Perdition Mods (perdition_mods) wrote in perdition_rpg, @ 2009-05-01 20:55:00 |
|
|||
Parvati Patil (8) vs Gaius Travers Parvati, with her long hair fixed in a plait down her back, tried not to let herself be distracted by the chaos erupting throughout their beloved school. She wanted to simultaneously keep an eye on Dean (who was nearby) and his opposition if it were possible, but she focused the majority of her energy on maintaining the strength of her shield charm, evading the stray curses and hexes that flew in their direction, and throwing a few of her own when given the chance. Once she realised she would be fighting a Death Eater alone, she tried to catch her breath and kept her wand pointed at his chest once he approached her. He still had his mask on, of course, and she thought he looked like a coward in comparison to her. She wanted to go home and curl up next to her mother; she wanted this to be over, but the only way it would end was if she helped bring it to an end. Gaius narrowed his eyes from behind his mask when he saw the girl holding her wand out at him. He doubted that much of anything she could do would be that serious, save maybe a stunner, which would be more of an inconvenience than a real danger, as far as he was concerned. He stopped several metres away, pausing for only a moment before whipping his wand in front of him, casting a shield charm as other duels began erupting around them -- he'd need to be careful of wayward spells, since there was no telling the severity of what might hit him if he let his guard down. When he'd finished, he looked back up at Parvati, inwardly very irritated that he was about to engage in a duel with some little girl who shouldn't have been permitted to fight in the first place. "Do your worst," he said, an edge of sarcasm in his voice, before casting a disarming charm in her direction. Parvati deflected his attack with her shield charm, keeping her eyes locked with his. "You're going to hurt a little girl? I thought your lot was taught to be more respectful of women." She couldn't help but tease, hoping her fear would give her enough adrenaline to survive this encounter. She didn't want to back down, despite him being bigger, stronger and far more skilled in spells she hadn't even begun to learn. She was right -- Gaius had sisters of his own and would have hated to see them in a situation like this under any circumstances. But this was different -- she was the enemy and he had to focus on that rather than the fact that she was a young girl. He couldn't let her get under his skin. "You are not just a little girl," he said, brandishing his wand before him in what he hoped was an extremely menacing manner. "You are one of a future generation of blood-traitors and filth." She was disgusting. She had to be eliminated. "Incendio!" he shouted, aiming his wand at her feet. Parvati shuffled backwards and nearly fell to the floor when she felt the heat from the fire on her feet. Thankful that she didn't completely lose focus, she didn't pause for very long at all before sending her next attack in his direction, knowing he wouldn't show her any mercy. "Confringo!" she shouted ferociously in retaliation; once the spell left her wand, she pointed it down at her feet to put the fire out. Her shield charm flickered. Parvati's spell was deflected off Gaius' shield charm, but the force made him stumble backwards, tripping over one of the snargaluff pods that Peeves had begun dropping on top of them. He hit his head on the wall as he fell backwards, losing focus on maintaining his shield charm, which flickered several times around him before disappearing completely. With narrowed eyes, he scrambled to his feet and aimed his wand for the girl once again. "Levicorpus!" She felt her body being jerked into the air. Caught by surprise, it took her a moment to react to being lifted off the ground, but when she did, she shouted the blasting curse, hoping her aim wouldn't be off and he'd be be thrown into the nearest statue -- knocked out cold and unable to continue fighting. It became difficult to remember everything Dumbledore's Army had taught her about defense -- but she couldn't lose this fight. She wouldn't. She had to go home. Gaius focused on lifting the girl higher and higher into the air until she was almost at the corridor's ceiling. It was then that her blasting curse caught him and sent him flying, once again, back into the wall. Of course, this meant that he could no longer hold his levitation charm. This might have worked out well after all, save for the nasty bruises he'd have after leaving his imprint in the wall. It wasn't enough to prevent him from fighting, though, and for good measure, he brought one of the statues to life with a flick of his wand. An angry looking half-serpent, half-lion sprang into action, waiting hungrily for his prey to drop out of the sky. As soon as Parvati hit the floor, landing on her stomach, the statue charged. Her body ached and she scrambled to get to her feet, but she was knocked on her back as the statue lunged at her. She tried to keep her hand clenched tightly around her wand. If she dropped it, that would be the end of her. With his wand, Gaius held the statue at bay and walked a bit closer to the fallen girl. He knew, too, that without her wand, the fight would be easy and there'd be no reason he couldn't overpower some little girl, not that there was any doubt in his mind with which to begin. