Perdition Mods (perdition_mods) wrote in perdition_rpg, @ 2009-05-01 20:54:00 |
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Draco was sure that he had better things to do than to be standing outside of the RoR with Crabbe and Goyle, like drinking butterbeer with the rest of the Slytherins wherever they were, but he needed to find Potter himself. He couldn't imagine that there was any other way that he could both redeem himself and keep his family safe. Potter had to be turned in and Draco had to be the one to do it. Okay, well, maybe with a little help from his lackeys. The Disillusionment Charms they'd learned were certainly coming in handy and he doubted that anyone who walked by would be able to detect them. They'd soon find out, since a moment after having the thought, he heard voices approaching them -- hopefully Potter and his two little pals. "Shh," he hissed and took a step back to press himself closer against the wall. Gregory was less calm than Draco and he bounced quietly. He wanted to pace or crack his knuckles but those would both create noise and then Draco would snap at him and so he just bounced. Quietly. He hoped that the plan would work and that Harry and company would not see them. For once the Slytherins would be able to pull the wool over their eyes and Potter's only involvement in this battle would be as a special delivery to the Dark Lord. When Draco shushed them Goyle froze up. He heard the voices as well and he backed up to the wall and stayed as still as possible. He was glad that he had chosen to eat before they'd left because now his stomach would not rumble and give them away. "So we're looking for an old bloke wearing a tiara and a crown?" Ron asked, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible, but failing rather dramatically. He didn't think anyone was there with them anyway, so what was the point in whispering? Perhaps they should even be shouting back and forth to each other, that would make him feel better. Whatever. He was staring at Hermione, as though waiting for her to explain to him why a bloke would be wearing a tiara and a crown, but then a few brooms to the right caught his attention and he started admiring those instead. "Do you reckon we should've stayed with Harry? I dunno, it just seems funny, leaving him alone. Even now." Ron froze when he thought he heard a faint tapping noise coming from deep within the crowded rows and rows of rubbish, but after a second or two, which were spent frozen like a statue to the floor, Ron convinced himself that he was just hearing things and started moving forward again, eyes searching eagerly for something he wasn't entirely sure he even knew existed. "A bust," she corrected Ron, staying near him as she glanced around the piles of items for the thing they were searching for. It was difficult, because there were so many things -- most of them random -- possibly because it had been intended to be a room to stow away. She felt nervous, just in case they came by any Dark items, but humored her mind a little by wonder what she could've done as a Prefect last year if she had come by this room earlier. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw something shiny, but... no that didn't look like a bust of an old man wearing a tiara. Ron was right. Why did it have to be a man wearing a tiara? For the life of her, she had no idea nor did she think it was too important. "He'll be all right," she answered firmly, understanding his concern for Harry; but she knew that they had no choice except to have faith in him, especially when it was at a time like this. Searching for landmarks from a single trip he'd made a year or so ago was far more difficult than Harry had anticipated. A feeling of apprehension overtook him and what little sound there was in the large room seemed amplified in his ears. Even his mutterings sounded loud to him, but it kept the room from feeling too suffocating and quiet. Finding the diadem among all of the rubbish would bring him that much closer to the end, because, after this, he would take care of the snake and then finally Voldemort. He quickly swept his eyes across pile after pile of junk, before his eyes finally settled on a very familiar cupboard crowned by the stone bust wearing an old wig and a very old, very time-scarred tiara. His apprehension seemed to grow and he reached out a hand for it, moving towards the diadem and then skidding to a halt when a voice interrupted him. "Hold it, Potter," Draco said, looking over Crabbe and Goyle's shoulders. Cornering him had been far too easy, particularly when they'd been under disillusionment charms up until now. His worry had been his friends' heavy-footedness, but even that hadn't seemed to bother Harry. Narrowing his eyes at the bespectacled wizard, Draco reached between his friends' shoulders to point his mother's wand at Harry. He wasn't going to let him get away this time -- things would change for the better if he could just deliver him as the Dark Lord had asked. "That's my wand you're holding, Potter." Frustrated by the interruption, Harry turned on his heel to face the three Slytherins. He should have known things were going too well. "Not anymore," he said, huffing his words impatiently and keeping his eyes on the wand pointed at him. He tightened his fist around the wand in his hand, knuckles turning white with the effort. He lifted it slightly, both to protect himself from whatever Draco might throw at him and to rub the possession of what was once Draco's wand in the Slytherin's face. "Winners, keepers, Malfoy. Who's lent you theirs?" There was a smugness to his voice. Harry knew that, no matter whose wand Draco had managed to get his hands on, it was the wand that he held that worked the best for him. "My mother," Draco said. There was a flicker of embarrassment across his face before he replaced it with the cold and practiced sneer he'd always reserved for Potter and his lot. He glanced down at his wand -- his wand, in Harry's hand -- and tightened his grip on the one in his possession. He wanted to eliminate the smugness from his voice and in that moment his hatred was difficult to contain. He'd had his fill of Harry fucking