#culturewars (culturewars) wrote in cultureic, @ 2017-01-27 18:13:00 |
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in the Conservatory “He looks real,” Sirius said, staring down at the hologram of his godson. He looked impossibly small in the large, open space of the conservatory, and part of Sirius felt uneasy taking it all in. Despite its vacancy, something about Charlus Potter’s house felt like it was still alive. Vines on the plants, coats in the closets, portraits on the wall had moved, shifted and whispered while they’d walked through the rooms, making their preparations as carefully and quickly as they could. This had to work. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was.” “And, of course, he makes a really cute hologram,” Lily said, watching the copy of Harry shove his fist in his mouth. “He’s less drooly, though.” Being in this house, a house that had only become hers because of James, made her feel a little like he was there with them. She also felt a little guilty, knowing it would probably end up destroyed. But that was why she hadn’t offered up the house in St Albans that her husband had grown up in. “If only we could make holograms drool the Death Eaters away,” Remus said, a soft breath that was almost a laugh leaving him. Holo-Harry was definitely good enough to fool Death Eaters, primed for a fight, expecting a baby. He behaved like one. Remus watched him for a second, before looking away. It was still bizarre to him that so many adults would risk everything to try and kill a child. Bizarre, but a part of their lives at the moment. This was the closest they were going to let the Death Eaters get to Harry. Swallowing, Remus said, “They’ll definitely take the bait, right? Believe Severus?” Sirius didn’t have an answer; he still didn’t trust Snape. Looking at Lily, he said, “Let’s hope so.” “Oh!” Lily said, patting her pockets for her cell phone so she could pull up the ward she’d gotten earlier. “Finn actually warded me about that. He said everyone would be here.” It was suddenly very hard not to think about what was coming next, how these few moments could be their very last. She tucked her phone away and stared down at the hologram again. Remus didn’t know what to say to that but heard his own voice fill the silence that had settled. “Cool.” A beat and then he screwed his face up, “I don’t actually mean cool.” It was unnecessary to elaborate, but his nerves were suddenly seized by nervous energy and he flexed his fingers as he looked at Sirius and Lily. “At least some of ‘everyone’ are dead or locked up.” It was a small comfort. “That’s a good ‘at least’,” Sirius said, nodding slowly. He didn’t know what to think about Finn, just like he hadn’t known what to think of his cousin turning himself in. Their murder club seemed to be on the verge of collapse and with any luck, tonight would be the night it finally did. His eyes drifted over ‘Harry’ again before he said, voice determined, “Whichever of them are dumb enough to show up, we’ll be ready for them.” “Yeah,” Lily agreed, not sounding nearly as determined. She twisted her mouth in thought down at Holo-Harry, before lifting her eyes to the two best friends she had left. “I love you both, you know.” Remus couldn’t quite stop himself from tucking his chin in towards his chest, his eyes sliding closed for a moment. They were drawing out Voldemort and the Death Eaters, luring them into one of the Potter’s properties: this was huge. They weren’t hovering on the cusp of an earth shattering decision, they were there, mere moments away from a yawning gape of possibilities. Everything could go wrong (it could go right). Outside of the Potter’s conservatory, Remus had very little left in the world. His throat felt raw, but he picked his chin up and smiled at Lily and then Sirius. Involuntarily, he’d taken a step forward, making the circle they’d formed tighter, and he reached out to grasp at each of them. “I know. Me too.” “Me three,” Sirius said under his breath as his arms went around them. This wasn’t like finding himself in the middle of a fight and having no choice but to find his way out of it alive. They’d planned this. As much as it could be with Death Eaters involved, this under their control. But they’d set traps that had gone wrong before — Sirius knew — with dangerous consequences. He hoped this wouldn’t be one of them. “Stay alive, okay?” Lily just nodded against both of their shoulders and pulled them in even tighter. Remus squeezed both of them, acutely aware of the fact that they could promise to stay alive all they wanted but it wouldn’t change anything. They couldn’t really make that promise. He knew that, but Lily’s nod, the way it felt against his shoulder, made the knot in his gut feel less painful somehow. He swallowed and said, voice rough with terrible humour, “Please don’t invoke a slasher movie right now.” Sirius breathed out a laugh and squeezed them both again. “It’s not gonna be us getting slashed this time.” “I hate slasher movies