Perdition Mods (perdition_mods) wrote in perdition_rpg, @ 2009-05-01 20:55:00 |
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Demelza Robins (8), Polly Sands vs Thorfinn Rowle Despite the fact that he was running on some sort of insane energy, Thorfinn's feet still felt unsteady as he lunged around the slowly crumbling castle. Maybe his shoes were too tight. Maybe they were too loose. Maybe he was just imagining things. Things had gone well so far; most of the Hogwarts students seemed completely unaware of the true power of a wand, as though they had been taught by a child who only needed to know the basics to get through life. He had been positively gleeful when the first hex thrown in his direction missed his head by about about five inches, and he had been even more gleeful when his need to appear large and powerful and simply amazing had erupted in front of him when gold sparks shot out of his wand and sent a few tiny (what, were they six years old??) children fleeing in another direction. Maybe he could use his big, usually confused feet and kick people. He enjoyed kicking; it was his favourite hobby. But first he would have to find someone. Thorfinn found his balance after a second of resting with his large hand flat against the wall. His breathing was laboured despite the fact that he hadn't really done anything yet; it was pure adrenaline pumping through his veins, out his nose, through his lips, out of every single pore on his skin. When he pushed himself off the wall and started walking, he ignored the battle cries and shouts of rage coming from the left and opted to go down the corridor to the right. That direction seemed too quiet...too calm...there had to be someone lurking there. It was hard to keep such a large, tall mass as himself quiet as he moved, but thankfully he had the sounds of the castle creaking and falling apart to give him a small bit of cover, hopefully enough to cover the delirious bit of humming he'd started, a rather cheery tune, something about celebration and victory and...ah. "Hello!" he suddenly boomed, giddily pointing his wand outward at two innocent looking cherubs...ah, young girls. Pretty girls, as far as he could tell. Maybe it wasn't very Gryffindor-like of her, but Polly was beginning to feel significantly un-brave and un-daring while creeping about the castle grounds, trying to ward off the intruders and protect Harry Potter or something like that. That she was doing her creeping alongside Demelza made it slightly better, but even for someone who'd grown up on Knockturn Alley and endured the howls and shrieks that tended to come from the patrons and shops of that street, this was scary shit. Generally speaking, Knockturn Alley patrons weren't out to kill her or attacking one of the few places left in the world that still felt somewhat safe (full of torture, madness and beatings, but still safer than being on the run and getting your face eaten off by krups, Polly reasoned); that was not the case with the Death Eaters tonight. They were out for blood and death, and Polly knew that it was a very real possibility that she or someone she knew could die. It wasn't all bad, after all. The bloke who'd gotten them all organized, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was pretty brill and seemed at least moderately badass. The Carrows hadn't been seen since much earlier that night (hooray!) and everyone seemed to be actually getting up and doing something instead of thinking, talking and writing about doing something. Action was better than inaction, movement better than thought, all of that. She tried to cover up her nervousness as she asked Demelza, "Where d'you suppose they are?" Of course, before Demelza could answer the question, someone boomed out a very jolly "HELLO!" behind the two girls, causing Polly to nearly jump out of her skin and shriek, "What the fuckin' fuck?" as she turned around to see who'd spoken. Finally seeing someone made Throfinn's heart nearly skip with delight. And not just one person, but two persons! Well, two people, he reminded himself. Female! Female people! Was it his lucky day? It must have been. Now at least he would be able to wax poetic about something he had done in this battle, instead of just creeping around the dark corridors looking for paintings to harass. Both of the girls seemed very different, physically, and he wouldn't have been able to choose which one to bother first if the blonde one hadn't spoken up. It may not have been intentionally aimed at him to hear, or maybe it had been, but he had heard it nevertheless and focused all his attention on her for a few seconds. She seemed so small, or maybe he was just tall, or both, but he had a feeling that he was going to make it out of this little tirade unscathed. Without a single word, he raised his arm at the blonde one who had the filthy mouth. Before he could speak and aim a spell directly at her, he noticed a crumbling statue not far from where she was standing. Changing his mind, his wand aimed in that direction and he shouted "Expulso!" at it, wanting nothing more than to knock the girl over or maybe scare her a bit. Without watching to see how that went down, he turned back to the other girl. "You never said hello." "Fuck off," Demelza shouted, flipping him off at the same time. After seeing the Death Eater send a blasting curse at her friend, she wasn't about to be polite to this bastard. She didn't wait to see whether or not Polly was all right and instead decided that providing a distraction would be a better idea. "Run, Polly!" she shouted, hoping that she could hear her. Then, fists clenched, she screamed and charged at the man, wand at the ready like a dagger and her other first swinging at whatever she could reach, red hair whipping behind her. Run? Run? No one was going to be running anywhere. Thorfinn himself didn't exactly feel like running, either. His shoulders felt funny and his feet still seemed to be rubbing against something that had lodged itself in his shoe. He wanted to get rid of one of the girls and then focus on the other one without anyone else there to try and run run run and, oh my giddy aunt! Try to fight back like a man would without breaking a nail! Or a stinky sweat! What-the-bloody-fuck-ever. Thorfinn shook his blond hair off his forehead and grinned wildly at the foolish girl running at him, screaming as though screams would make her feet run faster or give her a bit more courage. If he wasn't careful she'd end up clearing the space between them and jumping on him, but after a second or two of cackling, his wand came out again and he shouted "Avada Kedavra"! so loudly that it echoed in his ears. He felt no shame, no sorrow, nothing towards aiming his favourite spell at such a tiny girl and ending a life that was probably filled with annoying dreams, though still promised to be long. It wasn't exactly exciting, though; he had seen many more exciting things in his life. Because of how close they had suddenly become, his curse hit her square in the chest and stopped her legs from moving in mid-step. Her body stopped, shook, and then crumbled to the left, bouncing emptily a few times on the floor before moving no more. "Well. That