Working late was never something Lakshmi enjoyed as one would expect, but it was something she was doing more and more frequently of late. Their workload hadn’t abated — in fact it had only increased over the last few months — while they had to be more diligent in an increasingly tense environment. Still, Lakshmi was dedicated to her job even if she wasn’t quite as ambitious as Vic and so she’d volunteered to stay late all this week to clean up some of the paperwork.
Picking up the coffee cup and finding it empty, Lakshmi sighed and shifted some papers. Her eyes felt strained, and her vision was going a touch bleary from long hours staring at parchment and a computer. “How much longer did you want to stay?” What time was it, even?
Vic didn’t respond at first, too focused on the parchment in front of her. When she did break concentration it was briefly and with visible annoyance. “Until it’s done,” She flashed a look through the open door of her office, conveniently parallel to Lakshmi’s own desk. “Have somewhere to be?”
Turning her own head to stare back at her boss, Lakshmi blinked tired eyes. “No!” she stressed immediately, not wanting to risk Vic’s ire. She set the pen down on the stack of papers nonetheless. “I think my brain is shutting off.”
It seemed Lakshmi was about to say something else when a loud, piercing BOOM resonated through the room causing everything to rattle and shift, not to mention make their ears ring.
Vic dropped her parchment in shock, hands flying to steady her desk before she blinked over at Lakshmi in shock. Her brow furrowed. “What the fu—“
BOOMBOOMBOOM
By now Lakshmi had pushed her chair back from her desk in fright and sprung to her feet, hands clamped over her ears against the loud ringing. She looked in Vic’s direction, and shouted while being hard pressed to hear her own words. “ARE WE DYING?!”
Vic’s sound of disgust was muffled by another set of loud blasts, and she found herself leaning against the doorframe, hands clenched against her own ears heart beating a mile a minute.
“OBVIOUSLY NOT, DON’T BE STUPID.” Those were explosions, powerful enough to shake the entire building and merlin knows how bad the damage was. Magical Transportation seemed relatively untouched for now, but if the Ministry was under attack…
Vic’s expression flattened from barely concealed panic to suspicion. Some idiot had either done something in the DMLE or they were under attack.
“THOSE TERRORISTS,” she shouted to Lakshmi between explosions. “I THINK WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”
“THE WHAT?” Lakshmi shouted back, still with her hands covering her ears. Even if she hadn’t been doing that, it was doubtful she’d have gotten much out of it. The noise wasn’t going away. She turned away to grab her wand and phone intent on checking with with Lumos and the others—
Vic’s arm burned hot and insistent and unthinkingly, her hand flew up to cover it beneath her long sleeved shirt. Fuck. Her panicked gaze shot to her coworker and she fumbled with her wand.
The stunning spell hit Lakshmi directly in the back and Vic watched with a wince as the woman crumpled forward onto her desk, head hitting the wood before splaying out onto the floor.
The mark continued to burn, unconcerned with the panicked, thoughtless actions of a Death Eater trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible by knocking their coworker unconscious. It looked like Vic wouldn’t be sitting this one out.
She huffed an annoyed sigh and with a final hesitant look at Lakshmi’s prone form, she stalked her way towards the sounds of explosions.
ATRIUM
Aberforth Dumbledore v. Magic Is Might Statue & Gerald Avery feat. Peony Parkinson
The Magic Is Might Statue was a bloody abomination, and Aberforth was no longer having any of it.
Once the flashbangs had gone off, adding a constant cacophony that drove the late-night Ministry employees scurrying towards the exits, the aged wizard, glamoured as someone much younger as he normally did, faced one of the most visible symbols of Death Eater power in the Ministry.
It was time to take shatter it along with the terrorist stranglehold on their country.
Dumbledore’s first strike dissipated the shield the statue had. Bloody arrogant pricks, the wizard thought even as the noise pounded in his ears. The Death Eaters clearly hadn’t expected anyone to seriously challenge their rule, and as ever that would prove their undoing.
The second demolition spell hit the mighty wizard in the chest, spreading a deep, noticeable fracture splintering and branching out through the majority of the statue.
Before Dumbledore could continue, however, a forked sliver of light sped from over the carved wizard’s shoulder to stop the onslaught. The curse came from Gerald Avery who, dressed in his Death Eaters’ robes, let his mask vanish with a slide of smoke. It seemed to matter little, his identity, when it was Death Eaters instilling civilisation and order when these rank vigilantes wanted none.
His wand flourished again, affording the battering “Crucio!” aimed for the familiar Phoenix’s chest. “Hello, you. Come to vandalise State property. Unsurprising. You’ll have to come along with me for being so inappropriate.”
Having dodged with initial counter assault with a surprisingly nimble side-step, Dumbledore was forced to abandon his plans for the total destruction of the statue in the face of the Death Eater. A sweep of his wand pitched a bench from its perch and into the path of the curse where it exploded, showering him with wooden splinters.
“You talk too much, Avery,” Dumbledore grunted, his wand coming around despite the stinging sensation littering his chest. The arm of the statue’s wizard broke off along a crack the Phoenix had caused over the shoulder, and went flying towards the terrorist.
