WHO: Terry Boot, Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, Irwin Harper, Seamus Finnigan, Megan Jones, Morag MacDougal, Ernie Macmillan, Draco Malfoy, and Gus Urquhart. WHEN: Saturday 11 April 1998; 10.00-10.30PM. WHERE: Various locations around Hogwarts. WHAT: Dumbledore's Army is ambushed by the Inquisitorial Squad and prefects as the group is out trying to free the two captured Muggles.
RATING: PG-13 for violence. STATUS: In-progress
Terry and Morag vs Draco
Morag found the irony of the situation amusing as hell; she and Terry were the distraction, and they'd decided to go after the Dark Arts classroom. That on its own would have been satisfying enough, but they'd decided to take the occasion one step further and dress as death eaters. Yes. Death eaters. Each had on black robes and hideous skull-masks that Morag had transfigured out of some old socks (and was feeling rather impressed with herself for, all said) for effect. She was hoping that anyone who stumbled upon them would be startled enough that they could get away during the shock, and Terry ... well. Terry was amused for his own reasons that she hadn't quite understood (muggle pop culture references occasionally sailed right by her despite her heritage).
Regardless, they'd made their way into the classroom, gotten their get-up on, and were ready to go. Though not malicious, or even especially aggressive, by nature, Morag took a certain delight in aiming her wand right at the cage the Carrows had used for the stupid werewolves and, nodding to Terry to inform the others with his coin, casting a particularly vehement blasting curse.
"CONFRINGO!" A loud eruption sounded out from the corner of the room, and Morag turned to glance toward the doorway before rounding on her next target.
This was, quite possibly, the most life-affirming night of Terry's life thus far. He was accomplishing one of his major life goals and was getting to stick it to The Man all at the same time -- sure, his mask still smelled a bit...socklike when he'd catch a whiff every now and again, but he and Morag were joining the likes of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker on this night! They were dressing up like the very enemy they were battling in order to screw them over right under their noses. It was PERFECT. Everything was perfect. Terry's little geekboy dreams were coming true.
It was a little sad that Morag didn't quite get it, but they had time. School would be over soon, and Terry was not letting another summer pass them by without forcing his cousin to watch all three movies of the Star Wars trilogy back to back to back.
After sending out a message to the rest of the DA via the coin, Terry joined Morag in explodey fun, turning his wand on Carrow's stupid desk. If all went well, there wouldn't be a Dark Arts classroom left at the end of this to continue holding that mockery of a class in.
Morag wished she could set fire to the damned room, and just let it burn to the ground, but as angry as she was, it would be irrational and dangerous and she couldn't justify it. Instead, she searched for anything the Carrows might use during the next lesson so she could properly ruin it. Two blasting spells busted open the supply cabinet, and she accioed some of the dark objects from it and let them fall to the ground. Transfiguring them into glass, she angrily brought her heel down upon each in turn, watching with mixed satisfaction as they shattered beneath her boot.
Morag had the right idea. Terry watched her for a few moments before concluding that that looked like fun, and did the same. Rather than turning the dark objects and tools he accioed into glass, though, Terry did as Terry does and transfigured the materials into tomatoes -- or, at least, something that had the same essence as the vegetable (or fruit, or whatever). Tomatoey as they appeared, however, Terry knew that the laws of magic meant that they were definitely not for eating, and instead began to crank his arm back, pelting them at the chalkboard as hard as he could, leaving the wall smeared with gooey red streaks. Knowing the Carrows, they'd probably assume it was blood and would be happy about the mess.
And because of that, he charmed the rest of the tomatoes blue and green before splattering those about the room as well. The whole scene kind of made Terry wish he had a paintball gun in there with him.
Just outside the classroom, Draco had been wandering the halls on his rounds. While he didn't usually go alone, he'd requested that he and his patrol partner for the evening go their own ways for a bit, since he wasn't feeling up to the company, as perfunctory as it might have been. When he heard the noises coming from the Dark Arts classrooms, he paused outside the door to peer in, sighing when he saw the two dark-robed figures. He was tempted to keep right on walking and pretend that he hadn't seen anything at all, but something stopped him -- they were both wearing skull-masks like Death Eaters. Why would Death Eaters be tearing apart the Dark Arts classroom?
So instead of continuing on, Draco stepped into the room, his mother's wand in the ready position and looked between the two -- one tall and the other significantly shorter. They couldn't be real Death Eaters, could they? Draco wasn't sure and he didn't want to intrude on anything, so he settled for barely making his presence known with an assertive and loud-enough "uhh" from the doorway.
Terry stopped short upon hearing the noise in the doorway, dropping everything he was holding (which fell to the ground in several large splats). He stepped in front of the mess and turned to face the person in the doorway, drawing his own wand. Malfoy. Great..
After a moment of trying to figure out the best route to go with this, Terry let his wand arm fall to his side and shook his head as if he'd "overreacted" in the moment. "Put your wand away, Mr. Malfoy," Terry sighed, making his voice sound deeper than usual. "Carry on with your rounds." A pause, and Terry stood up straighter as he approached Draco, coming to a stop a few feet in front of him.
"We are not who you are looking for," he said with a wave of his hand in a perfected Jedi Mind Trick motion, then gestured that Draco should take this opportunity to leave the premises. "We must return to our mission now. Good night."
