|Blurred Lines Mods (blurred_mods) wrote in blurred_lines,|
@ 2009-08-31 17:24:00
|Entry tags:||! [1980-08] august, aberforth dumbledore, aeneas nott, agatha snape (née chubb), akhil patil, alana fenwick, alastor moody, aloysius croaker, amelia bones, amycus carrow, anastasia mulciber (née aesalon), andrew forsythe, angelica bobbin, anzhelina dolohov, aquila avery, araminta meliflua, astra lestrange (née avery), atticus avery, barty crouch jr, bellatrix lestrange (née black), bertie higgs, bertram aubrey, beth frobisher, ciara fitzpatrick, claudette nott (née delacour), corbina lestrange, damocles belby, daniel rourke, demetrius mulciber, doris crockford, elle abercrombie, elphias doge, emmeline vance, evangeline macnair, fenrir greyback, ferdinand gibbon, florence hall, gaius travers, gawain robards, georgina smythe, graley rosier, hestia jones, iago mulciber, igor karkaroff, james potter, jeremiah smith, josephine pepper (née savage), julianne wilkes, kate proudfoot, kingsley shacklebolt, lachlan kirke, lavinia travers, lily potter (née evans), lucinda greengrass (née yaxley), lucius malfoy, marius lestrange, mary macdonald, minerva mcgonagall, narcissa malfoy (née black), octavius pepper, peggy o'nell, petra podmore (née petrikova), rabastan lestrange, rita skeeter, rufus scrimgeour, sam madley, seraphina travers, severus snape, tabitha macfusty (née bagnold), tabitha pryce, ursula caldeira, walden macnair, xenophilius lovegood|
FINAL BATTLE [10/29]
THE FINAL BATTLE
The whomping willow
Rufus headed out of the castle at a jog at the end of Moody's speech, more than damned ready to end this once and for all. His heart was pounding but his mind was clear. There would be no messing about. No mercy. No playing fair. The sacrifices he'd made for this cause had been great, but they had to win. They had to. Life couldn't continue this way any longer. The people could not be allowed to acclimate to this tyranny. Acclimation led to acceptance and acceptance led to complacency, and then all would be lost forever. They were growing too near to a year now and the atrocities were only escalating. Nothing was being done. Today they had to change things.
Near the main road, Rufus veered right, in search of someone highly ranked. The werewolves and the twenty year olds were fingers, arms -- the inner circle was the heart and he had to stab it, where it counted.
"Avery!" he shouted out, catching sight of a familiar face. A blasting curse followed quickly in the wake of this warning (perhaps he was incapable of playing quite so unfairly).
Atticus was not without his reservations as he strode across the Hogwarts grounds. He knew they were, in all truth, desperate men, still reeling from the news of the loss of their leader and desperation led men to reckless action. But the vigilantes had forced their hand and as much as he worried that they were rushing into battle ill-prepared, he was also determined to bring an end to this war once and for all. He had every faith that they could and would win this, but he also knew that the price of their victory would be high. Far higher than it would be if they took the time to think things through. Time they did not have. Every day that passed only seemed to embolden their opponents, to bring more chaos and destruction upon what was supposed to be their great society. It had to be stopped lest the wizarding world itself descend into anarchy. And there were very few things Atticus disapproved of more than anarchy.
Like Rufus, Atticus was in search of a worthy opponent. He knew that if they were to minimize the casualties on their own side, they needed to first find and take out the strongest fighters among the vigilantes. Their leaders. And as luck would have it, one of them found him. His head turned at the sound of his name and he gave a slight nod at the sight of Rufus Scrimgeour as if to say to himself he will do.
He side-stepped the blasting curse just in time to narrowly avoid it and offered a greeting of his own. "Rufus," he said stiffly but not impolitely as the green light of the killing curse flew from his wand.
Beth was pretty certain she did not like the colour green. At least, she didn't like the colour green as it seemed to respond to curses, in particular the curses that were coming from the Death Eater's wands. She held back - if a killing curse hit Mr Scrimgeour there would be nothing she would be able to do for him, but if she were needed or could somehow help him she would do so. She might not be the bravest, or even the most able, but she also couldn't imagine living in the world they currently lived in for much longer. And if they didn't win this and she was still alive, she might just leave.