anyway,” Lily said, muffled by the group hug. She didn’t point out that their lives were basically already slasher movies anyway. Instead, she kept clinging to them, knowing she needed to let go of them eventually, but she was loathe to send them away. “It’s not the greatest one, to be honest,” Remus said, head bent, touching Sirius’, his hand firm on Lily’s shoulder. It was ridiculous to be waiting for Voldemort and to be talking about slasher films, so Remus laughed, because there was nothing else to do. The sound was a little hollow, but it was subsumed between them, swallowed into the air they breathed. Serious for a moment and still not moving, Remus said, “I know it's corny and stupid, but I think it's been a — a real honour to know you guys. We're getting out of this alive, but it has and I wanted you to know.” The finality of it all made Sirius shift uncomfortably. In a few hours, win or lose, everything would be different. It was too much to be serious with for very long without deflecting. So one of his hands moved to the back of Remus’ head to ruffle his hair. “You can tell us after we’re done kicking the Death Eaters’ asses straight to prison,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a lopsided grin. “You can tell Lily all about how badass I looked doing it.” But Lily had thought a lot about what came next and she gave Remus a sad smile that she aimed at Sirius next. “You can,” she agreed, trying to smile a little wider. It was a miserable attempt and her smile faded entirely after a beat. “But the same goes for me. I’m really lucky I got to know both of you. You’ve made things bearable.” “That’s why we’re bear hugging,” Remus said, the corners of his mouth curling into an apostrophe. He aimed the smile at the ground, small as it was, pressing his shoulders against them. “Do you get it?” Sirius breathed out a snort. “That was awful,” he said, but what he meant was “thanks”. And Lily groaned and snuck a hand out to nip at Remus’s side with her fingertips, but it made her smile. It made her feel a little better, even. “I’ll have loads of awful jokes when we come back,” Remus said and he made his voice as clear as he could. He wanted to stay still, arms around his best friends until he physically couldn’t keep them up any longer. A part of him wanted to delay what had been set in motion. It was a part he quashed, though, as he set his hands on their back, taking one last moment, before he broke the hug. His expression was serious and determined when he said, “We should go.” With a nod, Sirius stepped back and took a deep breath. His hand lingered on Lily’s shoulder for a moment before it dropped to his side. “You’ve got this,” he said, holding her gaze. “We’ll see you soon.” Lily nodded, forcefully, and echoed, “See you soon.” in the Ministry As he marched briskly towards the Critter's elevator, Jacob Sloper's frown grew considerably more grumpy each time the cane he was using 'smak'ed against the floor. After the damage he'd done splinching himself it had grown to be a bit of a necessity these days, but it still felt weird going into battle with it-- demeaning even. Turning to face one of the secretaries who'd been assigned to the office to try and get it back into some semblance of working, he tossed the cane her way. "You," she seemed to jump out of her skin the moment he opened his mouth-- but whether it was because of his scowl, or because of the silvering scars that lined his face, he couldn't say, "Put that in my office, yeah?" Watching her scurry off with a frightened nod, he set off for the elevator again, trying to keep his gait steady and even as his gnarled thigh cried out in protest. "You keep up with your training while I was gone?" He asked over his shoulder, knowing that Asher had fallen into step with him once the call came in. "Kind of?" Under the last administration it hasn't seemed as necessary, Pip never pushed them to keep up like Bea had -- but that was what happened when the Head of the Critters and all the bad werewolves were on the same side. Asher did what he could, but he had never really been one for heavy training. He focused on ghosts and poltergeists. It wasn't until the war began to ramp up that he had to worry too much about werewolves and vampires, and… He'd always been a little behind the rest. But now "the rest" weren't around anymore. Nodding at his boss -- and friend -- he tried to push away the nervous feeling he felt as they rode the loft down into the atrium. "It's not the Full, at least…." He offered. "That just means they'll get creative." Jacob replied with a shake of his head. Watching Asher for a moment, he frowned. His nerves were easy to pick up on. Just a few months ago, he would have chewed him out for it, told him to get it together or get out of the lift. But he was the boss now, and maybe that meant doing things differently. "We'll be fine," he noted as they finally reached the Atrium and the doors opened, "We'll have each other's backs, and I trust you." Asher