was a bit disappointing, actually," he growled, not even sparing a moment to stare at the dead girl with pity in his eyes before he raised his wand and shouted "Crucio!" at the other one. Polly didn't even have time to process what had happened before the Death Eater's curse hit her full-force, knocking her right off her feet. It hurt...it hurt like a motherfucker, and she screamed, but almost subconsciously, the screams translated themselves into a litany of the most vulgar words she knew. It wasn't even a litany that made any sense, but it was the kind of thing that would make the crustiest sailor blush. The pain was crushing, burning, stabbing, aching, every kind of pain there was, and through it all, Polly began to understand (slightly, the pain was kind of...consuming) that Demelza was actually a dead body on the ground and that this fucking cunt had killed her. In that moment, she made up her mind that this pain wasn't something that would defeat her...that this shitrag would regret the day he ever laid eyes on Polly Sands and ever dared to raise a hand against Demelza Robins. Like a hornet, this pain was only making her angrier, and as soon as he let up...that fucker would pay. Now, if only he would let up... Thorfinn had never heard a lady say some of the things that Polly was saying. Maybe he hadn't even heard a bloke say some of those things, and he hung around with people like Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange. It amused him, but it also made him wonder what else he could make her say if he really wanted to. He enjoyed listening to people beg; beg for salvation, beg to be killed, beg not to be killed, beg to...please please please stop! She was different, though, and he could appreciate that. The first killing had been so very, very easy, so instead of continuing on with his Cruciatus Curse and waiting for her to become overwhelmed with pain, he pulled his wand away sharply. "You do realize that you have a very, very filthy mouth, girl, don't you?" he spoke, arching an eyebrow and taking a careful step toward her. Doing so caused his attention to be drawn to the dead girl on the floor who, unsurprisingly, hadn't moved a single centimeter. For pure enjoyment, he aimed his wand at the body and Imperio'd it, causing her arms to flop into the air and her legs to bounce to the side and open widely in a rather suggestive fashion. He had one of her arms bend backward in a very unnatural position and left it that way as he finished. The body stopped shaking once the curse ended and returned to its lifeless state. "Just checking. I could make her do a little dance, if you'd like." Finally the curse lifted, and Polly lay on the ground panting for a second, trying to catch her breath. One would think that after experiencing the Cruciatus Curse often enough, the pain might slowly lessen over time or perhaps a person would get used to it, but no...no matter how many times that fucking curse hit her, it was still excruciating, and how angry Polly was really didn't help matters. Nor did the sight of this Death Eater causing Demelza's lifeless body to dance and flop about like a puppet or a rag doll. Polly couldn't believe how angry it made her, to the point where her peripheral vision was blurry and she could've sworn she was shaking with rage, not pain. She slowly pushed herself up from the ground, but didn't even think to grab her wand and hex her opponent. Instead, with a primal roar of rage, she leapt at him, intending to tackle him and then beat him to a bloody pulp, the fucker. There wasn't a lot to her, but it was enough that if this cuntrag wasn't expecting it, it could knock him over easily, and then she could do what she wanted, in the way of punching, kicking, biting and scratching...and if there was one thing Polly Sands knew, it was how to punch, kick, bite and scratch. Her hands were bared like claws as she jumped for him, and even if he was expecting her to go after him like this, she could at least get a few good scratches on his face in the process, or maybe pull out some hair. When the first girl had run at Thorfinn, he had been somewhat prepared for it, as he had been expecting a battle form other than that which involved wands to come into play. That situation had been dealt with quickly on his part, and the end result had been even quicker. This time, however, the Death Eater had been under the impression that the little blonde girl was going to be too sore after that lovely round of being Crucio'd to do much other than shakily reach for her wand and try to keep her arm straight enough to attempt a weak curse. His body language just further proved that he hadn't been expecting an attack; his broad shoulders were slumped and he was standing with more weight on his left foot than on his right. This proved to be quite a majour problem when limbs were invading his personal space and fingernails were scratching horribly against his skin. He stumbled backward, nearly taking a tumble before he was able to straighten his posture and shake the surprise out of his eyes. The surprise and shock didn't leave before he felt something hard, perhaps an elbow, smack his nose and multiple fingernails claw at his lip. "What the fu-" he said, giving a grunt of frustration. He was torn between reaching his hands up and trying to protect his face, or using them to just get the girl off him. One of her fingers poked him in the eye, blurring his vision momentarily, and something else hit his lip, so hard this time that there was suddenly a coppery taste tickling his tongue, one that sent alarm to his brain that a tooth could possibly be in trouble. Now that angered him, so much so that both of his hands came up, grabbed the girl on whatever part of her body he could, and literally threw her off him and towards the ground. "Well, if you want to play that kind of game you should have just said so!" he shouted, ignoring the trickle of blood heading south down his chin. "I could fucking step on you and it would all be over." He could, Polly gave the Death Eater that, but she was too angry to care what he could do, particularly after she hit the ground with a loud "Oomph!" From where she landed, she aimed a couple of furious kicks at his legs. "You fuckin' twatlicker!" she screeched as she kicked. "You killed a fuckin' innocent girl fer no good reason...a girl wif prolly decent blood, too...how fuckin' stupid can you be, you cunt?" She aimed a final kick between his legs, as a sort of punctuation mark. She could've killed the shithead, but Polly didn't like that idea any more than she liked the idea of Demelza's body sitting out here, vulnerable and small. With any luck, she'd be able to drag the shell of her friend back to the castle and find someplace safe to put her, someplace where she'd be unmolested, no matter how bad things got. Of course, nobody would be going anywhere unless she could get this Death Eater off her back...which, in turn, was part of the reason she'd aimed her last kick where she had. Thorfinn felt a bit like he was standing there and watching a newborn animal struggle to turn itself around. He would have grinned at her crude words if he wasn't still paranoid that