|Blurred Lines Mods (blurred_mods) wrote in blurred_lines,|
@ 2009-08-31 17:30:00
|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 [27/29]
THE FINAL BATTLE
The last death eaters
Amycus vs Amelia
At some point during the melee of retreat, Amycus had lost track of Marius. Already far from operating on his best gear, the wild confusion as Death Eaters began departing made it impossible for him to keep a tally on what'd happened to him. There was also the matter of Emory, that old fucker, but his immediate (and increasingly panicked) worry was that Marius, who hadn't been in the best condition when they'd abandoned those two Auror cunts to the thestrals, had bled out and been left for dead. Theirs was a relatively new friendship -- but Amycus cared enough to worry.
And worry he did, if worry was strong enough a term to describe the hysteria that was steadily growing, a knot of icy heat that ate its way through his gut and into his chest. At times, he could feel it pulsate in his throat, and only a hoarse growl (although at times it was faint and whiny enough to be a whimper) of frustration -- such as the one that escaped him now -- pushed it back down again.
Half-blinded by his own blood, finally feeling the throb of fingers that were no longer there, he stumbled over terrain that innumerable blasts and explosions had made uneven, shield charm stupidly lowered as he made his unsteady way along.
Likewise, as many of the Order and Army of Albion members had made their ways back to the castle, Amelia had gone off in search of Rufus. She wasn't sure at which point during the battle she'd woken up, but she'd found herself lying beneath a tree with little recollection of how she'd gotten there. She'd likely looked dead to anyone passing by, particularly with the nearby form of the fallen centaur and obvious remnants of battle, but for whatever reason, she'd been spared his fate.
Though the triage had done what they could to heal her most obvious wounds, each step took more effort than she was sure she had energy left to exert. Now, she was simply panicked and in desperate need of some one who could reassure her that they would not all be dead by the end of the afternoon. Some one with any of their wits about them might have stayed closer to safety -- if such a thing could exist in the middle of war -- but whether it was due to fatigue or the hard knock on the head she'd received earlier, she was not in the clearest or most rational state of mind.
From the edges of her vision, she noticed some one walking nearer -- Rufus? No. Upon closer inspection through squinted eyes at the fringe of a pounding headache, Amelia recognized the man. With a surge of energy that could only be contributed to her excitement at seeing some one she knew, she made her way closer. "Amycus!" she said, though at that same moment, the uneven ground finally got the best of her and she tripped over one of the ruts, falling face-first into the dirt.
It took a good long while for him to remember that particular voice, and when he turned, it was with confusion superimposed on the grimace that had become a permanent fixture on his face.
"... Bones," he finally said, taking only a couple of involuntary steps toward her, wand still held at an inoffensive height.
"Go away, Bones," he added. There was a hint of please to his tone.
Propping herself up on her elbows, Amelia furrowed her brows at him -- that was no way to greet some one. After wiping some of the dirt off her face (or trying, and effectively making it worse), she picked herself back up and stood unsteadily with her arms folded.
"Well, hello to you too," she said. "And no, I won't go away."
And with what speed he had left to him, Amycus shot a revulsio, the purple light landing mere centimeters from Amelia's feet. "I'm looking for someone," he said. "Not you. Now go away."
"Amycus!" she said in a shriek, taking several unsteady steps backward from where the spell had hit the ground. "Stop it. I'm not going to hurt you, but from the looks of it you're already--" And in a moment of realization, she gasped and took back what distance she'd given between the two of them. "You're hurt!"
And he took one step backwards. "No shit," came the mutter -- and now the wand was risen by a degree. There was a brief pause as he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, peering at her. "So're you. Maybe you should go back to your friends and let them fix you."
Amelia knew that he was probably right -- with every minute that passed, the pounding in her head grew more painful and even standing on her own two feet was more than she really felt like doing. But she wasn't about to leave him. He'd save her life, for whatever reason (she didn't want to think about that part), so now maybe it was time for her to return the favor.
"Come with me," she said. "I'll tell them not to hurt you."
A promise that started off a round of gasping laughter. It was a breathless, wheezing sound of mirthless, bitter amusement, which he cut off mere seconds later when a wave of dizziness from his own sustained blood loss welled up in him, forcing him to take another stumbling step for balance.
"-- you're a liar, Amelia. Let me pass and I'll let you pass, just GO, and stop lying to me. Or do I have to send you to them in pieces?"
Biting back her indignation at being laughed at, not to mention her outrage at the threat of being sent somewhere in pieces, Amelia set her jaw and followed him with an unsteady step of her own.