Potter and now he was going to be the one to put an end to it. Despite the fact that he was cornered and outnumbered, Harry laughed. Sure, the situation itself wasn't all that funny, but the fact that Draco was holding his mummy's wand sure as hell was and that made it easier not to think about the fact that Ron and Hermione seemed to no longer be in earshot. He definitely had his moments of arrogance, but even he recognised that he was in trouble if they didn't rejoin him and soon. "So how come you three aren't with Voldemort?" he asked a little louder than was necessary on the off chance that Ron and Hermione might overhear him. Vincent Crabbe had to stop himself from flinching at the name - despite his intentions to pledge himself to He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Named as soon as he could (possibly even this night), the actual name of the Dark Lord still struck terror into his heart. "We're gonna be rewarded," Crabbe answered, wondering how the stupid Potter boy could be so daft. If they could catch Potter, the Dark Lord would honour them greatly - titles, power, women, pastries - and they knew Potter better than most of the actual Death Eaters. It wouldn't be too hard. "We 'ung back, Potter. We decided not to go. Decided to bring you to 'im." Harry managed to resist rolling his eyes at Crabbe's answer, but he couldn't quite manage to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. "Good plan," he said slowly, as if it really did impress him that they'd stumbled across such a brilliant idea. Still, it was hard not to feel frustrated by the situation. He was nearly there, nearly had the diadem in his grasp, and two brainless idiots and Malfoy were going to stop him? He could feel a fight looming over the four of them and he slowly slid his feet along the floor, edging backwards towards the bust. He'd be fine with a fight so long as he had the diadem in his possession first. "So how did you get in here?" he asked, trying to keep their attention on his words rather than his change in position. "I virtually lived in the Room of Hidden Things all last year," Draco said, tone somewhat bitter -- lot of good that had done him. "I know how to get in." He'd run himself into the ground trying to fix that stupid Vanishing Cabinet so that the Death Eaters could get into the school. He had endured some of the darkest and most miserable moments of his life in this room, desperate just to fix the thing, keep his family safe, give the Dark Lord what he wanted. Sometimes he found himself wishing that he'd just killed the Headmaster and been done with it -- that he'd been strong enough just to perform that one curse on some one he didn't even like. His life would be different if he had. Better, no doubt. Goyle was standing there, trying to be as intimidating as possible. It usually wasn't something he had to make an effort to accomplish but this wasn't an ordinary day. The Dark Lord would be welcoming them with their hostage and all would end well. He tilted his head, as if trying to solve a puzzle of some sort, and he looked straight ahead at Harry. "We was hiding in the corridor outside," Goyle informed him, sounding rather proud of their plan. "We can do Diss-lusion Charms now!" He was beaming now because it had been something that he had worked very hard on. "And then you turned up right in front of us and said you was looking for a die-dum! What’s a die-dum?" "A bust," Ron repeated, shrugging and glancing at Hermione for another second before his attention was pulled back to the endless amount of stuff, treasure and rubbish alike, along the shelves. It didn't exactly feel like they had been walking that long, but he still wondered if they were going to end up lost, forever stuck looking around for some bloody git-bust-wanker person wearing a diadem. Up until this point, the Gryffindor hadn't been able to really hear anything other than his and Hermione's footsteps and the quiet, though still distracting, breathing that was leaving Hermione's lips. But now was not the time to think about Hermione's breathing, especially when the hairs on the back of Ron's neck stood up as he heard a faint deep voice echoing through the air. Or maybe he just thought he heard something, but he stretched his hand out and stopped Hermione from walking any further. "Harry?" he suddenly called, definitely not speaking with that indoor voice his mum used to lecture him about. Whispering Harry Harry Harry over and over again under his breath wouldn't help matters any, though. "Are you talking to someone?" Someone other than us? he added in his head, craning his neck and trying to perk his ears up. Crabbe, from Draco's side, heard perhaps the most annoying sound in the whole entire world to him - Ron Weasley: the sound of poor. A smirk crossed his face as he whipped out his wand, pointing it at the tall pile of junk next to him. This would serve him right. "Descendo! Yes, Ron was definitely hearing voices; there was no way that they were all in his head. He had nearly forgotten that Hermione was even there with him as he lunged his body forward and started to move down the aisle they had just come from. Everything started shaking a moment later, causing Ron to come to a halt so quickly that he almost fell forward. "What the--" he muttered, watching as the tall shelves to his left started to shake and quiver. Something round and shiny, like a crystal ball, teetered off the ledge and slammed to the floor, cracking and exploding into a hundred pieces. Then another, and another, too many to count. Ron jumped backward and started to push at Hermione to safety, not caring whether or not she tried to stop him. Hermione had been surprised when Ron started to make his way back to the already visited aisle. Then she, too, heard voices coming from the other side of the room, and began to follow him, until the ground started to shake. She took his arm, trying to regain her balance so that she wouldn't fall -- and then that was when, this time, they both heard the sound of various items crashing on to the floor. She didn't even stop him when he pushed her; she was also tugging on his arm to move somewhere else. That was a surprisingly