Gerald had enough of the mouthy, young Phoenix and so as the arm passed harmlessly through his shield as grains of sand, he collected them into a ball and heated them. Now, molten glass, the ball hurtled toward Dumbledore.
And behind the ball? It was time to see who they were dealing with. “Legilimens!”
The ball was batted like a bludger to the side where it connected with the Statue’s centaur. Both exploded into a shower of hot shrapnel that cascaded downwards towards both duelists.
Aberforth didn’t get a moment to think about that — the shrapnel was hot as it buried deep into his flesh — as his mind was torn in several directions, memories flipping past his vision. Legilimency was not something he’d anticipated, and it took a few moments in blinding agony as the sharpened mental probe dug into some of his most vulnerable memories — a young girl, smiling. The young girl, scowling, crying, pleading. The young girl’s funeral.
And another young girl—well, woman really—who had stepped into the foyer, gape mouthed and dismayed at the two dueling wizards. Gerald of course she recognised, and this was a side of him that she had never seen before, though its existence she knew of well. Dishevelled and with a gleam of madness in his eye.
It was not the face of a person who she would have liked in charge of this cesspool of a country, but it was the face of a person who she wanted to cross even less.
Crouching down to take some semblance of shelter behind the prone bronzed torso of the once-proud statue (and my, how was that for symbolism, Mister Avery…), she threw a shielding charm in front of the Death Eater. Well, she had tried…
With the shield in place (thanks to that benevolent angel, whoever they may be), Gerald could study the vision he was granted. His mind was full of wide, pleading eyes and a pale honest face. There was a simple beauty to the young girl. A beauty that he was shocked this Phoenix knew or had within him. As the Legilimency came back to him he cried out over the hubbub -- “You mourn her! You long for her!” He cast a finite incantatem at the face which had to be a glamour. The girl was dressed in clothing far too old for recently. And he cast a slashing hex directly behind it.
An unintelligible reply tore from the vigilante’s throat, full of anguish and rage fueled by the loss and memories of his beloved sister. It didn’t have to be a notorious Death Eater in front of him, it could have been Gellert Grindelwald or perhaps even his well-liked brother. A shield had been shimmering in front of her intent on breaking the legilimency, and it fizzed out of existence as Avery’s finite cancelled it out. The slashing hex caught him in the chest, near the throat, and sunk deep into his flesh.
Dumbledore didn’t notice. With a grand sweep of his wand he put all his rage into a blasting curse aimed at the Death Eater, and then without pausing he fired a second, obliterating the remains of the statue along it’s fault lines and showering everyone again with hot, jagged debris.
Dumbledore didn’t notice the injury. But Peony did. At the sight of blood on the vigilante’s clothes, the world grew wobbly around the edges and she tottered and crashed to the floor. Yes, definitely not on the list for the Death Eaters’ newest recruits.
And with the loss of consciousness of his shield bearer, Gerald found no ground to go to. The brutal curse hurtled toward him, full of rage and grief and spite. He was thankful that he had the foresight to turn, to protect his face. But that thankfulness blossomed into agony and agony became unadulterated shock. His right arm was … gone. Lost to tendrils of flesh and bloodspray.
Before he allowed himself to feel any further pain, he bellowed -- “Transmogrify!” Let the Phoenix feel poison drifting through his body. Let it torture and kill and maim the memory of the laughing young girl. Anything to -- “Avada Kedavra!” but he was weak. Too lost to mean it properly. And he crumpled to the ground, seeing no more.
The vigilante lurched as the dark magic swept over him, churning deep through his being. As prodigious and experienced as the older man was he had no concept — at present — to what the Death Eater had hit him with as everything was erupting in chaos. Avery was down as was his little shielder that he didn’t recognize, but he felt weaker, and his step forward faltered much like Avery’s killing curse. Too weak. A wet gasp of breath alerted him to further compounding issues of the slashing curse.
With the Death Eater and his bloody Statue both in pieces, Aberforth clutched his portkey — a shrunk lucky goat’s hoof on a bracelet — and gave a weak tug. He could feel the dark curse permeating and taking stronger hold. His body lurched as if pulled from his navel, and he was gone.
Grace Jordan & Lee Jordan
They could hear the sound of explosions erupting throughout the building, a cue for both Jordans to lay down further distractions as quickly as they could.
Grace set the first case down, looking over her shoulder like a line of Death Eaters might appear. The thought no longer made her shake, nerves less than they had been when she first assisted. She felt more resolved than she had in a long time.
“I guess we’re redefining sibling bonding.”
Lee responded with a mischievous grin and shrugged his shoulders, before dropping to his knees and settling down with the case he had been holding, as well, giving the lock a jiggle to prop it open. "We are, but we've never been conventional, have we?"
Once the case was open, Lee glanced at the plethora of dungbombs and his grin only widened, if it was even possible.
"Alright, Grace," he started, picking up one dungbomb, admiring it as though it were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. "Ready to work on your charms?"
“I’m already charming,” she teased, but lifted her wand, the box suddenly shaking in the familiar way bludgers did (it made Grace sigh with longing). Bludgers never smelled this bad, however. “Don’t get any ideas, by the way,” she shot him a look. “If I see these on a pitch…”
"I would never," Lee protested, before giving her a playful wink. He glanced around quickly, making sure that the pair of siblings were truly on their own and his gaze fell on the floor ahead of them. "Do you want to work on the bludgers-slash-dungbombs or the floor?" he asked, looking at his sister with curiosity.
