of animal.
"Right. I believe we just need everyone to regroup and then we'd be leaving. And unless we're riding giants back to the mainland, we'll likely be taking aportkey ," he said, mostly to himself, pulling himself off the wall (though the movement made his head spin and his ribs ache) and looking around.
Despite the crippling pain suffered by a number of his comrades, Rabastan had left the Ministry with little pain or trouble. There was a thrill to the idea of seeing his family and friends released after far too much time. Months. It had been Halloween that they were framed...
But tonight they were succeeding quite beautifully, and everything was going according to plan. The Ministry had fallen. He had swiftly scaled the stairs with their Death Eater group, and quite gleefully he could comfortably acknowledge thatAzkaban was falling under their control as well. It felt so wonderful to win.
There was little time at the moment to dwell in self-satisfaction when their imprisoned loved ones were still technically imprisoned, so Rabastan slipped easily past the rubble, looking for his younger sister's cell. He supposed Rodolphus was being freed by Bellatrix, and he wished to make absolute certain that Corbina was properly seen to.
Spotting a cell that had already been blasted into, Rabastan was about to move past to the next until he caught sight of Corbina and Demetrius inside -- though he could almost say that Demetrius was in worse shape. The fellow must have caught a rather bad opponent at the Ministry. No time was to be wasted on scolding him for coming when he looked scarcely capable of walking, however; Rabastan could not help but approve to some significant degree that Demetrius was so determined to see to Corbina's release. That discussion could be saved for another time, however.
"Ah, Corbina, there you are. I am glad you are safe. And Demetrius. I know the beauty and atmosphere of Azkaban is like no other, but I do believe that we ought not tarry. Discussions can be postponed for when we have returned."
"Hello Rabastan," Corbina greeted her brother as he rounded the corner to the hallway outside of her room. She wondered briefly where Marius was -- with Rodolphus and Bellatrix in the cell across from hers, it was almost like a miniature family reunion... plus a Demetrius and minus a Chloris. "Demetrius was just telling me how he killed Dorcas Meadowes. Isn't that splendid news?"
"Although, yes, we should leave. Now, if possible," she added. While she was normally a much more patient person, spending any extra time than necessary in Azkaban was most definitely not preferable.
"Oh. Hello Rabastan," he said, looking over, a bit startled. "Actually I'm afraid it was your sister-in-law who delivered the fatal blow," he corrected sheepishly. "I just did-" all the dirty work. "We just fought rather extensively," he added nervously. That seemed...something or another. He couldn't think quite clearly but he knew taking credit for something Bellatrix had done would do him no good in the future.
"Yes, leaving. I think leaving is a fantastic idea," he said taking a step in some general direction, because Azkaban lacked clearly-defined exits, rather enthused at the idea of leaving. "Where's Marius?" he asked Rabastan. He had gotten the idea that Marius would have been charging into Azkaban to save his father and aunt, but he felt that he hadn't seen him a bit. This seemed odd, though it was entirely likely he had just missed him.
Rabastan surveyed the both of them for a moment longer before acknowledging with a swift nod. "The day grows more and more positive by the minute. The knowledge that was shan't ever suffer Meadowes again is very cheering. Come on," Rabastan replied, stepping back to allow Corbina and Demeterius to step through. "As for Marius, he is helping with the rescue, I imagine. Probably somewhere on the floor, but we shall see him shortly."
"As long as it's finished, that is what matters." Dorcas Meadowes had always been a very rash, very perverse sort, and Corbina figured that it was better that the world be rid of her now rather than later. Frankly, it had been much too long already... just as they'd been standing around here talking for too long, which was beginning to make Corbina a slight bit anxious. Hopefully the Dementors weren't on their way down to their floor. "Lead the way, Rabastan. We'll be right behind you."
"Right. I'm glad to see her done. I never want to be on that end of the Cruciatus Curse again." Nodding in Rabastan's general direction, he took two steps forward and had an odd moment of mental clarity: he was covered in blood, his entire body was throbbing, particularly his arm, and he felt extremely dizzy. As soon as he took one more step, his legs buckled and very suddenly, he wasn't even conscious.
A loud thudding noise echoed down the hallway. Corbina turned to look behind her and noticed that Demetrius was noticeably no longer standing. She looked down at her rescuer, laying unconscious on the stone floor, then back up to Rabastan. "He fell down," she said, pointing, a slight snicker of stunned disbelief hinted at in her tone.
