Blurred Lines Mods (blurred_mods) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-05-01 02:21:00 |
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AFTERMATH
d. Non-battle
Rufus wanted to fight. By God he wanted to fight -- he wanted to protect Hogwarts, to protect the civilians (already he could feel his sense of right and wrong and justice eroding away with his grief and fear) but he was already starting to wear down and his insides were hurting and keeping his Patronus aloft to get others back in the castle was beginning to make him stumble as he literally carried Pepper back towards the castle with one arm, blood beginning to seep into him from one of the wounds he hadn't sealed properly. FUCK, what did he do? Protect Pepper or attack You Know Who?
"Ahahahaha!" Rufus began to laugh hysterically, and in his fear, the patronus fell. He couldn't do this. He couldn't lose it.
Focusing himself hard, Rufus yelled, loud and angry "EXPECTO PATRONUM", and again the lion issued forth, though now it stood before him, expectantly, nudging him back towards the castle. "All right, Pepper. If you're dead, I'm going to kill you." And he began to move, awkwardly, painfully, towards the stone steps.
"Don't think it works like that sir," Pepper mumbled, the words going half-into Rufus' shoulder as he tried to make his legs work at least in some fashion. It was, admittedly, hard-- too hard, almost-- to pay attention to what was happening, in the greater scheme of things, but he was fairly certain this was all pretty pointless. He wanted to ask what the fuck they were doing, didn't everyone realise that it was over, couldn't they just let him die now instead of forcing him to keep fighting an increasingly futile attempt at a civil war that they'd already lost, but instead when he opened his mouth again he just coughed painfully, muscles seizing up in places on fire with badly-healed wounds. It was easier to just stop thinking altogether, do what Rufus wanted because that was, really, all he was anymore.
Kingsley Shacklebolt had been regretting his retreat to the castle since he made his way inside, and once he had a bit of time to rest and try a few quick-fix spells he knew on his broken rib, he began to go back and forth about whether or not he should go back out. He settled for waiting at the door, where he finally saw Rufus with a very pallid looking Pepper in tow. "Shiiit," he said, rushing over to them, hands out to help. "What can I do, sir?"
"Take Pepper," Rufus grunted, passing off the other man into Kingsley's hands. Without the counterweight, he almost fell over, and was forced to conjure up a cane just to keep himself upright as he limped along after. "Please tell me we have some healers in there who are up to snuff on battle wounds."
Kingsley took the other man carefully, his eyes studying the wounds in his stomach. It looked bad - Kingsley was almost afraid to move now for fear of reopening the wounds and he could tell by Pepper's face that he had lost a lot of blood - not to mention from his robes and the blood that was now on Kingsley's hands. "I don't know," he said gravely. "Hestia should be around but..." But he hadn't seen her since the moment he arrived, and even then it was from far away. For all he knew, she could be dead. "I'll find someone," he assured his boss, though he wasn't sure himself. "Wha's happened out there?"
"Dumbledore's dead," Rufus grunted, a streak of misery tainting his voice as he hobbled afterward, wand still out; a streak of red flew over their heads before hitting some invisible barrier and dissipating away, and Rufus struggled to move past it, truly afraid for one of the first times in his career. He didn't want to say it, but 'we are fucked' hung in the air between them, and he unconsciously moved to keep himself between the oncoming spell fire and Pepper's dragging form. Every few steps he groaned in pain, before wrapping his fingers into the bandages around his centre and tugging them tight as he could.
Kate had stepped up to Kingsley and Rufus and Pepper in time to hear Rufus' pronouncement, and her eyes widened. Dumbledore... dead? But that couldn't - it had to be wrong. She should have stayed more, helped more, but the more rational side of her brain told her that wasn't possible and that it wouldn't have helped anyone that much. She swallowed, turning her attention to Pepper. She cradled her own arm in her good hand allowing her wand to stick out at an awkward angle because of it.
"Wh-" The first time she opened her lips they were too dry. She forced her mouth to open again and forced the words out. "We should set up some place for the injured - maybe in the Great Hall," she added, trying to figure out if someone was already doing this in the mass of people that were now seeking refuge in the castle's walls.
