|Blurred Lines Mods (blurred_mods) wrote in blurred_lines,|
@ 2009-08-31 17:29:00
|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 [26/29]
THE FINAL BATTLE
The last death eaters
Pepper vs Rabastan
These guys just would not give up. Pepper paused at the entrance to the castle, looking out over the grounds with a scowl as some of the Death Eaters - a smaller number, to be sure, but still more than the ideal, which was none - came back out to the destruction of the grounds. Fucking hell. Shaking his arms a little to loosen the muscles in his shoulders, he readjusted his grip on his wand and moved forward, glancing over prospective opponents assessingly until he spotted someone familiar. Rabastan. He grinned, the expression vaguely reminiscent of a shark as he quickened his pace to meet his old dormmate faster. "Ohhhhhh, Rabbit!" he called, trying to get his attention. Come and kill me if you can, wanker.
He hated that nickname, even when it was an endearment from his siblings. He was nothing like a twitchy, nervous creature. Rabastan glowered at his former roommate and didn't waste any time before sending the killing curse in his direction. It wasn't difficult to muster up the disgust and hatred anymore. The field was sticky with blood and covered in disgusting weak beings that deserved death.
"Come to ask me what your wife's final words were?" Rabastan shouted, following it up with 'Crucio', aimed squarely at Pepper. "How she begged for her life and her disgusting love for my brother?"
Whatever Rabastan had intended, the taunt simply made Pepper laugh as he spun out of the way of the killing curse and strengthened his shield against the cruciatus. It was getting easier to fall into the rhythm of this, for all that he ached and blood was drying on his skin in places, itching uncomfortably. It helped to just... forget that there was anything else outside of this battle, let it slip away. All he needed to know was how to move - his body, his wrist, his wand. "He's the one who kept letting her go. You should ask her how prettily he begged when she last saw him." His wand flashed, the incantation for the sectumsempra spell coming closer to naturally now that he'd practiced it so often. "Pity you haven't passed your precious sperm on yet, I have to say."
He gripped his knife tighter despite the ache in his hand from the missing finger. Glaring, Rabastan ducked the curse and laughed insanely, "Whatever my brother did he did for the Cause. I have served the Cause and if I die without spawn I have settled that," he said, sounding more than a little manic, "My children would not have to grow up in a world where disgusting maggots like you, exist!" Given his recent training with the Imperious and other various dark curses for manipulation, the first to come to mind was the quickest off his tongue. Its intention was for Pepper's insides to tear themselves and become his outsides.
There was give and take in any battle, and Pepper was unable to fully guard against this spell. He regretted that immediately - he would have preferred the cruciatus, which hurt like hell but you could get over it pretty quick. This one, even half-way blocked, he could feel his insides twisting painfully. God, he thought absently, good thing I'm not going to have to live with my internal organs this fucked. He thought he might be bleeding a little too, unless that was just sweat, but it seemed like neither of them were in the mood to draw this out for too long anyway. "So you're going to do away with poverty and bitchery? Coz you know I only turned out like this because you were all shits to me in school." He fired off a killing curse and another sectumsempra, hoping one would distract him from the other - even as he cast them, though, he could feel that his aim was just slightly off, more towards his arm than torso. Fuck it, close enough for jazz.
"Because you're disgusting and should have taken our suggestions and offed yourself at school," Rabastan said with a smirk of triumph as his spell hit. He didn't even mind dodging into the curse to avoid the killing curse. His arm had already lost him enough blood and it wasn't that bad. Hurt like nothing else, but Rabastan pushed it aside, concentrating on Pepper's torment. He followed the same pattern as the other man, shooting two killing curses on either side of him and in the middle he sent a cutting jinx to Pepper's face - specifically his eye. "Kill everyone off that whinges about being poor, that's how you deal with poverty!"
No wonder he wasn't fucking married, he was a real bloody charmer. Luckily and completely by coincidence, when the spell sliced across his face Pepper stepped backwards from the pain, rather than dodging sideways into the path of a lethal curse; the liquid trailing down his face now was definitely blood (at least, he hoped - he didn't want to think about what else it might be), and he clenched that one eye shut in an attempt to partition the pain off in his mind. Not relevant or applicable to current situation: deal with later. "Couldn't do that," he called over to Rabastan, mouth twisted into a smirk. "I've got a deal. I fuck up all your shit, and it gets to end. You can't do anything to me that wouldn't have happened anyway!" He lashed out with a blasting curse and a gouging spell, pettily wanting to cause damage - hell, for all he knew the entire scattered remains of their dorm were going to die right here, bleeding out into the very grounds of the school where they'd met. It would be... utterly perfect, if it happened.