his teeth were all going to fall out if he opened his mouth too wide. The blood that had been on his chin was now streaking his neck and soaking into his collar. Claiming that he could take a step forward and crush her made him feel more powerful, and he needed that after letting his brain lose a bit of control after that brief bout of harassment to his face. "No good reason? No good reason!" That made him give a booming laugh that didn't, thankfully, cause any of his teeth to fall out of his mouth. "I do believe her legs will open for you easily if you want to take that 'twatlicker' idea and make it a rea-" his voice faded sharply, so quickly that he couldn't even swallow. Ow. Ow. Ow-fucking-ow. Now that was a pain he did not want to have. His...his...lovebone was broken! Was it broken? Thorfinn's legs were shaking and he couldn't stop them from bending and sending his body crashing down to the floor. His voice became hitched and he was almost wheezing, and crying. Despite being something non-magical and muggle worthy, there was too much pain to think about anything other than staying as still as possible. The blonde girl didn't have it in her to do anything else to him, did she? Oh how such an exciting moment could become so disappointing so fast! But no one but him and his oh-so-large-and-sore-and-throbbing body would have to know about this... Seeing him crumple, Polly stood with an angry smirk on her face. It wasn't in her to kill him, no, but the kick had seemed to get the point across. She winced as she stood; being thrown to the ground would definitely be leaving her with some bruises and scrapes for the next couple of days, if not something worse (probably something worse, actually, now that she was up and able to feel her shoulder...that cracking sound couldn't be good). She was shaky from the Cruciatus Curse, and she was mad as hell, but this Death Eater wasn't going to be getting up any time soon, and she needed to get Demelza's body back to the castle anyway, before anything worse happened. "Mobilicorpus," she muttered, pointing her wand at her friend's body, but turning and flipping her middle finger at her opponent with a smile before she went. "See you in hell, cocksucker." And she turned around, somewhat creakily walking away with Demelza's body in tow. She was in enough pain that moving fast wasn't really an option, but dear God, if this man recovered quickly than she expected him to, she was in trouble. Anthony Goldstein (8), George Weasley and Demetrius Mulciber (8) George Weasley was manic. His brother and best friend was dead and he couldn't even mourn him. Not yet... he was trying his best to block it out and deal with the here and now, the battle, but the absolute hollowness he was feeling caused his actions to be erratic, fueled by rage, and desperate. It was hard not to just replay that moment in his mind, the one where he'd finally caught up to Percy, who'd looked awful after dueling Rookwood. George remembered the hurt in his older brother's eyes, all Percy really had to do was reach out to him and say 'I'm sorry,' and George knew. He'd screamed at Percy to tell him where Fred was, and when he finally did, the remaining twin had ripped himself from his brother's embrace to find Fred's body. He'd have never believed it if he hadn't seen Fred's unusually pale face and blank eyes - if he hadn't felt Fred's lukewarm skin and seen that this was no joke, his brother, his other half, would not be waking up. It was surreal, and George had felt the world crumble around him at that moment. Nothing would ever be the same. Even if they won, now, it'd never be right ever again. And so George ran back into the fight, in his eyes, with nothing to lose. He'd seen a lone Death Eater, and instead of opting for a strategic (and probably amusing) way of attack like usual, George ran forward, wand out to strike as if it were a sword. "DEPRIMO!" he bellowed, hoping the blast would catch the other man off-guard, but not waiting to find out before firing off any other curse or hex that popped into his head. "Expelliarmus! Stupefy!" Something had snapped in George. He'd been told he was always the twin with a bit less of a temper and a bit more sense, but it seemed that was only because Fred was there to pick up the slack. The fact that he was gone was overwhelming, and now George had found someone to blame for his brother's death in front of him, and damned if he'd let him get away easily. Demetrius Mulciber was rather... savouring being back in Hogwarts' hallowed halls. Fighting a barrage of useless children? He was practically bored by it. His companions were all off on their own fighting these petulant little upstarts, and he was waiting for one just to jump out at him (which they would surely do, considering they mostly appeared to be the all-brawn no-brain Gryffindor types). And he wasn't disappointed. Though, well, something about very narrowly dodging a hole being blasted in one's side wasn't exactly... not disappointing. The wall behind him shattered as a hole was gouged through it, and between casting a Shield Charm to block the next spells and getting pelted by rubble, it wasn't an entirely positive start to a fight. But Demetrius was ready to fight, and while this child seemed maddened with rage, he was rather relaxed in comparison. Casting a quick and quiet "Sectumsempra." With regards to Severus naturally. He followed it up with "Incendio and Petrificus Totalus." The slash of the first spell flew at George and luckily he was focused enough to dodge the majority of it, only his shoulder being grazed and starting to ooze blood. He grimaced and spun around but didn't quite avoid the next curse. His robes burst into flames and George threw them from his shoulders and to the ground, throwing up a Shield Charm just in time to deflect the last of the spells. He was already panting, sweat and tears dripped down his face. Bringing his wand back again, he was starting to realise that he may have made a mistake, and at this rate he'd never get off the defensive. Being nearly set on fire forced his rational mind to force itself back into the picture even over the rage and pain of losing his brother - because if he died now, Fred would never forgive him. Throwing a few more defensive spells at the Death Eater, trying to silence him, make him back off, and repel what was being tossed his direction before finally managing to scream, "Confringo!" He took a breath - he had to slow this guy down. "Incarcerous!" he tried desperately. Barely missed by Confringo, but throwing a Shield Charm up just in time to avoid being hit with the next spell, Demetrius rolled his eyes. Children. Really. "Deprimo." Demetrius felt he was old and experienced enough to fight real men these days. Though it would be fun to make the little boy dance a bit. "Reducto, Expulso, Confringo," he called out in rapid succession, aiming each explosion carefully at different points extremely close to his opponent's body. Why not make it fun if he had to fight some absurd hysterical ginger? And unfortunately for George, he was forced to do a sick sort of dance. His Shield Charms were only so strong and in his state of mine, it was hard to