"I'm not lying," she said, her tone descending into a plaintive substitute for the firmness she'd felt when her idea had actually seemed like a good one. "It doesn't have to be like this. We don't have to be enemies. The Death Eaters have practically lost and You-Know-Who is dead. You don't have to be afraid anymore."
"I said--" another flash of purple; "STOP. LYING. What d'you think your lot will do to me if I believe you, Bones? Nothing good, so stop being so fucking naive."
He was right about two things -- the others would probably only make things worse if they saw him and she was being naive. But true to form, she wasn't ready to admit that there wasn't something she could do to help.
"Please, Amycus," she said, even while stumbling away from the spell again. "If you just trust me, I promise that nothing is going to happen. If you leave with them, they're going to think you're no better than them forever. This way, you have a chance at redeeming yourself. You're not evil -- I just know it."
"You don't know anything, you stupid bint," he snarled. The dizziness persisted and he raised a hand to his face, palming away the sweat and blood that dripped into his damaged eye. Exchanging words with Saint Amelia here was not on his to-do list -- finding Marius and getting the bludgering hell out of here was -- and he cast a nervous glance around. "-- so you're gonna keep talking at me until someone runs over and AKs me in the back, Bones?"
"Just let me help you," she said, trying once again to advance. "You need help." She was getting tired again -- so tired, and she was sure that if she just convinced him to come with her, that everything would be just fine. They'd find Rufus and explain the situation and he'd take care of everything. She was sure of it.
His attention snapped back to her. "I do NOT need -- CRUCIO!"
Amelia was thrown back into the dirt where the pain of curse dragged out a scream from her lungs. Though she'd felt it before, it seemed somehow worse, now -- perhaps because her guard had been down or because she was already in so much pain. Tears already running down her cheeks and her fingers digging into the ground beside her, she fought off the darkness that was slipping into the back of her mind. "STOP, please."
-- and he did, but only because it was a spell that sapped too much out of him, and only because he couldn't maintain it while walking toward her. "Pieces, Bones," he whispered shakily, "see, I can keep my promises, see?" last word emphasized by a vicious kick he aimed at her middle.
Before she could even recover her breath after the curse had been lifted, Amelia was doubled over once again in pain, clutching her stomach and gasping for air. She didn't understand -- she'd only been trying to help. As soon as she was able, she turned her wand from her side toward him and pooled her focus as best she could, shouting "Expelliarmus!" before launching herself at his ankles.
Made slick with the coating of his own blood, Amycus' wand was ripped from his hand. No matter, came the giddy thought as he raised his foot to deliver another crushing blow -- and then toppled over, landing on the far more delicately built woman.
"Ohhh, so that's how you like it," he grunted, making a sound of pain as all those numerous gashes and wounds pulled in protest at all the sudden movements. He squirmed, making a fist of his undamaged hand, then driving it against her to continue the work his foot had started.
"No," she managed to say before recoiling from the impact of his fist. Eyes welling up once again with hot, fresh tears from the pain, she pushed herself forward, reaching for his arm in hopes of preventing him from hitting her again. "Just stop," she muttered, choking out the words in a half-sob. "I don't want to fight. We don't have to fight."
"Just stop?" he spat, doing the exact opposite, striking at her with his bent knee as his hands were caught in hers. "Just GO."
The force of his knee caused her to both drop her wand and lose her grip on his arms, particularly with her hands already becoming slick with sweat and blood. Her tears were now falling freely -- everything hurt and she just wanted it to stop.
"Just listen to me," she shouted back at him, trying to regain her hold on his arm with one hand and reaching to slap him with the other. "Stop!"
"Why?" came the slurred response, mouth filling with blood as her slap reopened previous injuries. "You didn't. And you're stupider than I thought if you think I'll just stop."
"Why not?" she cried, still grappling to get a hold on his arms. "The Death Eaters are losing. This is your chance, Amycus."
In her attempt to get better leverage, she sank her knee into his stomach and pushed herself up higher, hoping that once she got hold of his arms, she'd be out of reach of his legs and then he couldn't do anything else to hurt her. And once he couldn't hurt her, maybe he'd listen.
Amycus coughed out a groan, feeling a wave of nausea and rendered momentarily helpless by it. "--I am a Death Eater," he said between gasps, "and there's no pardon for me from your lot so--" he began to flail beneath her, seeking to strike with any limb possible, "LEAVE ME OR DIE, Bones!"