nodded, trying as hard as he could to not let the bit about "getting creative" worry him. But what the other man said rang true — he trusted Jacob too. Perhaps more than most people in his life, strangely enough. Or not, given how many had turned out to be Death Eaters. "You're right," he said, somewhat awkwardly, walking through the Atrium. "I trust you too, and… I've definitely got your back." Then, for the first time in perhaps ages, a remnant of old Asher came back. The Asher who turned everything into a joke, who diffused awkward situations with inappropriate humour. The one who Giving Jacob a glance up, he winked. "If you know what I mean." in the Hall Someone really needed to destroy that bloody twittering umbrella stand. In the midst of the violence, every time someone collided with the wall which it stood against -- or whenever a misdirected projectile came hurling in its general direction -- it would air its concerns in ever more distressed tones. And Fenrir really liked the distress he caused to be splashed out, bare and visceral, on the face of his victim of choice. Like Jacob. Only Jacob wasn't distressed, which Fenrir liked even better. "This time," he called, smashing a nearby cabinet with a rough swipe of his wand, then grabbing a heavy shard as a makeshift secondary weapon, "stay down, Sloper." "Oh, fuck off, Eric!" It was a cheap shot, and Jacob knew it, but damn if pressing one of 'Fenrir's' biggest buttons didn't feel good every time. Keeping his gaze trained keenly on the wolf, he raised his wand, looking to disarm the bastard before he even thought of using that makeshift club against him. "Incendio!" Fire shot across the room and caught the wood, quickly starting to consume it. "Still the same, then. Good!" With barked laughter, Fenrir shifted his grip, avoiding the spreading flames for a few short moments as he ran forward, swinging it at him. Well that hadn't worked out like he'd hoped. Moving as quickly as he could on his hobbled leg, Jacob dove down to duck under the swing, snarling as he did, "And you're still the same complete and utter--" Whatever insult he was going to spit out was cut off, as a silent 'Candidus Ignis' crackled out of his wand and straight up at Fenrir. It caught the werewolf squarely in the chest, and he collapsed in a snarling heap. "--twat." Jacob chuckled as he watched Fenrir fall, straightening up and keeping his gaze fixed on the other wolf, ready to take him down again the minute he got back up. "You rang?" Lupe Ramírez had the honour to declare herself before striking -- but only just. Her cannon charm sent Jacob reeling, and the she-wolf stalked after his stumbling form with her wand drawn. "Fenrir, I think this one's finally bit off more than he can chew." "Oh, don't underestimate the bastard." Fenrir, panting low in his chest for breath, hauled himself up, nodding a brief greeting at the younger wolf. His fingers still tingled with the after-effects of Jacob's earlier attack, but the drive to knock this upstart mongrel to the ground was as heady as ever. "Slopes!" he called before sending a table slamming into him. And then he leaped forward, ready to topple him over. Slammed into again and again, quicker than he could even track, Jacob let out a shout of pain as he was sent to the ground, his head spinning. Fuck. He had to get back up, he had to-- "Pathetic," Lupe sneered, high-heeled boot finding her fallen prey's throat and pushing down slowly and firmly. "You were never worthy of the pack, Sloper. They've domesticated you." Her nose wrinkled in distaste. Coughing and gasping for air as the sole of her boot pressed into the soft flesh of his throat, Jacob took a moment to reign in whatever fear he felt and tried to remember what he'd told every rookie that'd come up through the Department; A Critter was always outnumbered, but never outgunned. Pointing his wand straight up, he gasped out a weak "Lamina!" that sent a quick volley of knives shooting up at the female wolf, digging deep into her chest. When that staggered her and there was some space between them, he scrambled shakily up onto his feet and threw out a much stronger, "Candidus Ignis!" The electricity that shot from the end of his wand arcing viciously as it shot straight for the knives protruding from her chest, crackling as it passed between them. Lupe's howl of agony petered out into a whimper, and then she was still. Watching her drop, Jacob took a moment to try and catch his breath. One down… A roughly cast depulso slammed out of Fenrir's wand, reaching for Jacob's shoulder, intent on hurling him fast and hard to the floor. Fenrir never relied solely on magic, however -- he threw himself after the other werewolf, stepping over Lupe's limp body with a single snarl for the fallen member of his pack. "Had enough of you already, Jacob," he said, throwing his fist into Jacob's neck. Slammed to the floor by the banishing charm, Jacob barely had time to register just what was happening before Fenrir was on him, that punch