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, glaring down at her. Unfortunately for him, Peeves chose that moment to drop a snargaluff pod directly over his head, which fell and hit him hard. He recoiled, sucking in a wincing breath and brining his hand to the back of his head. After several useless hexes aimed at the ghost, he realized that his distraction had caused him to lift his hold on the statue, which roared angrily from its nearby position. When Parvati's wand flew out of her hand, she turned and blindly reached for it. She then realised that it had landed a few feet away, behind her attacker. Never having liked Peeves much, she felt incredibly grateful for his unexpected interruption, as it allowed her to get to her feet and run to where her wand was. She smiled despite herself, and a feeling a comfort surged through her once she felt her wand between her fingers again. She pointed it at the ceiling above Gaius and the animated statue, shouting expulso with enough force that it would hopefully bury them both in rubble. With the ceiling overhead beginning to crumble, Gaius had much worse things to worry about than snargaluff pods. In a last attempt to prevent himself from being crushed by the rubble, he dove beneath the statue's stomach, hoping that it would be able to withstand the beating. Of course, hundreds of pounds of stone falling on top of it had the hapless side effect of cracking the statue in several parts, which fell down on top of Gaius and pinned him. His lungs felt as though they were on fire with each gasping breath he took, but it only lasted for a moment before he blasted the wreckage upward with his wand and relieved himself from any further injury. He'd still had the wind knocked out of him, so he stayed lying flat on his back until he could fill his lungs. Before he was able to stand again, he reached up with his wand and flicked it toward each of the torches lining the corridor until there was a mass of fire suspended above him. With a final movement, he sent the flames at Parvati, the effect of which would hopefully give him enough time to gain his bearings again or at least get to his feet. She watched as the stone cascaded from the ceiling. For a brief moment, she thought he was finished. Unfortunately, once the dust cleared, she saw that he wasn't. Parvati immediately fell to her knees to dodge the flames, but they still licked her left shoulder and the side of her face. She couldn't help but cry out in pain, and as soon as he got to his feet, she ran at him, grabbing him around the waist and tackling him to the ground. She was starting to become frustrated. Of all the counter-attacks that Parvati could have performed, the last thing that Gaius had expected was for her to tackle him. He stumbled backwards, throwing his arms out in an attempt to gain his balance, but he couldn't keep himself from tripping over the fallen stones under his feet and tumbling backward. Had the floor not given way into a staircase, he might have eventually steadied himself, but instead, he dragged Parvati with him as he fell and landed with a groan at the bottom. His mask had fallen off in the process, leaving his face exposed -- not that it mattered. He was going to kill her. At the bottom of the staircase, Parvati luckily landed on top of Gaius. She tried to lift herself off of him, but his hands wouldn't let her loose. She swung her own as fiercely as possible for someone her size, hitting him swiftly in the face as she struggled to get free. Why wouldn't he just give up and go away? Parvati had trouble understanding the mentality of a Death Eater. Gaius was momentarily stunned by the fact that she had just hit him in the face -- did she not realize what he could do to her if he chose? Narrowing his eyes, he swept his arm back and slapped her with the back of his hand, feeling entirely vindicated and not the least bit guilty over having hit a girl. "Maybe that will teach you and your Mudblood-loving ways not to disrespect your elders," he said through clenched teeth. The flippant use of that word angered her. It angered her even more knowing it was coming from a grown man. For Merlin's sake, this fellow had issues. She saw an opportunity to teach him a lesson during their struggle on the marble floor. "Scourgify!" she roared after shoving her wand between his teeth and down his throat. The acrid taste of cleaning solution inside of his mouth and throat caused him to gag almost immediately, his upper body convulsing as he tried to reject her wand and its spell. For a moment, he was frantic, afraid he would drown or suffocate before he could stop her. Jabbing his wand between them, he closed his eyes in concentration and tried to cast a silent Sectumsempra while simultaneously shoving her away from him. He needed air. The Death Eater roughly pushed her away and Sectumsempra tore through her abdomen -- screaming and finding herself on her back, she looked down at where the spell hit. The close proximity caused its damage to be considerably worse than if he were further away. She'd never felt anything quite like that before. Being tortured was bad, but seeing her own blood smeared across her hands seemed exceptionally worse. The grip she had on her wand loosened, but she knew she couldn't let go of it. Scooting backwards and staining the floor with bright red, she used impedimenta next to buy herself some time. Once he'd finally gotten Parvati away from him and her wand out of his mouth, Gaius rolled over and vomited all over the stone floor, coughing and retching for a few moments until he could finally breathe in spite of the caustic burning in his mouth and throat. When Parvati's curse hit him, he felt himself grow sluggish and heavy, each of his movements impeded by some invisible force. It would have been more frustrating if it hadn't also give him time to watch the girl bleeding from her abdomen, which was satisfying after what she'd just put him through. There had been a time when he'd have recoiled, frightened by the sight. But his years in Azkaban had hardened him and pushed death down on his list of the worst things that could happen to a person. It took him what seemed like hours to drag himself closer to her, through the pool of blood that was surrounding her body. By the time he was close enough, the spell was beginning to wear off, his speed coming back bit by bit. With a firm grip, he snatched the end of her plait in his fist, yanking it as hard as he could while his movements were still sedate, and reached with his wand to perform a severing charm on the girl's hair. Helpless, there was little Parvati could do to defend herself when he grabbed her plait. She couldn't stand. Between the pain she felt and the fear of losing, her reactions weren't quick enough. She kind of knew what would be coming next, feeling silly that she only now started