intelligent move on Crabbe's part and Harry might have wasted a moment being mildly impressed if it hadn't been his friends on the other side of the wall. "Ron!" he shouted, just as he heard Hermione scream from somewhere beyond the mountain of other people's abandoned junk. Panic rose in his chest as he heard the sound of more and more things falling onto them. "Finite!" he yelled, pointing Draco's wand at the wall and relaxing only when it finally steadied itself "No!" Draco shouted, reaching out to grab Crabbe's arm and prevent him from casting the spell again. Why couldn't he understand the importance of this situation? If they were able to find what Harry wanted, they could lead him right to the Dark Lord without his even knowing. "If you wreck the room you might bury this diadem thing!" Diadem? What was a diadem? It certainly wasn't food, and it wasn't anything that Crabbe had heard about either. It probably wasn't important and Draco was probably just trying to boss him around again. "What's the matter?" he asked, yanking his arm away from Draco's grasp. "It’s Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about a die-dum?" Draco didn't understand what Crabbe was missing about this. If Harry wanted it, then the Dark Lord would probably be interested in whatever it was as well. And if they could produce the diadem, Potter would likely follow. They needed to get it before Harry and his friends could, but that obviously couldn't happen if they destroyed the whole place. "Potter came in here to get it," he said, his tone a bit sharper than he'd intended, "so that must mean—" "'Must mean?'" No way, Crabbe was through with this. He was fed up. Draco really was just trying to boss him around. "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished." Everyone had been saying it - the Malfoys were incompetent, not dedicated to the Dark Lord, lazy. He had tried to defend his friend at first, but the ideas had seeped into his brain and he soon accepted them. After all, Draco had made him impersonate a girl for hours and hours at a time. And if this diadem was really that important, why hadn't Draco found it while he was wasting time in this very room? Crabbe glared at his 'friend.' He had probably been sitting around eating sweets the entire time and not even sharing. Ron was lucky that both he and Hermione had not been hit with anything that was tumbling all around them. Now he was completely convinced that there was someone else in there with them; Harry was desperate to find this diadem, but he didn't seem desperate enough to start knocking things over with notice or warning. He didn't want to keep going further into the unfamiliar rows of stuff, where the voices he thought he heard were getting fainter, so he instead trudged forward in the direction of the noises, which seemed to be coming from the other side of where a lot of the rubbish had hit the ground. He was a smart one, that Ron Weasley. "Harry?" he called again, holding his wand at the ready, "what's going on?" Ugh, it was Weasley again. Crabbe could practically smell the poor, and it was getting closer. "Harry?" he mimicked in his best annoying and nasally voice. It was rather easy to sound like a Weasley, he thought, amused at himself. "What's going on-" There was movement in the corner of his eye and Crabbe saw Potter diving at something. He turned, quickly, wand pointed straight at the stupid Boy Who Lived. "No, Potter! Crucio!" Draco took in a sharp breath when he heard Crabbe using the Cruciatus Curse. This was just stupid and not what they were supposed to be doing at all! He was almost relieved when the curse missed Harry and might have taken a step closer to see what was happening for himself had he not been distracted by trying to prevent Crabbe from cursing him with anything else. It appeared that the bust Harry had been trying to reach had taken the brunt of the curse and flew up into the air, something falling off its head and into the rubble with the rest of the junk people brought in here. "STOP!" Draco yelled, staring at Crabbe with wide eyes, almost flinching when he heard his own voice echoing back at him across the room. He reached for his arm again, hoping that he wouldn't do anything else as stupid as that. "The Dark Lord wants him alive—" Crabbe had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "So?" he whinged, yelling at Draco now. "I'm not killing him, am I?" He threw off the blonde boy's arm once again and took a step forward. "But if I can, I will, the Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what's the diff - ?" Hermione arrived just in time to see that there was a one versus three people dueling going on, and she had also seen Crabbe attempting to use the Cruciatus Curse. Her eyes widened and she placed her hands over her mouth as he aimed the curse at Harry, but fortunately it missed. Suddenly feeling a surge of anger and protection for her best friend, she ran around the corner so that she was behind him and sent a stunner aimed directly at Crabbe's head. From behind Harry, Draco saw the red light of Hermione's stunner heading straight toward Crabbe's head. With a quickness and strength that could only be chalked up to an surge of adrenaline, he yanked on Crabbe's arm one last time and pulled him out of the way. In spite of the comment he'd made about he and his father, he was still Draco's friend -- he couldn't let him get hurt. No one had to get hurt. Now that Hermione and Ron were there, he knew that this was only going to get progressively more complicated, but at least his friend was safe for now. All Crabbe's annoyance and frustration at Draco was gone when he realised that he had been pulled out of the way of the mudblood's spell. The frustration turned to anger, anger directed at Hermione. She had gone too far - didn't she know her place? He was pure and she was just a dirty ugly mudblood. "It's that mudblood!" he yelled. "Avada Kedavra!" She would get her just desserts. And then he would get dessert. Perhaps it was the distance that played a role in it, but Hermione managed to dive aside just in time to evade the curse, though truth to be told she was both surprised and relieved that she