Rabastan was already formulating a plan by the time Pepper was talking again and Rabastan wasn't listening to him, blah blah blah, it didn't mean anything. Rabastan summoned the nearest body in front of him as a shield (he believed wasting magic on shields was ridiculous, especially in a heated quick battle as this) and dropped it to the ground when the spells hit. Smirking at Pepper and licking the blood that spattered off his mouth, he laughed and tried to distract him from what he was doing with his wand.
Although there had been no preparation of the body, he didn't give a flying fuck who it was either, Rabastan had his wand to the side, calling up the body behind Pepper. Slowly, as Rabastan taunted the man, it crept up behind him and grabbed at his ankles. "I see you've already lost your French whore of a wife, your play things, what is left for you, Octavius? You have nothing left, you might as well off yourself now, fucking bastard."
"You do like to hear yourself talk, don't you?" Amused, more than anything, Pepper pushed his focus into a silencio, aiming carefully straight at his opponent. Concentrating on the battle, blinkered to what was going on around them - around them? what was the rest of the world to Pepper? only this, here, now, even existed - he was surprised when something grabbed at his ankle and stumbled, the sudden movement making his battered viscera heat in a flash of pain. "Fuck," he hissed (as much as one could hiss a word with no sibilance), kicking out at whatever the fuck was on the ground and trying to keep his attention on Rabastan, lashing out with another killing curse.
The sound of retreat was not one that Rabastan wanted to hear - this wasn't a break, he knew it was a full retreat. He was distracted by the going's on around him when the silencing spell hit him. Glaring, Rabastan barely missed the killing curse as he tried to remove the spell, but without speech it was impossible. He had hardly studied any non-verbal casting, there wasn't any need for it. Sending a jelly-legs jinx at Pepper (the one that he had learned back in school to send it across to Pepper. The more the Death Eaters started disapparating, Rabastan started getting worried. Sending another two jinxes Pepper's way, Rabastan turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack.
Rabastan was gone? Pepper stared at the spot for a moment after managing to block the first two spells, dragging the weight on his ankle to get out of the way of the other, damaged eye opening again as he forgot himself; he had to close it again quickly as fluid started seeping in. "You pussy," he bit angrily. He hadn't even fired off killing curses as he'd left, just stupid schoolboy pranks - which, he realised, must have been due to the silencio. What the fuck. Rabastan Lestrange couldn't cast nonverbal spells? What the fuck.
The corpse was still clawing at his feet, though, and he spitefully dealt with it, casting an incarcerous and an incendio once he'd gotten his foot back from its clutches. Looking around, he realised that those last few Death Eaters were leaving as well. There wasn't anyone left to fight. Slowly, he started back towards the castle, and now that he had nothing to focus on, no reason to concentrate, he realised that he might have been hurt worse than he thought. Each step jogged his stomach and the main entrance seemed too far away.
Maybe it would be alright then. If Rabastan had done a good enough job on his internal organs, he'd probably just die from the injuries. The only thing left that even vaguely mattered was the possibility of seeing Jo or Rufus before he passed out.
Fenrir vs Damocles
Fenrir growled almost constantly as he dragged Damocles away from the main battle and into an out of the way part of the grounds around the side of the castle. His fury with the way the battle had been going, the old womanish behaviour of the Inner Circle, Rodolphus' death and the death of the Dark Lord... and therefore his dreams of becoming the wolf forever... finally spilling over into a killing rage that he was determined Damocles would bear the brunt of.
As soon as they were more or less out of sight of the rest of the battlefield and therefore out of sight of anyone who might try and interfere, Fenrir threw the man away from and howled, a sound that matched what came out of the wolf on the full moon. He then pointed his wand at Damocles and snarled, "Ossisverso" and then followed the spell by charging at the man, his claws at the ready.
Damocles' head was spinning from the last punch that Fenrir had given him; he couldn't raise his wand hand to do anything, there was only shock and horror going through him and another small part of him wondering what to do, wondering if there was even something he could do at that moment. He struggled to get out of Fenrir's grasp but even with his body size it was difficult; he fell back against the ground as he was thrown back, his wand almost slipping out of his hand but he still held on to it.
His howl made fear run through Damocles' whole body, even though he knew it wasn't even full moon. He knew he had to get out of there, and he tried to get up Fenrir had already threw a spell his way, and he did what he would normally do and what would normally work -- he used the Shield Charm -- only for the spell to break through it. The pain that followed later was unbearable; something he had never thought he would ever feel -- his bones were twisting and he was screaming in pain, wanting desperately for it to stop for just a second just so that he would at least be able to aim a spell at the man.