Draco hesitated, half-turning to leave but unsure of whether or not these two were actually Death Eaters. It didn't make sense that they'd be sabotaging the Dark Arts classroom after curfew, considering that the Carrows would surely not have approved of this. So instead of leaving, Draco took another step into the classroom, brow furrowed.
"What are your names?" Perhaps a bit presumptuous if they were real Death Eaters, but Draco had to be sure.
"Han and Luke," Morag replied as gruffly as possible, and though her voice was naturally husky, it was still unmistakably feminine -- and young. She hoped Terry appreciated her vague grasp on his Star Wars references, even if she'd given them away by speaking, and then levelled her wand at Malfoy. "Move along home, little lambkin," she threatened.
Terry did appreciate the reference, and appreciated even more so that Draco never would've understood it. Considering someone like him, seeing as how Harry had known his dad was a death eater, would know who some of the other ones were.
"Stand down; we don't have to answer to Malfoy's son," Terry said to Morag, trying to keep that snooty twinge in his tone that all the purists seemed to have. He turned back to look at Draco through his sock-mask, trying to appear as large as possible. "We have our orders from the Dark Lord. Is that something that you want to interfere with, boy?"
Clever as Morag's reference may have been, it did not fool Draco. What sort of purist names were Han and Luke? He took two more steps into the room and surveyed the damage, shaking his head. Death Eaters wouldn't have done this -- if they'd wanted to destroy the room, they'd probably have used Fiendfyre or something far more destructive, since it always seemed to be a game of who could impress who the most with their fancy wandwork. Multi-colored splotches on the wall and overturned desks wouldn't have been enough to impress anyone.
"You're not Death Eaters," he said, tightening his grip on his wand. "So, who are you?"
Instead of an answer, Morag -- who had a far more vicious streak than most people were willing to give her credit for -- swept her wand over the glass debris beneath her feet; it rose, silently, and she growled out an oppugno with surprising determination, wand pointed right at Malfoy's face.
Terry caught what Morag was doing out of the corner of his eye and took that opportunity to get the hell out of the way, standing closer to Malfoy than she was and not wanting to get caught in any back-fired glass. Ducking behind an overturned desk, Terry pointed his own wand at Draco and hit him with a silent "tarantallegra," so that even if he missed getting hit by Morag's spell, he'd have a hell of a time tapdancing away from what landed on the floor (hopefully some of the pieces would shoot up through his shoes) or shooting off any other spells in the meanwhile.
Having expected the situation to turn into a fight, Draco was ready to cast a Shield Charm when Morag sent the glass flying at him; however, he still wasn't fast enough to match the ferocity of her spell and several shards made it past the shield, slicing his cheek and shoulder, while also slicing off a bit of his hair. What he had not been expecting was Terry's silent hex, which hit him before he could even react to the fact that he'd just been hit with glass. His legs took on a mind of their own, and within seconds, Draco was performing dance moves he never knew existed. As Terry had hoped, he began treading directly over the broken glass and while the soles of his shoes prevented most of the damage, some oddly-shaped pieces cut through and up into his foot.
Letting out a loud and painful yell, Draco tried several spells in rapid succession to stop the tapping -- the correct one for reversing the effects had slipped his mind, so by the time he stopped, the glass was wedged well into his foot and he was furious. He looked at the taller one first -- whoever it was must have thought himself pretty funny after all of that -- and tried to take aim without putting too much pressure on the tender areas of his feet. "Reducto!"
Well, Terry and Morag had certainly succeeded at providing the distraction that the rest of the DA was looking for. He'd had his wand ready and aimed to fire off another spell at Draco when the blasting hex hit him square in the chest, sending him flying backwards and crashing into what was already a demolished pile of desks and rubbish, landing hard against his outstretched left arm with a sickening snapping sound and a flash of white hot pain in his shou. The impact was hard enough to keep Terry from even being able to cry out as his body flew against the desks, slumping down to the ground, rolling to the ground and finding breathing nearly impossible.
Satisfied that he would be occupied for a moment or two, Draco turned his attention to the shorter 'Death Eater'. He had to shift to aim his wand at her, applying the pressure he'd been trying to keep off his feet in the process. He winced, clenching his teeth together and trying to maintain his composure. "Stupefy!" he shouted, but as he sent the curse at her, another shard of glass on the ground tore through the sole of his shoes, causing him to flinch and the spell to go off in the wrong direction.
Morag did not take kindly to her cousin being bashed into the wall, and she turned on Malfoy with a vengeance; it was only luck that the glass pulled his spell in another direction, because she didn't have time to put up a shield spell -- too busy launching a freezing charm and tripping jinx at Malfoy. A small part of her envisioned wild fantasies of him turning into an ice-block and then dashing to pieces on the stone floor, but Morag knew better, and wasn't quite cruel enough to really wish that on another person... though whether or not Malfoy qualified as a person was up for debate, really. Right now she moved towards Terry, more concerned with keeping herself between him and Malfoy, in case that snotty little ponce got any bright ideas like beating up a defenceless and prone person. It seemed the sort of thing he'd do.
Draco gasped loudly as the freezing charm hit him in the arm, turning everything from his hand to half-way up his shoulder into ice. As if that wasn't bad enough, the tripping jinx sent him crashing to the ground and where he normally might have caught himself with his hands, now he hand only one hand and a icy stump. Upon impact, his frozen hand shattered, leaving nothing connected up to his wrist. Fortunately, the limb was frozen and Draco couldn't feel anything, but the trauma of seeing one's hand shattered was not lost on him.
