Who: Anybody.
When: August 26, 1979-- from noon onwards.
Where: Anywhere.
Summary: For those of you who haven't participated in a Where Were You When before, the concept is, anyone can reply with their reaction to a particular event. Generally, it's been deaths. You simply write third person in reply to this post with your character's reaction to the event in question, or something to do with it, at any rate. This post is for both posts taking place during the fight at the Ministry, and for other posts relating to it -- people elsewhere, like in Diagon, where a panic broke out, or at their homes, hearing the news of the rioting. Whatever you want. If you want to reply, have at 'er.

Mozart didn't know how everything had escalated so quickly.

There had been the gasps when he'd been escorted in by what seemed like a group of real life superheroes, mostly legends in their own right, Dumbledore's hand firmly on one of his shoulders, Emmeline close to his other side, all these adults who knew and understood this so much more than he did. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd suspected when he'd gone with CJ to tell the Conclave, but it certainly hadn't been this. Suddenly, all the sad looks some of the adults had been giving him made way more sense than he'd ever have wanted them to.

He saw some of his relatives in the fray. Some on one side, some on the other. He wasn't sure when the Death Eaters had shown up in their robes, but he supposed that if they lost, the Ministry would be a real proper dictatorship from now on. After all, it couldn't go on pretending to be legit and anti-Voldemort now that the Death Eaters were fighting alongside its top Ministers, fighting to keep the Ministry afloat. There seemed to be far more people fighting on the other side than there were on his. He wasn't sure exactly what he should have been doing.

Dumbledore had said people his age could come and fight if they really wanted to, if they thought they could do it. The problem was, Mozart didn't want to. And he didn't think he could do it. At all. He'd been supposed to escape, with Emmeline if she'd been able to, or by himself. Emmeline had got caught in a duel with a mean-looking witch in green robes, and Mozart had meant to run to the Floo, but people had been Apparating everywhere and something in him had just snapped. He couldn't keep track of the thoughts racing through his head as he crouched underneath the table he'd ran to. There were people fighting everywhere. A lot of pieces of the wall had been blown off. There was a lot of yelling. He wasn't sure if the Floos were still open, or if Apparating was still a possibility. He didn't have the heart to try.

His blood ran cold -- he'd never thought it could really do it, but he felt it, all through his upper body and spreading -- as he looked into the wand of a hooded, masked Death Eater. All he could do as the Stunning Spell was cast was blink.

WHO: Poldie Lochlin, Conor Moran, and Death Eaters™.
WHEN: The evening of July 22, 1979.
WHERE: Conor Moran's flat and Outside™.
SUMMARY: Conor asked Poldie to save him from Imperius. So Poldie is. Kind of.


Poldie Lochlin was at his best when he was risking everybody's lives. This was, perhaps, part of why he was a Slytherin rather than a Gryffindor. Yes, he was very brave, but he enjoyed being stupidly reckless to try to save the day with little hope of succeeding and just barely pulling it off. It was fun to him and this, more than the guiding morals of his actions, was what had led him down the path of Aurorhood. Never mind that he made a good Auror and a good hero; he just liked doing it. If he hadn't, he probably wouldn't be doing things like this. Well, not probably. Definitely.

So, you see, when I tell you that Poldie Lochlin had just deliberately let the Death Eater he'd deliberately let catch his tail catch a solid glimpse of him, yelled out, "I'M OFF TO SAVE CONOR MORAN, PASS IT ON!" triumphantly, and Apparated to the outside of Conor Moran's apartment, which he quickly knocked on with all his might, hoping Conor was there (as Conor was under the Imperius, telling him Poldie's plans for saving his soul would have been impractical), you should not get it into your head that Poldie was being entirely selfless. He was having a lot of fun foolishly risking his neck.

"CONOR MORAN OPEN UP YOUR BLOODY DOOR BEFORE I KICK IT DOWN MYSELF," he yelled, all wild eyes, not-enough-bathing, and messy beard as he looked wildly around the corridor for any quick pursuers. The way he saw it, his tracker, even if he was his tracker, probably wasn't good enough to remember where Conor's flat was to Apparate to it. That was the beautiful thing about Death Eaters: they just weren't well-trained enough to do their job right.