Fenrir laughed and howled as he ran at Damocles, enjoying the man's pain. Even had the entirety of the Inner Circle stood between him and his prey and demanded he let the man live, he would not have stopped. The day had been full of frustrations and disappointment, pain and betrayal and he would let nothing stop him from carrying out what he wanted to do now. He threw himself on top of Damocles in a savage frenzy, clawing at him with his sharpened nails and trying to bite his face, his body, anything that got within range.
He could feel Fenrir’s teeth sinking into his shoulder, and that set off more panic, and Damocles could not concentrate while he was panicking. He tried to shove Fenrir off of him though it was too painful to move – but he forced himself to put as much strength as he could into pushing Fenrir away. And he had his wand – he could still use it even if he wasn’t sure he could manage a spell. But he had to try – he wasn’t going to give up that night, no matter how much he wanted to. The memory of Egnorwiddle’s body flashed through his mind, and with a groan he managed a "Confringo," hoping that, no matter how weak the spell was, the impact would at least get Fenrir off of him and a distance away.
Fenrir felt the spell pushing at him, pushing him away and he dug in with his teeth in an attempt to stay where he was. But the spell was too much and he was shoved away, ripping a chunk of flesh from Damo's shoulder as he went. He then let the momentum of the spell take him and used it to roll to his feet a short distance away. He still had the chunk of flesh in his mouth and he met Damo's eyes and he chewed on it with relish and then swallowed it down. "Yum," he growled in a truly frightening voice. "I want more." He cast a Crucio in Damocles' direction then charged at him once again.
Now that Fenrir was no longer within that much close proximity to him, Damocles was able to think more clearer, though his shoulder was bleeding profusely. He put a hand on it, a reflexive move, and winced, backing away from the werewolf. "No," he muttered under his breath, more or less telling himself that rather than Fenrir. He didn’t want to end up like Elsie and Egnorwiddle. He had gone this far and he was going to do everything that Doris told him that he would do. Gathering all his willpower, he used the Shield Charm again to protect himself against the Cruciatus – it worked, and he would sigh in relief if it wasn’t for the fact that Fenrir was charging at him again.
Fenrir hadn't been expecting the volley of spells that came flying at him. He'd thought the man was cowed and fearful, too much so to do anything of worth. The Expulso hit him square on, simply exploding against his chest and sending him flying. The other spells then flew harmlessly over his head but that hardly mattered. He'd heard bones breaking, had felt them. Could now feel the pain from them and from the way they were shifting around inside, poking at other things. The pain was intense and it washed away the last civilised, human thoughts from his mind.
The pain appeared to ebb. It hadn't gone away and nor had the injuries but the sheer animal rage that was flooding through him was muffling it and it was that which enabled him to get to his feet. His robes hung in tatters from his shoulders but he didn't care. Nor did he care about the thing that was heading towards him. In a remarkable display of animal reflexes, he grabbed it out of the air and looked at it blankly. A dart. Like you used on an animal. He threw it to the ground and stomped it into the dirt with one boot then snarled. This man thought he was an animal? Then he would get the animal.
The last trace of humanity in Fenrir made him raise his wand and bark out, "Sectumsempra. Crucio!" Then he simply dropped his wand and charged at Damocles, barely feeling the pain from the broken bones grinding together as he leapt at the man.
The irony was that Damocles didn’t think that Fenrir or other werewolves as animals, no matter how much he had lambasted them in his journal entries, and that his intention was only to help. And Damocles, realising that at least one of his spells had worked, was more confident than he was before – somehow, he was going to try to make it out of this, no matter what it took. He did feel a wash of disappointment when the werewolf easily caught his dart -- as it was his last.
"PROTEGO!" the spells Fenrir had used were easily blocked, though the spells’ force pushed him back and the shield instantly disappeared as he had used probably one of his last ounces of energy to cast it. He was still bleeding, and he felt his senses start to slow down – he wasn’t quick enough to cast another shield spell, though he managed another "Incendio!" as Fenrir charged at him once more, though this time his aim was inaccurate, and the fire missed the werewolf by a couple of inches.
Fenrir launched himself at Damocles, barely noticing the spell and bringing them both down to the ground. This time there was no playing, no mocking, no messing around with injuring the man. The animal, the wolf, was in charge now and it wanted its kill. Fenrir dug his claws into Damocles' shoulders to anchor them and lunged at the man's throat. His sole aim was to rip it apart, to watch the man's life blood flow out and see him die.