She swallowed, wincing, and she kept to the sidelines, her eyes daring between the two men who did not seem to particularly fear the other - and Beth hoped that Mr Scrimgeour would be able to win this.
Rufus dodged the killing curse, which took him nearer the whomping willow. During the fortifications of Hogwarts he'd taken careful notes on the tree's radius of attack, and lingered just beyond it. If he could force Atticus closer, however, the tree could make his job immensely simpler.
"You know this is hopeless. You know your master is dead." He followed a cutting curse with an imperius; use of the unforgivables may have been controversial, and Rufus didn't approve of them ordinarily -- but these damned death eaters had pushed him and everyone else too far. He would pull the killing curse next if he had to. This was their last stand. This was their last chance. He was not going to let morals stand in his way.
Atticus did not deny that the Dark Lord's death was a huge blow. He had devoted the entirety of his adult life to serving the man, had knelt reverently at his feet, had faithfully followed his every command, but that did not mean that the fight would not continue on without him. As much as he was a devoted servant of the Dark Lord, for Atticus their cause had always been bigger than their leader. And he did not understand why the vigilantes would think otherwise. They had not ceased fighting upon the death of Albus Dumbledore, after all.
"The fall of the Dark Lord does not mean that the values for which we fight are any less important, Rufus," he said plainly. It likely was not worth the effort to attempt to explain such things, but it was his nature to debate. Even, apparently, in the midst of battle. Atticus deflected Rufus's attacks with a quickly conjured shield and moved closer to his opponent although he too remained out of striking distance of the tree, which he briefly regarded with a wary glance. A blasting curse and then another killing curse flew from his wand one after another. He was not particularly interested in some long drawn out duel and airing of grievances. He just wanted to end this quickly.
Rufus gritted his teeth, dodging narrowly away the blasting curse and watching the Avada crash into the earth behind him, throwing up sod and rocks that bounced uselessly away from his shield spell. Atticus wanted to play like that? Fine.
"Depulso," he growled, following it up with a roughly cast Avada Kedavra. It should have gone against his morals to end the battle so quickly and with such an unforgivable -- but he had already stepped over the line between moral and immoral and he wasn't looking back. He wanted Atticus dead or being beat over the head by the damned tree. It had gone too far for regrets.
Atticus had not expected a killing curse from Rufus Scrimgeour and in that he had clearly underestimated the other man. He had started to cast a shield to block the banishing charm but those efforts were quickly abandoned as soon as he saw the telltale flash of green light. Instead he dove to the ground, both spells flying over his head. The killing curse hit the ground behind him, but the banishing charm sailed straight into the whomping willow. The tree was rather justifiably aggrieved and Atticus, realising that he was now very much within its range, had only moments to roll out of the way before one of the heavy branches came crashing down on the spot where he had been only moments before.
Back on his feet, Atticus quickly moved away from the tree and shot a sectumsempra at Rufus before taking an all too brief moment to regain his bearings. To think. As much as he did not want to drag this into some prolonged fight, he knew Rufus was likely going to just keep on dodging his killing curses. And while Atticus did believe he could best the other man, hours of killing curses thrown back and forth did not seem like the most efficient way to handle matters. And so, strategic injuries instead. Another sectumsempra, this time aimed at Rufus's wand arm. And a bone twisting curse to his leg.
No, green was not friendly and Beth wasn't certain she liked it headed the opposite direction of her any more than she did in her direction, but at least she was not likely to die if it was being thrown in the other direction. She kept to the sidelines, careful to stay out of way of the whomping willow and she wondered if Atticus Avery would be as cognisant of it as she was - having not grown up with the tree, because it had been put in the year after she'd started school. Unfortunately she felt as if she wasn't very useful on the sidelines like this.
As Atticus moved forward with a second set of curses, Beth quickly moved forward enough to cast a shield charm that she hoped would help protect Rufus from the brunt of the spells, before stepping back again and just barely catching the edge of a spell on her arm. She winced, and quickly cast the charm to stop the bleeding on her arm and then looked back to Rufus - if he needed healing she'd go and help, but otherwise she was going to try to stay out of the midst of these two -- they were both far more accomplished duellers than she was.