Aloysius had made his way from the side entrance he'd used near the Quidditch stadium up to the Entrance Hall. Every step had been an exercise in enduring pain, clutching his side and trying not to brush any of his burns, and yet when he finally staggered into the Hall, he could see that his injuries were minor in comparison to some. He saw familiar people over towards the entrance and stumbled over, his eyes widening as he got closer and saw the state of them, especially Pepper.
"Fuck," he breathed then said louder, "Pepper?" He shook his head and focused on Rufus and Kate. "How bad?" He wasn't sure if he meant Pepper, the Gairloch crew or the battle in general.
"We need a place to put him," Kingsley said, not sure how to answer Aloysius' question. He wasn't even being able to process yet the idea that Dumbledore - Albus Dumbledore, the one who had defeated Grindewald - was dead. He tried to think instead about what to do with the Pepper in his arms. They were at Hogwarts - what was at Hogwarts? Oh, right. "Let's get him to the Great Hall - someone should run up to the Hospital Wing to get supplies for anyone else who might need them too." The Hospital Wing had beds, but Kingsley didn't want to risk the trip - Pepper was too badly off.
"I can do that," Kate said quickly. Her arm hurt and she was aching, but she could gather up supplies easily enough. Not to mention that if she stumbled across a pain potion she might down some of it to keep her moving. "I think if we move everyone to the Great Hall that's seriously injured, it'll keep them close together and we can treat them there - at least - assuming there is anyone who knows medicine we can." And she sincerely hoped that there was someone who knew medicine. "I'll be right back," she turned to go, her eyes scanning the crowd once more for Gawain, but she couldn't think about that right now, she just couldn't. If something had happened to him -
"I'll be back soon," she promised her Army of Albion colleagues, and she took off towards the Hospital Wing.
"Bad," Rufus replied huskily, shoving his wand into his robes and reaching out to grab hold of Aloysius so that he could get himself inside, as well as Pepper. They were safe beyond the realm of spells now, or so it seemed (though Rufus didn't have a goddamned clue why they were safe), and he tried to focus on keeping people organised. That was something he could do without wanting to curl into a ball and cry at what he'd just seen. "Insides fell out. Had to shove them back in. Doubt I did a good job so lets get him on a table and opened up again so they can be done right." A few more steps and he barked, "Pepper! You'd better still be alive!"
Aloysius let himself be dragged along, not really sure he wanted to know what the definition of 'bad' was in any context. He blinked when Rufus continued then realised he was talking about Pepper. Oh... yes, that was bad. Unfortunately the first thing that came to mind to actually say was, "Again? They fell out again?" He then frowned down at Pepper. "You have to stop doing that." He looked back at Rufus and his frown depened as he began to sway a little. "I'm not good at healing spells. And I think I want to fall over. Is that bad?"
Oh god these people had to stop trying to make him talk. Pepper made a vague sound, an "I'm alive, leave me alone!" sound of annoyance and pain, vaguely flapping his wand hand at someone who looked through the dizzy fog over his brain to be Aloysius.
Kate moved away from the Gairloch group and made her way towards the Hospital Wing to quickly gather up the supplies they might need. She wondered if Madam Pomfrey would be up there or if she were somewhere else already helping people who were injured and in need of care. Did she know? Did everyone know? She couldn't stop to think about what had happened, or where Gawain was, or any of the things that kept pressing in at her thoughts.
She had to put them all away for professional Kate who was charged with keeping order, taking care of peope. She made her way through the crowd and reached the steps, practically stumbling over a woman who looked as if she were half dead on the stairs.
"Merlin," Kate breathed. "Are you all right?" She leaned down, touching her hair. That had been a ridiculous question she thought. "Hello?
Mary had collapsed in the hall, and then roused for a moment, only to drag herself up the stairs, barely. Now there was someone pawing at her, and she roused for another moment. "Wha--what?" She lifted her hand to wipe hair away form her face, and her eyes widened at the deadened flesh. "My... my... hand..."