Pain shot through him as Fenrir clawed his shoulders, bringing him on the ground once more; his wand slipped from his grip from the shock. He could barely reach out for it even though it wasn’t too far away from where he was lying on the ground. "No," was one of the words that came out of his mouth, though he could barely comprehend what he was even saying, or whether he had said it – it came out as a small noise of breath. His mind was reeling over what was really going on, and the possibility of what was going to happen within the next few minutes – seconds, even. And he couldn’t accept it, he attempted to push Fenrir away, even when everything hurt, even when he was losing so much blood – and yet none of those things seemed to matter. But at the back of his mind, he knew that no matter how much he was struggling, he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape.
The body had been still underneath him for several minutes before Fenrir finally stopped savaging the man's throat. He pulled away, wrenching himself to his feet and breathing heavily. Each breath caused pain, caused his broken bones to grind against each other, but he was far beyond feeling that right now. Now he could only feel triumph and a feral glee. He was covered in blood, his face, his hands, what remained of his robes, but he didn't care. In fact he licked the blood from his lips then wiped more blood from his face and licked it off his hands.
He raised his head to the sky and howled his success for all to hear... or at least he tried to. As he breathed in, the pain finally penetrated the animal in his mind and instead of the howl he wanted, all that came out was a pained whimper. He doubled over, clutching at his ribs, then snarled his defiance. He stumbled over and grabbed his wand then pointed it at himself and muttered, "Ferula"
Bandages wrapped themselves firmly around his ribs and eased some of the pain. He staggered away from the body, dismissing it from his mind and peering around the side of he castle. It looked like half the Death Eaters were gone and those who were left were losing. Fuck it. He'd had enough of this. His agreement had been with the Dark Lord and he was dead. He was getting out of here. He looked around and then started limping towards the Forbidden Forest. He knew his way through there and once he got out, he'd find someone to heal him.Then he could find what was left of his pack and see what happened from there.
Corbina & Demetrius vs Kingsley
People were leaving. Why were people leaving? This wasn't over yet. Corbina was disgusted that the majority of her fellow Death Eaters and supporters were fleeing when they still had a fight to win. They could still win this and they were LEAVING. Corbina hurt, and she was bleeding and had injuries that she likely wouldn't identify for days, but it didn't matter. She was going to see this out and keep fighting until they won.
Rodolphus would've stayed.
There wasn't anything left to stay Corbina's hand, to cause her to hold back. The vigilantes obviously had tossed their morals to the side in favour of bloodshed. They had taken everything. It was Corbina's turn. She aimed her wand at the first person she spotted who she didn't recognise as on their side and without even a moment's pause screamed out "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The last fight had left a- haha- bad taste in Demetrius's mouth, and leaving the now-dead Mary MacDonald and Severus (who may have still been alive? He hadn't had the heart to check) behind him, he searched for someone familiar and friendly. But people were leaving. He didn't understand why people wanted to leave.
Hearing a shouted out Killing Curse, his pace quickened and he finally came across a person he wanted to see- Corbina. He couldn't really make out the figure she had aimed at, but if her curse hit it wouldn't matter either way. Coming up beside her he watched the jet of green light but didn't make a sound, waiting to know if he would need to prepare for another attack or if her aim was true.
Kingsley was hurt from his recent battle with the werewolf and that son of a bitch Higgs, but not hurt enough that when he saw a flash of green and a woman in front of him fall down dead - no one he recognised, so she was probably someone who came to fight after hearing his radio call - that he wouldn't go after the Death Eater (or Eaters, he saw) who had killed her. A lot seemed to be retreating, a fact which made him so happy he wanted to sing Rapper's Delight - but these did not.
Well, a few burns (which he was able to slightly heal himself, at least enough to where they did not bother him quite as much) and a limp was not enough to deter Kingsley when there were still Death Eaters who weren't giving up, just like the two in front of him. He cast a silent shield charm and then rapid-fired a few spells and prayed they would hit. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Incendio! Deprimo! Confundo!" The odds of two against one weren't that great if he wasn't able to start off strong.
Corbina hadn't exactly come out of the fight against Professor McGonagall in the best of shape -- although at least she had kept hers, considering she'd transfigured the hag she'd been fighting with into a music box -- but blind fury seemed to be keeping her running despite injury. Even if it was true that the Dark Lord was dead, Dumbledore's obnoxious band of freedom fighters hadn't given up as soon as they learned of his death. They owed their Lord that same dedication.
The Stupefys thankfully rebounded off of Corbina's shield -- getting knocked unconscious this soon into the fight wouldn't help her at all -- but that only lead to her being vulnerable when Kingsley's Incendio snuck through, burning flames licking at her legs and burning her skin. She aimed a stinging hex at Kingsley's eyes, followed almost immediately by a yelled "Ossisverso!" that sent a jet of dark blue light in the taller man's direction.