Rufus gave a brief noise of thanks as Beth strengthened his shield, against which one Sectumsempra bounced harmlessly off, but his gratitude quickly turned to a protective irritation as she ended up taking part of the second. It occurred to him that she was a healer, and he tried not to divide his attentions between them, even if he could see blood in his periphery. Killing Atticus had to come first. Or, at least, pounding him into a bloody pulp.
And then he had an idea. "Accio Beth," he said clearly and quickly, shoving the girl behind him in the split second he had before Atticus could react again. He pointed at the tree behind Atticus rather than at the man himself. Engorgio.
He pushed Beth behind him as he got back a few yards away from the quickly growing tree. He could only guess what its new range was, and he hoped he was guessing right.
Despite being well aware of the strategic value of taking out healers on the opposing side, Atticus could not bring himself to kill Rufus's healer without some greater cause than her presence and her shield charms. Likely more so because she was a young woman who was hardly an active participant in the fight than because she was a healer, but regardless, it was a level to which he would not sink. That did not mean, however, that he would not try and stop her from aiding his enemy. But the stupefy that he cast as she went flying towards Rufus was not fast enough and it was yet another spell that went crashing harmlessly into the ground.
Rufus, on the other hand, he had no qualms about killing. He wanted the other man dead for all he had done to weaken the proper society that they had been so very close to seeing realised. Flaming red tendrils to tear flesh from bone flew from his wand to curl themselves around whatever part of Rufus they could touch, but before he could cast another spell, a branch of the now-enlarged (and enraged) tree connected solidly with his back, sending him flying through the air until he landed on his knees with a loud grunt of pain.
Viciously hot strands of red wrapped around Rufus's wrist, and for a second he thought he was done for as his wand fell to the ground and too many seconds went by and he was unable to even bend to get it. It felt as if his flesh was being seared into the bone and everything, his blood, his vision, his throat, was red and red and red -- and then nothing. Unsure if he was dead, Rufus gasped for breath and found himself on his knees, wand a few inches away, and Atticus Avery down on the ground as the Whomping Willow quivered angrily overhead.
Screw this bastard. After everything Rufus had suffered in the last few weeks, it wasn't hard to summon up the energy to cast an unforgivable. In hindsight he'd wish it had been the Avada, but right now all he could think was
Atticus too had lost his hold on his wand as he hit the ground and now he was scrambling across the grass to try and retrieve it. There was some notion in his mind that this was thoroughly undignified, but need trumped dignity and Atticus knew that without his wand, he was as good as dead. His fingers curled around the familiar length of wood but before he could cast a single spell, he heard Rufus's curse. He tried to roll out of the way but he was not quick enough and he was thrown onto his back, pain tearing through his body and consuming his senses.
He did not bother trying not to cry out, instead focusing all of his energy and willpower on maintaining his hold on his wand and finally, after what seemed in his mind to be so many tortured minutes, he found the strength to lift his wand a few mere inches from the ground and blindly fire two blasting curses in what he hoped was Rufus's direction.
Beth had a shield charm up, which was ultimately a good thing as one of the blasting curses hit no more than a foot from her sending debris shattering in all directions, and thankfully deflected by her shield charm. She wasn't certain where the other one had landed, but she knew the Death Eater wasn't far from the Whomping Willow she pointed her wand at the tree and cast Avis, sending birds flying in the direction of the willow and willing them to upset the tree enough that they would simply smash the Death Eater and put him out of his misery. That done, she cast a quick Protego to hopefully protect her and Rufus and turned her attention to Rufus.
Beth had been in spell damage for a reason and even though she hadn't been able to finish her training, she knew that magic could be dangerous, and whatever the Death Eater had cast at Rufus was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. She cast a quick healing charm at Rufus' arms, hoping that it would help with both the pain and the redness on the skin so that he would be able to fight.
"All right then?" She asked breathlessly.
Though the blasting curses missed, their mark, they were effective enough at distracting Rufus's concentration, and the crucio withered and failed as his attention immediately tore towards Beth, by whom an explosion hit dangerous near. His arm went out instinctively to keep her back. Wincing in pain, he had to admit relief at having a healer near, particularly as she healed up the scorched flesh -- at least to within tolerable levels. He was quietly impressed, with both her talent and her foresight with the birds, and nodded at her approvingly: "Good girl. Try and behind me; won't do much good to have one of our best healers in bits all over the lawn."