“I’ll finish with the dungbombs,” she decided, flicking her gaze around the room too. “Floors yours, maestro. Hey wait,” she tugged his sleeve to prevent him from walking too far away.
Taking advantage of his confusion Grace laid a smacking, affectionate kiss to the top of his head. “OK, carry on.”
"Ugh, Grace, you're turning into mum!" Lee pouted, though he returned the affection on her cheek. Pulling back, Lee grabbed his wand and pointed it at a particular tile on the floor. He was quiet as he worked his magic, concentrating on making sure it was perfect. When he was sure that it would work as he had wanted it to, Lee summoned the nearest office supply — an inkpot — and tossed it precariously at that tile.
The inkpot was instantly encased in ice, bringing a wild grin to Lee's face. "Bingo."
Grace grinned from over her shoulder, the last of the bludger dungbombs hissing angrily from where they were vibrating in the boxes.
“Brilliant. Let’s finish the floor up and get out of here. Angry balls of shit are not something I want to stay around for.”
LEVEL 9
Violet Slughorn & Percy Weasley
Using the Order’s work as a distraction, Percy had set a meeting with Violet at the opportune time and set it in the meeting room outside the Department of Mysteries. And beyond the screams and the chaos on other floors, the floor for Mysteries was, as usual, hollow and silent in its quiet. He turned to Violet finally and smiled, pushing a lock of hair from his head.
“Mysteries is on a localized network. Their server stack is off of the Love Room in a remodeled broom cupboard,” he told her. “Want to give it a look?”
En route to the 9th floor from the DIMC offices on the 5th floor, Violet had been hit with some flying debris, and elbowed in the face by a fleeing colleague. There would probably be some bruising, but ultimately, that was probably better for them as a cover. Despite squinting from the stinging around her eye, she grinned, excitement apparent on her face.
“Remember how much I wanted to be an Unspeakable until my great-uncle reminded me that I wouldn’t be allowed to talk about my research?” That desire to discover just what it was that they were working on had never fully gone away. Only now, it would serve a greater purpose than satiating her personal curiosity. If all went well, they’d be able to prove that there had never been a study with conclusive evidence that magical ability could only be passed on from parent to child.
She produced a slim external harddrive from the side pocket of her bag. “This holds four terrabytes of data. I brought three of them just in case.”
“I remember! I remember thinking how in the world is Violet Slughorn going to keep anything a secret. Then, in reality, you surprised us all.” Percy smiled back, before turning back to the door and opening a door with a deep breath. It was impossible to know what lay behind the doors in Mysteries. They were taking a risk …
But the soft, rosy hue of the Love Room and the scent of green grass, sea salt, pine did not bear telling. He set his chin and moved forward, reaching the opposite door and pulling it open to reveal three blinking stacks of technological hardware.
“Your El Dorado awaits.”
“Espionage is simply the other side of the coin when it comes to diplomacy,” Violet pointed out. Both did entail a certain amount of discretion and charm. She’d had friends who were all over the political spectrum for so long that it was second nature to be able to mingle easily with all sorts. This wasn’t that much different, aside from the stakes being so high.
She looked ahead to the open doors of the Department of Mysteries. While mindful of the risk, her excitement outweighed the danger for the moment. She’d always wanted to see this place. What academically inclined person didn’t?
She looked around appreciatively, taking in the wondrous sights while mentally mapping out the vast area and identifying which was the best computer to begin copying everything from. “All right, awestruck moment is over with.”
He snorted at her flip comment, thinking of all the hapless diplomats and paper pushers he knew. None were quite so skilled as Violet, but it was equally likely that she learned said skill from growing up in Purist homes. And he wasn’t quite ready to point that out. But he agreed with her on one thing in particular.
The Love Room was amazing. And even the server room? Amazing. He should have applied himself a little more to scientific study as opposed to the political sciences, and he could be here studying love. Or … a little nerdy joke wasn’t to escape him: “I mean we’re studying love, death, prophecy. Is the Director of Mysteries a Freud & Jung fanperson?”
Then, a grin. “Okay. Do your work, hacker. I’ll keep an eye on our escapes.”
Violet began working. The department head’s password was easy to crack, but then, the Department of Mysteries had its own localized network and was normally difficult to physically get into. She supposed they weren’t going to bother with complex passwords here, when it was only one another and they all had their own research to keep busy with.
“Speaking of hackers,” she remarked as the first batch of files began transferring to one of the external harddrives she’d brought with her, “I’ve been thinking about getting one of those anonymous hooter accounts and naming it after the muggle hacker group Anonymous. Guy Fawkes mask for an icon and everything. It seems fitting.”
“ … also, I meant to say. We can split the data. I want to give it a thorough combing so that we can publish and prove the lack of evidence that they know who is Muggleborn and who isn’t.” He thought back to poor Becca Dunstan, and itched to give evidence to anyone who would listen of Dolores and her indecencies. But in truth, it began with Dolores -- Corban Yaxley, Pius Thicknesse, Fenrir Greyback. The lot of them, sullying their sacred place of government.