With a snicker of his own, Rabastan leaned slightly to look at the collapsed form of his sister's original rescuer -- the man who wished to take her hand in marriage. Whether or not there had been a rough battle involved, prior to their present activity, there was no denying the amusement of watching such a fainting. "I am glad to know your keen intellect and talents of observation have not dulled with your incarceration."
Unwilling to wait for Demetrius to awaken and possessing the knowledge that they could not simply leave him there, Rabastan levitating the unconscious comrade. "If he comes to before we reach the Portkey, perhaps he will be permitted to try walking again, or perhaps he will not. Shall we be on our way?"
Corbina nodded, retrieving Demetrius's dropped wand from off the floor. Apparently she should have held on to it, rather than giving it back to its owner when she'd been using the wand moments earlier. "Either way, he apparently was desperately in need of a nap." And a real healer, who has their own wand, she thought to herself, before continuing to follow her brother out of the hell-hole she'd been stuck in for two months. "And as am I, so let's be off."
Atticus/Aeneas/NPC!Goyle
Throughout the battle at the Ministry, Atticus had remained the picture of calm, barely managing more than a feeling of simple pride and accomplishment once it had been clear that the Ministry had fallen and was now theirs for the taking. Undoubtedly the sense of elation at being a free man once again and having finally set their world right would sink in later, but for now there was still work to be done and he had to remain focused. But as he glanced into the first cell that he passed, the sight of Goyle sitting curled up in the back corner was enough to shatter even Atticus Avery's carefully maintained composure. It didn't matter that he had known Goyle would be here and that he was likely to see him, no amount of awareness was enough to truly prepare himself for the sight of the man who had not only been responsible for his long months of exile, but had also committed the gravest offense of betraying his loyalties. There was no forgiveness for one who had turned on his fellow Death Eaters. Only just punishment.
Atticus's grip on his wand tightened and his teeth clenched in anger as he stood outside the cell for a long moment. It was only through sheer strength of will that he managed to resist the urge to barge in and take his long awaited vengeance right here and now. But no, there were still people to be rescued and that had to be his first priority. Forcing himself to move on, for the moment anyway, Atticus glanced into a few more cells before coming to a stop outside of where Aeneas Nott was being held captive. A quick blasting spell did away with the lock on the door and he pulled it open. "I expect you must be quite ready to return home," he observed dryly in greeting.
Aeneas had been hearing the commotion within the prison for some time before Atticus blasted down his door. As much as he wished he could be more patient, he was utterly incapable and so he was fighting his urge to shout at the first person who he could see by pacing up and down his cell. He knew enough that since he was not part of the operation, it would be unwise to try to butt in when he wasn't sure if there were objectives other than just to let prisoners out. Were he on the outside and a lesser Death Eater tried that, Aeneas would likely tear him a new one, and thus he was doing his best to be patient, pacing back and forth.
When the blast finally came, Aeneas nearly jumped out of his skin - not a hard thing to do as he had already lost a visible amount of weight from the Azkaban diet of gruel and not enough blankets. He turned toward the door, eyes wide, to find (amidst the dust and smoke) Atticus Avery. While Avery wasn't quite one of the people Aeneas had been thinking of every day, he was a sight for sore eyes and Aeneas was so happy he could kiss Atticus on the mouth.
So, in a very uncharacteristic move for Aeneas Nott, he did. Afterward he took a large step backward and shivered, not just from the cold, and wiped his lips onto the back of his hand. "Quite," he replied to the other man's greeting, as if nothing had transpired. He quickly moved back to his bed to pick up the cape he had lying there as a make-shift second blanket, part of his Masquerade costume that he had been extremely thankful for over the last few months, and soon made his way back to the door. He would not be sad to leave this cell behind.
Well that most certainly had not been the reaction that Atticus was expecting. And now it was his turn for uncharacteristic behaviour as his mouth fell just slightly open and he gaped at the other man for a long moment, completely stunned into silence and inaction. It must have just been the result of some Dementor-induced temporary lapse in mental faculties he told himself as he resolved that this was clearly one of those moments that they would never speak of again.