"NO," she shouted back, even as she tried (and failed) to swat away the flailing limbs that were coming toward her. It only took one hit to knock her away to the side, where she stopped to try and catch her breath -- to remember what, exactly she was trying to do in the first place -- before she turned back to him.
"You're not going to kill me." And as confident as she tried to sound, at this point, she wasn't completely sure that he wouldn't.
A wheezed "hah!" was his only reply to that. And then he made a lunge for her wand, which he'd knocked out of her hands and now grasped with his. "See if I don't," he said through gritted teeth as he attempted to force a bone-twisting curse out of the unfamiliar wand.
Amelia had no idea what spell Amycus had intended to cast, but an explosion of light consumed her midsection, burning her skin through her robes and causing her pain that rivaled the earlier Cruciatus Curse and all the injuries she had sustained thus far. She wanted to choke, cry, vomit and scream all at once, but she was rendered completely immobile until the pain subsided -- and even then, she could hardly feel anything from the waist down.
"Killing me with my own wand?" she said, sucking in deep breaths of air between each word and reaching once again for his arms. "You wouldn't. Please, Amycus. Please just stop."
Her pleas drew from him only a crimson-stained scowl as he slapped her hand away. "Shut your mouth. I gave you your chance, you--" A howl interrupted his furious line of thought as the crucio he intended to cast literally backfired and threw him onto his back, writhing with the aftershock of it.
"-- bloody -- Circe fucking help me." In a fit of mixed rage and agony, he hurled her wand away, out of reach and struggled onto his knees, peering around for his wand. When he spotted it, he began to crawl.
Caught between going after her own wand or stopping Amycus from getting his, Amelia hesitated a moment before scrambling to intercept him -- if he got his own wand, then maybe he really would kill her and she didn't want to die. She had to talk him out of it. When she was close enough, she used everything she had -- all of the strength that she could dig up -- to push him back, to grab his arms again, to stop him.
He jerked beneath her, attempting to dislodge Amelia, for he didn't have the physical strength to attack her anymore. The spells and the kicks and then the effects of her wand had sapped all of it from him, and he was bleeding, ears ringing and head spinning, and all he wanted was to finish this and leave. "Gerroffme" he bit out, digging his fingers into the ground to anchor himself against her as he continued (or tried) to crawl.
"I'm not going to let you kill me!" she shouted, shoving all of her weight against him, the effort straining her already injured shoulder, the throbbing in her head and the fresh wound at her stomach that stained the front of her robes with blood. She tried everything she could to pin him -- keep him still so that she could speak. "You need to listen. Let me help you."
"Or you could just -- let me go -- and LEAVE," came the reply, rasped and breathless. With a growl, he attempted to drive his elbow backwards and into her. "GET OFF ME, BONES. I need -- my -- wand!"
"I can't," she replied, practically whimpering with the effort it took to keep him from moving and the renewed pain as his elbow jabbed her ribs. Desperate to make him see, she kicked against the ground and reached for his throat, pressing down with all of the force she could to keep him still. "Just. Listen."
He'd sucked in one unsteady breath, and now he coughed at the new pressure, trying once again to knock her off with a jab of his elbow. "I'm gonna kill you if you don't let me GO."
Nearly recoiling when his elbow knocked into her, her determination was only doubled and she struggled to position herself over him, holding him in place by his neck. She just needed a chance to talk to him when he wasn't trying to kill her -- she was still sure that if only she had an opportunity to speak, then she could make him see that he would be better off with them, that if he would only let her, she would save him.
"You don't have to kill anyone," she said, practically begging. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life killing and hurting people? I refuse to believe it!"
"Oh, Bones." The growl became a laugh. He wrenched himself against the pressure of her hands, and his eyes began to stream, throat clenching painfully, but still he continued with the croaked giggles, each one requiring more strength, each one pulling a great heave from his chest. "The only one -- I want... to kill... right now --" Another laugh. "-- is YOU. You're so -- fucking -- stupid --" A gasp for air.
"I am not stupid," she replied, pushing down with all her weight in case he tried to get his wand again. "It's not stupid to think that someday, maybe we can all just accept each other and that we don't have to fight and our families won't have to die. It's not stupid to just want a normal life, where I work in some office and don't have to be afraid and live in a normal house with my cat and a telly and -- it's not stupid. We can all be normal if it would all just stop."
"YOU FIRST -- and normal, HAH, all I've got -- all I've got is life in Az... Azkaban--" His jerk against her was noticeably weaker; he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth, struggling to breathe. "-- need you all to die so-- so I can leave -- leave you people who k--killed my sister -- but after you die first..."