be as quick on his feet as usual. Flailing slightly to keep them up while twisting and dodging best he could, he felt like a sitting duck. He wasn't much getting hit, but he'd only last so long this way. He had to attack back, but now that the Death Eater was back on the defensive, he'd be taking an incredible risk to stop moving long enough to cast a proper powerful spell, and even then, he doubted it'd take the man by surprise. Furious, George came out of a near stumble and then just tried to lunge forward, hoping that the enclosed distance might help himself gain a slight edge. "EXPELLIARMUS!" he roared, knowing that it left him exposed for a moment. But the possible success outweighed the risk. Laughter escaped Demetrius's throat, though muffled by the mask, as he watched his opponent do his little dance of sorts. This was more fun than he'd had in a while! Though his wand flew out of his hand seconds later, but he noticed that the boy had made a terrible mistake by closing in on him. Demetrius reached out a hand and smacked him across the face as hard as he could muster before the boy could catch his wand. When his wand clattered the floor, he stooped and picked it up, though that moment was a risky one, with his defenses down. Elsewhere, Anthony was running down a staircase as he tried to find Terry and Michael again after he had been separated from them. There were also Padma and Morag to worry about, but he figured that both of them had the good sense to stay out of trouble while he was absolutely certain he couldn't think the same for his two other friends -- he didn't want to think about it, but he wouldn't be surprised if they had somehow got themselves killed in a fit of Gryffindor-like heroics already. He had stayed behind against his better judgment only because he thought he had a responsibility to look out for the other Ravenclaws in the DA -- a decision he would regret completely if he failed to protect any of them, not to mention the immense guilt that would weigh down on his conscience. He had so far avoided getting into any fights aside from throwing the odd Shield Charm here and there as he ran by. It wasn't that he was incompetent when it came to magic, but there was a great difference between excelling on theoretical and practical exams in comparison to a real battle scenario where few variables were controlled and there existed a very real possibility of being hit with the Killing Curse or worse. He had already cast a Supersensory Charm on himself to heighten his vision and hearing, and as he stepped out from the landing and into the corridor, he thought through scenarios and resolutions so that he wouldn't run into his usual problem of taking too long to think and act -- Aguamenti if Incendio or Flagrante hit, Finite Incantatem for spells like the Jelly-Legs Jinx, and so on. His preference, however, was just to cast and hold Shield Charms to counter curses and then run for it once he got the opportunity to do so. He wasn't interested in jumping in to risk his life to save anyone, except for perhaps his closest friends, but as he rounded the corner, he noticed one of the Weasley twins -- he couldn't tell either of them apart -- getting into what looked like a fist-fight with a Death Eater. The first thing he could think of doing was casting Protego between them and have the force from the spell push them back from each other while he was still far enough away not to be noticed, followed by a non-verbal, if less powerful, Deprimo that he hoped would blow out the floor from under the Death Eater. As a shield expanded between the two, Demetrius looked around for its source, taken a little unawares as a hole was blasted dangerously close to his feet. He jumped back and snorted, casting a quick, non-verbal Sectumsempra at the new, dark-haired boy on the scene. Another child. Something to play with, not to duel with. But both boys at once seemed like an interesting possibility to him. Taking down the Shield Charm quickly, he turned and shot a quick Stupefy at his first opponent, before turning to look at the newcomer again. George didn't know this boy was who'd just probably saved his life, but he was thankful, and now maybe together they could not just barely survive, but actually fight this guy - he'd stumbled when hit, face throbbing and head going blurry for a moment. The other student's distraction had let George regain his footing, however, and be more or less ready for the Death Eater when he turned at him again. Shielding himself from the Stupefy, George tried to Incarcerate the man once more, aiming for the feet, hoping the hole blown there would trip him up along with the ropes. Being noticed was the exact thing Anthony had wanted to avoid, and he quickly chastised himself in his head as his non-verbal curse hit the floor, yet missed its target, getting the Death Eater to turn his unwanted attention towards him. He took a step back as he waved his wand and shouted, 'Protego!' immediately once he saw his opponent moving his wand at all, but was thrown off by the lack of an incantation -- of course they would use non-verbal magic as well, and they would be better at it than he was -- and swore rather indecently when he felt his upper-arm (thankfully not his wand-arm) being sliced open. It was deeper and much more painful than he had anticipated for a Severing Charm, but he didn't have time to think about what spell it might have been. He stepped forward to cast a Finger-Removing Jinx following by a silent Diffindo aimed at the Death Eater's wand-arm, hoping those combined with George's spells would throw him off. Acting as quickly as possible, Demetrius transfigured the on-coming ropes into large snakes, and with a quick "Imperio," they were his puppets. He set them towards the red-head in attack mode, carefully avoiding the Finger-Removing Jinx, but swearing in pain when a cut sliced across his forearm. Examining the bleeding, he winced. He hated it when people made him bleed. Willing the attacking snakes to go harder (they weren't actually poisonous, but they were big enough), he shot a silent Reducto at the wall closest to the darker boy, and then a very out-loud Crucio at the ginger. Now that George had his wits about him a bit more, he had no trouble gritting his teeth and slashing his wand through the air, cutting off a few of the snakes' heads before they could do him much harm, two still snapping at his exposed arm. One managed to sink its fangs into George's hand, and it took most of his willpower not to shout in pain. Knowing they weren't real snakes helped him blast it away quickly though, singeing his own hand in the process. He was just about to turn and fire off a few more spells at the man when white-hot pain washed over him and he fell to his knees, unable to hold back a scream. He hadn't had the school-year of torture to build up any sort of tolerance to it, and the Unforgivable caught him off-guard. Anthony had been impressed enough with the quick Transfiguration combined with the Imperius Curse the Death Eater had done that he took a moment to put away the idea in his own mind before readying himself not to be caught off-guard by non-verbal spells again. Had the