When he finally regained his bearings, Atticus gave a quick wipe of his own fingers across his lips and nodded in Aeneas's general direction, not quite making eye contact. No, this wasn't the slightest bit awkward at all. "Your- Our freedom awaits," he said, holding open the cell door as he gave a rather cursory onceover of Aeneas to make certain he wasn't going to require any assistance in getting out of this place. "I have a bit of Goyle-shaped business that needs to be addressed first. Of course you are welcome to join me, although I will understand if you do not wish to delay in returning to your wife and children." He knew he was far from the only Death Eater with a vendetta against the man and as long as he was the one to strike the killing blow, he was not averse to sharing. Atticus felt a slight pang of guilt at the fact that Aquila would not be able to share in the destruction of the man who had wreaked such havoc in their lives, but this was quite simply an opportunity he could not turn down.
"I-" Aeneas paused, thinking (for the first time in a while) of Claudette and his two girls. He had done a good job in the last two months of not thinking of them, as he learned early on that thinking of happy thoughts only brought the Dementors, and he focused on his anger and his hate. To think of his family again, when he had been thinking of nothing but revenge and death for so long was unsettling, and he suddenly had the feeling that he would need a bit of time to himself to adjust to life outside the cell walls before he could see them again.
"No," he finally said, realising exactly what Atticus meant when he said 'Goyle-shaped business.' "I would be honoured to join you - that oaf has slighted me as well and lost me a mentee." While Edmund Crabbe had never been much of a thinker and would never rise to the level that Lucius, another of his mentees, did, Aeneas knew there would always be a use for someone like Crabbe in the Dark Lord's ranks and Nott had vowed to do his best to guide the lower-level Death Eater. He was not pleased that Crabbe's name had been given up and his mentee had been sent to Azkaban on the account of George Goyle. Goyle's actions were not only betraying Crabbe, but Aeneas as well and, most importantly, the Dark Lord - an offense most unforgivable.
"Good," Atticus replied with a firm nod of his head. A quick glance down the hall confirmed that most of their other friends were already being reunited with their loved ones, leaving Atticus and Aeneas free to deal with the traitor. "I have waited too long for this to put it off another moment," he said honestly as he led the way back to Goyle's cell. Now he was feeling that sense of eager anticipation that had somehow been lacking for most of the night. Yes, they were simply doing their duty, but that did not mean he wasn't going to thoroughly enjoy this.
Another blasting hex took care of the door to the cell, this time knocking it off it's hinges so that it fell to the stone with a clang that was oddly quiet in comparison to the sounds of chaos erupting throughout the prison. The giants were clearly having a field day, but Atticus was too singularly focused to notice. It clearly took a moment for Goyle to fully process what was happening and Atticus wondered if the younger man was actually so dimwitted to think that he was being rescued, but soon enough Goyle's eyes had widened in fear and he scrambled up to his feet, pressing himself against the wall as his eyes darted around nervously. Any remaining delusions on Goyle's part were clearly shattered when Atticus gave him a cold, hard stare and offered a simple declaration. "The Dark Lord does not abide traitors."
Aeneas wished more than ever that he had his wand on him, but if anything else, watching this ordeal would be rather satisfying. And hopefully Atticus would be amiable to lending his wand so Aeneas could do a bit of damage as well. He had been surprised that the traitor's cell had been so close to his, though he was glad he didn't. It would have made his stay more agonising than it already was. He would also have been surprised at how close Crabbe's cell had been, had Crabbe not (unknowingly to him) already been released.
Aeneas said nothing, being the type who agreed that more was less, but he made sure to look Goyle straight in the eye. The other man refused to meet his eyes, which Aeneas took as a victory. There would be no mercy from either of them, and Goyle seemed to know it. No, there would never be mercy for one who betrayed the Dark Lord, and Aeneas was glad to make sure of that. The thought of gave his tired body a burst of adrenaline and the months in Azkaban made this entire opportunity better than it could have ever been otherwise. He began to laugh, slowly and deeply, as if the entire thing was one big silly secret that everyone in the room was now in on.
Azkaban was not exactly a place that one expected to hear laughter and the sound was a bit jarring at first. And yet oddly infectious at the same time. Although Atticus did not join in the laughter, a smile did spread across his face. And then without any further warning or preamble, he trained his wand upon Goyle. "Crucio," he said clearly, his voice rising only slightly as he easily summoned all the anger needed for the spell. Atticus was not normally one for torture and the cruciatus was not a curse that he used often - all that screaming generally just gave him a headache - but in this moment, there was not any other spell he would rather use. A quick and painless death was far more than this man deserved.