"I'm sorry that your sister died, Amycus," she looked down at him, taking a shuddering breath before she continued, while she still could. "My brother died, too. And my parents and my nieces and nephew -- all dead and that was because of Death Eaters. I don't want anyone else to die. I just want it to be over. If you just come with me, let me explain to them, then maybe you won't have to die or go to Azkaban. It doesn't have to be this way."
"Good," he rasped. "All dead, all -- don't care about the rest -- the rest of you, only..."
And now he had to stop. Beneath Amelia's scant weight, Amycus was trembling, elbows and knees folding, betraying him so that he collapsed into the dirt. His eyes widened, but sight was quickly draining from him, fading into a blackness that was mottled with stars. The walls of his throat spasmed, his tongue felt too thick, and for a split second, he almost begged her to let go, almost convinced himself to promise that he would stop -- but then Alecto's face was before him and he could only pull himself one final time against Amelia's grip, toward her, because -- "I..."
A quiet thought arose from the flurry of memories and hatreds that his seizing, hypoxic mind offered up.
I want my sister.
Another twitch, another choke, and then he stilled.
"They're not bad people -- they're not unreasonable. I'm sure they'd give you another chance if you'd just come with me. You saved my life, Amycus," she kept talking, pleading, trying to use any words she could think of that might convince him to change his mind, completely unaware that the man beneath her was dead. "I just... I want to help you. I want to save your life. Can't you see that there's nothing left? You've lost. Maybe they can't protect you anymore, but I can. You could get a fresh start. After the war. After the fighting stops."
She paused, hoping that something she'd said would get through to him. Her head was throbbing and every part of her body felt suddenly colder. She wanted to go back, now. And if he would finally relent, then they could go back together.
But when a few moments passed and he didn't respond, even with laughter or insult, Amelia looked down at him, incredulous. "Amycus!" she shouted, shaking him by her hold on his neck. "Amycus! Are you even listening?"
She moved her hands down to his shoulders, shaking him harder before taking his chin in her hand and turning his face toward her. "Amycus..."
It was then -- at the sight of his lifeless eyes -- that she realized what she'd done. And it was as though all of the air had been sucked out of her lungs and the space surrounding them. She couldn't breathe -- couldn't believe it. He was gone. Because of her.
She sat stunned for several moments before it sank in. He was dead because of her. And she could hold herself together no longer. In place of air, there were only short, harsh breaths left to be expelled from her lungs -- the weight of guilt, pain, fear and everything else that had accumulated over the last year were too much. She collapsed over Amycus' lifeless form and sobbed.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, shaking as the horror wracked through her. "I'm so so sorry, Amycus."
She was as good as a monster now. And she didn't care, anymore, what happened to her next.
McGonagall vs Atticus
Atticus was not, by any stretch of the imagination, an impractical or delusional man. He could see that the battle had been lost. Too many of their side had been injured or fled and they were now vastly outnumbered. His own son had been among the bodies brought to rest outside the gates. And yet, despite all reason, he was once again returning to the grounds.
He could have claimed it was out of some noble effort to provide cover to the retreating injured - after seeing what Octavius Pepper and Lachlan Kirke were willing to do to women whose only presence was as healers, he certainly had no doubts that the vigilantes would continue to strike against them even as they fled. He could have claimed that it was out of a sense of duty and obligation felt towards their fallen Master even after his death. But even all of his rationalisations were failing him now and in the end it was a simple matter. He was still able to fight. And there was nothing else left for him to do.
Once again, he set out in search of the more experienced fighters among the vigilantes (although that was truly almost all that remained out on the grounds at this point) and he settled upon the former Hogwarts Transfiguration professor. Hoping to catch her unaware and end this before it had even started, he sent a killing curse towards the woman. It had not worked yet that afternoon, but it still seemed a better strategy than anything that would be taken as warning.
Unfortunately for Atticus, even with her attention turned elsewhere as she continued to scan the grounds in search of the fallen, the flash of green light in her peripheral vision was warning enough for Minerva. She dove to the ground on reflex alone and the killing curse sailed harmlessly over her. But she knew that anyone who was still fighting was not going to simply give up with one failed attack and she rolled to her side, sending two stunning spells in the direction of her attacker before climbing back to her feet. At the sight of the source of the killing curse that had sent her to the ground, Minerva's expression darkened and she steeled herself for what would undoubtedly be a difficult fight. She could more than hold her own in a duel, but this was not a werewolf or a young woman barely out of Hogwarts. This was an experienced Death Eater who could likely cast spells far worse than a killing curse. But she was not afraid. Merely cognisant of the situation in which she had found herself. Hogwarts must be defended, she thought as she gave a sweep of her wand to bring up all of the rubble left strewn across the ground from earlier fights and sent it flying at the Death Eater.