managed not to get hit by it. For a moment she kept herself on the ground, her heart beating very fast from hearing that incantation and the fact that she was still alive. Had Crabbe just attempted to use the Killing Curse? Harry was both extremely relieved that Hermione had managed to dodge the curse and incensed with Crabbe for attempting to kill his friend. It was easier to focus on his anger, though, and he turned to Crabbe with a hard glare. He couldn't even find the words to convey his fury and so he aimed his wand at Crabbe, shooting a Stunner at him instead. Crabbe wasn't normally quick, but this time he was fortunately able to jump out of the way of the Stunner. Unfortunately, however, was that Draco was standing in just the place he jumped to, and he ended up knocking Draco's wand out of his hand, the piece of wood rolling into a large stack of furniture and books and things and then out of sight. Draco paused for a moment in disbelief -- he'd lost another wand. His mother's wand. What, exactly, was he supposed to do now? He didn't have much time to consider it, since both his friends with wands were aiming at Harry, probably furious and considering doing something severe. "Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!" he yelled, waving his hand at them in hopes that they'd both lower their wands. He didn't want to think about what might happen to them if they killed him -- Voldemort's wrath was not something he ever wished to face. Harry was still somewhat taken aback by the fact that Vincent Crabbe knew how to perform Unforgivables, but there would be time to ponder that later. For now, he took advantage of the distraction of Draco's words and, aiming his wand at Goyle, shouted "Expelliarmus!" Goyle had been about to cast his own Unforgiveable but Potter was quick. The wand flipped from his hands and landed against one of the piles with a clatter. He found himself torn between two options. He could go after Potter and hope that brute strength would win out over a wand or he could abandon his attack and retrieve his wand. In the end it wasn't a difficult decision and he threw himself against the mound of throwaways, desperately scrambling around in search of the wand that had been lost. Hermione had already gotten up from where she had been before, and she told herself to focus, even though it was difficult because she was still a bit shaken up by what had happened before. Nevertheless, she aimed another stunner, this time aimed towards Draco, who seemed to be wandless at that moment -- but it missed, most probably because she was too far away from him to be aiming accurately. Now that Ron could see what the hell was going on, he was pretty sure that he was going to enjoy this. Not that wandering around in a crumbling Room Of Requirement with The Slytherin Bunch was the way he enjoyed spending his nights, but whatever. He had no problem with throwing curses at those three when he had to, and right now...well, he had to. The distance between him and Crabbe wasn't exactly ideal, but he was such a big target that Ron didn't think his Body-Bind Curse could possibly miss. Or perhaps it could, and it did, a spectacle which stunned the Gryffindor and caused a rather dumbfounded expression to come over his face. Crabbe saw a flash of light behind him and whirled around to find himself face to face with a Weasley. Again. Hadn't he already hexed him? "Avada Kedavra!" he screamed, the hatred in his heart filtering out into his curse. The curse didn't hit though, and Ron was out of the way and out of sight before Vincent could even blink. With all of the chaos exploding around them, Draco felt extremely vulnerable without his wand. He had absolutely no way to protect himself and his friends both seemed distracted with both sending and dodging curses. Out of desperation, Draco scurried to hide behind a three-legged wardrobe, which would hopefully keep him at least somewhat safe until this situation had been diffused. His pleas for them to stop fell upon deaf ears, no matter how loud he shouted. He was both afraid for his own safety, his friends' and Harry's -- they needed him alive. As the chaos kept going on, Hermione decided that the best course of action was to be near Harry and the Slytherins if she wanted her spells to actually work. This time, there was no hesitation coming from her. She charged towards the Slytherins, gripping her wand and concentrating hard on the spells she was about to use. Once she was close enough, she aimed a Stupefy at Goyle, and this time, she didn't miss. Well, Crabbe wasn't going to stop there just because he couldn't see the Weasley any longer. He wanted him dead, just like he wanted that stupid ugly Mudblood dead and the Potter boy dead. If he could kill them all, then perhaps the Dark Lord would reward him. Well, if he couldn't see Weasley to kill him, there was always another way. He could burn him out - cook him like a pheasant in the oven. Raising his wand, he cast one of the newer spells that the Carrows had taught him - fiendfyre! Harry's frustration multiplied as what was supposed to be an easy task to get one of the final Horcruxes fell apart before his very eyes. Bloody Slytherins. The diadem had disappeared into one of the piles of various junk and he'd missed seeing where it landed. While he wasn't exactly thrilled with the Slytherins' presence, the diadem was more important. Someone needed to look for it. Seeing Hermione coming towards him, he waved a finger at the pile he thought he'd seen the diadem fall into, "It's somewhere here! Look for it while I go and help R--" She nodded quickly, her eyes now going over to where Harry had gestured -- but then out of the corner of her eye she saw something shiny and red -- was that fire? It looked more than just a fire; it was forming into shapes of beasts that she had seen in the Care of Magical Creatures textbook. "HARRY!" she screamed, hoping that would get his attention since he didn't seem to notice the fire's presence. Still frustrated over the fact that his curse had missed Crabbe and all his fat, Ron was a few seconds away from trying again when the Slytherin suddenly seemed very eager to prove everyone wrong