Goyle clearly should not have bothered with standing as he quickly fell back to the ground, his loud cries echoing through the confined space of his cell as Atticus watched him suffer. The normally fairly dispassionate man found the sight of Goyle writhing in agony to be all too satisfying and for a moment he actually understood just why some of his fellow Death Eaters enjoyed this spell so very much. After a few minutes, Atticus finally relented and released the curse. No, he was not finished with him, but he believed in sharing the wealth, so to speak. "I can only imagine how you have longed to hold a wand in your hand again," he said to Aeneas, ignoring Goyle for the moment as he offered his wand to the other man.
Normally a rather stoic man, Aeneas could not have wiped the smile off his face had he tried. He looked down at the wand in awe, and, hands shaking slightly, took it. "Thank you," he whispered, staring at the wand. He held it out, overjoyed. "At last, my arm is complete again," he whispered to no one in particular.
He would enjoy this - unlike Atticus, Aeneas was the kind of man who always enjoyed the cruciatus curse, and using it on one whom Aeneas had a vested interest in hurting was always much more pleasant. "Crucio!" he said fiercly, feeling lucky that the first spell he could cast after such a long time would be this curse. Truly blessed were those who could use magic, he thought as Goyle twisted and moaned under his curse. Never did he want to live so like a Muggle again. He cursed the man again, this time with more ferocity, gleeful. There was nothing as amazing as this feeling. Finally he knew he had to return the wand to its rightful owner (and he could tell quite easily it was not really his - oh how he longed for his own wand again). He stopped the curse and, without a word, handed it back.
Atticus folded his arms across his chest and simply watched. His eyes flickered to Aeneas occasionally and Atticus was pleased to see just how obviously happy his friend was, all from a gesture as simple as handing over his wand. But mostly? Mostly he was fixated on Goyle. As he watched the larger man shudder and writhe on the ground, he felt sadistic impulses that he had never known he had (or more accurately simply refused to acknowledge) come bubbling to the surface of his mind. He wanted to tear Goyle to pieces, quite literally. He wanted to rip his limbs from his body and... well he didn't know what he was going to do next, but at the rate his mind was going, undoubtedly he would come up with something. And it would not be pleasant.
He took his wand back from Aeneas - indeed, there were no words to be spoken between them - and before Goyle had even managed to recover from Aeneas's cruciatus, Atticus sent him flying back against the wall. There was the rather distinctive thud of skull-against-stone before Goyle slid down the wall and slumped onto the floor, sitting like an oversized rag doll. He was still conscious (if barely) and muttering incoherently as Atticus came at him again, this time with a spell to rip his tongue straight out of his mouth. A fitting punishment for traitors. It was only as he raised his wand for the third time that pragmatism overtook anger and he hesitated for just a moment. No, there wasn't time for this sort of indulgence or lack of composure, he lecutred himself. Mostly because Atticus was now vaguely concerned that if he started down this path they would be here for hours.
"What a waste," he grumbled, the disgust he felt towards Goyle quite evident in his voice as he brought his wand back up the few centimetres that it had faltered in his momentary distraction. "Avada Kedavra!" The green light filled the room as Goyle's lifeless body slumped down onto the floor. Tucking his wand back into his robes, Atticus retrieved a handkerchief in it's stead and brushed off his hands before extending the small cloth to Aeneas. "Shall we get you home to your family, then?"
Taking the cloth to wipe his brow, Aeneas nodded. "I have been here much to long as it is, old friend." He surveyed what was left of George Goyle and smirked, turning toward the door. Things were certainly looking up.
Severus/Lucius
There were shouts echoing down the corridors. Lucius was pulled from his uneasy sleep by this unusual occurence, these shouts were certainly not the tortured sounds of his fellow prisoners. Something was happening. With this realisation, he scrambled to his feet. He looked first through the window, then staggered back as he caught sight of a giant striding past. There was rubble everywhere, how had he slept through this?
Rushing to the bars at the door now, he peered through, craning his neck to see as far up and down the corridor as he could. It was a long time since he'd moved this fast, or felt any emotion even approaching excitement. Was it possible that Azkaban had been broken into? Or had he finally been driven crazy?