With something that might have been a cross between a growl and a scream, Draco picked himself up and glowered at Morag. "Incendio!"
The sound of Malfoy trying to set his cousin on fire was more than enough to jar Terry out of his daze, narrowing his eyes from behind his mask and pushing himself to his feet, knees wobbling, wand aimed directly at Draco. "ANGOR," he cast, pointing his wand towards Draco's throat, using a spell that Terry only knew in his head as "the Darth Vader Spell," the spell being one that would make a person feel as if they were being suffocated. "I find your lack of faith disturbing, Mr. Malfoy," Terry practically growled as he approached Draco slowly, winding his arm back to punch the bastard in the face.
When Terry's fist hit him, Draco's head jerked back and there was a sickening snap as his nose broke, causing a trickle of blood, which he tried to wipe off on the sleeve of his robes. That was fucking it. Whipping his wand arm back to point at the taller 'Death Eater', Draco set his jaw and growled "Crucio!" with all the anger and determination he had pent up over the last few weeks. He'd done this before with his mother's wand, and considering how angry he was now, he didn't think there would be a problem. This stupid git deserved it, too.
Morag let out a sharp, short scream as the spell hit her robes, erupting into fire -- and though she had the presence of mind to cast an aguamenti on herself, she could still feel the blistering pain spread out across her thighs before she'd gotten it out completely. Merlin, that hurt, but at least she had some satisfaction that Malfoy was now sans a hand (which seemed, somehow, adequate payback for her losing a finger the previous month, even if she was a bit repulsed by the stub he was now waving about). And then Draco was crucioing Terry and a dark fury swept over her.
"ACCIO ROBES!" She yelled, following it with a stunning spell so that she and Terry could get the hell out. "Let's get out of here, Luke!"
Before Draco knew what was happening, he felt as though some one had hit an off switch or blown him out like a candle. The power he'd been channeling into the Cruciatus Curse fizzled out almost instantaneously, but what was more alarming was the fact that his robes were being pulled up and over his head, leaving him standing there in his shorts. But he wasn't standing for long. A moment later, everything was dim, and had Draco been able to feel anything, he'd have been grateful that he was not going to be awake when some one found him unconscious, half-naked and sans a hand in the Dark Arts room.
Terry barely had an instant to enjoy the absolutely epic satisfaction of finally, finally getting to punch Draco Malfoy in his dirty ratlike face before his shoulder was screaming at him in pain for trying a stunt like that after he'd just smashed into the wall. His shoulder being pissed off at him was the least of his worries in a few seconds, though, when Draco retaliated and hit Terry with the Cruciatus curse. Terry dropped, hitting the ground hard and screaming as his muscles twisted up in all directions, the spell coursing through his body as though it would never stop.
But then just as soon as it had started, the spell cut off, and Terry lay in a heap trying to catch his breath as Draco collapsed on the ground next to him. "Oi, piss off, I'm not Luke, you're Luke," Terry groaned as Morag helped him wobble up to his feet, looking down at the nearly naked Malfoy. "That is so much more of Malfoy than I ever wanted to see." He paused. "You wouldn't happen to have lipstick on you, would you?"
Conjuring up a bright pink feather boa, Terry wrapped that around Draco's neck and shoulders and then took Morag's lipstick from her, scribbling out the word "BITCH" on Draco's forehead, then drawing a penis on his cheek that was aiming for Malfoy's mouth. Morag helped him stand up again, and Terry leaned against her while looking down at his handiwork, admiring his art. "Bloody hell I wish we had a camera. Okay, let's go Han. I want to look at the power converters," he snickered a little, still half in a daze and making references that no one else understood.
The IS stumble on the DA members outside the Carrows' office
Gus had not had a good week. No, he hadn't had a good week at all. Thus, even though it was Saturday night, and part curfew, he was lurking around the castle, even though he technically didn't have rounds. He just wanted an excuse to get out of the Slytherin common room, away from the petty in-fighting that had turned instead to a frigid cold. He was hoping, perhaps, that he would find a member of Dumbledore's Army so that he could take his frustration out on them. He wasn't even sure he'd turn them over to the Carrows, just beat the shite out of them and leave them there. It would probably confuse them all very much, and the idea was amusing.
He saw two large figures in the distance and frowned. Approaching them, he saw that it was Crabbe and Millicent. Oh. Somewhat disappointing. "Anything interesting?" he asked from behind them.
Squinting to see the owner of the voice in the torch-light, Millicent's shoulders relaxed to fin it was just Gus. She shrugged at his question. "Not tonight," she answered half-heartedly. "Which is rubbish. Been itching to punch someone all day," she continued, before glancing over at Crabbe and smirking slightly. "We've still got a couple wings to do yet though, if you wanna come. Headed by the Carrows' office now. Maybe we can stop and hear those Muggles whimper behind the door," she suggested with a laugh.
Crabbe let out a laugh too, booming and malicious. "Maybe if the Carrows are there they'll let us hex them," he said, his soft voice a contrast to his intimidating appearance. The Slytherins should be used it it, though he rarely talked in class or around other students. "Wait, which way's it again? Innit different on Saturdays?"