and actually successfully fight back. But this wasn't exactly what he had been expecting; since when was Crabbe able to do that? Whatever the hell that was! "Bloody hell!" he yelped, witnessing the flames moments before everyone else got to. It was only fire, sure, but it seemed so wild, so impossible to tame. Without even thinking, he took off running a second or two after Crabbe had, though he had caught up and sprinted by him after only a few paces. The temptation to push him and hope he broke his head was overruled by the simple urge to just run. Crabbe started laughing as he watched the fire consuming the stacks of junk and books and debris in the room. It was getting hotter and more wild like he had been told Fiendfyre would, and Crabbe was smart enough to heed the warning to get out of its way once it started to get crazy. He wasn't smart enough, however, to listen when the Carrows explained how to control it, but he figured he wouldn't really need that part of it ever. Now, for instance, he wanted the entire room to go up in flames. He also hoped that the Gryffindors would still be inside when it did. "Like it hot, scum!?" he yelled at Weasley whom he now spotted out of the corner of his eye. Though Harry had no idea what spell Crabbe had just used, he was sharp enough to realise that they were in serious trouble. Not only did Crabbe seem to have no control over whatever he'd just used, entire walls of other people's things were turning to ash within seconds of being touched by the giant, roaring flames. He had a brief urge to simply watch in horror, but the diadem. He still needed to find the diadem and he needed to get his friends out of there alive. "Aguamenti," he shouted, pointing his wand at the flames and gaping when his own spell simply evaporated in the flames' wake. Forget serious trouble, they were screwed if they didn't hurry. "RUN!" Harry bellowed, turning on his heel and doing just that. Taking hold of Goyle's shoulders, Draco dragged him toward the exit, hoping that he'd be able to get him out of there safely before the fire grew too out of control. With Harry and his friends following closely behind them and Crabbe running ahead, the fire pursued them form the rear. It seemed to have a mind of its own, twisting and curling along in its mission to destroy them. The blaze took the form of a herd of ferocious beasts, each devouring the contents of the Room of Hidden Things as they roared on. Serpents, chimaeras and dragons threw up their heads as they swallowed every item, small and large, that they encountered. The Slytherins were moving fast enough that they were out of sight by now, but the fire was getting closer to them, eating away the items around them. Hermione wasn't sure what to do. She had probably came across this kind of fire somewhere in a book, but she couldn't re-call what it was. For one thing, it didn't even work against the Aguamenti Harry had cast. She could already feel the flame's burning hotness from where she was as it got closer to them. “What can we do?” Hermione screamed over the deafening roars of the fire. “What can we do?” The flames wiped away Harry's annoyance and all that was left was desperation. Even the diadem was the furthest thing from his mind and Hermione's harried words did little to soothe his fraying nerves. Wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as he looked around for a way out, he spotted two old broomsticks nearby. "Here," he shouted. He reached for both brooms and tossed one at Ron before mounting his own and taking to the smoke heavy air. This was madness. He could barely see through the thick smoke and the sweat building on his face caused his glasses to slip awkwardly down from the bridge of his nose, but he still swept his eyes over the flames. The three Slytherins were still missing and, with a pang, he realised he couldn't just allow them to die in this room, engulfed by these flames. He dipped lower, trying to avoid the flames but still trying to see if he could find them. Brooms. Ron could handle brooms. They were moving so quickly that he was mildly afraid that he wouldn't be able to keep himself and Hermione sturdy on his broom, but instincts took over the moment he and Hermione were both seated and they were inching quickly off the ground. They were going to make it! Both he and Harry were good riders, so as long as they both managed to control themselves and not do anything rash, none of their limbs would end up extra crispy. After a few seconds of gaining height, Ron noticed that Harry was actually descending. "Harry, let's get out, let's get out!" he shouted, unable to grasp the fact that Harry wanted to give up their freedom, which was so close, for them. Was he barking bad?! Ron heard a scream and ignored it, trying not to picture one of them getting stuck down there and screaming in such a way. "It's too dangerous!" That scream belonged to Draco -- he was cornered along with Goyle's unconscious form by mountains of fire that had gone out of Crabbe's control. He pulled Goyle closer to him, hoping to keep him as far out of reach of the flames as he could. "Please, please," he begged to no one in particular. There was nothing that either he or his friend could do besides wait and hope that it would stop before they were dead. The heat from the flames caused Draco's pale skin to grow slick with sweat and he felt almost as though he was suffocating. Harry knew that. He knew it was too dangerous, but even as the words came out of Ron's mouth he was turning his broom around to head in the direction of the scream that he almost hadn't heard over the roar of the flames. As much as Harry disliked Draco and his two sidekicks, he didn't think anyone deserved to end in this. Frantically, he searched, looking for any indication that there was someone alive amidst the monstrous fire. Then, when he was nearly ready to simply give up and fly towards the exit, he saw Draco and he dived towards him. Draco could hardly believe it when he saw Harry sweeping through the flames on a broomstick, coming to help him, of all people. He wasn't about to question the gesture, though, and reached up to take Harry's hand. But the flames were too