silent Reductor Curse been aimed at him directly, he would have blocked it properly with a Shield Charm this time -- but instead, he found himself being thrown back by the force of the explosion as the spell hit the wall near him. He winced as he landed on his injured arm and found himself being pelted by debris, then wildly looked around for something that could distract the Death Eater -- he had to buy himself more time to think of a better strategy that would allow himself to get away without being hit in the back with the Killing Curse. There were a few intact (and expendable, unlike himself) statues in the corridor, and remembering the suits of armour that he, Terry, Michael, and Padma had been commanding downstairs before they got separated, he focused and cast Oppugno on the nearest one, guiding it to attack the Death Eater from the back as George was being Cruciated. Anthony thought of using an Unforgivable Curse himself next -- he had sworn them off for good once he had gone into hiding in the Room of Requirement, but this was a life-and-death situation where his opponents weren't going to play fair, and he had to do whatever was necessary to stay alive at the very least, nevermind winning. He doubted the Death Eater would be expecting a student on the other side to use dark magic, but upon deciding it would be wiser to reserve those as surprise attacks later, he cast a silent spell first this time -- nothing more than a simple Tripping Jinx aimed at the legs -- then shouted, 'Diffindo!' to send a second, yet more powerful Severing Charm aimed low enough to hit its target regardless of whether he fell to the ground or not. Turning around to a statue punching him in the face wasn't exactly what Demetrius had expected, but he cast a quick Expulso and the thing was blown to bits, debris raining down. But it had been enough to break his focus on the Cruciatus, which was terribly bothersome. He hated when his focus was broken. As he was about to re-cast it, he found himself colliding solidly with the floor. Tripping Jinx. How elementary. As he pushed himself to his feet, he felt a tear in his robes and a slice across his collarbone. Dangerously close to his throat. Now that was amusing. "Reducto." This time, he aimed for the wall closest to the ginger. Then he turned on the darker boy. Conjuring up two sinister-looking knives, he laughed a bit, the noise vibrating his mask. "Oppugno," he snapped, launching the two knives towards him. "Incarcerous." Slash. Restrain. How simple. George only took a second to bounce back, scrambling to his feet when the Death Eater stumbled. Gasping for breath, it was during this short moment the twin was able to glance up and recognise the other boy as a Ravenclaw from the DA - in Ron's year, if he remembered right. Not being able to think of his name off the top of his head, George turned his attention back to the now getting up man in front of him, raising his wand and firing off the strongest Blasting Curse he could muster - just as he saw a spell fly by his head and crash into the wall just behind him. It exploded and shook George's balance as he tried to leap out of the way, but it was too late. It'd taken him too long to get his footing and pieces of stone fell atop him, forcing him to the ground. He would have cursed, but his head cracked against the floor from the momentum and he was out before he had the opportunity, still breathing and bones intact but completely unconscious. Anthony didn't have time to think about what implications George being knocked out had for him or, to an admittedly lesser extent, if the other boy would be all right, as he was too busy being scared shitless by the fact that the Death Eater had just conjured knives out of thin air and was aiming them at him instead of throwing another curse as he had expected. He had not accounted for this at all when thinking about possible battle scenarios earlier -- was he supposed to block those with a Shield Charm? Would that even work, and it wasn't as if any of the ones he cast so far had -- At the last second, he stumbled to the side and dodged them -- barely and clumsily, almost falling to the floor again -- but in his surprise at how following his instincts rather than a plan had actually worked, he stepped right into the Incarcerous and crashed onto the ground anyway as ropes bound his lower-legs together. Anthony's first reaction, distasteful as he found it, was to panic about how vulnerable he was now to any attacks (and death), but as he turned his head to see if there was someone in the corridor he could call out to for help, he noticed there was a staircase nearby, which gave him an idea. However, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold the spell he had in mind for long enough to cover the distance -- especially not against a Death Eater who obviously had much more experience and skill with the Unforgivable Curses than he did -- so he shouted, 'Confringo!' twice to send two Blasting Curses in the man's direction, hoping at least one of them would push him back a few steps and provide a distraction as he cut the ropes that bound him. Quickly stepping out of the way of the Blasting Curses, Demetrius watched as the floor was blown up practically from under his feet, rubble flying up and hitting his arms and legs as it arched back down. Another few steps back onto thankfully solid ground, and he readied another attack. Another Blasting Curse followed by a Diffindo, Demetrius followed those with his own Shield Charm, just in case the boy got any clever ideas (which didn't seem terribly likely at this point - he could almost smell the desperation, and he did like the smell of desperation). Taking one more hesitant step back, he smirked to himself. "Teenagers are so stupid. They always think they're so invincible," he said solemnly, more to himself than to his opponent. Anthony had just finished slicing the ropes with a Severing Charm -- lightly enough to weaken them and break the ropes by pulling his legs apart without the risk of cutting himself, of course -- as the next volley of spells came at him, but as he was still in the process of getting up, he couldn't throw up a strong Shield Charm in time. What he did cast softened the blow, but he was still thrown back into the wall and swore again when the Diffindo gashed the right side of his face. As for the taunt, well, Anthony certainly felt insulted -- perhaps the other DA members had delusions of invincibility, but he certainly did not -- but now wasn't the time to get vindictive and lose sight of his plan, which seemed to be working so far. The Shield Charm made the next step more complicated than he would have liked, and he frantically thought through what he remembered reading about in terms of practical spells and theory -- this sort of thing usually came easily to him, but he kept blanking out under the pressure of a real fight -- before the Death Eater could send another offensive spell at him. He quickly looked over at the other boy he had been fighting alongside and... wasn't there one theory about increasing the power of a spell by... well, it wasn't as if George was going to need his wand while he was unconscious (or