A powerful shield charm burst between them the minute the first flash of light had come from Minerva's wand. Stunning spells were deflected, rocks and tree branches were as well, although Atticus was forced to suffer the indignity of a shower of dirt raining down upon him from over the top of the shield. In the grand scheme of things, a trivial concern, but one that angered him nonetheless. He did not like to be dirty. Yet again, provoked to the point of rage, if for a far lesser offence than attacking defenceless society women, Atticus sent a crucio flying.
And it too was deflected as Minerva cast a shield of her own. It rippled and bent with the force of Atticus's curse, but still it held. And although she could not bring herself to cast an unforgivable curse - it was a line she would not cross - she could kill. Really she already had once that afternoon, although turning a hag into a music box seemed somehow detached from watching a man die. But she had seen too many horrors, seen too many of her former students dead or clinging to life for a lifetime, let alone a single day. "Your Dark Lord is dead. You have lost," she said shrilly as she sent razor-sharp spears flying straight for Atticus's chest.
But Minerva was not the only one who was skilled at Transfiguration and in a moment, Atticus had the spears twisting on themselves, wood cracking and splintering as it bent before he sent the shards flying back at the professor. And really, he did not understand why these people all seemed to believe that the death of the Dark Lord should be enough for them to stop fighting. Yet again, he found himself explaining, despite the futility of his efforts. "The cause for which I fight did not die with him," he replied impatiently as he cast another killing curse.
Minerva would never truly be able to understand what was wrong with these people. How they had become so twisted that they were able to justify their actions. It was likely better that she did not, really. "The cause of murder?" she barked as shards of wood were melded together into a shield that she sent flying straight for the killing curse. Her makeshift shield exploded in a violent shower of splinters that she was not quick enough to deflect and sharp wood dug into her chest and arms, prompting a cry of pain. And a barrage of blasting curses.
Atticus too was pelted by the exploding wood that went flying in every direction, although he was actually more distracted by the woman's words than the sharp pains in his chest. Just as Minerva was unable to understand his deep belief in the Dark Lord's cause, he was unable to understand how she could be so simplistic. "Do you truly believe that is what this is all about? Yes, people have died, at the hands of both sides, I might remind you, but there are always sacrifices to be made in a time of war and while unfortunate, we have done what we must to preserve our traditions." It likely was not the time, but even in his anger, it was not in Atticus's nature to let her arguments go unanswered. In truth, he would have rather settled this through debate, but that clearly was not happening. The blasting curses were deflected and a bolt of crackling lightening and a bone twisting hex flew from his wand in quick succession.
Another shield charm then, and Atticus's spells rebounded off of it, flying off into the distance. "Your traditions are to oppress and kill people because of their blood," she snapped. "You think we would not fight against that when any reasonable person would?" Honestly. Minerva was near sputtering with rage now as two incendios flew from her wand, one for the ground at his feet and the other straight for his chest.
A flash of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and from behind the protection of his shield charm, Atticus turned, wary of just what might be flying at him now. A greenhouse. a still intact greenhouse that had been ripped from its very foundations and was now flying through the air, enveloped in the tell-tale flames of fiendfyre. All thoughts of arguing and fighting seemed to be gone for a moment as Atticus stared in slack jawed amazement. At least once he realised it was not heading for him.
Minerva too, turned to look at just what had caught the attention of her opponent, and really it was quite difficult to miss. Rufus Scrimgeour, Alastor Moody and a greenhouse that was about to drop upon the head of Bellatrix Lestrange. She could not think of a more appropriate ending for the woman and had a brief thought that she would have to ask the men if perhaps they had some secret appreciation for Muggle cinema. But then the greenhouse exploded, the moment of stillness and calm destroyed as she turned back to her own opponent.
Spells were once again flying between the two. Transfigured weapons, conjured creations, simple and Dark magic alike but it was as if they were at an impasse. Every killing curse Atticus threw was dodged, everything Minerva summoned was vanished or destroyed, shield charm after shield charm were cast and it seemed as if neither would ever be able to inflict damage upon their opponent, much less end the fight.