knocking all of the air out of him in a wave of terrible, nauseating pain. Letting out a ragged croak of a breath, he struggled to try and catch the other werewolf's arm, trying to keep another of those blows from falling. Bare, hard knuckles slammed down again, connecting with Jacob's windpipe before long nails dug down into skin and muscle. "What was that?" For a split-second, the world around Jacob seemed to disappear in a flash of white-hot pain. All he could see was fucking Eri-- Fenrir on top of him. He couldn't breath. Even trying hurt; weak, ragged gasps struggling to work their way in. Struggling to keep up the fight, he reached up with his free hand to try and pry Fenrir's away, feeling a swell of panic when his fingers touched something worryingly warm and wet. His throat. Fenrir had cut his throat. He-- Jacob kicked and thrashed under Fenrir, going into a blind panic. As the rest of the world kept falling away, he could hear a sickening gurgling sound that he realised was the red ruin Fenrir's claws had made of his throat. He was going to die. Every breath hurt. His lungs wouldn't fill up. He could feel his blood trickling down the side of his neck onto the floor. Spots of light were dancing in his eyes. He needed to-- Desperate and dying, he weakly jabbed his wand up and away from himself and tried to cast a silent Bombarda! And the spell hit and all Fenrir could do was laugh and laugh as he tasted the ferric salt of Jacob's blood. And yet the wolf hit the wall, but was swiftly on his feet again, gesturing something obscene as he surveyed the destruction, the sudden acrid note of fear in the air, and decided: done. "No last words, Slopes?" And with a bray of laughter, Fenrir was gone. in the Hall The werewolf knew there were more humans than she could possibly smell, yet one particular scent stood out simply because of its vicinity. As Christina found the little pup (he looked younger than her in human years, anyhow), a wide grin appeared on her face. Her claws had been out, and she was more than ready to pounce on her newly-acquired victim. She clawed at his face, snickering as he tried to get away from her. "You can't go very far from here!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, as her claws traced some unintelligible pattern on the wall. Yeah, Asher didn't want to find out if that pattern made any more sense on his face than it seemed to anywhere else, and he kept backing up and backing up, away from the wolf-girl. This wasn't new, really, not after so many full moons, but more often than not the Critters were outside, in larger places than this. Or more prepared. Or they'd been chock full of Death Eaters in the department, so the wolves weren't really trying to hurt them. This was different. "Get away from me," he complained, uselessly. He didn't really want her to focus her attention on Jacob, not when he was already dealing with Greyback and another wolf already. "Stupefy!" That stunning spell barely grazed the werewolf's skin, and she chuckled at the attempt. She didn't personally know this boy from the Critter department, but she was amused, all the same. Her claws were pointed at him again, and she growled this time, to make it look a little bit more authentic. She didn't really want to hurt him, yet there were orders to be followed. Christina made a movement as though she were about to pounce on him, just to see his reaction, before laughing. "Why don't you leave and I'll forget you were here?" "Ummm… Why don't you?" He took another step backward, bumping into an umbrella stand. "Are you all right?" It asked. "Sorry," Asher mumbled to the stand, then looked back at the girl. "You could just go home and then I wouldn't have to hurt you." "You think you're going to hurt me?" Christina laughed again, highly amused at this strange possibility. "Let's see you try, then," she replied again, before letting out a low growl. Her claws reached for him, one claw catching the fabric of his shirt in the process. He took another step back, then put his wand up, cringing. He hated this, he just liked dealing with ghosts and poltergeists and slightly naughty sounding little old ladies who were now deceased. But then he thought of Pip, and Tinworth, and what they did to Jacob — and what Fenrir might be doing to Jacob right now just metres away and— "Bombarda!" As the spell struck the wall behind Christina, she flew back into the newly-exploded area, groaning in pain. It took her a few seconds to realise what had happened and before she could do anything else, she knew she had to go for him. Not wanting to play nice any longer, Christina got up to her feet once again, lunging forward at the human, her claws out and ready for whatever was coming her way. Her right hand grazed his hand, her fingernails digging into his skin. "Ow! That hurts!" he yelled, trying to swat her away. He hit the top of her hand with his wand, then realized that yes, he was indeed a wizard. Magic would probably be a good idea instead of just