“I know roguemomstaffer. He’ll upload whatever we want …”
Violet paused for a second, ticking a slim blonde eyebrow up as Percy mentioned knowing roguemomstaffer. She’d thought there was something familiar about the writing style since the first set of hoots she’d read from the account, but hadn’t thought much about it beyond that. She did speak to plenty of her coworkers at the Ministry over the journal network for a bit of polite banter, after all. As she gave it a bit more thought, the puzzle pieces started sliding into place. Though she wouldn’t know for sure unless Percy confirmed it himself, she couldn’t help but ask as she swapped out one external harddrive before it was completely full and moved on to the next.
“By know him, you mean you look at him every morning when you brush your teeth?”
He snorted. “C’mon Anonymous …” But his quip was stopped short by a tentacle sliding under the opposite door to the server room. Percy had found his Gryffindor bravery, but not … hmmm. He gestured broadly.
“Hurry. I am a little more nervous about tentacles than I am Death Eaters.”
Violet eyed the tentacle warily out of the corner of her uninjured eye. The other was starting to throb from where she’d been elbowed, but she wasn’t giving up until they had everything transferred over. “Considering some of the porn on the winternet? You should be.”
Another quick snort. After all, he just learned what a bear was from Oliver. “Okay, but … first you should punch me.”
Violet was about to ask why, then stopped herself. She’d thought about what Percy said about being ready if he called on her on her way down here. She doubted he was in the Order himself, but they both knew Alicia was, and it seemed likely that Angelina, Fred and George were. It wasn’t a difficult leap to make to think that someone might have tipped him off that something big was going to be happening at the Ministry soon, if nothing else so that he wouldn’t be seriously injured in the crossfire. If he wasn’t injured at all, though, Yaxley might get suspicious.
She winced. “All right. My sincere apologies in advance. Brace yourself. One, two, three,” she warned before she socked him in the mouth. A fat lower lip would be obvious enough, she thought as she rubbed her hand. She could have made a joke about hard-headedness, but now was not the time. “Oh! I have leg razors in my purse if you’d like a small cut or two on your forehead?”
Percy reeled from her blow, turning to dab blood from his mouth and afford her a pink-hued smile. “Um that’s going to hurt later but also perfect …?” He shook his head at the razors though. “I don’t completely want to know why you have leg razors in your bag, but I think the cuts would be too pretty and I’m just going to honestly be kind of squeamish about that so …”
The tentacles knocked urgently against the other side of the door.
He reached out, offering her his hand. “Let’s be off, Anonymous.”
The files finished transferring, and she put her external harddrives back in her bag. Just for good measure, she reached up and mussed up Percy’s hair so he looked a little more disheveled before she took his hand.
“Copy that, Rogue. Stage two of our evil plan to save the world is complete.”
LEVEL 3
Jeremy Dearborn & Owen Dearborn v. Rabastan Lestrange
So maybe most of the Order seemed to be "over" bombs and explosions.
So maybe there were other members of the Order who were using legos and Furbies to take out the Death Eaters.
So maybe Owen Dearborn had lost all sense of their plans and their mission upon seeing Rabastan Lestrange out of the corner of his eye while he and Jeremy made their way to the third floor of the Ministry. For the first time ever, Owen Dearborn didn't have a plan. Or a back up plan. Or even an idea as to where to start when it came to going after this man who had been fifty percent of the reason that he and Jeremy were orphans now. "Depulso! he yelled, firing a blasting curse the Death Eater's way. "Expulso!"
Maybe they didn’t need a plan anyway. Owen’s immediate action took any decision making out of the equation as Jeremy added his own bone shattering curse to the mix. There really wasn’t any hesitation. If anything, a part of him was glad for the opportunity.
Rabastan Lestrange was not easily caught off-guard, but the Dearborn brothers surprised him. Perhaps he would’ve been able to successfully dodge all three spells in his prime, but he was older now. Azkaban had dulled some of his training. As the Death Eater deflected the blasting curse, sending it hurtling back toward the former Auror, the bone shattering curse connected with his left leg. Rabastan let out a cry of pain as the bone snapped with a sickening crack.
Attention snapping to Jeremy, he hurled a nearby cabinet at the Healer before following it up with an acid curse.
Owen had been about to applaud Jeremy's awesome maneuver with the bone shattering spell when his own blasting curse boomeranged back at him, throwing him off his feet and back into a row of desks. He twisted around, pointing his wand at a shelf full of books and binders and sent them flying at Rabastan's face with an oppugno.
Which gave Jeremy a moment to deal with the cabinet that, while thankfully blocking most of the acid, had thrown him into a wall. Trying to catch his breath, he threw what was left of the cabinet right back at the Death Eater.
Books and binders pummeled Rabastan, attracting his full focus as he slashed his wand through the air. A whirlwind of flames incinerated the inanimate attackers, but he was a fraction of a second too slow to deflect the cabinet. The impact sent him careening backward into the wall, and Rabastan bit down on another yelp of pain as he felt a rib crack.
Aiming his wand at Jeremy, it arced through the air as he intended to send one brother hurtling toward the other. He sneered as he followed it up with another acid spell.