hot -- his entire body was damp and his palm was too slippery and Goyle far too heavy for them to heave onto the broomstick. Goyle slid from Draco's grip even as he strained to keep hold of them. Crabbe was nowhere in sight. Ron felt like screaming. Though he probably was, all his sounds were suddenly meshing into roars of annoyance. "IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I’LL KILL YOU, HARRY!” The fire was everywhere, so hot that he thought his skin was going to start melting off as he jumped off the broom so quickly that he almost fell forward. Goyle was even more humongous up close and when he was forced to put his hands on him, but now was not the time for praying that the broom could hold them all. They had to act fast, and fast was just how Ron acted as soon as Goyle, Hermione, and himself were all in place. They flew back into the air once more, swerving slightly. "The door, get to the door, the door!" Draco screamed in Harry's ear as the broom sped up behind Ron, Hermione and Goyle's. There was smoke everywhere, covering everything that wasn't already covered in thick, enchanted fire. Draco could hardly breath, especially not when Harry's broom veered off into a different direction that was not the right way. "What are you doing, what are you doing, the door's that way!" he screamed, clinging tighter to Harry's back as he dove into the explosion of junk that people had deposited in the room over the years. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping that Harry had a clue what he was doing. He didn't want to die -- didn't want to spend his last few minutes disregarding the intimate closeness between himself and his so-called worst enemy. Just as he'd turned to leave, Harry had spotted the diadem flying through the air as the creatures in the cursed fire tossed various objects in the air to, he assumed, devour and turn to ash. He ignored Draco shrieking in his ear and even managed to ignore the fact that he and the Slytherin were in uncomfortably close quarters, because the diadem was that important. He dived, putting his years as a Seeker to good use and just barely catching it around his wrist before it became lunch. The creature whose lunch he'd just stolen followed him and Harry flew upwards, eyes intently searching for the exit as Malfoy attempted to cut off the circulation to his lower half with his tight grasp. Then, there it was. There was the exit and gunned for it, mentally thanking whatever company had been responsible for this broomstick because it was serving him well. He flew through the opening and right into the wall opposite the Room of Requirement, but it didn't matter because the air out in the corridor was clean and he'd managed to get both him and Draco out alive. Alive, indeed. But Draco wasn't as relieved as he might have been if none of that had happened in the first place and he still had his mother's wand -- or his own, for that matter. The collision with the wall caused him to fall off the broomstick and onto the floor, where he coughed to get the smoke out of his lungs and gasped for clean air to replace it. The taste of soot on his teeth and tongue was too much for him and he gagged, vomiting all over the floor. It took him several moments to catch his breath again, and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, Draco looked up to see that Ron and Hermione had made it as well as Goyle, who was still unconscious. The door to the Room of Requirement that had opened for them was gone, now, and Draco doubted whether or not the room inside would ever open for anyone again after what had just transpired. What did that mean for Crabbe, who was clearly not with them? "C-Crabbe," Draco said, choking when he tried to speak. The hot smoke from the room and all of the screaming he'd done had left his throat raw. "C-Crabbe..." At least they weren't dead. Well. At least most of them weren't dead. Ron had been able to tell right from the moment they all haphazardly landed that someone was not with them: Crabbe. Now, while Ron normally had the respect to keep his mouth shut and attempt to pull of a sorry expression, he found himself completely and utterly unable to care about the loss of Vincent Crabbe. Seeing Draco Malfoy on the brink of a breakdown would have been a tantalizing experience if the circumstances were different, but seeing as they weren't, Ron just gave him a a rather blank stare. "He's dead." Thankfully, he added harshly in his head. Draco stared open-mouthed at Ron for a moment before putting his head down on his arms and letting out a quiet sob. He couldn't believe it -- he'd grown up with Crabbe, known him all his life, and now he was dead? Sure, he'd had moments before where he really wanted to punch him or something, but he was still his friend. Slowly, he dragged himself over to Goyle's side and tried to wake him up. He stared down at him when he didn't stir, wiping his eyes with his sooty hands and his nose with his sleeve. "Damn it," he said quietly, leaning against Goyle's side without a wand to revive him. What was he supposed to do now? Crabbe was dead, Goyle was unconscious and Draco didn't even have a wand. There was no way he was going to be able to take Harry to Voldemort now. Sometimes life just wasn't fair. "Hellooo, pickle!" It was a poor time to be mocking, but there was Fred with his taunting tone and merciless abandon as he raised and slashed his wand through the air. It would seem to an observer, or those who would look back on the memory, that he was utterly delighted and that this evening in this moment was a quick jaunt in the park. He seemed nearly dandy as he swayed backwards, thrusting and parrying with spells as stocky legs led him into a new corridor. In his opinion, esteemed as it were, this was just becoming fun. Percy was beside him.. Percy! The Weasley family, so divided by this was once more reunited, and it felt like something he could treasure. He was safe with his older brother, despite the fact he was missing his second limb, his partner in crime, the one person who always had his back - literally and figuratively; still, if you wanted to duel alongside with anyone it would be Percy. He had no doubt