dead), and if he didn't want to die... He threw another Deprimo near the Death Eater's feet, hoping it might force him back a few steps and distract him as he shouted, 'Accio, wand!' with his own pointed at George's -- the other wand flew towards him in an arc and he stumbled forward to catch it. Aiming both wands in one hand at his target, he shouted, 'CONFRINGO!' and fired what he hoped would be a doubly powerful Blasting Curse. His Shield Charm held up against the Deprimo but he stumbled back a few more steps. Looking over his shoulder, Demetrius noted with a grimace that he was dangerously close to the stairs. He couldn't take another few steps back without falling and probably breaking something semi-important. The Blasting Curse shattered his Shield Charm, but he side-stepped it, though he felt the blast graze his leg rather dangerously. Thinking for a split-second, he retaliated with an Expelliarmus, because the kid only needed one wand, really. Following that with a Conjunctivitus Curse, and stepping forward, trying to keep as much distance between the stairs and his feet as he could. The wand that wasn't his own shot out of Anthony's hand when the Disarming Spell caught him by surprise -- he had never expected a Death Eater to use something that simple -- but he managed to grab onto his own with both hands the moment he felt it slipping out of his grip and barely blocked the Conjunctivitis Curse with a Shield Charm (finally!) of his own. Both he and the other man were now close enough to the staircase that he felt relatively confident enough to try what he had in mind -- but he would still have to be fast and take advantage of the surprise he was sure it would come as before it was undoubtedly thrown off. He waved his wand and shouted, 'Imperio!', forcing all of his concentration on holding the curse as he kept his wand trained on the Death Eater. 'I need you to throw yourself down the stairs,' he ordered, sounding more nervous than he would have liked. Once gravity and momentum did the rest of the work for him, he would be ready to break off the spell and cast Glisseo on the steps to prevent the Death Eater from coming back up. It was rather known (Igor Karkaroff had made that so) that the Imperius Curse was a Mulciber thing. His father had taught him well, and Demetrius had learned it well. He had been a victim to the curse many times in his training, but he had never been Imperiused by some cheeky little upstart. So when the overwhelming feeling of simplicity and bliss overwhelmed him, somewhere in his consciousness he was surprised and angry. But that didn't matter, and his orders were clear. The voice didn't sound so sure of itself, but he had to do it anyway. The fall down the stairs was painful, but it hardly phased him. Though the stairs became flat a ways down and Demetrius was suddenly aware of himself. Shaking his head and standing up, he looked up the newly formed slide at the idiot who had tried to Imperius him. Then he assessed his injuries. His left hand was definitely broken, and maybe even his right foot. His neck was stiff, but his blood was pumping in his ears and he was angry. This foolish little boy obviously had more of a death wish than he had initially thought. Firing a Tripping Jinx up at him, he ground his teeth despite the soreness in his jaw. "Confringo!" If the top of the stairs/slide was destroyed, falling down would be so much easier. Anthony had meant to turn around and run like hell the moment he finished with the Imperius Curse and Glisseo, but something caught his peripheral vision and he spun around on instinct to block what he thought had been a hex coming his way from behind -- but it turned out to be nothing except his Supersensory Charm being overly sensitive. Unfortunately, that brief moment of diverted attention cost him his footing as the Tripping Jinx struck and the floor he was standing on suddenly exploded and collapsed beneath him, sending him tumbling down the slide and landing in a heap at the bottom before he had a chance to cast a Cushioning Charm. His back and shoulders were throbbing, and he gasped in agony when he felt a sharp pain that implied several broken ribs, but his survival instincts compelled him get up as quickly as he could and try to claw his way up the former stairs in an effort to get away from the Death Eater by any means possible. The angle, however, was too steep, and one of his hands kept slipping on the blood that was still flowing from the Sectumsempra wound while the other was gripping his wand too tightly to help. The irritation hadn't really subsided, and Demetrius didn't even take a moment to heal his broken hand before turning on the boy. "You have no idea the mistake you just made. Imperio," he snapped angrily. If this boy wanted an experience with the Imperius Curse, he would get one. There was no escape. The familiar tingle covered his wand arm, and finally Demetrius felt like he was in his own skin, so to speak. The thrill of having total control had always been appealing to him, and his enthusiasm was what made it so much easier to accomplish. Starting small was always a good idea. There was more to enjoy if it was subtle and gradual. 'Break your fingers,' was the first command that came to mind. It seemed appropriate too, given the state of Demetrius's own hand at that point. The moment Anthony had known what was coming, his last thought was how he been an idiot to help the other DA members with throwing off the Imperius Curse without practicing it himself, and then he felt relaxed and content. He could hear the voice ordering him to break his own fingers, and maybe there was a part of his mind somewhere that was telling him not to do it and to throw off the spell, but he found himself calmly bending back and breaking each of the fingers on his left hand before setting his wand down and crushing the ones on his wand-hand under his heel. grinding them slightly into the floor. The satisfaction was nearly overwhelming, and Demetrius was grinning under his mask. This was so much fun. He hadn't had this much fun in a long while. Satisfied with the fingers, he pondered his next move. 