In the time it took Gus, Milllicent, and Crabbe to get to the hallway outside of the Carrows' office, Irwin Harper had already finished a cigarette. He shouldn't have been smoking in-doors, but the Carrows hardly cared these days. He looked tired, and rather irritated as he threw the cigarette butt on the carpet and stomped it out with his foot -- pretending for a moment it was Grayson's stupid freckled face. But hey, his "thing" with Charis was neither here nor there, right? Right.
He heard a loud laugh that sounded much like Crabbe on stairwell. The Carrows' door was just down the hallway, and Irwin leaned boredly on the banister of the stairs, watching the three make their way up. "I can hear you from a mile away, troll breath," he said jokingly with a lofty smirk to Crabbe. He didn't give Crabbe much time to retort, however, since he heard a loud whisper and a thud down the hall. Irwin snapped his head around, extending his hand toward the other three to quiet them.
"Shh. Hold on. Did you hear--?"
Gus shifted uncomfortably when Irwin insulted Crabbe (he should really know better, especially after Monday, for Merlin's sake...), but was relieved at the sound of whispering and a distraction from more Slytherin bickering. He lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes. "That was definitely something suspicious, and this is the Carrows' office wing. Maybe the Muggles have gotten out." He wondered if they could beat them, too, or if they had to be in one piece for Muggle Studies. "Let's go." He nodded his head in one direction and slunk along the corridors, waiting for the others to follow.
Crabbe didn't follow right away. He stepped in line with Irwin and grinned at him, giving him a light punch in the shoulder. Well, light for Vincent Crabbe, which meant there would be a slight bruise on a girl's shoulder, but Irwin would likely be all right. "C'mon goblin-ears," he said back to him, shoving him forward a little bit. "Walkin' too slow."
He was done playing around after that, and after a moment they were real close to the Carrow's office. Crabbe stopped and looked toward the others, never being one to take charge or know what to do. What do we do now? was his unspoken question, obvious to everyone by the look on his face.
Ernie shushed the crowd of DA members outside the Carrows office. "Did any of you hear something?" Ernie asked, and then immediately quieted again. He could distinctly hear the sound of voices somewhere close by, and Ernie knew that whoever was out at this hour and talking so casually was not someone they wanted to run into, as it was likely a slew of Inquisitorial Squad members. Ernie already had a mask on to disguise his face, but they were going to need more than that to slip by undetected.
"I definitely hear someone," Ernie whispered. "Quick, let's use the Disillusionment Charms," he said. Ernie was rather nervous, he'd managed to get away the last time something like this happened, but he was caught by Padma, and the voices he heard definitely did not sound like Anthony and Padma. The voices turned into foot steps, and Ernie was afraid they had heard them. He cast a hasty Disillusionment Charm, and pressed himself up against the wall adjacent to the Carrows office.
As he heard the IS coming closer and closer, a sense of dread filled Ernie's stomach- that was by no means the best Disillusionment Charm he'd ever cast, and they didn't exactly have a long duration rate to begin with. Unless the IS breezed past the Carrows office (which was very unlikely), it was going to wear off before it got the chance to do Ernie any good. Surely enough, just as Ernie could make out a number of figures approaching from down the hall, Ernie saw his feet slowly re-materializing on the floor below. The charm was wearing off from the bottom up, and in no time at all Ernie was completely visible; albeit with a mask covering his face.
The only thing left to do was run, which was precisely what Ernie did. He said nothing as he bolted in the opposite direction of the IS members. Maybe it would prove to be ultimately fruitless, but Ernie hoped someone's Disillusionment Charm was strong enough to hide them until the IS members were gone, and he didn't want to give away that there were other people hiding, even if it was pretty obvious.
Unfortunately for the DA, it was obvious, and as Millicent spotted a masked figure re-materializing there near the Carrows' office door, she shoved Gus and Crabbe to move. "GET 'EM!" she boomed, dashing forward immediately to flush out any others who were trying to hide against the walls, swinging a fist around and spotting another bloke dash out from under their charms. Tonight was their lucky night.
Millicent vs Seamus
Millicent wasn't graceful, but she was strong and quicker than she looked. Yanking her wand from her robes and sidestepping into the other student's way, she bent forward and brandished it threateningly, although she looked more like she was ready to tackle him before she hexed him. Knowing her, she probably was. "Don't move, Mudblood-lover!" she told him firmly. "Might not even turn you in if you let me beat you to mush." Ha, the lies. They were always so fun. Unlike Crabbe who she overheard immediately shout an Unforgivable, Millicent had been aching for an all-out brawl since she'd been forced to watch her cat die. This twat was exactly what the doctor ordered.
A long string of curse words ran through Seamus' mind as he realised he was left to handle Millicent Bulstrode. What had he done that was bad enough to warrant that sort of punishment? She looked angry and ready to hit something (or someone, as it were) and Seamus was well aware that he was going to be that lucky person. He lifted his hand to his face to double check the placement of his mask while taking a careful step back. "So I'm supposed to let you hit me on the offchance you'll let me off without a word to the trolls? I don't see how that's in my best interest."
Millicent grinned wickedly in return and eyed the mask in front of her, knuckles white on her wand and more of a fist than a proper wand-grip. "And being tortured by them is?" she threatened. "Show me what you've got, you sneaky little twat," she encouraged as she circled around him, hoping to back him against the wall. "Or I can go help Crabbe crucio your mate until his brain melts, if you'd rather..." C'mon, she thought. Try me.