The blood forming tracks down his face (from a wound that stubbornly refused to close) mingled with sweat and obscured his vision in one eye. How inconvenient. Demetrius didn't even have time for a shield charm before the Deprimo hit at his feet, gouging a hole in the ground and narrowly missing taking a few of his toes with it. That, thankfully, got him putting up a Shield Charm. Though his impatience made him break it after the Confundo was harmlessly deflected.
"Sectumsempra," followed Corbina's Ossisverso but Demetrius couldn't expend the energy Corbina seemed to have focused on anger, and there wasn't as much power behind the spell as there normally was.
The stinging hex bounced off Kingsley's shield and a moment later a rather unfortunately familiar feeling ripped through Kingsley's body as the bone-twisting curse began to, well, twist his bones. A few small remnants of the shield were still left, which made the curse slightly more bearable, to say the least, than it otherwise would have been, but it was gone by the time Demetrius' curse hit him, adding yet another layer of pain on top of what he was already experiencing.
Corbina was exhausted, and already was feeling quite a bit of pain from her previous fights, so it felt for the best that her opponent appeared to already be in the same state. She'd only just realized that Demetrius was there too as his sectumsempra hit Kingsley. Good. He was alive, and she wasn't engaged to someone who had run away like all the others. With a flash of her wand, Corbina cast a spell around Kingsley's feet to cause the ground to begin to soften up like the sandtraps she'd encountered earlier, hoping the soil would swallow the ridiculously dressed man whole.
While their opponent seemed to distracted by the pain of their combined attacks, he looked at Corbina. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, breathing heavily. Watching the ground soften and move under her spell, he fired an Incendio at the grass around the now moving patch. Anything to make this more difficult seemed like the plan, he wasn't sure how well he would do in actual, active combat at this point.
Kingsley felt a slight sense of relief as the bone twisting curse ended, but he barely registered it underneath the pain of his body suddenly feeling like it went through the cheese grater. He dropped to his knees when the curses began to hit, but soon began to sink slowly into the ground and the area around him began to catch on fire, cackling as the dry august grass burned.
"Shiiiit," he moaned, trying to get back on his feet so he could get away from the fire. His body hurt like hell and the flames grew closer. "Aguamenti," he managed to grunt out, the conversation between the two Death Eaters giving him a little more time and he doused the ground around him with water. He rose to his feet finally, not yet noticing the sinking spell, and realised that the one Death Eater was the same he had thrown down the stairs at the Malfoy Poncy Lady Foundation Centre. How fun.
"Serpensortia," he cast, conjuring up a large snake to send at the pair, hoping that if he cast enough, a few would hit. "Oppugno! Deprimo! Incarcerous!" He was getting tired and a bit funny-feeling from the lack of blood, and he wanted to retreat, head to triage and get healed a bit before going back to finish, but he found he couldn't move. He was shin-deep in the ground and certainly didn't have the strength to get out.
"I'm fine," Corbina replied, believing it even though she certainly didn't look it. (Nor did she feel it, although Corbina never would've admitted that fact. Not while they were still fighting.) "Are you alright?"
If Demetrius had answered, though, his reply was lost amongst Corbina's surprise that the Auror had just shot a snake at the two Slytherins. The irony wasn't lost on her even in the middle of the battlefield. Her shield spell kept the snake from getting oppugnoed into her face, but left her vulnerable to Kingsley's cutting spell, which sliced across her chest, making her stumble and taking her breath away. "INCENDIO. ANGOR. LEVICORPUS!" she screamed in Kingsley's direction, copying his method for firing off as many spells as she could manage in one breath.
Demetrius blinked more blood out of his eyes, annoyed. The ropes flew at him and, thinking as quickly as possible, he attempted to transfigure them into fluttery little birds that would leave the fight all together. Of course it didn't work out so well, and the ropes transfigured into dead birds. Swearing and vanishing them quickly, he copied the method that seemed to be so popular tonight. "Sectumsempra, Ignis Infusco," and then he followed with a nifty little spell that would turn their opponent into a monkey, though his focus wasn't at its best and he wasn't sure if it'd even work.
Kingsley couldn't move. He couldn't move to try to dodge the spells, he realised, knowing he only had his wand to rely on. "Protego!" he yelled, trying to put everything he had into the shield spell, but unfortunately everything he had wasn't much at all. The spell deflected the fire, but he felt his throat contract violently for a short second and then he was being yanked up into the air by the third spell.
However, with his legs still stuck in the ground, Kingsley felt a sharp pain as the three forces, magic, his legs and the ground worked against each other until the weakest one gave up. Unfortunately for Kingsley, the weakest one was his legs, and he soon found himself dangling upside down, both legs stuck out at a very unnatural position above him. "Expulso! he yelled, throwing the last of his energy into this curse (hopefully) aimed at the girl.