She looked up at the woman, whoever she was, "Shit. The..." She looked down, her eyes screwing up in confusion at the mass of blood and white coming from her chest... not realizing it was her rib twisted and wrenched out of her skin. "I..." The shock was overwhelming, and she was shaking... "Who... are you?"
Oh Merlin, oh fuck. Kate's eyes widened and then she tried almost as quickly to look neutral. "I'm Kate Proudfoot," she said. "I'm an - I was - um, I'm an Auror," she finally decided to stick with the fact that she was at one time actually an Auror. "Lay still," she said. "We're going to get you to the hospital Wing and we'll get you taken care of."
She'd said Great Hall, and now she wasn't certain, but the way the woman's rib was coming out of her chest, Kate thought it likely that she needed to get her to the hospital wing instead.
Gawain had finally made it into the castle, though he'd been with Rufus and Pepper on the grounds during the battle. He'd broken off with them when Dumbledore had been killed, making sure that people were getting into the castle. Had he gone straight in he would have seen Kate, would have known that she was fine, but now he was scanning the crowds for her.
Finally he went into the castle and he found the rest of his crowd. Someone, he vaguely remembered it being Aloysius, had told him that Kate had gone for supplies and so like a shot he was out of the Great Hall and on his way to the hospital wing. He was running as fast as he could and he heard muffled voices. He skipped a few of the stone steps and then skidded to a halt when he found Kate and an injured woman that he didn't recognise.
He looked over the situation, forced himself not to tackled his girlfriend, and then sighed. "They're setting up triage in the Great Hall. I think you and I can both support her and get her down there, then come back for supplies."
Kate whirled around at Gawain's voice the relief in her face obvious when she found him standing in front of her without any obvious injuries - if he had been injured, he was hiding it well. That she had not faired so well, was obvious as well, but she nodded, avoiding the urge to throw herself in his arms and avoid everything around them.
"Yes, I'm going to need help I think," she said quickly. "And we need to get her somewhere they can care for her, and as quickly as possible. Thanks, Gawain," she added. "If you can lift her, here, I think I can come around on the other side?"
Mary's eyes flicked from one person to the next. "Mary," she said simply, unsure of what else to say. She was so bloody, and her hand, her hand... It was almost comical - the lifeless thing at the end of her arm. What was she supposed to do with that? They were talking about moving her, and the idea of moving made her lean over and be sick on the stairs.
Which, of course, hurt like hell.
She began to giggle (which also hurt) and looked up at them, "I'm fucked."
He gave Kate a nod and he noticed that her wand arm was not being used. He quickly moved so he and Kate were now on the opposite side and he carefully lifted the woman from the stairs with Kate's help. Gawain hadn't expected the girl (who had identified herself as Mary) to throw up and his shoe was now covered. An entire battle, no major injuries, but there was sick on his shoe.
"I know moving doesn't seem like the best idea right now but we need to get you to a place where you can lie down." He looked over at Kate and gave her a smile, choosing not to bring up her apparent injuries. They could talk later but now they had to deal with Mary.
Kate slid her arm around Mary and hoisted her up as carefully as she could do. She wasn't certain if it was better to move quickly and get the agony over, or to move cautiously and extend it out. Probably neither were particularly good, but it wasn't as if they had any choice in the matter. Her fingers brushed Gawain's arm and she realised just how worried she'd been about him.
"All right then, Mary," she said kindly. "We're going to get you in here, and lay you down, and then someone is going to take care of you."
It was slow getting through the entrance to the Great Hall, as the most injured seemed to be making their way into that area, and those who were less so were helping them. Kate thought to herself that she should have conjured herself some sort of sling, and that she would do that as soon as they got Mary laid down - it would make gathering supplies from the hospital wing much easier.
"Here we are," she said unnecessarily, and glanced at Gawain so that they could coordinate putting Mary down in order to keep it at least not horribly uncomfortable.
"Was there much there?" Kingsley asked Kate, coming up behind her. He'd laid Pepper down on one of the tables then conjured up a pillow and keep everyone from crowding around him, but aside from that there was really little more he could do - at least not without a Healer or even medical supplies. He glanced at the other woman on the table - she too looked pale. "We need a Healer."