Seamus did his best to move with her, trying his hardest to not end up backed against the wall. This was clearly her goal and he wasn't about to allow himself to be trapped by a witch that was the size of Millicent. It just wasn't a smart thing to do. "I'm not planning on being tortured either, so there goes that bit." He gripped his wand tightly in his fist and thrust it forward, sending a blasting curse in her direction.
Millicent was ready though and managed to duck and throw up a measly shield charm in time for the blast to just graze her shoulder, causing her robes to be ripped and a grimace to cross her face, but it immediately melted into a dangerous smirk, as if she'd been hoping he'd do that. "Stupefy!" she shouted, slashing her wand forward, but instead of standing back and readying another curse like one usually might in a duel, Millicent lunged forward following her spell, hoping to knock him backwards, maybe off his feet, maybe into the wall.
He had expected a curse as a retaliation and he'd blocked it quickly but her next move caught him completely off guard. Before he could counter she had closed the space between them and he staggered with about as much grace as he could muster. Seamus' arm hit the wall and he could feel his wand fall away with the impact. A wave of panic washed over him as he heard the small bit of wood clatter to the ground and roll in some direction or another. He didn't look down. It was now time to make a decision. Clearly he wasn't the type of person to throw his hands up in submission and so Seamus chose his second option. He formed a fist and he swung, hoping to make contact.
Millicent had lifted an arm to try and block the hit, but she was just a bit too slow and she felt his fist connect with her jaw, forcing her to take a step back and shake her head painfully. Luckily for her, she was used to taking some hits and it didn't do a whole lot but slow her down for a moment since he hadn't been in prime right hook stance. Trying to recover as quickly as possible, she yelled angrily, she moved to grip his arm, hoping to hold it still and against the wall as she swung her good fist toward his stomach.
His fist had made contact with her jaw and he gave himself a mental pat on the back, though his celebration didn't last long. Seamus felt her fingers wrap around his arm and his limb was forced back against the very wall he had done so well to avoid. He was pressed against the cold stone and he saw her movement and then seconds later he felt the result of it in his gut. Merlin, she packed a punch. "Fuckin' hell." There was no use in trying to act like he was made of steel because even if he hadn't spoken the pain was still written across his face. Seamus glared at her, arm still pinionned to the wall, and he lifted his leg as fast as he could, his goal to get a knee in anywhere. Stomach, thigh, crotch, or other. Anything to get the mass of a girl off him.
It almost worked. She felt his knee collide with her thigh and the immediate pain shot up her hip. The bruise would be large and dark from that one. She grunted and faltered, unable to keep from releasing his arm and bringing a hand to her leg. "FUCK," she cursed, doubling over, almost as if she was backing off completely - until in a rage she lunged forward once more, shoulder into his chest as hard as she could. It wasn't exactly a strategic way to fight but it was all she could think of to do when bent over as such.
Seamus moved away from the wall when she staggered and he quickly located his wand. He was about to lunge for it when he felt her shoulder collide with his chest. There was no hope of staying on his feet, especially after he'd changed his footing to go for his wand, and so he tumbled to the floor with little time to attempt to break the fall. He struggled to breathe but still managed to speak. "For fucks sake, woman. You should go out for rugby when you graduate. You'd have half the blokes cryin' in the bloody locker room." He ignored the fact that he'd scraped his elbow on the floor upon impact, not wanting to acknowledge that there was a good chance he'd lost a few layers of skin to the rough surface.
Millicent glares, having no clue what fucking rugby was, but didn't like how he was talking and not being more intimidated. However, without him moving to get away, she took the second to catch her breath, looking down at him. His accent sounded familiar - it was distinct at least, but at the moment her thirst to hit him fogged her concentrate on anything and she took the time while he was down to pull back a leg and kick forward, hoping to nail him in the ribs. "Shut it, arse," she spat.
He did close his mouth but only because he was biting back a bellow as the toe of her shoe connected with his ribs. Merlin, that hurt. He'd experienced a broken rib before and though the pain seared and he was having issues with breathing, he knew nothing was broken. The girl just kicked bloody hard. He pulled a leg back and returned the kick, aiming for her shin. As he thrust his leg forward he rolled to his stomach with a yelp of pain. Now that he was in a prone position he could see his wand and, more importantly, reach it. Seamus closed his fist around the tool and cast another blasting hex, followed by a leglocking curse. His current goal was not to harm but to get away without sustaining another blow.
Millicent was staggering from the kick and was yelling as she turned to lurch down, fist raised, other hand out to grab his robes - then the blasting hex slammed into her face. Her wand fell to the floor as she roared and brought a hand up to clasp the side of her face, swinging wildly with her left leg, trying to kick him hard enough again before he could take advantage of her recoil, but it didn't work - as soon as she'd wound her leg back, she found it snapped straight stuck to her other, and her balance gave out. Falling back hard on her behind then head slamming against the stone, she could feel the wind was knocked out of her and her mind became fuzzy. "MUDBLOOD!" she screamed, too dazed to really have anything of sense to say. "FUCKING ARMY!" she continued, trying to reach for her wand through the haze of her mind - where'd she drop it?! "DAMMIT!"
Seamus heard the shouting as he scrambled to his feet. He didn't know where the others had gotten off to but he knew they could handle themselves. Even if he wanted to embark on a recovery mission he wouldn't be much good. His entire body ached and he was bumped and bruised. The cool air caused his elbow to sting and so he took advantage of Millicent's distraction and he ran as fast as he was able, quietly praying that he would be able to slip in to the common room unnoticed.