Atticus was the first to be hit, as Minerva transfigured the ground beneath him to a pit of quicksand and sent a blasting curse straight for his chest. His legs were sinking into the mire and his upper body sent reeling back by the force of the curse that he had not managed to deflect in his concern over the fact that he was suddenly falling into the ground. His back was wrenched back painfully and he let out a sharp sound of pain, even as the quicksand sucked its way up to his hips. A furious saevio verbera flew from his wand in an angry streak of purple and he then turned his attentions to getting himself free.
Minerva expected that Atticus would do what any rational man would do and worry first about not drowning in quicksand before he started throwing curses again, and although she threw up a shield charm, this time she was not quick enough. His curse crashed into her chest, tearing at muscle and sending her flying off her feet and into the ground several metres behind where she had been standing just moments before. She cried out and for a long moment just remained there, lying on the ground, trying to summon the strength to move.
Atticus's plan for dealing with the quicksand had not worked out nearly as well as he had hoped. Vanishing it had been effective enough at ensuring he did not find himself smothered under it's weight, but now he was left at the bottom of a rather deep pit in the ground. Which would not have been quite the problem that it was if his back were not in a state of sheer agony with something torn or dislocated or he did not even know what. But this was as good as a death trap if he did not make his way out of it and so finally with some thought and effort, he transfigured the wall of earth before him into a steep set of stairs that he slowly crawled up on his knees and one good arm. When he finally reached the grass (or what remained of it), he could do little but collapse. But at the sight of Minerva now struggling to get up herself, he knew he had to take advantage of the moment while he had it and sent a blood draining curse at the woman.
As blood began to leak from her pores, Minerva screamed yet again. These were spells she did not even know, did not know how to counter and there was a moment of panic as her vision became blurry with her own blood. And then in a desperate attempt to save herself from bleeding to death in a more horrible way than she could imagine, she cast a finite incantatem. Truthfully, she was surprised that it worked, but there was no time to be grateful. Instead she rolled to her side and with more effort than she would have liked, attempted to transfigure Atticus into a small lemur.
It was a good thing that Minerva's spell did not have the strength that it ordinarily would have, as Atticus could not get his wand up fast enough to deflect it. But although he likely should have been grateful that he was not suddenly in the form of a small woodland creature, the fact that he had just sprouted a rather impressive coat of fur and there was something distinctly not right growing out of his tail bone left him less than pleased. And that was without seeing his ears.
That's it. He was done with this.
With considerable effort and pain, he shoved himself up onto his knees and sent another killing curse flying at Minerva. And then, if that was not enough to kill the woman once and for all, a rock was transfigured into a massive, growling bear that went charging straight for her.
If it had not been for the direness of the situation, Minerva might very well have laughed at the sight of Atticus Avery half-transfigured into lemur. At least until another flash of green came flying towards her. She rolled out of the way, only narrowly avoiding death and for a moment, in all of her exhaustion from fighting and blood loss and whatever had happened to her chest that still made it hard to breathe, she was very nearly tempted to remain face down on the ground and attempt to play dead.
And then she heard a growl that was distinctly not human in origin. A glance over her shoulder brought genuine terror to her face as she saw the bear charging towards her. With a strength she did not realise she still possessed, Minerva scrambled back to her feet and fled, pursued by a bear.
Gaius vs Hestia & Patty
It was as good as over, the battle, and Hestia (feeling a bit safer doing so now than she had several hours before) had every intention of moving about the slowly emptying battlefield to do as much on-site triage as she could. The beds in the castle were filling up quickly, and one of her old friends from St. Mungo's had made the excellent suggestion that if they could find people and treat their injuries on the battlefield, beds could easily be freed up for those with more serious injuries. Hestia was heading up a team combing the grounds, looking for the injured (and, though it went unspoken, the deceased) and was beginning to feel a little bit lighter on her feet. Sure, she had a nasty bruise from one of the patients who'd been entirely opposed to having an emergency surgery done on him without being knocked out cold, and sure, her part of the battle was only just beginning, but at least now things were slowing down to a more manageable pace.
He was caught entirely off guard when Hestia charged him, shouting spells that he couldn't understand. The first one knocked him off his feet, but it got his attention enough that he was able to block the rest with Shield Charms that neutralized them with flashes of white light. There was no accounting for the girl, though, and he tried as best he could to push himself with his heels in the dirt further away as she approached. Already bleeding and very much in pain, his tactic wasn't very effective and he soon found himself being blatantly assaulted. He tried to reach back in his experiences to think about how he would have dealt with it during one of his training sessions with Tabitha, but focusing was too much of a task at the moment, and he did what he could to aim his wand between them and deliver a Blasting Curse.