Which brought him back to Atticus. Another step closer and he levelled his wand again. "Sectumsempra!"
The pain of the cruciatus faded and Atticus felt a surge of relief, but it was all too short lived as the awareness of his position settled back in. He needed to get up. He needed to stand and lift his wand and fight. That his breathing was laboured and that his muscles ached did not matter and with every bit of force of will he could summon, he angrily pushed himself back to his feet just in time to avoid another attack from the whomping willow and oh he really did loathe that tree. A slash of his wand deflected Rufus's sectumsempra and he cast an angor back at the other man, keeping his wand trained on him as he moved out of the tree's reach. He hoped.
A surge of triumph before his spell had actually hit gave Rufus a false confidence, and his hubris was a temporary downfall; a sidestep took him over one of the quivering roots of a very harassed Whomping Willow, and one spitefully shook itself free directly in his path. The stumble was enough to catch him off his guard, and he was suddenly caught round the throat in a magically suffocating grip. His hands clawed at his throat instinctively, though he knew there was nothing there, and he couldn't shake free of his body's sudden screaming desire to stay alive long enough to convince himself that he had to concentrate and cast.
Beth had done pretty much what Rufus said, darting back behind him, and trying to stay out of sight. But then she noticed what was actually going on and Beth's eyes widened. She had to do something to break off the spell and to give Rufus a chance to breathe or this was going to be over very quickly and they couldn't lose Rufus - Beth didn't know him well, but she knew enough to know he was one of their strongest fighters.
She raised her wand at the Death Eater and focusing she cast deprimo straight at him - knowing that as she did so, she was probably making herself more of a target. After casting the spell she darted back, out of immediate reach, she hoped, while worriedly glancing to make certain Rufus was all right.
Atticus's own satisfaction at the success of his attack was short lived as he was forced to break off the suffocation curse to deflect Beth's spell. A growl of annoyance escaped his throat as he reverted to his earlier strategy of wearing Rufus down one spell at a time, sending a sectumsempra and an incendio at him before trying to aim a blasting curse at the healer who was making this considerably more difficult than it ought to be. Whatever qualms he possessed about attacking a healer (and a female one at that) were gone the moment she threw her own spell at him. But she was doing far too well at using Rufus as a human shield for Atticus to reach her. Unless...
"Are you quite certain you should be out here, Rufus?" Atticus asked, attempting to affect some degree of his usual calm but failing; his words coming out in a sarcastic sort of growl instead. "You are a new father, after all. Or should I say mother? Either way, I would not think you would wish to leave young Neville an orphan twice over."
Rufus's blocking was doing quite well tonight, particularly in his burst of self-preservation after almost being suffocated to death. Extending his shield out to save the healer who had just saved him was a bit of an effort, but he managed it with minimal pain (the resonance of a blasting curse through a stretched shield was unpleasant but tolerable). Then Atticus spoke.
And Rufus, realising suddenly that those smug puerile purist bastards had been in on it together, utterly and completely lost it. A moment of silence passed as rage tightened his stomach, and the wand fell from his hand.
With a speed surprising in someone with a fucked up thigh, Rufus closed the space between them, knocking Atticus's wand out of his hand with a hard slap to his forearm. The other man didn't even have time to react before Rufus was on top of him, pinning him to the ground, shoving his fists as hard and as fast as he could into his jaw, nose, eye. "You sick FUCK you think that's funny? You think it's funny to kill kids? LAUGH AT THIS!" Another punch and as he shoved his weight hard into the older man's sternum, the tang of blood filled the air.
In truth, it was not that Atticus found it to be particularly funny - he had woken the next morning vaguely wondering just what had compelled him to do such a thing (and then he remembered: wine and Aeneas.) He had simply wanted to provoke the other man and draw him away from his healer.
It clearly worked. Better (or really worse) than he had anticipated.
Before he even had the chance to react, he was flat on his back and pain was shooting through his face, the taste of his own blood in his mouth. Atticus was, unfortunately, not particularly accustomed to such physical violence, despite a near lifetime spent in Rodolphus's company. His first reaction was to try and reach for his wand but as Rufus's fist connected solidly with his jaw yet again, Atticus quickly realised there was not time. Instead he swung his own fists back at the other man's head and while he did not have either the strength or skill of the other man, he was rather desperate in his determination to free himself from under Rufus's weight. And when that did not work, he did the only other thing he could think of and brought his knee up to connect solidly with the other man's groin.