'Slam your face into the wall'. Which could naturally lead to broken noses and teeth, which wasn't that bad compared to broken fingers actually. But still, too much at once and the excitement was pretty much gone. Had Anthony been more lucid and aware of himself, that order would have been met with a sick feeling in his stomach as it reminded him of what the female Carrow had him do to himself during the interrogation about Terry's sister -- but in his current mental state, he simply walked over to a spot of wall on the landing and smashed his face into the stone. His nose broke with a loud crunch for the third time in three months, and he found himself choking on blood and broken teeth, which he listlessly spat out. The same part of his mind that was telling him to throw off the damn spell was protesting especially loudly now, but he still didn't have enough willpower to break the curse. Demetrius was enjoying himself, but as any good predator (as some had come to think of him as), he did enjoy the chase just as much as the actual kill. Maybe he enjoyed it even more. Lifting the Imperius off of the boy, he smirked to himself. It was only fair to give him a chance, right? Not that Demetrius had ever been one to care much for fairness and right and wrong and all that. "Go ahead. Do something," he said calmly, not even bothering to attack, merely waiting. Anthony collapsed onto the floor after the Imperius Curse was lifted with an agonised groan, now too keenly aware of how much pain he was in even with adrenaline dulling the worst of it -- there were sharp stabbing pains in his fingers, his face throbbed, and he was still spitting and swallowing blood. He hadn't wanted to stay for the battle in the first place, and now he wasn't even fighting so much as torturing himself to death because one of his stupid plans had backfired again. As irrational and useless as it was, he burst into tears, out of pain, fear, and anger -- but he knew he had to calm down and think, or he was going to die before the night ended. He didn't understand why the Death Eater was giving him an opening -- it was either a trap or a sick game -- but he crawled over, crying and whimpering as pathetically as possible, to where his wand was and gripped it as (not very) well as he could with broken fingers. He needed to gain a few seconds to fix those and stand up, and he thought of all the things that angered him -- his frustration with the DA; the moral compromises he made for nothing; how Terry, Michael, Padma, and Morag must be dead already -- and focused on how much he hated this particular Death Eater, how he had violated his free will, and everything he stood for. With a shaky wave of his wand and a choked cry of, 'CRUCIO!', Anthony channelled all of his anger and hatred into blasting the most powerful and painful Cruciatus Curse he could bring himself to cast at him. Demetrius had, several times in fact, been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. It wasn't a favorite of his, and an involuntary shout of pain left his throat when it hit. It wasn't the most powerful Crucio he had ever felt, truthfully, but even a weak one was painful, and in a moment he was off his feet. His muscles already aching from before, and now they were screaming in agony. Anthony quickly cast the Healing spells he had learned in Charms on the fingers on his right hand -- that was all he had time to do before the Death Eater got up and retaliated -- and though it was far from the best job he had ever done, it was good enough for him to get a slightly better grip on his wand for now. With his other arm, he put his forearm on the banister and hoisted himself to his feet. He was still unsteady and reeling from the Imperius Curse earlier, but he shot Aguamenti and a Freezing Charm in quick succession at the ground under the Death Eater to turn it into ice, then fired a Blasting Curse in hopes of pushing him down the stairs if he didn't slip on the ice first. Pulling himself to his feet unsteadily, his legs quaked slightly. Holding himself steady, he took an uneasy step, slipping on the newly formed patch of ice. Glaring, Demetrius waved his wand in a long arc, conjuring a whip from the end of his wand and letting it wrap around the child's ankle, determined to take him down with him. As he pulled, the Blasting Curse hit just inches from his chest and Demetrius was pulled back down the stairs once more. Anthony had been prepared to sprint down the stairs to the next landing and lock himself into one of the classrooms on the floor below so that he could try to fix the rest of his injuries before getting proper medical attention elsewhere, but after taking another moment too long to decide whether that would be a reasonable course of action to take, something wrapped around one of his ankles again and he was yanked down the stairs as his own Blasting Curse hit its mark. He didn't have time to cast Glisseo this time to break his fall, and the sharp edges of the stairs cut into him as he banged and crashed against them once step after another. Once he hit the floor at the bottom, he heard a loud snap as left arm broke, but he had to bite down on his lip and ignore the sharp pain there and everywhere else -- he had one chance to do what he thought, in his desperation and panic, was necessary or he was going to be killed himself. Concentrating as hard as he could -- he had never casted this particular Unforgivable Curse on a human being with success before -- Anthony staggered to his knees and aimed his wand at the Death Eater. 'Avada Kedavra!' Nothing happened. Laughing loudly at the feeble attempt at a Killing Curse, Demetrius righted himself once more, though a bit of weight on his foot revealed that his ankle had been broken in the fall. How inconvenient, a few of his fingers seemed to be broken too. Dammit. That was bound to make things difficult, so he clumsily tried to repair the breaks on his left hand (though he had always been awful with healing spells) and then tried to fix his fingers on the right as well, which worked to an extent but his hand still throbbed when he closed it back around his wand. Taking a moment to repair the break in his ankle, which was a bit more focused and better-done than the repairing of his hand, he then straightened, aiming a kick (with his unbroken foot, though balancing on his newly repaired one proved difficult) for the young man. Sometimes physical violence just was what it was. The absence of green light from his wand had made Anthony's stomach lurch -- he should have known better than to use an advanced spell he had little practice with in a situation like this. He had frozen in shock as he nearly vomited in fear of what he thought would come next -- which was definitely not being kicked. The Death Eater's foot smashed into where his ribs had already been broken earlier and he dropped his wand as he screamed in pain and coughed up blood. But that was it -- if he was going to die, which scared him and seemed inevitable, he was going to take this bastard with him, which was something he never would have considered if he had been able to stay rational. Forgetting his wand for now, and biting down hard enough on his lip to break the skin with his broken teeth, he clumsily threw himself at the Death Eater to knock him to the ground, then tried to punch him in order to slam his mask against his face. It wasn't the smartest idea when he had shoddily healed broken fingers, but it was the first thing he could think of doing. Not expecting a reaction like that, and already being ill-balanced, the sudden lunge threw Demetrius down onto the hard floor, winding him. He felt his mask jam itself back into his face, opening up a few shallow cuts across his cheeks. Grabbing the boy by the neck, though with less force than he'd have liked, he pushed at him, trying to throw him off and make it easier to right himself and have a proper fight with magic, but his injuries were making it difficult. Black spots exploded in front of his eyes and he felt like he didn't have a lot of fight left. This needed to be done, and done quickly. Anthony's first reaction at having his neck grabbed was to try and knee the Death Eater in the groin -- he didn't give a shit if it was