The moment the spell left his wand, however, he forgot entirely about the pain in his legs as the sectumsempra curse hit, slicing him up once more. His body felt hot all over and dizzy, oh so dizzy. The world began to go dark and he only vaguely realised that another curse hit him, one that didn't hurt too much except on his lower back.
It didn't matter though, because Kingsley gave in to the darkness, his body no longer able to handle the pain.
Reacting on instinct as he tended to do, Demetrius took a step to his right and casted a shield charm, but only a second too late. A good bit of the (albeit not the most powerful he'd ever been on the receiving end of) hex hit him in the side, he felt some of his ribs splintering as (the fourth in the course of 6 months, if he wasn't mistaken) a rather sizable hole opened up on his torso. He considered himself rather lucky that it hadn't been the full power of the spell, because it wasn't a very deep spell.
But it hurt like hell. "I think we should probably get out of here," he said, touching his side and wincing- his hand covered in blood. Just what he needed, more scars. "We would be useless if we allowed ourselves to bleed to death or something," he added.
Corbina wanted to argue that it didn't matter. While they might have been done here (the Auror didn't seem to be moving), the fight wasn't finished yet. There were still people on the other side fighting, and this wasn't over until they'd won, finally putting those damn vigilantes in their place.
Even the Inner Circle seemed to be drawing back, though, and if Corbina was honest with herself, she knew she'd probably end up one more body to litter the ground if she didn't make it to triage soon. All of the fight in her that had been kept charged by anger and determination was very quickly bleeding out of her, and her vision was beginning to go blurry. "Alright," she finally replied after convincing herself that she'd be more useful to the cause more alive than dead.
Corbina turned her wand back to Kingsley one last time, casting a spell to cause Kingsley's newly acquired monkey tail to stand straight up in the air. She knew Skeeter was around there somewhere doing fashion commentary, and didn't want her to miss her chance to see it.
Walden vs Gawain
Walden had led the retreat that sent the Death Eaters away from the fray but a guilty feeling was sitting in the pit of his stomach. There were very few things that Walden had ever run from and as he lingered off the battlefield he felt like a quitter. His father had always called him undedicated. He couldn't let the old bastard get it right.
He shrugged out of his jacket and he picked his wand out of the pocket. He dropped the leather to the ground and he went back towards the evacuated area. Other Death Eaters were doing the same thing and Walden felt emboldened. He would go down fighting if that was what it came to.
Just yards away from Walden there was another victim of the war who was searching for closure, only he wasn't looking for it in the shape of a duel with a Death Eater. Gawain had come out after the retreat to help with clean up, whatever that meant exactly. His mind was at ease knowing that Kate was safe within the castle walls, even if she was less than her best. He was engaged. It was strange to think that he would be getting married again.
Gawain's happy thoughts were ended quickly as a bolt of light zoomed past over his shoulder and he spun quickly, his eyes landing on Walden. He produced a shield just as the Death Eater attacked with a second spell and Gawain berated himself for not paying attention to what was going on around him. He would not allow this man to kill him. He had promised Kate that he would come back and he was a man of his word.
He directed his wand in Walden's direction and shouted. "Stupefy!"
Walden blocked the Auror's stunning spell and he recognized him now that he was facing him. This was the man that had attacked Ben in the taking of the Ministry. He'd set the boy on fire and then left, like a coward.
He glared at Gawain and he walked towards him with an anger inside him like he had not felt in some time. It was a combination of their defeat and the fall of Voldemort. It was everything that he had lost. "INCENDIO." His voice was a growl and the flames poured from the tip of his wand like someone had turned on a very odd sort of spout.
Gawain produced a stream of water and the two elements collided in mid-air with a angry sizzle. The water eventually overpowered the flames and Gawain cast a leg-locking curse on the Death Eater, hoping to end this little dance quickly.
The hex was blocked and Walden remained standing. "Crucio." He'd tried this spell multiple times throughout the day but now was the only time it seemed to avoid a counter. Walden watched as Gawain dropped to the ground, clutching his wand helplessly.
"Does that hurt?" He bent over so that he could look into Gawain's contorted face. "You, with your fire. I bet you were involved in the fire at the Daily Prophet, hmm? You stood in the centre of the building and you torched it, didn't you?"
That anger that Walden was feeling poured through his wand and into Gawain. He could see Walden's outline through the blur of tears and he tried to shake his head no. He was innocent but clearly the older man didn't seem to care. He screamed in agony and hoped that someone would release him from the blinding pain.
Gawain's cries of pain only fuelled Walden's anger. "You murdered a very close friend of mine in that fire of yours. He was going to get married and have a family. He was going to be a great Death Eater some day. He would have ripped your family to shreds. Now I will allow you to feel the same pain that I felt."