Rufus growled as the knee hit him bruisingly high up on the thigh and far too close for comfort, before shoving out his own knee and pinning down the other man's leg. In another context (a hot date, perhaps), this would have been quite tantalising, but right now Rufus didn't care about a damned thing but smashing Avery's face in, a task of which he was making quick work. As cartilage crunched beneath his knuckles, Rufus leaned back to swing again, aiming now for his jaw.
Unfortunately, the whomping willow had had rather enough of their little liaison, and Rufus caught a branch right to the chest as he swung; thrown back a few feet, he had no idea if Atticus was taking a similar beating, but called out Beth for his wand, suddenly aware as rage dissipated and survival once again took over that it was missing.
It took a second for Beth to even respond to the call as she'd been so stunned by the sudden wrestling match in front of her. She had seen Muggles fight like that before, but rarely had she seen wizards do so and it was odd to see two so obviously powerful magical men resort to physical punches. But Rufus' words did sink in eventually and she glanced around, instantaneously thinking she needed to find it, before she realized she could simply "Accio Rufus' wand!"
And as the wand came flying towards her, she caught it rather awkwardly and then tossed the wooden stick towards the former head of the Auror Office.
Even as Rufus was thrown off of him, it still took a moment for Atticus to regain his senses and realise that there were no more fists flying at his face. Likely it was the sight of one of the tree branches flying right towards his head that did it and Atticus quickly scrambled out of the way with two thoughts - he needed his wand and he needed to get the fuck away from the tree. Fixing his shattered nose might be nice as well, but it was somewhat lower on the priority list at the moment. Oh yes, and killing Rufus. That he was even more intent upon after the indignity of having his face pummelled by the other man.
His wand was not far, at least, and it only took a few moments before he had it in his hand once again. He was forced to spit out a mouthful of blood (disgusting) and raised himself up onto his knees. "The child was quite alive when it left our care. If it has since died, I would say the blame rests entirely upon you," he said. In truth, he could not say what possessed him to continue taunting the other man when it had clearly worked so well for him the last time but he was too angry to be rational. And then a killing curse flew from his wand. Right before the whomping willow decided it was his turn to go flying through the air.
Karma really was a bitch.
Wand returned to him by an ever-watchful Beth, Rufus dared to grab one of the pounding arms of the Whomping Willow and hastily chop off the limb before it had a chance to whip him off the ground; the backlash was not pretty, and as he hastily magicked the bit of tree into the air to take the Avada for him, Avery got the brunt of the tree's fury, much to Rufus's delight. Unfortunately, that delight wasn't enough to quash the murderous rage still burning through him, and as he dragged himself to his feet, making sure he was between Beth and Atticus once again, he sent a violent jet of toxic green towards the other man, the spell bellowed out with all the strength he could muster.
Atticus landed hard on his side when the tree finally deposited him abruptly on the ground and he was pretty certain he had managed to crack, or at least bruise a rib or two in the process but there was not time to worry about that now. Not when that smear of violent green light was streaking towards him. Fuck. He really needed to stop taunting the other man. He was better than this. He was smarter than this. Really. Even if it was difficult to argue as much when he was rolling across the ground to avoid both the killing curse and one of the aggravated roots, not realising that he was moving closer to the tree in the process. He did not even bother picking himself up off the ground this time as he sent another Avada Kedavra of his own back at Rufus. There seemed to be no point in dealing in anything but killing curses any longer.
Rufus had backed into Beth now, using her shields to bind with his own and keeping a hand backwards so he knew at all times where she was. This situation had now stepped firmly beyond a tussle and into life and death, and he made sure that no matter what she had a chance to escape if he was stupid enough to get caught by one of those spells. With her reassuring warmth at his back, he pulled her sharply to the left, as, with a roar, he jerked his wand up and to the left. From the forest, a tree came uprooted, and Rufus struggled to control it as he launched it towards the Avada. Wood burst and splintered, and with a hard shove of his wand forward, the shards of wood plummeted through the air, right for Atticus and the Whomping Willow.