to cry. But her hair; she saw it as it flopped to the floor. She tried to fight him, sending at him a spell that would make him immobile for a few moments. Her plan was to then get out, hoping she wouldn't slip on her own blood in the process. When he heard her begin to cast a spell at him, he attempted to grab her wrist and push the wand away, but with the lingering effects of her impedimenta curse, he wasn't fast enough. When the spell hit him, he fell limp, half on top of her. Though the effects would not last long and had likely negated those that had slowed him down, it was still a valuable few moments of immobility, during which Gaius feared that she might somehow gain the upper hand in spite of her injuries. Once again, Parvati struggled to get free of him. She attempted to ignore the pain, as difficult as it was when she could see where his wand had cut her. "Get off of me, you barbarian," she cried, rolling her bloodied body from underneath him, pointing her wand at his face and murmuring furnunculus and then a moment later, the infamous stunning curse, taught to her by Harry. It had saved his life, right? Maybe it'd work for her, too. He certainly wasn't going to get away with cutting off the hair she'd been growing her entire life. He was already ugly; probably alone and bitter -- a sorry excuse for a gentleman, but she didn't pity him. She wanted him dead. She propped herself on her hands and knees to crawl away, hoping the spell would hit him on his mouth and cause him even more pain. As she crawled, she called out for Dean's aid. Fortunately, the lack of mobility from her previous curse only lasted for a few moments and he was soon able to move again, which didn't prevent her Furnunculus Curse from hitting him on the side of his face, causing his skin to erupt with painful boils. He flinched away, removing himself from the path of her following stunner, which hit his and and knocked it out of his hand where it slid to a pause several metres away. It took him a bit to notice, since he was more concerned with the state of his face than his wand or her location, for that matter. By the time he realized, she was already out of his reach and he didn't have time to retrieve his wand without letting her get away. So, he snatched up the plait he'd severed from her hair and lunched after her, slinging it around her neck and pulling back hard with a hand on either end. Using all of his strength and body weight as leverage, he tightened the hair around her throat, holding his breath with concentration. At the bottom of the staircase, Parvati yelled Dean's name again just before Gaius reached her. She actually thought she could get away from him; that she'd triumph over someone stronger than her and run to tell her sister about the accomplishment. It was all about making her proud, after all, and leaving Hogwarts in one piece so they could see their family again. Instead, she found herself unable to go any further. She wildly brought her hands up to her neck, but it seemed fruitless. She did everything she could to fight him off. Her wand, too, clattered on the stone floor, but she no longer possessed the strength to pick it up. Forehead and the back of his neck beginning to bead with sweat, Gaius pulled harder on the braid against Parvati's throat and twisting it in his hands to get a better grip. He sneered as she brought her hands up to her throat and dropped her wand, but that wasn't enough -- he wanted to hear the breath leave her lungs for the last bloody time. It was getting harder to keep his grip as his hands became slick with her blood, so he abandoned the braid after a few minutes and pinned Parvati to the floor, leaning over her to put his hands around her neck. Her eyes reddened and swelled with tears -- they streamed down her cheeks, making them dirty, but she couldn't feel them. She couldn't feel anything except the Death Eater's hands imprinting themselves around her neck. Her airway compressed, her vision blurred and this was not the peaceful death she would have wanted. She had trouble accepting that this was happening to her, because someone would rescue her. Someone had to. A few more agonising seconds passed and she collapsed to the floor, smeared in her own blood. Gaius Travers had succeeded. He held her there for a few moments until he was sure that the last of her breath had left her, the life vacating her body. Slowly, he released his grip on her neck, flexing the muscles in his arm and hands to work out the stiffness that had developed over the last few minutes. There was blood everywhere -- in his mouth, in his nose -- and carefully, he took the clean sleeve of his robes and wiped the dirt, blood and tears from her cheeks. He took a moment to retrieve her wand from where it had fallen earlier, dropping it by her side before he turned to leave. He glanced over his shoulder once, as though worried that she might have some last will left in her, but she never stirred and soon he was out of sight of her body. On to the next one. Dean Thomas vs Antonin Dolohov The front line of battle was never anyplace that Antonin Dolohov liked to be, but he would never in a million years question the Dark Lord. He liked the second wave, the one that had an easier time making it inside the defenses of whereever it was they were attacking, but he knew why the Dark Lord had instructed he be in the front line. He was simply needed. He really didn't think it would be too difficult to break into the castle, and with Lord Voldemort on their side, it wasn't. He found himself on the grounds, a number of stone gargoyles scattered around, though he didn't give that a second thought. Decorating was a woman's concern. Well, he had his orders - push through their front line and enter into the castle - so when he spied a young black boy, he decided he would be an easy enough target to eliminate quickly. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, casting the Killing Curse straightaway. In the midst of all the chaos of battle, there was Dean. He was rocking forward on the tips of his toes in a vain attempt to locate Seamus, or Luna, both of whom he had lost in the fray, and in his frantic, rising panic to find his friends he had not noticed the man creeping up behind him until it was nearly too late. The jet of green erupted from the wand with an eerie illumination that sent him instinctively crashing into a fallen bit of statue. The only reason he'd been able to dodge was all his months on the run, watching and learning from far superior wizards, and silently he sent a prayer of gratitude to where those men were. On his back, breathing heavily, he attempted to roll to his feet before the man realised he was still alive and sent a second. His wand slashed through the air with a desperate cry of "PROTEGO!" as he managed to lumber forward with his ribs contracted inward and his throat grasping for air. The fear was holding onto his heart in an icy grip as he lunged for the entrance to the castle to catch his breath and recover before engaging. He didn't think he'd have much chance, though, knowing how close the man was behind him. Dolohov was surprised at the strength of the boy's shield charm, though he would not admit it. He had managed to dodge Antonin's killing curse, but the boy seemed primarily on the defensive, and from that Antonin knew that before long the boy would be dead under his wand. Dean was now standing somewhat behind the gargoyle, he noticed, but that would be no problem. "Confringo!" His aim was true, but something was wrong - the stone gargoyle only steps away from Antonin suddenly moved, hitting away the spell with it's hand. The hand exploded, but the gargoyle didn't even seem to notice. It began to attack the Death Eater, coming closer to him and jumping straigt onto him, knocking Antonin to the ground. He struggled with it on the ground for a moment, finally managing to get his wand into the right position. "Depulso! he shouted, sending it away from him, then aimed his wand straight back to where the boy had been standing moments before. "Incendio!" With his chest heaving from the exertion, Dean didn't hesitate to seize advantage of the interruption. That gargoyle, inanimate creature animated in his best friend, deserved a nice rub on the head when this was all done. He mentally filed away the need for a fitting tribute to the stone protectors of Hogwarts, his lips curving upwards at how absurd it was that he was thinking of artwork when the killing curse was flying beside him. He made a neat pivot on the back of his foot as the gargoyle pushed Dolohov down and drew himself up with his wand raised. "Stupefy," he roared, his timing place his spell against the jinx thrown at him. The fire sputtered against the sleeve of his robe, igniting the material in a blaze of light that cast eerie shadows over both his face and the man. For a moment, he looked up, his eyes calm and not yet filled with terror to gaze on the masked face of the other man. He swept a searching look over the dark hood before he reacted, panic rising. His arm shook as he juggled it up and down, forgetting to use a dousing spell as the fire leapt further and licked it's way to his shoulder. He could smell his own burning flesh and it repulsed him, further inhibiting his mind from sending a signal to FIX IT. The months with nothing but survival on his mind taught him to fight, however, and as he shook with fear and his throat closed around his inability to do anything with the incendio out of the very real truth that this was very real and very really happening, he was still able to move around to keep himself from becoming a target. Dancing on his feet, he ducked and weaved before the searing heat in his arm sent a shock signal to his brain and he reacted, finiting the magical fire with a muttered incantation. His eyes narrowed into slits of hatred, knowing well aware how damaged his arm was. He could feel an itchy, crawling sensation along his skin and his arm hung limply there. "Deprimo!" His wand moved up and slashed, his good arm working well. His feet carried him backwards, desperate to get into the castle and find someone to help. He was a kid, he wasn't sure he could take on a Death Eater alone, especially when his left arm was unwilling to bend at the elbow. A Shield Charm was more than enough to take care of Dean's Blasting Curse and with a wave of his wand, ensure himself some level of protection against the stone creature that, in spite of having had one of its legs completely removed, was still somehow able to charge at him. With a weary sigh, Antonin waved his wand a second time at the statue and two others that had leaped up to join it, returning to his normal, complacent state as the two and three-fourths gargoyles changed at him, sculpted claws of stone ready to attack. He folded his arms across his chest, his Shied Charm flickering from the amount of magic he'd drained from it to manipulate the creatures' alliances. He doubted he'd need it, anyway, once the taloned beasts were through with the boy. Prick! The thought ran through Dean's head as he struggled with coming to terms with the fact something was VERY WRONG with his arm and that his gargoyles, once his allies, were now menacing on him. "Finite Incantatem!" He chanted, his eyes darting quickly between all the gargoyles as he repeated it, and repeated it, and continued to repeat it with futile hope he could stop their change of allegiance. He knew he couldn't be on the defensive much longer if he wanted to survive. He could leap, and roll, and duck for only so long. Seeing the shield charm flicker he cocked a half-smile, the rage inside him for his arm (he couldn't think of, his throat bubbled with vomit when he did) manifesting in real hatred. "Incarcerous!" Had the gargoyles stopped? He was scared, and shaking, his fingers working on overtime to keep his wand gripped. There was no doubt he was going into shock from the damage inflicted from the fire. He cast his eyes down and gasped, leaving himself vulnerable to an attack. The skin was bunched up and sagging underneath the weight with blistering sores oozing blood that stood out in stark contrast against the night. His arm, his arm, HIS ARM. Mortification came over him and the bile rose in his throat once more, bubbling up so he had