Walden couldn't seem to control his emotions and he increased the intensity of the curse. He would have held it until Gawain was just a shell but a rogue blast struck his leg and he fumbled and lost the link.
Gawain's body felt like it had been shattered and he wanted to crawl off behind a tree and sleep. Of course that was not an option. He took advantage of Walden's distraction and he dragged himself to his feet, the moisture from his tears still clinging to his cheeks.
He pointed his wand at Walden. "Incarcerous!" The ropes wrapped around Walden's legs and he toppled over as the rope climbed his body like a vine.
"I had nothing to do with the Prophet or any of the deaths that happened inside it. I am sorry for your loss, I really am, but don't you think that you might deserve it? Do you know how many lives you've taken? How many friends have you stolen away from people? You don't stop to think about what you're talking about. All the anger and pain that you feel from our retaliation is brought upon yourself by the very people that you call your friends."
Gawain pulled his wand toward him and the ropes tightened around Walden's body. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to get himself out of this. This was not supposed to happen. "You're almost the same as us," Walden mused. "You could be a Death Eater if you're blood wasn't so dirty. I'm sure you've killed someone, or at least thought about it. You've wanted to kill, I'm sure of it. You probably want to kill me right now. Go ahead and do it, if that's what will make you happy. You can add my name to the long list of people that you've murdered who are far better people than you or your armies will ever be."
He loomed over the Death Eater and listened to every poisonous word that came from his mouth. They were not the same. Not at all. Albion and the Order were only fighting fire with fire, so to speak. He opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted by a flurry of voices. Moody and Rufus were going to the Ministry, just as he had been told they would. He was no longer interested in what Walden had to say about anything. He was a good person and he was going to help take back what was rightfully his.
"Good luck with those ropes." Without another word Gawain ran off and Walden squirmed and swore. He was having the worst fucking day.
Augusta vs Araminta
Araminta watched as several of the people on their side began to leave. She was winded, she was hurt, and she did really want to go home. But not until she absolutely had to, and Araminta Meliflua was no coward. The Longbottom blood flowing through her dictated that she would never surrender. She wasn't these desperate cockroaches, saving their own hides. They'd committed to a cause, and they thought to leave?
It was sickening.
Throwing an "Incendio," at the first opponent she saw, Araminta didn't immediately register the familiarity of the woman she'd just attacked.
-- a spell which was instantly eaten into the shield charm Augusta had previously cast. If there was one thing her son had insisted she become more than proficient in (that phrasing had earned him an earful), it was in the casting and maintaining of her own protective spells. And thus the incendio was swallowed up, allowing Augusta to turn and give her attacker her full attention.
When she saw who it was, her brows flattened. "Ah," she began. "You."
Araminta's (already limited by the injury on her leg) movement shuddered to a stop, her eyebrows raising in shock. She didn't react, he wand was held loosely at her side. She was no longer sure of how well she would come out of this battle, because if there was one woman who she felt could do her harm...
...it was her.
"You," she echoed uncomfortably, her brows retreating to their normal position as she drew herself up to full height.
Not that Augusta strictly wanted to harm her cousin. A sharp once-over told her what she needed to know -- that the younger woman was in worse shape than she -- and with a sigh, she palmed a stray lock of hair away from her face, ignoring the sting of a shallow gash that stretched across her left temple.
"Go home, Araminta."
"No," was the only thing she could articulate. It held the significance of anything more eloquent the typical Araminta would have said, said forcefully. The single word told plenty, she would not budge. She would not be bossed around.
Tightening her grip on her wand, she waited.
So it was to be like this, then? Unsurprising, considering the years of conflict between them; but then, Augusta had harbored some hope that blood would not be shed by Longbottoms.
"Your cause is lost, Araminta," she said, attempting a final time to dissuade this woman and make her leave. "Do not be a sore loser, coz. Go."
"I am not some cowardly child that abandons my ideals because I have a few bruises," Araminta bit back spitefully. She would not run away, not even from her own flesh and blood (and grudgingly, flesh and blood she actually admired). Not now. No matter how lost it seemed. She wouldn't just flee.
"Do you know nothing of the stubbornness of Longbottoms, Augusta?"
Augusta looked far beyond displeased. "Enough to recognize when it has become stupidity."
"It is stupid, now, to abandon a cause merely because it seems hopeless at one point? If that were true your son would have changed sides a dozen times over now. As would you have. He would still be alive," she snapped venomously. She was hardly a sentimental person but the display of her cousin's body was nearly too much, even for her.