Unfortunately it worked as intended, the spell sending Jeremy flying unceremoniously through the air towards Owen, a long list of expletives tumbling out of his mouth as the acid hit its mark only moments after his crash landing. He could feel it eating through the fabric of his shirt and the skin underneath as he shot off a wild blasting curse in the vague direction of Rabastan.
Owen slammed into the ground underneath Jeremy, the wind knocked out of him as he struggled to push himself up off the floor. He twisted around, his attention on Jeremy instead of the Death Eater for the moment, focusing on ending the acid spell before it burned through too much of his brother's flesh.
The blasting curse ricocheted off Rabastan’s shield, and the flash of light soon connected with an intricate looking vase, sending shards of porcelain everywhere. With a flick of his wand, a cascade of sharp porcelain fragments began to rain down on the Dearborn brothers. “I’m tired of toying with you two,” he sneered, aiming his wand at Owen. Then, without warning, he shouted the incantation for the Killing Curse.
Jeremy’s heart was in his throat as he grabbed at Owen, frantically pulling him out of the path of the killing curse. He didn’t even notice the cuts from the porcelain that had materialized. For a split second the only thing he could see was that flash of green.
Snapping his attention back to Rabastan he aimed his wand, casting a spell meant to stop his heart. “I’m tired of you existing.”
That had been the second time in less than two days that Owen had experienced a terrifying green spell come slicing his way, only this time he knew for sure that there was no coming back from it this time. The spell only narrowly missed thanks to Jeremy's split-second action, and it took a few seconds for his body to recall that he could still breathe and that it was something that he should do. "FUCK YOU you fucking fucker," Owen shouted at the Death Eater extremely eloquently, his heart still racing as he shot a lightning spell at him, then attempted to shoot the cruciatus curse at Rabastan for the second time. It definitely felt to him like he meant it.
Rabastan blocked one spell, but there was no blocking an Unforgivable. As the red light connected squarely with his chest, he felt shock that was somewhere between mildly irritating and painful. Lifting an eyebrow, a wild grin spread across his mouth. “Nice, Dearborn. But let me show you how it’s done.” His wand flicked toward Jeremy. “Crucio.”
No no no, that wasn't how this was supposed to go. Jeremy was screaming under the curse, Rabastan had that horrible smirk on his face, and Owen still felt like he couldn't breathe. Everything went foggy around the edges of his eyes as he made a wild dive at Rabastan to knock him to the ground, his attention focused on wrenching Lestrange's aim away from his brother. Several slicing spells were shot at him at close range while he held Rabastan's wand arm down with his other hand, Owen not caring where they hit or if it meant that Lestrange was going to bleed out there right in front of them. "Leave. My brother. Alone," he practically spat at him, winding up and moving to punch him in the face.
Later on, Rabastan would blame his broken leg for everything. The pain, he would argue, prevented him from sending Owen flying away, and the pain prevented him from blocking the slicing curses. Deep cuts bloomed bright red across his face and chest, and the shock of it all left him vulnerable. Owen’s fist collided into Rabastan’s nose with a sickening crunch, and there was suddenly more blood everywhere.
This wouldn’t do.
“Depulso,” he ground out, desperate to get Owen away from him. He sent a volley of flying curses at the man for good measure. The spell sent him blasting off of Rabastan and into a row of filing cabinets, his head cracking hard against the metal handle as he rolled to the ground in a heap.
Somewhere along the line, the Cruciatus had stopped. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure when and he definitely wasn’t sure about how Owen had gotten to the point of punching Rabastan. But it didn’t matter. He vaguely thought about standing but instead he just aimed his wand at Rabastan’s other leg with another bone shattering curse, followed by more slicing curses. Surely one of them had to hit something good eventually.
The bone shattering curse landed, but that pain was nothing compared to the slicing curse that slashed across his neck. Rabastan was covered in his own blood and he was beginning to feel lightheaded and woozy.
It was time to go, he thought.
But not before he caught Owen’s gaze, hate gleaming in his eyes. You’ll pay for this, he mouthed, and then he was gone.
Sturgis Podmore v. Victoria Mulciber
With another flick of his wand, a glamoured Sturgis placed the last of his Legos into place and stepped back to admire his handy work. Sure, the toy wasn’t exactly going to do much damage, but it would help with the commotion about to take place. Not to mention it would cause quite a bit of pain to anyone who stepped on them wearing the wrong type of shoes.
“Quite possibly some of my best work,” he said with a nod of his head.
“Can’t say I agree,” Vic’s voice came from the doorway. Wand out and now in robes, there was still a tinge of annoyance in her tone; she had been working.
She regarded the strange, brightly coloured bricks suspiciously. “Confrigo,” she pointed her wand at the vigilante.
Raising his own wand, Sturgis threw up a charm to deflect the curse, which caused it to scatter throughout the hallway. Several small holes were blasted into the walls and a few stray bits of charm even hit the ceiling, which caused chunks of plaster to rain down upon them. A particularly big piece klunked Sturgis in the head and caused a gash that immediately began to bleed.
“Great. Just great.” As blood trickled down over one of his eyes, he aimed a slashing curse at the Death Eater.