Crabbe vs Ernie
If there was anything that Vincent Crabbe hated as much as he loved sweets, it would probably have to be Dumbledore's Army. Or perhaps mudbloods or muggles or blood-traitors or Weasleys or being teased for his looks or maybe even being Poly-juiced into a girl and having to guard some stupid door for ages while Draco Malfoy tried mostly unsuccessfully to fix a cabinet. But what Vincent loved as much as sweets or his second-cousin or not being poor was most definitely fighting. He had never felt like he was that good at magic until he began to learn the Unforgivables, and having a chance to actually use them without the restraint he had in class was something he always looked forward to.
He fixed his eye on the first male-shape he could find and aimed his wand straight at the boy. He wouldn't hit a girl if he could help it, though if there had only been girls he would have not hesitated. "Crucio!" he shouted, starting straight off with his favourite Unforgivable. Why waste time trying to remember the stunning spell when he could just start with the most fun spell ever?
Unlike Crabbe, Ernie wasn't a big fan of fighting at all- it had become a necessary evil over the past couple of months, but that didn't mean Ernie liked it. His distaste for fighting and violence in general was compensated by the fact that he was good at magic, and when he was caught in a situation like the one he was stuck in now, Ernie could definitely put up a fight. Ernie hadconjured up a mask to hide his identity just like the last time the IS caught the DA in action, but there was one distinct difference this time; Ernie was positive he wouldn't be so lucky as to be caught by Padma again...
And he wasn't. Ernie did not see his attacker before he heard the words "Crucio!" leave his mouth, but Ernie knew it was directed towards him. In a last minute attempt to protect himself, Ernie whipped his wand in front of him and yelled "Protego!". However, the shield was not able to protect him from the full blast of the curse. Ernie's spell had barely conjured his shield by the time the crucio collided with it, and despite the fact that the shield managed to protect him from the full potency of the curse, the impact of the cruciatus curse was still enough to knock Ernie off his feet and cause an enormous current of pain to surge throughout his body. Ernie cried out in pain, but he had sense enough to keep a firm grip on his wand; he was not going to lose it now.
Crabbe moved toward Ernie, using the brief moment that the other boy was incapacitated to stand over his body and laugh. It certainly was a boy he was fighting, and hearing a boy cry out like that was, well, hilarious. "BWA HA HA HA HA!" he shouted, fully enjoying Ernie's pain. Boy, this was going to be fun. He was close enough now that he could reach the boy, so he grabbed him by his collar, pulling him up slightly so that Ernie's head was off the floor but he was still lying there. "Okay so what next?" he asked him, trying to think of another spell to use. Maybe something that would make him look funny later on - wait, he was wearing a mask. If Crabbe did something to the boy's face, he wanted to be able to see him. "Oh guess I should take this off," he said, reaching over with his wand-hand to tear the mask off.
As the pain began to subdue a bit, Ernie felt a wave of disgust boil inside of him. He was actually laughing. As Ernie saw who it was, he wasn't surprised. Crabbe would laugh over using the cruciatus curse against another person. Ernie's body still ached from the curse, but he knew he couldn't give up. If he gave up, not only would he be letting Crabbe win (which his pride simply would not allow), but he knew things would only get a lot worse. Ernie attacked quickly once Crabbe made a move to take off his mask; it was the fear of having his identity discovered by Vincent Crabbe of all people that enabled him to move so quickly despite the pain. With his arms still free, Ernie pointed his wand directly at Crabbe; the proximity between the two of them made aiming a very simple matter. "Confringo!" Ernie said as forcibly as he could.
The blast hit his shoulder (the one attached to the arm that had been holding Ernie) and forced him backward, tearing through his clothes and dislocating the shoulder as well as leaving a large flesh-wound. "OWWWWWWW!!" he screamed in pain, growing angry very quickly. If Crabbe was able to do any healing spells he could easily heal up the cut, but, to put it lightly, Charms had never been his best class. "Oh you're gonna pay for that," he growled, letting go of his wand in the heat of the moment and curling his hand up into a fist. After all, you only needed one arm to punch, he thought as his fist hurled toward Ernie's nose.
Ernie was too surprised by the sudden switch from dueling to physical aggression to block the punch in any way; Ernie took the hit dead on. As soon as Crabbe's fist made contact with Ernie's face, there was a sick cracking noise. Ernie heard and felt the bones in his nose break, and soon after that he felt the blood stream down from the wound. "AURGH-SHITE!" Ernie cursed, and Ernie wasn't one for swearing, but that hurt. If Crabbe could see Ernie's face, it would be clear that Ernie was absolutely furious. Perhaps it was also petty on Ernie's part, but with a broken nose and the lingering pain from the cruciatus curse, Ernie didn't care. He wanted to leave his own mark on Crabbe's face to repay the brute for the job he did on Ernie's nose. Ernie pointed his wand dead at Crabbe's face and shouted "FURNUNCULUS!".
Crabbe knew the hex, but his feeble mind was having a difficult time remembering which one it was... until he felt his face go warm and start sprouting boils. "AHHH!" he shouted, instinctively putting his hands up to his face to see what was going on, but he had forgotten about his dislocated shoulder, so as he tried to move it, an intense pain ripped through. "AHHH!!!" he shouted again, this time trying to keep his arm very still. He looked down at his hand and watched the boils sprout over it and on the palm of his hand and he could feel them all inside his clothes. It had happened to him before, but that didn't mean he was used to it or it was pleasant. "I AM GOING TO GET YOU!" he shouted, curling up his fist again, but even that hurt a little bit and so he let go, completely unsure of what to do and really just wanting to go to bed.