to spit beside him as he scrambled backwards desperate to get away with his face transfixed on staring at the hooded one. Who was it? "Coward!" He spat, a mixture of word, and bile, and spit. Without flinching, Antonin allowed the ropes to coil around his legs and middle, constricting him as they advanced. All the while, he was unconcerned, relaxed and maybe slightly annoyed at the inconvenience, though it would allow him to show the boy that his silly little tricks were not going to work when he was fighting against a real wizard. From inside the twisted rope, he flicked his wand minutely toward the ropes, which released him and fell, smoldering to the ground, leaving the smell of singed grass in his nose -- or perhaps it was the smell of Dean's arm. How repulsive. Perhaps he should remove it for him. Slicing his wand in the air, he cast a silent Sectumsempra, smirking as he awaited the impact. But before the spell could reach him, one of the gargoyles that had been only temporarily stunned blocked his path in an attempt to attack Dean itself. The man's pleased expression slackened into one of annoyance as he reached forward with his wand to levitate the stone beast out of his way and sent it running into the castle where it could wreak its havoc without interfering with his. Slowly, he advanced on the boy and channeled his irritation through his wand, "Crucio!" And that one caught. Blinding pain seized Dean as he fell into the stone steps with a short, sharp gasp of air. He did what he had been taught by Cresswell and Tonks: fill your lungs and breathe through the pain. If he hadn't been with such a fine pair of wizards, he would not have survived this far, and he felt a pang of regret he was doing so poorly against the man behind him. The curse wrapped itself around him like a blanket, smothering his sense and drowning him from the world. He couldn't hear himself scream as his body convulsed and jerked without his accord, but perhaps he wasn't. He couldn't tell as he squeezed his eyes together tighly, desperate to not cry and give that man satisfaction. Holding the curse on the boy, Antonin closed the rest of the distance between them until he was standing over him, staring down at him, bored by what he was seeing. Of course he was in pain and would writhe about, but such curses had lost their appeals after he'd spent so long in Azkaban and used them so many countless times. He held it a bit longer anyway before he finally lifted it and reached out with his foot to kick him in the shoulder, rolling him onto his back. "Have you had enough yet, boy?" His chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm as the curse wore off and Antonin lumbered over him. It seemed so unnatural he should breathe so calmly as he gulped in the fresh air. Dean was alive and he wanted to savor it. That life should end so suddenly was something he had only come to embrace and in doing so, the fear of death was lost on him. His serene smile glanced up the Death Eater before he curled his lip and spit at the slits in the hood. "Not at all." With the spit dripping off the hood, Dean immediately kicked his leg up. His foot pushed hard against the groin of the other man, knowing that such a trick was decidedly revealing of his muggle heritage and increased the likelihood of stronger retaliation. Knowing he had only a few moments before Antonin recovered Dean flicked his wrist and sent off a jelly-fingers curse, hoping to dislodge the wand from the other man. Antonin recoiled from the boy upon the impact of his shoe and hunched over, wheezing from the effects of being kicked there. He was far too old a man to deal with these shenanigans and filthy Muggle-style fighting. He'd had enough of that back when his assignments were to torture them for the Dark Lord, but now he had graduated to fighting children, which were just as bad, if not worse. It took him a moment to recover from the pain and indignity, but his patience was pushed to its absolute limit by the time he was able to straighten up again (resisting the urge to curl into himself again as the soreness refused to leave him). The jelly-fingers curse that Dean had fired at him hit him right in the shoulder as he switched positions, rendering the fingers in his left hand completely useless. However, Antonin could easily remedy this with a Finite Incantatem, after which he pointed his wand at the Gryffindor once more. "Mobilicorpus!" he shouted, flicking his wand upward to pull him into the air. Dean almost laughed at the comedy of seeing the Death Eater hunched over. Welcome to London! He wanted to shout it, pump his fist, and then remind the man before him that sometimes magic doesn't inflict as much pain as the regular tactics from the streets of Fulham, but that was the child in him and he was steeling up to being an adult. All fear and its traces were gone and he did not feel the need to run. His arm was still smarting, limp and smoldered, and he willed himself to continue to ignore it. He had to tell himself it could be fixed. It could, couldn't it? The hesitation, the doubt, it clouded over him when he should have been running. He stood there, unsure. He didn't want to abandon this fight even though he had a golden moment to retreat, to find his friends, to get reinforcements, to check on his sodding, useless arm. And why? Why was he still there? This man, with a hood on, he was any of those men who'd murdered and tortured. He knew he couldn't beat him, but he could hurt him, and if Dean lost his life in the process, perhaps someone else could finish him off. This coward in a hood was the same as all the others. There was nothing unique. They were a collective mass. "Protego!" He desperately tried to throw up his shield spell in time, but it missed. The power of it hummed - so much practice - but it didn't erupt from his wand and the hex grabbed him by his toe and spun him up. In the action, his wand fell to the ground below, clattering on the stone. "What are you going to do?" He asked, swallowing hard. He was in the air, his wand was below, and he was fucked. "Kill me easily, how manly." He sneered out at the Death Eater. Go on, Avada