Vic hadn’t wasted time in the resulting hail of plaster, even as she herself was pelted, she strode forward. She was no duellist like her sister, she had to take advantages where she could.
The colourful bricks were obviously harmless, they did nothing as she stepped around them, and in her arrogance she forgot about them.
“De— fuck,” she cried out, her impractical for a battle but completely practical for a late night at the office, flats were little protection as she stepped directly on several LEGO blocks.
She stumbled, wondering if any pain was greater than this when the slashing curse hit Vic directly in the side, confirming that there was. She went down, hip to shoulder suddenly cut deep and bloody.
Temporarily ignore the bloody situation that was his face, Sturgis let out a loud laugh when the Death Eater hit the floor. It wasn’t the best thing to do in the situation, but the site of such a monster being bested by a child’s toy was too delightful not to have a small laugh. It almost made up for the fact his own blood was running into his mouth.
“No, it’s pretty good work,” Sturgis said as some of the Legos levitated and went to pummel Vic in the head.
Vic grit her teeth, hand trembling as she pressed it against her side. It came back soaked in blood and she fumbled for her wand. Fuck this bullshit, all she’d wanted was to work without interruption.
“Oh shut —“ the LEGO was like a swarm, and she shrieked trying to fend them off, for once grateful for that stupid mask.
Struggling to focus, teeth clenching in rage, a rope of fire roared from her wand.
Far too amused by the LEGOs, Sturgis didn’t have enough time to properly react to the spell that erupted from the Death Eater’s wand. The flame rope wrapped around his left arm, burned through his clothing, and began to do damage to his skin. Yelping, he aimed his wand at the Death Eater and managed to cast a Knockback Jinx in her direction in an attempt to break her concentration.
And he succeeded. Vic was dizzy, her wand almost too heavy for her to aim properly. Whatever he’d hit it wasn’t just a gash in her side, the blood pouring out of her made that obvious. Putting up no defence, the jinx hit her squarely in her chest and Vic was thrown backwards into the door frame, head slamming against the wood.
Fuck this. She wasn’t going to risk losing her life over colourful evil blocks and explosions at her workplace.
Painfully, weakly, Vic managed to point her wand at the ceiling, what was left of the supports shaking violently enough that the rest of the ceiling started to come down.
“Well. This isn’t good,” Sturgis said as he looked up at the ceiling and wasted no time in grabbing onto the portkey dangling from the chain on his neck.
LEVEL 2
Maddie Savage & v. Corban Yaxley
Keep Yaxley out of his office and away from the destruction of the MRC offices.
Simple.
"Hey Man Bun!" Maddie yelled when she spotted her boss in the bullpen of the DMLE, following up the shout with a flicker of lightning. She'd wanted to be able to do something like this ever since Yaxley had dissolved the Auror Office, and it was just as satisfying as she'd thought.
The destruction upstairs had already caught Yaxley’s attention, but he had hung back, waiting for something that didn’t become clear until the flash of blonde hair and lightning. His wand reached for Maddie’s chair and he flung it into the lightning’s path.
“Orphan Savage,” he said pleasantly before he sent a cruciatus in her direction.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” Maddie dodged the curse, flinging a couple of desks together to form a barrier she could duck behind as necessary.
“Because honestly, that’s a bit weak.” Considering she needed to keep him occupied as long as possible, Maddie directed a flurry of ice spears at him, baiting him rather than going straight for the take-down.
“Do you talk this much on the job?” Yaxley asked, a fire whip licking out of his wand to meet the ice spears, snapping them in half with several loud protesting cracks. “No wonder you needed hit training.” Another snap of his wand sent the flames onward, towards the desk barrier.
“I just got bored with the wasting of my time I developed a bantering habit.” A sweep of her wand created a rain cloud to dump a large amount of water on Yaxley and his fire (and, she realised, a large amount of paperwork, which made her wince a little).
“Do you even remember how to work, ye leather-faced psycho?” With a flourish of her wand Maddie animated some of the chairs near Yaxley, directing them to start tap-dancing into a circle around him, tightening in with every tap.
One of the chairs clipped his leg mid-tap and impatiently, he kicked at another before aiming a blasting curse at each. He swept up the debris with his wand and sent it all flying towards Maddie.
“Aren’t I working now?” he asked. “Vigilantes &mdash” Here he gave her a knowing look. He wasn’t surprised to see her there. “— are invading the Ministry. You need to head up to the Minister’s office to stop them.”
“Do I?” Maddie pulled up a shield charm, letting it take most of the brunt of the attack as splinters embedded themselves in her skin.
“I’ve always thought it more my job to be concerned about the Death Eater leading the DMLE.” Maddie froze the water on the ground near Yaxley’s feet, letting it spread and climb up his legs. “You can take the girl out of the Auror office, but you can’t take the Auror office out of the girl.”
A chill started to settle into his feet, but Yaxley still managed to roll his eyes. Pointing a warming charm down at his feet just as his knees began to frost, he said, “Really? The entire Auror office? I had no idea you and Williamson’s relationship was so open.” A flick of his wand sent a vibrant splash of acid at Maddie.
“Jasper’s very open-minded.” Maddie twisted sharply to let her charmed trench coat take the brunt of the acid, suddenly recalling a conversation about depriving Yaxley of that stupid man bun. And his hair.