Ernie watched Crabbe with a twisted sense of satisfaction. He shouldn't enjoy this, but then again, it was Crabbe. Whether it was right or wrong, Ernie really didn't feel very bad about fighting Crabbe, and he had to do what was necessary in order to slip away undetected. After enduring the cruciatus curse and having his nose broken, both by Crabbe's hand, Ernie rather enjoyed watching his face errupt in boils. Ernie pointed his wand at Crabbe the minute his threat left his lips. He was ready for him, despite how skilled Crabbe was at the unforgivables, Ernie had to remember that it was still Crabbe, who was undoubtedly one of the daftest kids in the entire school. Ernie was quite confident that he could handle him. Ernie took advantage of Crabbe's hesitation and failure to "get him" to make the next move. "Petrificus Totalus!" Ernie yelled. That should take care of Crabbe. Ernie really didn't see any reason to extend this duel when the opportunity arose to make a quick get away. He didn't want to give Crabbe another chance to use the cruciatus curse.
The spell hit Crabbe dead-on and he toppled over, landing (luckily) on his non-dislocated shoulder. The boils hurt when he hit the floor, but couldn't cry out. He hoped that one of the other IS members would have a chance to finish what he started, but he could hear other fights going on and didn't think that was likely. He cursed inwardly to himself, though he was also a bit glad he didn't have to try to run after the boy - he didn't like running.
Well, at least he got one Cruciatus Curse in, and he'd just have to be on the lookout for someone with a messed-up nose.
After Crabbe hit the floor, Ernie took a moment to just stand a listen to what was going on around him. Now that he wasn't focusing on dueling, he could hear that there were other fights going on around him, and Ernie was going to have to try and avoid running into any of them if he wanted get away, which seemed like the most logical thing to do. Ernie felt an instinctive urge to find Terry, Seamus, Megan, or Morag and try to help at least one of them, but he quelled it. Ernie knew it was in the group's best interest that as many DA members as possible got away, and Ernie could really only make sure that he got away. Based on the sounds of the battles around him, Ernie cast the Disillusionment Charm over himself, and took off in the direction that he hoped would be relatively void of any IS members. Ernie ran as fast as he possibly could, despite the fact that he was not being pursued by Crabbe or anyone else. He wanted to cover as much distance as possible before his Disillusionment Charm inevitably wore off. The aching aftermath of Crabbe's Cruciatus Curse hindered Ernie's speed, but as the sound of fighting and chaos gradually faded into the distance, Ernie started to feel more confident that he would make it back to the Hufflepuff Common Room in time.
Gus and Irwin vs Megan
Fuck. He had forgotten one thing about Dumbledore's Army members -- they tended to run, and that meant that he had to run after them, lest he face the Carrows' wrath at being completely incompetent at catching them. He watched Crabbe and Millicent streak after two of the offenders, and was certain that they would catch them, if only because they weren't afraid to use brute force. He took off after the third, their charms were faltering and he saw a flicker of red hair and wondered if Ginny Weasley had somehow managed to get back inside the castle. Perfect.
This was definitely not going as planned. The ideal situation involved the Muggles being quickly and easily rescued by Megan and Ernie and Seamus, and then taken to whereever and everyone would...eventually...be safe and sound and happy and some good would be done. This, however, was not good. They'd been spotted before successfully completing their mission and now things were taking a definite turn for the worse. Most frustrating of all, Megan knew that she wasn't nearly as good at defensive and offensive spells as other members of the DA, and now...
Well, now there were people chasing her and Megan had a good feeling that these people were not going to let her go just because she smiled sweetly at them or made a joke. In retrospect, Megan probably would've wished that she'd stayed and fought instead of running for it, but at the moment, running until they couldn't catch her seemed like the best choice.
"GUS WOULD YOU GET MOVING?"
If Irwin Harper was anything he was quick on his feet. He was quite a few paces faster than Gus as he sprinted after that small flicker of red hair, and he took out his wand and shot a Jelly-Legs Jinx in front of him. He was determined as hell to get those Dumbledore's Army members. They weren't going to escape if it was the last thing he did.
Poor Megan. She didn't really stand a chance -- not against two vicious Slytherin Quidditch players who both happened to be very both very tall and very quick on their feet. Irwin was ahead of Gus, but then, Gus wasn't really putting a lot of effort into chasing after her. Or any, really. As he jogged, he drew his wand out of his robes. The last time the stupid idiot had been conquered by a simple Blasting Hex, but he couldn't really see this one (God, he hoped it was Ginny Weasley) properly to aim, so instead of doing that, he pointed his wand at the floor and shouted, "Glisseo," turning the floor of the hallway ahead of him smooth as glass. If she could run on that... Well, maybe she deserved to get away if she could run on that.
Megan was not named Grace, and she was not named Grace for a reason. It only took a few seconds for her to slip and slide and skid to a halt after Gus charmed the floor, and the fall was more than enough to knock the wind out of her. Still, she decided it was a sign that running away wasn't exactly in the cards for her, so she turned around as much as she could from her final landing space, sending a handful of jinxes back at her pursuers with as much aim as she could manage. "Rictusempra! Furnunculus!" She pushed herself from a sitting to an awkward standing position; the floor was still slippery and unstable. "Tarantellegra! Levicorpus! Petrificus totalus!" If any of them hit, it would be a miracle...