Kedavra. At least it didn't hurt he was told. For the first time since he'd encountered the boy, Antonin's mouth twisted into a smirk -- he was completely at his disposal without his wand to assist him, but he wasn't about to simply kill him and not because it wasn't manly. It was too predictable to simply kill him. Too boring. Instead, he walked the boy closer to the nearest wall. "Brace yourself, Mudblood," he said, raising his wand higher before flicking it in the wall's direction, sending Dean crashing into the stone building with each movement. Dean looked up, wildly, as Antonin spoke. He craned his head around in a desperate action to see what the man was speaking about, but all he saw was the open air and his wand so far down below. He was going to die. The thought rang metallic in his head as he swallowed, choking down every emotion along with it. He wanted to see his mother one last time. He wanted to hug Seamus, and Lavender, and Parvati and tell them he loved them. He wanted to tell Harry he believed in him. He wanted to do so many things, fall in love, laugh again, learn how to make curry, see West Ham play Arsenal - and win, and they all were not going to happen because of the masked man below him. He'd brace himself, sure, because his life was going to end and what choice did he have? He was dying to ensure a better future and it was better the Death Eater tire himself out. He'd die in the place of his friends. Instead of reply, he simply spat again. He spat all of his hopes and wishes on the man before he was sent crashing into the castle. The sickening thud of his leg caused him to flinch, the bone shattering as his ankle caught the brunt of the attack. Biting his lip to keep from screaming his front teeth caught on the flesh and tore, filling his mouth with rusty blood. Again, he was thrown into the building, and again another snap and break of his body. His will, however, was holding strong and he merely closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer. He wouldn't beg, or shout, or cry over the pain. He just thought of the sweetest thing, a West Ham victory over Arsenal at Highbury. After all that Antonin had seen over the years, this was far more interesting than the Cruciatus Curse and he imagined it was similarly painful. For whatever reason, Dean wasn't crying out the way most victims did -- how fascinating to see him take blow after blow without so much as a sound, a protest, a plea or anything. From the ground, he saw the blood tear across the boy's mouth and finally stopped, lifting his wand and the boy higher into the sky. He let him hang there, suspended mid-air for a moment before withdrawing his curse and letting him fall the several metres to the ground. If that didn't kill him, he needn't worry, since he'd be dead in a moment or two more if Antonin had his way. His eyes were barely open, just tiny slits that watched Antonin as closely as possible. His vision was unfocused and wavering, a brief attempt at courage in face of this. As he rose higher in the air, he nearly smiled. At least this would be it. No more pain. His body was broken in so many places, but his spirit still felt strong and he would die with dignity. Was this dying? He had to wonder as the ground rushed at him with an eerie sense of silence. His last thought washed out as consciousness faded and he crumpled into the ground below with a crunch of bones that rang through the air in a disgusting lilt of noise. The smile was still on his face, his lips framed in blood. As he approached the boy to finish him off, Antonin almost balked at the smile that was still on his face, but after a moment he steeled himself and glared down at him, disgusted by the mangled sight. It was all for the good of the cause, though, and he'd had his fun before getting around to killing him. It was time to put the stupid thing out of its misery, but first he was going to take that eerie smile off his ugly face. Aiming his wand at the boy's forehead, he gave a flick of his wrist to perform a severing charm, just to add a bit more visible damage for the poor sod who found him lying there. And with any luck, he'd be able to feel something of it in his unconscious state. With a powerful sense of finality, Antonin raised his wand a final time, ready to use the Killing Curse -- but as he began the incantation, the Dark Lord's voice boomed in his ears. Knowing that he would wait for no one, he lowered his wand and took one last look at the boy -- he would bleed out in time, he was sure of it. Maybe he'd even wake up long enough to panic and feel the pain of his injuries once more before he finally died. A cruel smile split across the man's lips and he took his leave, walking with sure purpose across the grounds to the Forbidden Forest where he was finally reunite with his master. Lavender Brown vs Fenrir Greyback Ah, now this was more like it: The chaos of a large battle, children scampering about, and the idea of them thinking they could stand up and win against Death Eaters was so laughable that Fenrir cackled, not quite sure what he wanted to do first. Tear open that boy's throat? Spill open that girl's stomach? So many children to bite and rip and tear, and so little time! But lolly-gagging around wasn't doing him much good. Fenrir spotted a young blonde girl, and with a feral grin of pointed, yellowed teeth, he flexed his hands and stalked towards her. Pulling out his wand -- well, not his wand, as Narcissa Malfoy still had it, but one he'd stolen -- he pointed it at Lavender and snarled: "Incarcerous!" Squealing and jumping every time a curse came her way was not what her sketchy Defence Against the Dark Arts education had taught her to do, but it seemed to be working so far. Lavender had initially tried to stay close to Parvati, Seamus and Dean, but the chaos of the battle that broke out had separated them, and she felt utterly lost. She hadn't cast one spell of her own yet, but as a jet of light came towards her, she reacted instinctively, a shield charm forming itself around her. The spell bounced harmlessly off, and she looked up at the caster. Oh Gods, was that Fenrir Greyback? From the