Kate turned to Kingsley, and shook her head. "We haven't actually been up there yet," she said. "I found Gawain," unnecessary statement of the evening. "And then I stumbled over Mary-" she realised she had no idea what the girl's last name was. "And we had to bring her here first."
Now she waved her wand, conjuring a scarf out of the end of it, and she carefully, and rather awkwardly one handed (and her left hand at that) like she was, worked towards putting her injured arm into a sling so she could move. It still hurt like hell.
"We are going to need a healer, dammit," she bit her lip uncertainly. "Kingsley why don't you see if you can find a healer, and Gawain and I will get up to the hospital wing. Hopefully there are pain potions and a blood replenisher, and - bandages..." And with a look at Gawain, Kate was already off again, determined to this time actually make it to the Hospital Wing to get supplies.
Kingsley nodded. He'd get a message out to Kirke and then find Hestia, he decided, if she was there. And quick, too. He reached into his robe to pull out his journal and a biro, once again thankful that it was small enough to keep in his robe, and sat down to write an urgent note.
Atticus/unconscious Severus
The chaos of the battle field was finally, after hours of spells flying every which way and screams of both triumph and defeat, finally beginning to fade. And Atticus's injuries, while aggravating, were nothing in comparison to those of some of his fellow Death Eaters who had fallen in battle. However weary, he was still standing. It was his sense of honour that propelled him to postpone his departure for just a little longer and take the time to search the grounds for those who were unable to make their own escape. Albus Dumbledore was dead. That was the most important thing. But it was clear that the castle would not fall so easily and so Atticus turned away from those who still continued to fight, making his way towards the periphery of the grounds.
As he moved further away from those who remained fighting, he cast a lumos to light his way. Just in time to avoid tripping over the prone and bloody form of Severus Snape. Damn. Half-blood or not, Severus had proven himself an asset to the cause on more than one occasion and more poignantly, Atticus could quite clearly remember him as a boy, coming to the house with Aquila only to disappear into the library. He always had been somewhat fond of him.
With every expectation that he would earn nothing but disappointment for his effort, Atticus knelt down by the young man's side and pressed his fingers to his neck. Not dead. A second glance over his body to quickly assess his injuries suggested that he very well would be soon if he was not taken care of. His face looked as if it had a rather unpleasant encounter with a very angry fist and his arm and shoulder were quite severely burnt, but it was his bleeding and broken side that prompted the most concern.
With a tired sigh, Atticus stood before levitating Severus's form. Placing a guiding hand on the boy's uninjured side, he floated him towards the castle gates until he was able to apparate him to St. Mungo's. It was only once he had turned him over to the care of a (hopefully) capable healer that a thought occured to him. The boy was supposed to be married tomorrow.
Walden/Ben/unconscious Fenrir.
"Ben!" Walden's voice sounded muted against the heavy night air. "Ben?" He called for his Mentee, inspecting bodies and heaps of earth. He was well away from the place where Voldemort and Dumbledore had been but he could still feel the energy surrounding him. There were a few Death Eaters that Walden passed but he still didn't see his student. "He'd better not be dead," Walden mumbled to himself as he continued to search.
Walden was now closer to the Quidditch pitch and he continued to kick at bodies in the dark. He pulled out his wand, still using his left, and a soft light glowed from the tip of it. He led the glow over the ground before him and there was a glint in the distance. He walked towards it, curious, and then his face fell as he realised what it was.
Ben. He limped towards the other Death Eater and he knelt beside him with a hiss of pain. He reached an arm out and placed it on Ben's shoulder. "Leoben." Shake. "Leoben Yaxley." Shake. "I swear to Salazar..."
It seemed like so long ago already. Rationally, he knew it couldn't have been even an hour. Not even an hour since he'd been pacing around his manor, waiting to be summoned. But it felt like days. He felt like he'd been lying here for days. He thought he was dead and that if this was death, it was infinitely boring and that it wasn't even remotely fair that he still hurt, that he still couldn't catch his breath. It was only when he heard Walden's voice that he even considered the notion that he might still be alive. That everything he'd just witnessed had been real.