Something in the elder woman's expression snapped and darkened. "Do not speak of them," she said, voice too steely to be tremulous for all the anger that was packed into those five words. "No true Longbottom would side with people who desecrate the bodies of the dead like that -- not only are you stupid, but rotten--!" And a purple jet of light exploded from the tip of her wand, meant to force Araminta back and away.
Araminta very nearly recoiled out of fear of Augusta, the spell doing that for her and forcing her back a few feet. "I had nothing to do with the disrespect of their bodies. I did not want it, it was disgusting," she snapped irritatedly. "Reducto," she retaliated with a fearsome sneer. She was not stupid.
Thankfully her shield charm absorbed it, but another spell of that strength and determination would do away with it entirely. "Yet you stood by and now fight for them," Augusta hissed, aiming a deprimo at her cousin's feet.
"I fight for myself," she snapped back, clenching her left fist. The blast dug a hole in the ground, and also in her already injured leg. She stumbled, but regained her footing. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she shot a silent Diffindo at her cousin.
"Oh yes?" was chased by a hiss as the spell ate through the remnants of her shield and seared her arm, doing away with her sleeve and bringing blood to the surface of her skin. "Then why are you fighting me? I told you to leave! Duro!"
"You are not my mother, Augusta." Shield Charm. Step away. Wince. Araminta had officially been riled to the point of no return. Augusta thought to tell her how to behave? Ridiculous. Absolutely absurd. "Angor." But her focus wasn't good.
"Obviously she didn't beat you enough as a--" As a child, she meant to say, but the rest of her words were choked off as her air was stolen from her. But for all the panic that rose up in her at the realization that she was suffocating, the wide-eyed stare she directed at Araminta glinted with fury. Oh, if looks could kill -- but they did not, and Augusta was reduced to scrambling around for a non-verbal spell she could cast with some, if any, accuracy. What was that one she used to surprise her siblings with when they aggravated her, on her son when he was a naughty little boy of six who wouldn't stop digging his fingers into the flower pots? -- the stinging jinx. Her eyes closed as she silently forced it from her wand.
Sneering at Augusta's choked off retort, Araminta focused all of her anger into the spell. That was, until the stinging jinx hit her right hand, forcing her to drop her wand and her focus as a red welt erupted onto her hand. How uncomfortable. Rubbing at it impatiently, her guard was completely dropped.
-- and the first spell Augusta managed to cast aloud, after sucking in a desperate breath of air, was a reducto, and she let it stream haphazardly out of her wand as she stumbled, still weakened from the lack of air, fighting to find balance.
She fell. That was the first thing that registered with Araminta- that she had fallen. Trying to push herself up, back to a standing position, she fell again. The already damaged leg had been hit haphazardly by Augusta's reducto, the bone snapping backwards and tearing through the muscle of her calf. She couldn't get up. The pain was what she noticed immediately after she saw the damage to her leg. A wheezed out expulso is all she could manage before falling back, flat onto the ground. Lights burst in front of her eyes, and all she could feel was pain.
But Araminta was forceful enough with her magic, even through the pain, even though the spell was faintly gasped, that the magic sprung into action. Wildly unaimed, it hit the ground just to the left of Augusta, sending earth and the detritus of previous battles fought flying into the air. Something hard and unyielding slammed into her arm, and she cried out when she felt something snap -- but her wand arm was still (relatively) whole, and so she lifted it now as she staggered to her cousin's side.
Blinking, she turned her head slightly and looked up at the older woman. "Hmm?" was the only response she could articulate without sobs and tears coming through. She bit the inside of her cheek, nearly drawing blood. No one needed to know how much pain she was in.
Good, she was alive. Such was Augusta's own anger that she could barely see through that. She didn't want her cousin dead, but if whatever pain the younger woman was in was even a fraction of anything her decimated family had felt (still felt), then she deserved it. "None of it was supposed to happen like this," she said icily. "You chose your allegiances poorly." A basic, very basic, healing charm was slapped onto Araminta before Augusta took a step back.
"If there'd been no war, my allegiances wouldn't have mattered," she said as the pain was ever-so-slightly relieved by Augusta's tiniest bit of sympathy. "No matter my allegiance I never wished harm on you or your son," Araminta added quietly, before relaxing her muscles and closing her eyes. If she died here, what of it? If someone found her...what of it? She hardly cared anymore.
Sparks of red jetted out from Augusta's wand, a crimson sign for help that she hoped someone would notice. She did not want to see Araminta dead, but neither did she want to see Araminta anymore. Her words, although they perhaps rang true, did nothing to soothe the gaping wound that was borne by a parent who'd lost their child (and spouse, and their child).
"Goodbye, cousin," she finally said, then turned, balance made unsteady by the cracked heel of one red boot, and began her slow return to those who fought for what was right.