descriptions she'd heard, it had to be. Oh boy, this was scary. Summoning everything she had, she aimed her wand at her attacker. "STUPEFY!" "Protego!" The spell was cast, but just barely, and Fenrir ducked down to avoid Lavender's stunner just in case his shield charm failed. He pushed forward, ignoring everyone else around him as he stalked closer to Lavender. "Is that all you've got for me, girly?" he laughed, already wondering just how the little blonde will taste once he was close enough to sink his teeth into her skin. He lunged for her, reaching out to grab her by the hair, his eyes focused on her throat. Wand at the ready to tackle another offensive spell coming her way, Lavender was not expecting a more physical attack, and another shriek issued from her as she leapt back. Not far enough, sadly, and panic arose in her as her head jerked back with a painful jolt, his hand tangled in her hair. No. No, that was not allowed. Nobody touched her hair, ever. With no spell immediately coming to mind, her first instinct was to kick out at him as hard as possible. She was wearing shoes with a bit of a heel - not practical for a battle, perhaps, but hopefully painful to collide with at high speed. Perhaps not practical, but they certainly did their job -- the shoes left behind a sharp pain with every kick, and Fenrir struggled to get her to stay still. He pulled even harder on her hair, before finally shoving her at one of the stone walls. "Got a bit of fight in you, don't you?" he snarled, brandishing his wand again and casting a blasting curse at her. "We'll just have to beat that out of you, won't we?" Lavender shrieked as the hand in her hair yanked even harder -- that hurt -- and as the blasting curse came directly at her, she started to feel the first flutterings of genuine fear in her stomach. With the rush of adrenaline in her veins as the fighting began, she had almost forgotten the very real danger they were in, and was now faced with her own mortality. Survival instincts kicking in, she flung herself to the side, hitting the ground hard and covering her head as the wall behind her exploded with rubble. A sharp pain in her leg told her that the blasting curse hadn't completely missed, and now that her legs were also covered with debris she was clearly in a lot trouble. Casting her mind back to the spells that Harry had taught her two years ago, she raised her wand again, balancing her weight on her shoulder and trying her hardest not to let the pain affect her concentration. "Impedimenta. IMPEDIMENTA!" Fenrir held up his arm as the wall exploded to protect his face, but he didn't let that stop him. He stalked closer to Lavender, tired of using just magic on the girl -- he was thirsty for blood. He hadn't expected her to still have the strength to cast another spell at him, and he was thrown, landing on his back. Now she was just making him angry. Rolling back up to his feet again, he pointed his wand at her legs and shouted, "Incarcerous!" The ropes shot out of his wand, and instead of letting them keep going, he grabbed onto the end of it so he could pull her over to him, as if handling a lasso. The unexpected effect that her spell had gave Lavender enough time to pull herself clear of the rubble, despite the pain making her want to just lie down and cry. It felt like the spot where the blasting curse had grazed her was on fire. She readied herself for a retaliation, and cast a shield charm as fast as her dulled reflexes allowed her... but the pain had weakened her, and Greyback's spell shattered it completely. Ropes wrapped around her torso, her manic flailing and some weak protection from her shield miraculously leaving her legs and wand arm free. Knowing that more magic would be just as weak, she struggled as hard as she could, taking aim and getting ready to punch him in the nose, kick him in the groin, anything to stop this horrible thing from eating her, or whatever else he was planning to do. He used the rope to yank her roughly forward, and Fenrir didn't expect her to not struggle -- he grabbed hold of her fist when she tried to punch him, digging sharp claws into her skin. However, with his hands full, he had no way to protect himself from her kicks, and she aimed well -- the werewolf doubled over with a surprised howl of pain, shoving her away to shield his groin with his hand in case she tried to kick him again. "You little bitch." Face red with anger, he pounced on her, using his body weight to pin her to the ground as he reached a hand up to slash his claws across her face. The pain was so intense that she didn't even scream at first. One minute she was attempting to pull the ropes off her and the next, the full weight of the werewolf was on top of her and -- her face! There was no point in struggling, she had no strength to throw him off. Any spell she cast would probably damage her just as much as him at these close-quarters. But she wasn't going to die here, dammit! Somehow she had managed to hold onto her wand, and using her full strength to pull her right arm free, she jabbed the point at his face, trying to get enough space so she could cast a spell that she vaguely remembered Ron telling her about last year. "Levicorpus!" Fenrir grinned as he felt her skin split beneath his claws, licking his lips at the sight of her blood, teeth bared. "You're a bit older than I usually like, but maybe I can still make a proper wolf outta you, girly," he growled closer to her face, and he moved his hand to grab her throat. "If not, then I'm sure you'll make a nice meal." He jerked his head back when she jabbed her wand at his face, hand flying up away from her throat to cover his eye, cursing furiously. Before he could retaliate, he was being lifted up in the air by his ankle, dangling helplessly for a moment before he was dropped to the ground. Dazed for a moment from the impact, he held his head as he struggled back up to his feet. Lavender just wanted to carry on lying there, to just give in to the pain and wail as loudly as possible. But something in her, some inexplicable force, made her climb to her feet again and face Greyback squarely, clutching her wand. Her