Severus had seen Demetrius to Corbina's cell and continued circling around the tower, looking for those that were their people. The Lestrange's were well taken care of between Demetrius, Marius, Bellatrix, and Rabastan. As Severus had no relatives in Azkaban, no women he was in love with in Azkaban, or indeed any particular interest in anyone he was not picky on whom he rescued. He was merely here to do his duty, and then to make certain that Demetrius got a healer's assistance. As he passed Arcturus Black's cell, it was knocked open, someone had already obviously let the man out. So it was Lucius Malfoy whose cell was the next he had reached that no other Death Eater's had arrived at yet.
Lucius was at the door looking through the bars and Severus gave him a quick nod of greeting. "You might want to stand back," Severus said motioning with his wand at the door. A blasting charm would do the trick and hopefully knock the door off its hinges but without injuring Lucius greatly so that they could get out of here.
Not responding at first, Lucius's mind was racing. He had never been so glad to see Severus, or anybody, for that matter, in his whole life, and the feeling of relief that he was clearly getting out of here almost made his legs buckle beneath him. "What has happened Severus? Where are the Dementors, what day is it...?" He trailed off as the other man's statement sunk in, and obediently stepped back, resting himself against the grey stone wall opposite the door and nodding at Severus to continue. Surely it couldn't have been twenty years already?
Severus didn't answer Lucius' questions immediately. Instead he waited to make certain that Lucius was clear of the door, far to the opposite side before Severus pointed his wand at the lock and blasted it with a milder blasting charm. He'd use a stronger one if he needed to, but he didn't want to risk anything that was likely to create enough debris to injure himself or Lucius - even if they were both almost out of there. He seemed to have estimated accurately, however, and as the dust cleared, the lock hung crooked, the metal door ready to swing open, which Severus reached forward with his hand, and pulled the door towards him.
"You're ready to go home, I'd imagine," he gave Lucius an actual half smile. "I think Narcissa will be very glad to see you. Be careful of the debris here though." It had scattered across the floor leaving the already uneaven stone floor even more uneven.
"It's the second of January," he added in answer to Lucius last question. It seemed the least overwhelming of the lot to give to the other man. "1980. It's been about two months since you arrived here," he added, rather than forcing Lucius to do the calculations. The rest of the questions, where the Dementors had gone, what had happened - well those seemed to be things that would take a bit more time to answer, and should be answered after Lucius had gotten a chance to have a healer look over him, and possibly some real food. Severus could tell that the last two months had not been particularly easy on the other Death Eater.
Picking his way across the cell and out through the door, Lucius stopped by Severus so he could ring his hand. "Thank you," he said, "I am in your debt." And he meant it -- as someone who was used to manipulating people with very similar words, he now knew what it meant to be truly grateful. "You'll have to excuse me if I'm somewhat out of sorts, now, which way is the exit?" He cast around him, and vaguely remembering which direction he was brought in from when he had been sentenced, set off in that direction. He checked over his shoulder briefly to check that Severus was still with him (how else was he going to get off this Salazar-forsaken island?) and held onto the wall for support.
He didn't waste time wondering about his fellow prisoners, from the noises around him it seemed safe to assume that there were other Death Eaters around to get them out. He was entirely focused on getting out, away from this place with it's nightmarish Dementors, terrible food, and lack of any kind of sanitation. He was looking forward, more than anything, to a decent meal and a long sleep, although he knew that images of these stone walls and the inhabitants within would be haunting his dreams for who knows how long to come.
Severus eyed Lucius for a moment, long enough to see that Malfoy meant those words, and Severus tucked the information away for later. There might come a point where having a Malfoy in his debt could come in handy, but he quickly pointed towards the exit, as Lucius walked past him. "Please no worries, it is understandable," he said quickly. Two months worth of Dementors was likely to have that effect on anyone. "The exit is that direction," he added, although he'd already pointed in the general direction.
Around the tower others were getting out Death Eaters who had been imprisoned, and Severus determined that he would simply stay with Lucius, making certain that he made it back to the Ministry, and safely away from Azkaban. He picked up his pace, following quietly behind the other man. The Ministry had fallen. The Death Eaters had been rescued. Severus was not allowing himself to feel anything at the moment and he kept his face in a neutral expression although Lucius was not looking at him to see it. There would be celebrations tonight; it would not do to seem anything other than absolutely relieved with the change for the new year.