Al was hoping against bloody fucking hope that his warning hadn't come too late. The wards were one thing. Most people had wards these days. But no. There was their man, minus an arm. He listened closely to the conversation between Merryweather and Mr Potter, carefully neutral as always when it came to matters like this. But in his head was a rather steady flow of fuckbuggerarsewankshitfuckfuckFUCK. So much for fucking trying to help. Orders though, had to be followed. "Yeah, got it," he agreed, slipping past James and into the house, pulling his wand out.
Still, even as he moved expertly through the house, he was hoping against hope that she wasn't here. He had dared to hope until he got to the kitchen, saw a shadow move. Fuck. He moved further into the kitchen and then glanced behind him just to make sure none of the other hitwizards had followed.