mind was blank, the instinct to survive strong but no spells showing themselves in her hazy memory. Blood dripped down her face, hot and crimson, staining her hair and her robes. After a deep breath, she cast the first spell she could remember Harry teaching her. "Expelliarmus!" He took a step back when Lavender cast another spell at him, striking his hand, sending the wand flying up into the air and rolling away. Disarmed, Fenrir only had one option to defend himself -- he rushed toward Lavender with a snarl, claws outstretched to grab her as soon as he was close enough. He wasn't about to let this one get away, and he needed another wand, after all. He would just kill the girl and take hers. The problem with disarming him, Lavender now realised, was that he was certainly going to physically attack her, something she couldn't defend against with a shield charm. She took a few steps backwards, and stumbled, realising she was at the bottom of the main fight of stairs in the entrance hall. Another slight shriek escaped her when Greyback rushed forwards, and she sent another Impedimenta at him before turning and rushing up the stone steps as fast as her pained legs could carry her. She had spotted someone who looked suspiciously like Professor Trelawney at the top, surely her favourite teacher would help her out! Fenrir kept going for her, the surroundings around him nothing but a blur -- all his attention was focused on Lavender, on pinning her down, on tearing our her throat. When he saw the spell coming, he ducked down to avoid it, running on all fours, now, which was much easier for him to do than it looked. The distance between them was closed quickly, and he jumped -- hands closing over her shoulders, the momentum and the weight of him colliding with her sending them both backwards, and then they were tumbling, falling over the balcony down the the floor below. Lavender had thought she might get to the top of the steps at the very least, but Fenrir was so much faster than her and heavier than her that when he caught up she didn't even time to lash out or think up a suitable spell before there was no longer ground beneath her feet, and a large grey expanse was rushing up and up to meet her. Instinctively she flung her arms up to protect her head, twisting in midair so she landed on her side with an audible crack. For a second or two her vision blacked out, but it felt like hours, and despite her best efforts to clamber to her feet, her limbs just didn't seem to want to respond, and the best she could achieve was stirring feebly on the ground while her senses returned in an explosion of pain and adrenaline. Not far from her, Fenrir slammed onto the ground on his back, the pain from the landing shooting up his spine, his head throbbing from the impact on the ground. His eyes rolled back, head lolling to the side as he nearly blacked out. He stared blankly at nothing, eyes unfocused, the world around him feeling fuzzy, almost like a dream. But within seconds he regained awareness, and he saw Lavender in his line of sight, still on the ground. With a strained grunt, he rolled over, unsteadily trying to stand up -- but when that proved too difficult, he resorted to all fours again. He dashed across the floor and leapt that last final distance, grabbing her legs, practically using her body to pull himself up and closer to her throat. When he reached her middle, his jaws opened wide and he sank his sharp teeth deeply into her side, grinding his teeth to cut deeper, through fabric and flesh and muscle. Blood swelled up and when he tasted it, he bit down harder, the red liquid dribbling around the sides of his mouth, into his matted beard and onto the floor. He pulled his head back, tearing away parts of her flesh, but he didn't pause before he went in to bite a second time in the same spot, teeth sinking in -- -- and then there was a burning in his side, the force of the blasting curse -- he didn't see who cast the spell -- throwing him off of Lavender and sliding across the floor as he landed. He struggled to get to his feet, disoriented, trying to see who was attacking him, only to be struck on the head by something hard and heavy. The edges of his vision darkened, and everything seemed to move in slow motion... and then he collapsed to the floor in a heap, unconscious. The explosion of pain that Lavender experienced upon regaining her senses was nothing compared to what she felt moments later when Greyback sunk his teeth in. Only the Cruciatus curse was worse, but the very small part of her brain that was still capable of logical thought knew that this was going to hurt for a lot longer than being Cruciated. She was unable to control her blood-curdling screams, the convulsions of her body and the curling of her toes as wave upon wave of wave rolled over her. But just like that, it was over. Lavender didn't realise immediately that it was over -- it certainly still felt agonising, but slowly it dawned on her that Greyback was, well, gone. Again stirring feebly, she managed to move her head far enough to spot Greyback's unconscious body, the shards of a crystal ball scattered on the ground in the vicinity of his head. Really, she was going to give Professor Trelawney the biggest gift basket that Hogsmeade had to offer. It took several minutes for the horrific pain in her side to change to a burning pain, to change to a dull ache. Around her, the battle raged on, people flitting in and out of her field of vision, the sounds of bangs and shouts reaching her ears and the smell of smoke filling her nostrils. Eventually, she realised that she would have to get up eventually, otherwise some Death Eater would stumble across her and finish her off. Clambering first to her hands and knees, before tottering up onto unsteady legs, Lavender took one final opportunity to kick Greyback in the head with those trusty shoes that had saved her skin more than once tonight, before staggering off in the direction of -- well, she didn't know where she was going. She just wanted somewhere safe where she could recover slightly and perhaps get some healing before she had to think about fighting some more. |