“Calvorio!” That was for Rhys. She threw the hair loss curse at him, holding her breath and hoping it worked. It wasn’t in her usual wheelhouse.
“Unfortunately for cousin Williamson,” Yaxley said, a shield charm catching the brunt of the curse. A swath of salt-and-pepper hair along the side of his head fell to the floor and he glanced down, feeling a rush of wounded vanity, before he retaliated by aiming a silent Incendio at her hair.
“And here I thought you weren’t acknowledging his branch of the family.” She bit back a shriek as her hair started to burn, twirling her wand to create a twister of wind to put that fire out, before aiming it at Yaxley, continuing to build its force.
“Should we be putting you on the invite list for the wedding?”
The gust of wind sent Yaxley flying ass over tit, over a desk and onto the floor as the twister weaved a path across his chest, taking a large swath of his shirt and a large stack of paperwork with it.
“I’d be happy to officiate,” he said, sounding a little more grumpy than usual as he hauled himself to his feet. “But it could turn into a funeral.” He swept the desk he’d fallen over up with his wand and sent it flying at Maddie.
"Yes, yours probably." A hastily thrown reductor shattered the desk, hurling chunks of wood and the remains of the contents in all directions. Maddie took a couple of steps back when a spike of wood embedded itself in her side, and she hissed.
"Stealing Owen's schtick now?" She threw back at him, along with a body-bind curse. "I'm sure your wife has never given you the head's up, but you look really terrible without a shirt."
Desk debris pelted Yaxley, as well, a paperweight bouncing off his cheek and landing on the floor with a clunk. He spared it a glance and ignored the throbbing under his eye. The body bind was easily deflected with a flick of his wand, though.
“My wife is dead, actually,” he said, “but I’m sure you’ll join her soon enough. You can ask her then.” His eyes lit on the spike of wood in her side and he sent a wood allergy jinx at her, followed by another spell to drive it in further.
"You'll definitely be seeing her first." Maddie could feel the wound in her side start to itch, the itch driving down under her skin with the spike. She wanted to stay here and finish off Yaxley, but it was time for her to start making her retreat.
"But until then," Maddie flung a fireball just past Yaxley's head, letting it crash into one of the desks. "Fuck you." Another fireball. "Fuck your pathetic boss." Fireball. "And fuck every murder you've let just happen." The last fireball was targeted directly at Yaxley. "Consider this my immediate resignation."
She slipped her hand to her throat, where she activated the portkey to get her the fuck out of there.
The last thing Maddie saw was Yaxley’s smirk as he sidestepped one fireball only to step into the path of another. His smirk faded and a flash of green whizzed through the empty space where Maddie had been.
Charlie Weasley v. Thorfinn Rowle
Charlie, who was glamoured to look like a middle-aged man with mousy-brown hair instead of his strikingly Weasley red, didn’t consider himself a particularly great duelist. He’d done it because he’d had to at Bill’s wedding, but that time they’d been on the defence. Offensive dueling, where the stakes were as high as this, filled his gut with a sinking, uncomfortable feeling. He hadn’t managed to eat much for dinner the night before, let alone any breakfast this morning. He’d gone over the spells he’d planned to default to, but now that he was here, in the DMLE, they’d all gone out the window.
Leaving Maddie to deal with Yaxley in the bullpen, Charlie headed for the break room, where he could see Rowle rising.
“Morpungo!” The stinging hex probably wasn’t the harshest spell he could throw at a Death Eater, but it was too late now.
Thorfinn had been enjoying the nicest cup of tea the DMLE had to offer when all the commotion started. Initially, he had assumed it was simply an interoffice scuffle, but after a few more sips of his tea it became obvious it wasn’t. Pushing his chair back, he was about to round the table when a stinging hex hit his elbow and he let out a small yelp, both from the pain and surprise. He didn’t even bother really looking to see who had thrown the spell and opted for sending one of the small breakroom tables barreling toward them.
“What the fuck did you go and do that for?”
A quick shield charm kept the table from knocking Charlie over before he even managed to cross the threshold of the breakroom. "I thought that much was obvious," he replied as he flung the table back towards Rowle.
He raised an arm in an attempt to block the table, but it was too little too late as the table crashed into him and knocked him backwards into a set of cabinets. Falling down, the back of Thor’s head smacked off one of the cabinet doors with a loud and audible crack. Pain immediately shot through his head as the room began to spin. Placing his hands down on the ground, he attempted to stand, but only managed to stumble to the side. Anger surged through him as he steadied himself against a chair and sent off a few slashing curses in the direction of the doorway.
“Fuck, Charlie screamed as the curse hit his side, but not deeply enough that he was gushing intestines or anything.
Yet.
He wasn’t sure if it was the pain or desperation to get the upper hand, but Charlie tightened his grip on his wand and threw a conjunctivitis, paired with an impediment jinx at Thorfinn, slowing him down and disrupting his aim just enough for his next move. “Oppungo!”
Charlie ducked as various objects in the room hurtled towards the Death Eater.