"Incendio!" Petra Podmore yelled, her wand trained on yet another Inferi. She had taken out a number of them while trying to lend a hand to some of the civilians at the battle (and keeping an eye out for her husband), and just as she realised that she had lost count with this one, she spied a familiar shape running straight at a Death Eater not too far from her.
"Hestia!" she shouted, taking off toward the pair as well. The healer didn't seem like she was about to hex the Death Eater at all; instead it seemed like she was going to -
Yes, she did just jump on him, and Patty raced faster toward them, not believing for a second that fists were going to be too effective against the Death Eater. She approached them just in time to hear the man utter a blasting curse at Hestia and Patty's wand was immediately pointed at his head. "Crucio!" she yelled out, not even waiting to see how his curse did against Hestia.
It was fortunate for Hestia that she'd been mid-dive when Gaius cast his blasting curse or else it might've done more than blast off a good chunk of her hair. As it was, the blasting of her hair only incensed her further, and now she was raining down blows and punches on Travers, her wand entirely forgotten. She'd also apparently forgotten how to form cohesive sentences, and her screeching at the Death Eater came out half in Welsh, half in English, and entirely in partially-formed thoughts. "You son of a...ach mo hiachawr...I'm gonna...dydy pawb 'ch anaf, 'ch 'n adwythig ddyn!"
"Hestia," Patty cried, attempting to hold the curse on Gaius as she tried to pull Hestia away from the man with her other arm. It wasn't that she didn't want the healer to be punching the Death Eater (actually, she was rather impressed by Hestia's punches), but a physical attack against the man was not the best idea. And... Hestia seemed rather intense about it all. She grabbed at Hestia's arm and tried to wrench her away. "Hestia," she said, her concentration on the cruciatus loosening, "your wand, use your wand."
Oh yes, her wand. Hestia aimed another kick at Gaius' shins and fumbled about in her robes for her wand, though she was in an awkward position to be doing so. Truth be told (she aimed another punch at his eye), the more physical fighting seemed to be doing the trick rather nicely, but if he happened to get a chance to use his wand, things could swing rapidly in the other direction. Of course now, holding onto her wand, Hestia was really only able to punch with one fist rather than two, and it made her a great deal less effective in dealing with her least favorite Death Eater.
The blasting curse hit Patty right under the arm, though the angle was off slightly and she luckily only experienced half the blast, the other half grazing straight past her. It certainly was enough to break her concentration, however, and make her stumble a few steps backward, but she wasn't going to be deterred. "Mongrel?" she asked, almost amused at the Death Eater's choice of language, but instead of letting him answer, another spell shot out of her wand. "Cruorem Lacrimo!"
Hestia jumped away from Gaius as she noticed Patty casting something that sounded rather like dark magic in their general direction. The last remnants of battle were loud enough that she couldn't hear exactly what it was that was being cast, but it managed to hit her ankle just the same, and Hestia made a face as blood began dripping out of her hands (and, from the feel of it, her feet as well). Some part of her remembered what this was, but for the life of her, Hestia could not think how to reverse this spell. She still managed to whip an angry slashing hex at Gaius while racking her brain, trying to remember the countercurse and giving Patty a look that very clearly said "help me."
Gaius was barely familiar with the curse that Patty had used and had never, in fact, seen its effect first-hand. It was distracting, to say the least. He was mostly caught off guard by the blood dripping from her hands and barely noticed when her slashing hex hit him across the chest, leaving a dark stain of red on his robes. The pain got his attention, though, and he quickly aimed a Jelly-Fingers Jinx at the Hitwitch, followed by an Incarcerous toward the Healer. Then, finally, he was able to get to his feet -- he'd spent entirely too much of this battle on the ground already.
An odd yet not entirely unfamiliar sensation hit Patty's hands and she felt her wand suddenly slip out and onto the ground and she automatically crouched down (not leaned - she needed to keep her eye on Gaius at all time) and with her palms she put the handle of her wand into her mouth and tried to nonverbally cast the counterjinx. She hadn't even realised that her curse was hitting Hestia until her wand dropped, and a wave of guilt flashed over her, making it even harder to concentrate on the matter at hand. She fumbled around with it a few times before finally managing, and then as quickly as she could pointed her wand back at the (now standing) Death Eater. "Stupefy," she shouted feebly, sending out the first spell she could think of, hoping to at least get something shot at him before he could hit her first.
When Patty dropped her wand, the spell ended and Hestia felt weak and wobbly. She must've lost a lot of blood, but didn't want to think about it. Right now, she wanted to think about getting away from Gaius and possibly spitting in his face as she went. Maybe. If she could get her legs to work properly.