hitting. Pushing the wand at her arm, he uttered the cannon spell again: "Bombarda!" This time, Christina flew back, her arm hitting against the wall, as she heard it crack. She knew it was broken, and she wanted to tend to it, yet she didn't want to let go of him just yet. Pulling herself together and ignoring the pain that slowly spread up her arm, Christina reached for him again. This time, however, she used her weight to pin him down, while her mouth opened wide. Christina growled, her mouth reaching for his leg, teeth breaking his flesh. Asher screamed and began kicking furiously, using his other foot to attempt to push her off of him as she continued to attack him, biting and scratching until his clothing was bloody and in shreds — and not even in a sexy action movie type way. Yet he couldn't, because – fuck, did werewolves weigh more than people? He should have known this, he didn't know this he was always an awful Critter and why had he gotten himself into this again? Oh, right. Because it was the right thing to do. Even if it was going to get him eaten, apparently. "Depulso!" he yelled. He had to get her away from him. Christina managed to get one more bite in, tearing away more flesh with her mouth, just as she had gotten hit with the banishing charm. She flew away from Asher, her body colliding with a desk that had a picture of Charlus Potter that smiled and waved merrily. She groaned in disgust, but she was getting slightly woozy from the blood rushing out from her arm. As her dizziness set in, she could only make out the vague figure of the man that banished her from him. She was passing out, Asher could see, and suddenly Fenrir was leaving. Waving his wand again as he sagged against a wall, he levitated the wolf and then, with a flick toward the door, sent her zooming out of it. As Critters they were supposed to deal with the dark creatures until the threat was gone but, with a glance over at Jacob, Asher could see they were in no shape to do so. Giving another wave of his wand, the door locked with a click, and then Asher had to figure out what the hell he was going to do next. in the Ministry Pulling himself weakly across the floor with one hand-- away from the chaos and rubble of the fight, in case Fenrir came back-- Jacob struggled to keep his wand steady in his shaky grip with the other. Blood was still pouring freely from the wounds Fenrir had inflicted, he needed a healing spell. But even if he could have thought of one, the only thing he could force past his shaking lips was a strangled, frightened gasp. He couldn't breath. He couldn't cast. He was bleeding so fast. He was going to die. Asher was practically collapsed against the wall after he'd locked the door — a temporary measure surely, for anyone with a wand — but the sound of Jacob's gasp forced his eyes open. They'd all been made to learn basic healing spells upon joining the Critters, a necessity when dealing with full moons, but Asher had rarely had cause to use them. Which he'd always thought was lucky, until now. He was at Jacob's side as quickly as he could move, every step he took on the leg that the werewolf had chewed on burning in pain, but Jacob was hurt more. He couldn't think about it. Jacob looked awful. Asher could barely tell where the actual wound was, there was so much blood. But he could hear Jacob's breathing, or his attempts, ragged and weak, and he knew he had to do something quickly. Episkey was the first one that came to mind, but that wouldn't work here. There was a spell for stitching up wounds, but he wasn't skilled enough for that. He had to— he had to— he didn't know, but he had to do something. "I'm here," he whispered, then it came to him. "Vulnera Sanentur," he said, and then he held his breath. The magic worked its way across the wound, slowly stemming the flow of blood and started to ease the flesh back together at one end, but even as it did fresh rivulets of blood ran freely out of the other end, soaking Jacob's collar and starting to seep into the floor around them. Reaching up to clutch weakly at Asher's arm, Jacob struggled to pull himself up off of the floor and failed each time, letting out more of those horrid, choked-off, half gasps as he did. "Ghk--" His voice came out as a weak rasp, smothered by the blood pooling in his throat, "Ght--". Everything was getting so dark. "Stop it," Asher commanded, and suddenly he felt his eyes getting wet. Jacob couldn't die, he couldn't. Hand shaking, he cast the spell again — "Vulnera Sanentur" — and then again, hoping it would do something, hoping it would keep him alive. After long moments where Asher could feel his heart pounding, he finally felt like he could move him. He had to. They didn't know what was going to be coming next, and so with great difficulty Asher pulled Jacob with him into the fireplace, the man laying across his lap, dirty stone on his back and his face to the door. He didn't know who it would be when it finally opened, but if he had to, he'd go out fighting. |