He was being shaken and it hurt. He would have screamed if only he could. Only when he drew in breath, his lungs just wouldn't fill and there was a sick sucking noise from his side where the piece of armour helmet was sticking out of him, the only real sign of all his efforts to tell Walden to stop shaking him, to stop making his already mangled shoulder sear and burn. Salazar, his head hurt.
"Stop," he finally choked out, his voice barely above a whisper for all his efforts and so thick with blood it was hardly a proper word at all.
Walden could see that he was badly injured, far beyond his own healing skills, and he removed his hand from Ben's shoulder. He glanced around the area and noted that there were no others that had fallen, meaning that Ben's assailant had managed to get away. Walden knew how that felt.
"Sorry," he said finally. "Ben, I'm going to take you to Mungo's. You'll live, but you're far beyond a quick fix at the manor." He was nervous about side-along but there was no other choice. Of course before he could worry about that he had to get off the grounds, which would be difficult.
Another dangerous slurp from his side as Ben tried for a proper breath of air again. This time it only made the blood in his throat catch and for a moment he choked, and then coughed, paralysing pain gripping his insides at the automatic reaction.
What he wanted to say was something along the lines staying to help, that their Lord demanded it. That they were supposed to kill all of them and take the castle and how could Walden even think about taking him away from the battlefield? What came out was something more like, "He... orders."
Walden couldn't help but laugh. "Right now my orders are what matter and I'm ordering you to stop talking and let me help you out of here." He held his wand carefully and concentrated. There was a fallen tree nearby and Walden summoned it. With a precise swish of his wand and the muttering of a few words he transfigured the tree into a sturdy stretcher. Walden cleared his throat and then very gently levitated Ben from the ground and onto his creation. With another set of words Ben and the stretcher rose up and floated alongside Walden, who was now standing.
It all seemed utterly absurd and if he could get more than a pained whimper out of his throat, Leoben would have protested. As it was, he simply curled onto the stretcher, trying to focus on anything but how much it hurt. His upper chest was fairly well blasted open and moving seemed impossible. Just who did he think he was kidding, trying to get back on the battlefield to fight? Walden was right. Even Ben couldn't lie his way out of this one.
Walden was grateful for Ben's silence and he limped along with the stretcher in tow. His adrenaline was wearing out and he was beginning to feel the pain of his injuries. He would take Ben to Mungo's, get his own injuries looked at, and then he would go home to bed. Walden was lost in his thoughts when he practically tripped over a body. He glanced down and recognized the man instantly.
It was Fenrir, someone that Walden liked despite himself. He was unconscious and so quickly Walden fashioned another stretcher, did another levitation spell, and continued to limp his way to the edge of the grounds. Eventually he found himself outside the confines of Hogwarts rules and with insane concentration he managed to Apparate himself, Fenrir, and Leoben away from the school and towards medical attention.
e. Voldemort's final orders
Fury had gripped him during this final onslaught and Voldemort barely remembered how victory had tasted but an hour before. His troops had been stopped by the castle, by its defences, by the very air that flexed around it. He could not enter, and he had never felt such anger in all his life. Dumbledore! This was all his doing, that meddling fool; he would deprive Lord Voldemort of his just reward? He would deprive Him of what so rightfully belonged to him?
Stalking back and forth before the entrance of the school, the Dark Lord's mind raced, dancing through self-righteous anger and the occasional smear of black pity before he had decided upon a course of action.
"YOU," he hissed, pointing to a handful of His dark army. "To the shrieking shack and to Honeydukes." He would cover the bases. He would starve them out. He would force those wretched mudblood lovers to their knees and they would beg him to set them free.
Shoving his wand against his throat, Voldemort raised his hand to his followers -- and those left unwounded gave up a mighty cheer as his thin, high voice trembled across the battlefield and castle.
"SURROUND THE CASTLE. NO ONE ESCAPES ALIVE.