Percy had a technical manual on how to restrain Death Eaters. He'd have to ask when it was done. For the moment, he was content to tease his opponent, whistling cheerfully. This was getting a bit boring, though. He wanted to end this little fight and find George, and Angelina - very much so Angelina, and have a biscuit. He was simply famished. "Perce, what do you say? Let's give them hell and Weasley spitfire and find mum. Reckon she has tea?" And with that he calmly executed back-to-back-to-back stunning spells with such accuracy it was nearly admirable. The hooded man who was dueling Percy Weasley stepped to the side as he dodged a red flash of light coming at him from one direction, then nearly lost his footing as two bolts of blue flares flew by him from the other side. He took several steps backward too quickly as the man he was fighting with advanced on him, and his hood slipped back from the momentum, revealing the man to be not a Death Eater proper, but Pius Thicknesse, the Minister for Magic. Percy Weasley couldn't remember the last time that he was so exhilarated. He was fighting, finally doing what he knew was a long time in coming, and alongside his brother, too. It would have been a lie to say that Fred was his favourite sibling, or even that they ever got along, but he was his brother nonetheless, and his presence and good humour was bracing, comforting as they fought together. He wasn't even surprised to see his opponent's hood fall off and realise that he was dueling the man he had worked for this whole year. He had known since the summer the man was likely in under the Imperius Curse, and now that he finally had the courage to defy him, he felt as though he was soaring. "Hello, Minister!" he cried, and with a wave of his wand, sent a quick Urchin Jinx Thicknesse's way that would make his skin crawl... before he turned into a sea urchin. "Did I mention I'm resigning?" He looked to grin at his brother as the spell hit. There hadn't been enough time for Thicknesse to block the spell that Percy had shot, and as the light collided with him, he could feel his skin beginning to crawl, a painful burning sensation consuming every inch of him. His wand fell from his hands and clattered across the stone floor, and he dropped with a thud to his knees, clawing away at the front of his robes as if it could somehow make the agonising pain that was worsening go away. But tiny black spikes suddenly erupted and pierced through every inch of his skin, Transfiguring him into a bizarre human sea urchin of some unholy sort. A cheer escaped Fred's throat as the Death Eater he was dueling collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. Yes! His three stunning spells hit their target with such force and power that he was even impressed. His chest swelled up as he looked sidelong to his brother with thumbs raised. His eyebrows wiggled as he looked down at Thicknesse. Did Percy want to serve him up for a posh sushi dinner? "You're joking, Perce!" He exclaimed in surprise - half mock and half actual. What had happened to Percy? Whatever it was, Fred was ecstatic. This was his older brother, the one he used to play with when they were children, before being a prefect, before doing things by the book, before being an adult. The admiration he felt for his brother in that moment was tantamount. That was his brother. HIS brother who just floored the minister, WHO MADE A JOKE! Fred could not allow that to pass him by and with a childish glee so reminiscent of their youth he began to speak, "You actually are joking, Perce. . . . I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were—" And then the air went unnaturally quiet. Stalking along in the shadows, wand at the ready, Augustus Rookwood spotted his chance. A group of five, five students (well, some of them might have been a little older but it was all the same to him), up against Thicknesse. His eyes glinted as he imagined killing all of them, and if Thicknesse ended up being a casualty, he wasn't technically a Death Eater anyway, and Rookwood had no loyalty to him. Blasting curses. Multiple blasting curses at the external wall of the castle, several feet thick and with enough stone to bury them all. Blasting curses to the ceiling, to the floor, to anything explodable around them. He stayed a moment to watch the results, before running off back down the corridor, in search of more mudbloods and blood traitors. At least to Fred, the room was still, and there was silence. The blast that hit the castle had done so in slow-motion, the rocks, and rubble, flying out in a cluster of boulders and shard that made no sound as they exploded. He'd heard once that sounds could be so loud they were deafening, that somehow they were so noisy they were quiet. It'd been a personal ambition of his to find that out and here - he had succeeded in his goal. It was true. His addled mind as he was thrown through the air, like Ginny chucking a ragdoll down, made note to tell George it was possible and they ought to try it to the chagrin of every parent in the magical world. Couldn't they all imagine - a right perfect soundbomb. Parents nagging? Drown them out! They can't talk if they can't hear! With a shuddering sigh as his body came to rest, he knew he was dying. So this is what it was like, was it? He choked, gurgling up a vicious red liquid that caused his eyes to cross with disgust. That sure wasn't cognac. Before Percy could turn to him, his body collapsed. It'd be nice to take a kip. It'd be a quick one. Time passed so fast. He didn't think of everything he was losing as the final bell tolled for him and the last rock weighed down on his broken, battered body. He just had time to look up at the ceiling and smile, a ghost of a grin, and then it was over with the light refusing to leave his eyes. Before everything started to collapse, Hermione could see what happened to Fred, and then she was being pelted by stones and rubble. Her legs hurt as they tried to move through the rubble on the ground, and, grabbing Harry's hand, she struggled getting through the stone and wood to move forward so that they could be where Ron, Percy and Fred was. And suddenly, nothing made sense anymore... Percy