"You two have no place on a battlefield," he spat at them, angry and overtired and wanting this to be over so he could go home. "If you're a Healer, you belong at St Mungo's and if you're a Hitwitch, you belong at the Ministry, doing your job. Not that it isn't ridiculous for either of you to have jobs. Get married, have children. Make your contributions to society that way where you don't get these stupid ideas of vigilantism in your heads. Merlin."
Patty felt herself flip upside-down into the air and she thanked Merlin she had pulled back her hair that day so it was not in her face. After a moment of feeling completely confused, she regained her sense of up and down and positioned herself so that her robes wouldn't fall up over her head. This felt so familiar, she thought, thinking back to when she was caught upside-down by Mulciber. She held her wand out toward Gaius, glancing over toward Hestia who was rather tied up at the moment. "You're so full of shit," Patty retorted, wanting to argue with him a bit to give Hestia time to get out of the ropes. In another situation she would laugh at this man, though bitterly, since she knew he was serious. "It's almost too bad I love these 'stupid ideas' of defending the free world against you commies and you Death Eaters - I bet if I'd be a much better Death Eater than you are if I had joined up." It was bullshit, since she had no clue what his skill levels were aside from what he was currently demonstrating, but she hoped it would at least tick him off a bit. And maybe she'd even demonstrate again. "Crucio!"
Some part of Hestia's blood-loss addled mind was delighted that Gaius had decided to send a severing charm her way...she rolled on her side slightly, trying to catch the charm with the ropes he'd thrown at her and managing it, even if just barely. The charm managed to cut her free, even if it did gash at her arm more than a little bit, and Hestia smiled sleepily. This was exactly what she needed...now if she could just get back to the castle and get some blood replenishing potion, or even get someone to replicate her blood for her, that would be even better.
Patty's plan seemed to have work, as Gaius was far more intent on her than Hestia, though that meant that while he used a Shield Charm against her Cruciatus Curse, he didn't see Hestia's coming at all. And so he was knocked, once again, off his feet and thrown across the ground. He didn't have the energy to deal with this anymore -- he hadn't slept in days, hadn't eaten anything beyond the lunches his sisters and Eva were kind enough to bring him for over a week and when one ate the way that Gaius Travers ate, a single meal per day was not nearly enough.
So, recovering from yet another fall -- another broken bone, cracked rib or something that Gauis couldn't identify, since his entire body ached by now -- took a bit longer than Gaius would have preferred. Once he had positioned himself up on one knee, he aimed a Confundus Curse at Patty, noting that Hestia was long gone and unavailable for retaliation.
"For the record," he said, breathless as he finally stood again. "I do not know what a 'commie' is, and I do not care."
Patty had been working on releasing herself from her hanging position in the air and managed to luckily drop to the ground barely a second before his confundus curse passed through the place in the air she had just been. She was ready for the drop so she managed to set herself upright very quickly and point her wand at him. "Angor!"
Gaius immediately felt the muscles in his throat begin tighten as though he were being strangled by some invisible force. Within seconds, he could barely breathe, let alone speak to cast a verbal spell. He didn't even want this stupid fight, anyway. And he wasn't about to die fighting against some completely mental woman. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the whomping willow, which had clearly begun to grow agitated by their proximity to it. If he could get her nearer to the tree, maybe it would do the work for him and he could leave -- he could go home, finally.
Sucking in as much air as his constricted throat would allow him to, he cast a nonverbal Blasting Curse in Patty's direction, hoping that it would be enough to leave her at the tree's mercy. And without waiting, he took several steps backwards before turning and leaving. He needed to find Livi and Eva, now. And while he was at it, he cast finite on his throat -- as lovely as not being able to breathe was, he didn't feel like asphyxiating before he knew if his sister was safe.
Gaius' blasting curse hit Patty in the shoulder and she flew backward, the rawness of her shoulder nothing compared to the pain she would feel just a second afterward. The whomping willow, a tree had known nothing about until moving into Hogwarts just a few weeks before, was rather agitated, and as a branch hit her in the back and threw her far away from it, she regretted her previous wish of wanting to see it in action.
She lay on the ground for a few moments afterward to rest, her lungs hurting from having the wind knocked out of her. Her wand was ready in her hand lest Gaius was still around and wanted to finish her off, but after a few moments no spell came and she figured he was gone. She lay on the ground as log as she dared with Inferi and Death Eaters still around and when she could finally manage to get up, she cast herself a shield and dragged herself up, ready for it all to be over with.