Atticus had pulled himself up onto one knee and a glance at the wood flying towards both himself and the easily aggravated herbology project gone terribly awry was enough to bring him fully to his feet. He could protect himself from the shards and a broad sweep of his wand was enough to vanish the ones that were flying towards himself but he needed to put some distance between himself and the tree. And quickly. Branches were flailing all around him and he narrowly avoided one that slammed down into the ground only centimetres from his feet. In a fit of sheer irrationality and anger, a jet of green light went streaking not towards Rufus, but at a branch that was heading straight for his chest. That... had not been a good idea, he realised as the branch was destroyed and the tree seemed to respond with what he could only imagine was its equivalent to a scream of rage. And Atticus was right in the thick of it. There was little for him to do but run, trying to get clear of the damned tree as he sent two more clumsily aimed killing curses in Rufus's general direction.
Rufus was getting tired of summoning shields, but it was better than dodging and losing his footholds and stance. He was far from the whomping willow's reach and he wanted to stay that way. He shot back Avada after Avada, trying to force Atticus back towards the tree with his direction. He had no desire to gloat or to yell; he wanted this to be over, high road or low road.
Atticus did not even have time to think about dodging Rufus's killing curses and how he was going to avoid both them and the still-furious tree. A thick branch barrelled straight into his stomach and he let out a sharp grunt of pain as his body crumpled over the limb. But the tree was not done with him yet and Atticus's feet once again left the ground as the tree picked him up and hurled him through the air launching him so far away that his scream of anger could no longer be heard after a few seconds.
At the very least he had the good sense to cast a cushioning charm. It was likely the first good decision he had made all afternoon.
As the Death Eater went flying away from them Beth glanced quickly towards Rufus. "Here, I can," and she quickly pointed her wand at the other man with a couple of quick basic healing charms that would at least lessen any pain or damage from the physical blows the man had taken. "That should be better - and" she blinked. "I'm really glad we didn't die."
Seonag was wandering amongst the sets of duellers strewn over Hogwarts's lawn, frowning as she saw that weird, moving tree that she had encountered there at the end of April. She scrunched up her face. Somehow, it seemed like, even after twenty-nine years in the magical world, there still managed to be things that surprised her. There didn't seem to be any bodies yet, and no one seemed interested in engaging her in a duel. That was just as well for her. She didn't much like duelling.
Fishing around in the large pockets of her slightly-muddied blue dress, she found a pack of tarot cards and began to flick through them, bored in waiting for there to be a corpse to devour. The Wheel of Fortune. A situation beyond your control, destiny, fate. The Hanged Man. Sacrifice. Death. Seonag frowned. Though she knew that, in cartomancy, Death didn't mean death, it still unsettled her somewhat. She was still staring at the portrait of Death on his horse, contemplating it, when she caught a particularly appealing scent on the air. She looked about and saw a young man off in the distance. Stowing her cards away, she began to move slowly towards him.
Sam was absolutely wired on adrenaline. It was the sort of thing a battle did to you without you even noticing really. His back was turned to half the field and it was only pure luck that he turned in time to see a rather horrendous looking old woman approaching him. His instinct was to run, as it was the sort of thing you expected to find in your closet or under your bed when you were five or six and still scared of the dark.
He steeled his nerves though and quickly protected himself with a shield charm and then fired a conjunctivitus curse at the er, thing.
If Seonag had known that Sam was thinking of her as a horrendous old thing, she would have reacted with rage. Why, had she just not had a milk bath the previous night? She was certain that her skin looked better than usual today. (Not, of course, that that was saying much.) Thankfully for Sam, Seonag was a hag, not a Legilimens, and she was shaking her greying hair off of her shoulder when the curse hit her.
She yowled with pain, feeling as though someone had thrown a cup full of acid into her eyes. Tears streamed, unbidden, from her eyes as she continued to shriek in agony. Also unbidden and unplanned, white-hot flames shot from her fingertips towards her attacker.
Sam's shield charm protected him for the most part. At least, he hadn't caught on fire so that was something. The flames though, broke through at the last second and a long lick of heat scorched his arm and shoulder, cooking the flesh and burning the hair off. Ignorable though, for now.