was lying in a pile of rubble, Fred just beside him. Fred... Using his wand to push away some of the stones that had fallen on him, he crawled to where his younger brother lay, an amused expression on his face. He wasn't moving... He wasn't moving and Percy didn't know what to do. He shook him, hard, but Fred still didn't move. Knowing what was true and not wanting to accept it, he held his brother's limp, lifeless body in his arms, not wanting to let go, feeling, somehow, responsible... If he'd cast a Shield Charm fast enough, Fred would not be... Fred would not be... It still felt like they were in the burning Room of Requirement. After that whole little adventure, Ron truly felt like he needed a nap. His hair felt crispy and when he reached up to touch his face something black was left behind on his fingers, but it seemed like everything important was still intact. A lot had been happening outside the walls of the Room of Requirement, apparently, and it hadn't taken long for the Death Eaters to come roaring into Hogwarts and for Ron to witness a duel. It was still bizarre to see Percy there as though nothing had happened with the Weasleys, but it didn't even matter. Everything was happening so quickly, and Ron hardly had time to say a word before he was picking himself up again after another explosion of some kind. But the rocks weighing down his leg was not something he could be bothered with. Fred. He saw Percy hovering over their brother, who was not moving, and the only thing he could do was sink down to his knees and stare at the twin as though he had never seen him before. Harry had to fight his own urge to succumb to despair, relying on his instincts to carry him onward. He jerked his head up, tearing his eyes away from Fred, and surveyed his surroundings. The night wasn't over yet. "Get down!" he yelled, as he spotted curses shooting through the air. He helped Ron grab Hermione by the elbows and tug her to the floor, but Percy wasn't doing anything to protect himself. With a pang, he watched Percy lay his own body over Fred's, but if they didn't move Percy was going to go the same way. "Percy, come on, we've got to move!" He shook his head sadly, but his tone was urgent. He did not even know he was crying. It was just one of those things that had happened on its own. He could remember seeing the body of Fred one second and then helping Harry drag Hermione down to the ground to prevent another round of curses from hitting her. The logical part of Ron's brain was set into motion only by Harry's firm words, so much so that he made his way over to Percy and began to pull at his brother, desperately trying to get him to stop using as his body to shield Fred. It was surreal even to Hermione that Fred was no longer there, and she felt the tears leaving her eyes when she saw his body. It was too strange to comprehend the fact that the Weasley twin was no longer there, that he wasn't going to come back to make jokes and pull off pranks. She glanced at Ron, who was also crying, and the next thing she knew Harry and Ron were both pulling her down so that the spells wouldn't hit her. She wanted the chaos to stop -- if only for just one minute -- so that she could actually have time to let everything sink, but apparently that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Because when she raised her head, she saw a gigantic spider making its way towards them, along with what seemed to be shadows of other spiders following in tow -- and she screamed. Hermione's scream made his internal organs all seem to clench together tightly, but when he looked up he understood her exact reason for making such a noise: Aragog. Bloody hell, why? Why?? Why did Aragog have to appear? Of all the creatures that lurked in the forest! Ron shouted and raised his wand, shooting a blasting curse at the same moment as Harry did, and together their spells managed to hit and send the spider backwards. Relieved that they'd managed to get rid of the one gigantic spider, Harry peered over the edge of the gaping hole in the side of the castle. There were more. "It brought friends!" he shouted over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the spiders climbing up the outer wall of the castle. He shot a few Stunning Spells down at their leader, pleased when it fell into the others and sent them crashing back down to the ground. He jumped back in surprise when several curses flew by his temples, ruffling his hair. "Let's move, NOW!" His voice was loud and urgent as he scrambled away from the hole in wall, nudging Hermione and Ron onwards before crouching down over Fred's body. He hooked his hands under Fred's armpits and tried to move him, but Percy still wasn't budging. Someone was trying to make him let go, but their voices sounded as though they came from a faraway place. There were curses flying every which way, and screams, but Percy did not care. How could Fred have died, when there was still so much to say... He was vaguely aware of Harry trying to pull the body away from the wreckage, and, as though something snapped inside of him, he helped pull Fred out of harm's, not quite believing that he was doing so. "Here," Harry said, as he maneuvered Fred's body towards a nook in the wall to hide it from the abuse of the battle that still raged on. His chest was tight as he evaluated the hiding spot. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do because he didn't think he could look at the corpse of his best friend's brother any longer. He moved away, eyes searching the corridor for his friends before joining them. The broken state of Hogwarts floored him. It was almost insulting, what they were doing to a place he'd once considered home, and there were so much going on that he almost had trouble catching his breath. And then, Percy saw him. A tall figure without a mask, one he knew from conversations and wanted posters. The mad look on his face, as though he were enjoying witnessing the Weasleys' pain, made rage roar up inside of him even stronger than grief. He was chasing students. He would not kill anyone else tonight, not if Percy could help it. And with a scream of "ROOKWOOD!" he tore after him down the corridor. |