The slashing curses continued even as his eyes began to burn. When he was impeded, Thor tried his best to continue, but it was of no use. His spells, no matter which one he used, were now effectively useless.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to think about it as the barrage of objects began to careen toward him. Various mugs and plates crashed into the surrounding cabinets and shattered, but Thor was left unable to shield himself. Shards cut into his exposed skin as a flurry of paper napkins swirled around him. And then a large serrated knife that was usually reserved for cutting of cake flew through the air and lodged itself in his right chest, puncturing his ling with ease. A look of surprise crossed Thor’s face as his lung suddenly collapsed and he fell forward onto the floor.
By the time Charlie looked up, Rowle was already down and out, knife protruding from his chest. His stomach turned, the pain in his side ignored for a moment.
Was Rowle dead?
Charlie didn’t want to find out.
Alicia Spinnet v. Mitzi Abbott
The loo was too far away from the action in the DMLE to make the kind of impact Alicia wanted when she flooded it. So she opted instead for rooting out bare pipes and ducking between flames and blasting curses to get as near the heart of the conflict as she could. It was in the corner of the office that she found it and immediately cast a blasting curse that cracked the pipe. She watched it buckle under the pressure before it finally burst, sending water spraying across the room.
As Alicia watched the water, Mitzi moved closer to her target. She’d been watching Alicia for a few minutes now, curiosity sparking inside of her as she followed the younger woman. Her face, had it been visible, would show slight disappointment that she’d wasted her time for that, but she figured she could make up for it.
She sent a blasting curse at Alicia before stepping out of the shadows, twirling her wand between her fingers as she waited for the girl’s move.
The blast startled Alicia and she whirled around just in time to take cover behind the nearest desk. Quills and paperwork fluttered over her head, swept up by the curses. She’d known it was only a matter of time before someone stopped and engaged her — she was prepared for this.
So she tightened her fingers around her wand and ducked out from behind the desk to return the Death Eater’s blasting curses.
Mitzi threw up her shield just in time to block the curse, the impact pushing her back several steps. Not bad. She marched forward and levitated some of the quills around them, sending them flying, nib first, at the vigilante’s face, focused heavily on the eye area. That would do quite well for a distraction, she thought, and smirked behind her mask before pointing her wand at Alicia and barking “Crucio!”
In the long weeks since the Quidditch season had abruptly ended, Alicia had needed to try a lot harder to keep her reflexes up to snuff. But even so, the Death Eater was quick. Even as she jerked her wand to drag the desk in front of her to block the more compelling of the two spells, she only had time to duck the other. She covered her head with her arm and pulling it back revealed a row of quills embedded through her sleeve.
But her recovery was quick, and another swing of her wand sent the desk exploding in the Death Eater’s direction.
Another shield went up, but Mitzi wasn’t as quick this time, and she was knocked backwards off her feet, splinters from the desk jabbing into her arms and legs. She cursed loudly and pulled the worst one out of her leg before getting to her feet and back into the offensive position.
This time she sent a filing cabinet at Alicia before lobbing a blood-boiling curse in the same direction, stepping forward surely. She’d get the little vigilante if it was the last thing she did.
Alicia almost wished she was on her broom as she stumbled, much clumsier on her feet, out of the path of the filing cabinet. The sound and the dent it made when it hit the wall sent a shiver up her spine. She could’ve easily wound up underneath it. Instead, she wound up with a breath of relief before the blood went from running cold to boiling hot.
She let out a gasp of pain and ground her teeth down around a much louder depiction of what she felt — like her insides were trying to burn their way out. Alicia wasn’t about to give the Death Eater the satisfaction. Instead, she focused her thoughts and her mind on the water at their feet.
With a muttered spell, Alicia turned it into ice, and with a second spell for the filing cabin, the draws wrenched open and out flew sharply folded paper airplanes that dove for her opponent.
Mitzi was still moving forward when the water iced over, and she once again fell down. “Ugh, you bi —” was all she could manage before having to dive out of the way of the paper planes, sliding about a foot down the hall thanks to the ice.
Growing frustrated, she got to her feet carefully before haphazardly lobbing fireballs in the other woman’s direction, trying to set the Phoenix on fire and melt the ice in front of her. Two birds with one stone.
The flying paper gave Alicia enough time to regain her bearings and she made use of the ice to slide out of the fireballs’ path. She barely retained her balance and the room went up in flames, but it gave her enough time to cast off a series of severing charms — as many as she could manage in one breath.
One of the severing charms caught Mitzi in the leg, near the place where she’d just dug out wood, and she shouted in pain. This time, she managed to stay on her feet and stormed towards Alicia, ready to end this once and for all. She pointed her wand at the vigilante once more, a Cruciatus curse at the tip of her tongue.
Alicia’s pulse raced and her stomach did a flip at the sight of another flash of red from the end of the Death Eater's wand. This time, she couldn’t dodge it — the faster she tried to move, the more her feet slipped beneath her. But keeping her balance didn’t matter. When the curse hit her, she fell to her knees anyway.
If she found it hard to breathe through the smoke before, it was doubly so now. She wanted to stay and make sure this was one less Death Eater terrorizing her friends, but after a few moments under the curse, the pain coursing through her won out. Curling her fingers around the locket hanging against her chest, she took a deep breath and then she was gone.