Irwin stopped right before the floor started to get slippery and was just about to compliment Gus on the nice job, but was almost hit by three hexes from Megan had he not ducked behind a nearby statue. The Levicorpus, however, had hit him straight on the chest, causing him to do a half-flip in mid air and was hung by his ankles, his robes covering his upper body. "Liberacorpus!" he shouted, and he was instantly righted, looking absolutely murderous.
"That's it," Irwin hissed at the Hufflepuff redhead who was desperately trying to get away by slipping and sliding all over the place. Pathetic. "Stupefy!"
Clever little bitch, Gus thought as the Rictusempra hit him, though it was only for an instant before he was overcome by a fit of giggles as he felt invisible hands tickling him all over his body. Gasping for breath, he tried to think of the counter-spell, but nothing in particular game to mind. "Finit -- " He tried to perform Finite incantatem, but couldn't. He was too out of breath. Well, fuck wands, then, this was going to get physical. With some difficulty, he shuffled (he was rather hunched over) to where Megan stood and, despite the curses flying around, punched her in the jaw, as hard as he could.
Ugh, if at least the Petrificus Totalus had held, Megan might've had a chance to escape, but this was just not her night. She managed to deflect the stunner relatively quickly, but Urquhart's punch caught her off guard...and hurt. A lot. How a person could punch so hard, especially while doubled over laughing was really beyond Megan's comprehension, but figuring out that mystery of life would have to wait. For now, these two seemed to have murder on their agenda, and Megan really, really just wanted to get back to Hufflepuff and massage her jaw for a while.
So she threw a punch back at Urquhart, aiming for anywhere on his face that she could manage. As for the other one (Harper, she guessed?), he'd have to wait until Megan could get Urquhart away from her. Another kick to the shins might've done it, she guessed, and tried to aim her kicks accordingly.
Irwin was shocked when Gus punched Megan in the jaw. If there was anything Irwin wouldn't do, it was hit a girl. Hex one, fine. But hit one? Damn.
Either way, he couldn't dwell on it much. They needed to get the stupid Dumbledore's Army member to the Carrows and fast. She deflected his last hex. Fine. But with Urquhart standing over her and keeping her relatively in the same place, he shot another one from behind -- aiming directly at her head.
"Let's see your MUGGLE GOD help you now, Jones," he jeered. Petrificus Totalus!"
The familiar sound of his bones crunching (fucking Merlin, when would people stop breaking his fucking nose?) as Megan's fist made impact with Gus's nose and he grit his teeth in pain and anger, and suddenly blood was blossoming down his face and over his robes. All he could smell was the metallic tang of blood. "Don't you dare fucking touch me," he hissed at her, and he didn't know her name (he thought she was a Hufflepuff, but wasn't entirely sure). Not particularly giving a shit if Irwin's jinx hit Megan, he grasped her by the throat with one hand and hit her, as hard as he could, with the other. His grip was likely uncomfortably tight, but he didn't care.
Not good. Megan had been too preoccupied with kicking Urquhart to pay as much attention to Harper as she should've been, and now she couldn't move...which had the unfortunate side effect of rendering her completely unable to fight back against Urquhart this time as he grabbed her by the throat and hit her much harder than he had the first time around. The hitting was painful and Megan figured she would look a hot mess after this, but she was more concerned with the fact that his hand around the throat was making it very difficult to breathe. Well. That and the fact that she couldn't quite fight him off at the moment, being Petrified. God, please... she prayed, hoping that maybe Harper would call Urquhart off of her or maybe someone from the DA would show up and rescue her or something...
"Jesus Christ, Gus!" Irwin dropped his hand after his hex hit Megan and he saw as Gus grabbed her by the throat and started hitting her in the face. "Get the fuck off of her would you? She's PETRIFIED." And she's a goddamn girl you sick fuck.
He moved forward and tried as much as he could to pry Gus from Megan. He was 6', a tad shorter than Gus, but he was a little more built. He hadn't noticed that Gus' nose had been broken until a bit of his blood got on the back of his hands while he roughly tried to get in between them.
Gus dropped Megan to the floor and gave her a swift, hard kick in the ribs. Somehow, he doubted that the Carrows would particularly appreciate it if he finished this stupid ginger off before they got to interrogate her. "Petrified?" he said, with some disdain. "She's just a Dumbledore's Army bitch. Who cares if I hit her?" Her Hufflepuff friends would likely come after him with an axe if they had the chance, but they were just Hufflepuffs. With that, he brought his foot down hard into Megan's stomach, knowing that it would likely cause her great agony. He didn't care. He'd been wanting to vent his frustration for days.
Irwin shove Gus away from Megan, not enough to hurt him but just to acquire some distance. He looked down at Megan Jones' bloodied body and even though he knew he had previously petrified her, she seemed dead. He felt his stomach turn a bit.
"You are a sick bastard, you know that Gus?" Irwin spit on the floor and quickly cast a spell to levitate her crippled, rigid form. "Regardless of how much of a Dumbledore's Army whore she is, the Carrows need to question her. I don't even know if they can with her jaw at that angle."
He pushed her body forward with his foot, holding his wand out to keep her levitated. "Let's go."