Seonag's nose wrinkled even more at the smell of charring skin wafting from the man's direction. Her sense of smell was particularly profound, thanks to her haggyness, but right now, the scent of burning human flesh was not an up side to this. She preferred her human raw. Before she saw the Blasting Curse come at her, it had struck her in the chest, and she fell over. Bloody buggering terrorists. She was lucky not to have broken a bloody hip. To slow the man up, she threw a Trip Jinx at him and began to crawl in his direction.
Sam grunted in both surprise and frustration as he tripped and then fell, sprawling painfully on his stomach upon landing. Not quite according to plan, that. He covered himself hurriedly with a shield charm and. "Impedimenta!" he nearly groaned, intent to stop her progress toward him as he pushed himself back up to his feet.
An Impediment Jinx was hardly needed to stop Seonag, as a slightly bigger impediment came in the form of Narcissa Malfoy, who was walking quickly without looking down. If there was that horrible excuse for a willow, she calculated, she would reach the makeshift triage tent in another eight or nine minutes. Looking around for the wounded was a horrible part of this job and she was more than happy to go back to supervision. But all thoughts of supervising fled as she stumbled and tripped over the hag with an unladylike "AAAAAH," followed by a louder shriek as she realised that this wasn't a pile of dirt - it was a moving thing.
As Narcissa tripped over her, Seonag let out a yowl of pain and disgust. Didn't people look where they were going anymore? she thought to herself. Apparently not, and as a Dark Army member she had no idea that the woman she was now snarling at was a very important member of society (or even that she was on their side). Who was Narcissa Malfoy to Seonag? The answer was, "No one." She tried to aim a kick at her, but the Impediment Jinx that had hit her made it difficult, and there was a flailing of limbs until she smelled it. Babby. It was very faint... But she could smell it on this woman. All thoughts of Sam were forced from her mind as she grabbed out for Narcissa's arm. "Where's your baby? Where is it?"
Just as she tried to find a piece of Narcissa to bite down into (maybe she was pregnant... she hadn't forgotten the disappointment of the last battle at Hogwarts), Seonag suddenly felt a tugging around her ankles. Something was gripped around her tightly, dragging her along into the forest. Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed onto Narcissa and shouted, "DO SOMETHING, DO SOMETHING!"
Sam had never been more confused in the middle of a battle in his life, and he actually lowered his wand as his opponent started screaming at some blonde lady that he didn't know. About babies? He was so confused. Sam raised his wand to cast another hex when the vines shot out of the forest. Instinctively, he took a few steps away from them, eyes still fixed on the hag as they wrapped around her and started to pull her in.
Well. She - it, whatever - seemed to have her hands full. Sam, turned and walked the other way. Surely someone else would need help.
"What in Merlin's name does anything at the moment have to do with my bab- LET GO!"</i> Narcissa was too busy clawing at the woman (was it a woman?) to even notice Sam's departure. However, her shoes were not made for dealing with mud and grass and soon she was slipping dangerously close to the vines. "You utter IMBECILE!" She wrenched hard, trying to pull Seonag out by the arm out but primarily attempting to disentangle herself.
Like Narcissa, Seonag hadn't even noticed Sam's departure, either. The fact that she was being pulled towards those forbidding-looking trees did not make her feel very good. It seemed that the harder she fought, the harder they fought to pull her into forest. Relinquishing her grasp on Narcissa (even if she did have a babby nearby, she'd never get the chance to enjoy it if she got killed by plants), she shot a Severing Hex at the vines and they let go, though there were cuts on her legs. The plants seemed to shriek and wail in pain, but the severed bits still clung onto her as she grabbed Narcissa to pull her free, too.
Narcissa was managing to silently berate herself for shoe choices at the moment while engaging in this tug-of-war, but in all honesty, who owned forest-appropriate shoes? One of the vines hit the side of her cheek and for a moment she wondered, terrified, if her face was broken. It hurt enough to be so, in her humble opinion, but then Narcissa was bad at judging the difference between how a bruise felt and something worse possibly would. She was still scowling with worry when Seonag freed the vines, and her first thought was to gather the Healing supplies that had fallen and make sure there was some kind of balm for bruises.
"You're welcome," she replied, in an equally stiff voice. "Stay away from those creepers. Those trees look vicious." And with that, she swept off, toddling along and contemplating what she had originally read in her tarot cards.