dishonourable or that men weren't supposed to do that to each other -- but he missed. As he was pushed back though, his fingers brushed against his wand again -- and he made a desperate grab for it and did the first (stupid and impulsive) thing he could think of, which was to fall onto the Death Eater again (partly on purpose and partly out of being rather dazed still) and stab him in the eye. He could go further and blow his head off with a Reductor Curse while he still had his wand in the socket, but he found himself faltering due to weakness from his injuries and a reluctance to kill someone in cold blood in as violent a manner as that, not being able to do more than mutter, 'Reduc--' and freeze half-way through the incantion. Now Demetrius had been jabbed in the eye many, many times in his life. But it never got less bloody fucking annoying or painful. Winded and his eye watering painfully, "Relashio," was his first reaction. Getting the stupid little boy away from him as quickly as possible was priority. Growling a little to himself, he blinked rapidly. Now that just wasn't nice. No one had taught these children manners, obviously. Idiotic half-bloods, the lot of them. He knew what he had to do. "Imperio," he commanded. His wand arm tingling pleasantly once more, though still painful, he smirked. 'How about you gouge out your own eye for me? With your own bare hands.' That seemed quite fair, really. What goes around comes around and all that. His heart was racing. Despite everything, he still got a thrill from this. Despite how many years he'd been doing it, it was still amazing to him. He lifted the Imperius rather quickly afterward, a bit too tired to hold it for too much longer. Having hesitated for too long again, Anthony's hand had been thrown back in a flash of fiery sparks. He didn't have a moment to wonder why the hell he had done something so irrational when he felt himself relaxing under the Imperius Curse again, listening without protest to the voice telling him to rip out one of his own eyes. Setting his wand aside and unable to resist, he calmly dug his fingers into his right eye -- which was difficult when most of his fingers were broken, but it had to be done -- and clawed through the muscles, gouging and tearing into the eyeball itself with his fingernails until the tough exterior finally ruptured and the gelatin-like fluid inside gushed out, as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do. He tore out the remains of the eye piece by piece, leaving an empty socket with blood flowing out of it. Once that was done, he was suddenly hit with the full realisation of what he had just done to himself, and the noise that was torn from his throat in response to the pain and how he hadn't been able to stop himself didn't sound entirely human. His first reflex was to put his left hand up to where his eye had been, and he tried to stay calm as he picked up his wand again -- the fluid from his eye made his fingers slippery and he was shaking furiously -- and cast an unsteady Flagrante followed by a Revulsion Jinx to push the two of them apart. The moment there was some distance between them, he tried to get up and run, but he was too weak from injuries and blood loss and fell to the floor, desperately dragging himself backwards with his legs and unbroken wand-arm as quickly as he could -- the nearest classroom he could hide in was so close and he was absolutely sure he could make it there. Moving out of the way of the Flagrante, but not quickly enough, the blast of flames hit him across the shoulder, burning through the flesh and down to the bone in a neat line. There was a shout of pain and Demetrius gnashed his teeth, clutching his debilitated shoulder with his free hand. Caught off-guard by the Revulsion Jinx, he was forced backwards, falling onto his ass and skidding to a stop several yards away from where the fight had been going on. How embarrassing. Pushing himself to his feet, he took a few steps forward, but knew what his next move had to be. He was too old for this. It was over. He was done playing with this little boy. Casting a silent Entrail-Expelling Curse (one of his favourites, though there were few people his own age alive to vouch for that at this point) at the boy, he smirked and stood back, patiently waiting. Had Anthony not cast a Supersensory Charm on himself earlier, he never would have seen the Death Eater casting what he thought would be the Killing Curse -- but the movement caught his eye and everything that happened next, though it must have occurred very quickly, seemed to move in slow motion. His adrenaline had been ebbing away as he neared the classroom, but there was enough in him along with his thinking I don't want to die that moved him to raise his wand and use his last spark of strength and desperation to cast the first and only spell that came to mind, hoping he could will it to work and hit its mark this time. 'Avada Kedavra!' Just as the bolt of green light erupted from his wand, the Entrail-Expelling Curse smashed into him and the first thing Anthony felt was an immense pressure against his abdomen from the inside just before the skin and muscle tore open -- and his internal organs exploded through the gash, ripping it open further as his intestines, stomach, and liver, in pieces and not, burst forth and splattered along with far too much blood against the stone floor and walls around him. The force from the expulsion knocked him back a feet or two and against the ground, and all Anthony could do in response was a strangled cry of shock as more blood started to pool underneath him. The victory of his spell hitting its mark was one of the last feelings that rose up in Demetrius Mulciber's chest. It was a grin of victory that he wore until he noticed the jet of green light shooting at him, a moment too late. Absurdly, the image of a twenty-year-old Mary MacDonald crossed his mind, followed in some sort of spontaneous succession by Severus. Corbina. His parents. He wondered vaguely if that was supposed to be his life flashing before his eyes. The slightest ironic laugh bubbled in his throat as he dropped to the ground lamely, the spell not being powerful enough to physically lift him. The fresh corpse was nothing more than a slumped mass on the cold stone floor, leaving the man with nothing more than a death entirely deserved and undignified. Anthony barely noticed that his Killing Curse -- the last spell he was ever going to cast, and something he would have never foreseen when he was eleven -- had succeeded as he finally collapsed in exhaustion and overwhelming pain that burned and stabbed everywhere at once. His fingers went slack and he let go of his wand, and though he was slipping into unconsciousness, he struggled to keep his one remaining eye open as if it would somehow stop him from dying broken and alone, choking on and lying in a pool of his own blood, and without the chance to redeem himself for what he had done during the past year. I'm not dying, I can't die, I never got to say good-bye to my sister and Padma and -- If Anthony had believed in souls during his life, then his finally departed the moment he was too tired to fight any longer. |