wand_wavers: (fire)
[personal profile] wand_wavers
For a moment, the briefest of moments, Hogwarts is silent. It's the silence of surprise, of blank shock; even as deep below the castle, a wizard perhaps more powerful than any other in the building raised his hands and prepared to fell them, Voldemort's Inferi crumpled lifeless to the ground, every one. No wizard did that - nor any magic worked by an Old One - and for a moment, the briefest of moments, the fighting stutters to a halt as the combatants stare at the fallen bodies.

The silence of surprise, of blank shock, and - as something tenses in the air - the silence of a great, indrawn breath.

And then -

The explosion is bigger than it should be, bigger than it was ever supposed to be, and only in the furthest, deepest places of the castle will it not be heard.

Date: 2006-06-25 05:48 am (UTC)
clumsy_auror: (look me in the eye oneechan19)
From: [personal profile] clumsy_auror
Dimly, Nymphadora is aware that the Inferi have fallen, somehow, but she doesn't know why; Crowley's shoulder blocks most of her view, but she stays there for a moment, clinging to the demon, because the longer she can soak up the warmth and the solid presence of family, the better off she'll be against the Dementors.

But then--

But then, from the upper floors, there's a muffled, oxygen-sucking pulse, and then another a split second later, and the very walls of the ancient castle shake around them.

"No," she whispers, because she knows before she can even verbalise it.

She knows.

Lifting the mirror to her eyes, Nymphadora searches frantically, but all she can see is smoke, and stillness.

Terrible stillness.

Date: 2006-06-25 06:03 am (UTC)
aj_crawley: (KILL)
From: [personal profile] aj_crawley
Everything's quiet in the wake of it.

Everything.

Until suddenly, one of the Death Eaters lets out a shriek, and clutches at their arm - and then another, and then another. Until, from other parts of the castle, a ragged, vicious cheer goes up as bands of defenders rally against the intruders - depleted now, without the Inferi, and hopelessly confused.

Until the precisely four seconds it takes for Crowley, not thinking not thinking not thinking, to step back out into the corridor and start plowing his way through the enemy towards the open hallway, towards the staircase, towards the smoke.

Date: 2006-06-25 07:17 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] a-fell.livejournal.com
It's a good thing Crowley has the tyre iron, a good thing that everything is off balance, because 'Dora is racing after the demon, barely seeming aware of the wand in her hand and although Aziraphael is instantly on her heels the Inferi are dead and the Dementors are elsewhere and the rest of them are human. For a given value thereof. It's terrifying to feel this helpless but he knows better than to wish there were something he could do because... because they are running past things he could do and should do but this is family.


The expression on Crowley's face; when he sees the wreckage, the piles of rubble, the expression on Crowley's face is... terrifying. Almost as much so as the way Bernard looks when they get through to him, when they manage to pull him out. Aziraphael settles beside him, struggles to concentrate and do what he can in the face of the battle that still rages in the distance and - and the not so distant and - and the state of 'Dora, her tear streaked face and the wand lying unregarded by her hand...

It's a good thing Crowley has the tyre iron.

Aziraphael tries not to look. He has to concentrate. And if - if, by not looking, if that means he's condoning...


Well. It's Crowley.

Date: 2006-06-29 03:58 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (pensive)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
One thing about being a prefect is that you soon learn how to get around a castle in ways that most students don't normally know about. There is more than one route from the girls' toilets on the second floor to the infirmary on the floor above, and Hermione and Ron don't even argue about which way to take -- once the passage leading down to the Chamber of Secrets closes behind the four of them, they leave the bathroom and head down a little-used corridor, toward an even less-used spiral staircase.

The corridor is empty and deathly quiet. There are three bodies sprawled on the floor, three unwilling conscripts in Voldemort's army of Inferi, all of whom have fortunately landed face down. Hermione closes her eyes when she has to walk past them, Ron keeps his gaze fixed firmly ahead, and it isn't entirely clear if Harry is fully aware of anything going on around him. Only Merriman glances down at the bodies, briefly looking for identifying marks and remembering their positions in case a final tally is required.

Date: 2006-06-29 04:34 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] apwb-d.livejournal.com
Severus's potions have served him well more than once, and what Severus can't provide, Poppy can. Albus is resting quietly. He feels terribly old and more than a little exhausted, but he's no longer in pain.

He's most pleased to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrive. The fact that Merriman is with them is quite a pleasant surprise, if a confusing one.

"I take it you've good news for me?"

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Date: 2006-06-30 04:14 am (UTC)
leplusbeau: (playing with fire)
From: [personal profile] leplusbeau
Outside the Room of Requirement, the doors are almost entirely blocked with the still smoldering wreckage of burnt desks, couches, beds, tables, and even a few paintings.

A dead Death Eater here and there.

But the hall is quiet. Very, very quiet.

Date: 2006-06-30 04:38 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (worried)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
It's quiet, except for the one tall thin red-haired wizard picking his way through the destruction in the hallway with one thought on his mind: to find his wife. She's here somewhere; he can tell. He's no Diviner and no Seer, but he knows where she was supposed to have been. Reaching for the doorknob, he opens the door as much as he can: this is the infamous Room of Requirement he's heard so much about. What he requires right now is for Fleur to be inside.

Wand drawn, he muscles his way in past the debris blocking the door, but...

No one? Where are they? Where could they have gone? This room was supposed to have been safe. This is the one that was supposed to have been a haven, untouchable. It's almost too much, this coming on the heels of what he and Fleur saw in Paris: ruined furniture, the smell of smoke, things in a jumble, and... is that a body?

He can feel his heart racing in unpleasant anticipation.

"Fleur?"

Date: 2006-06-30 04:43 am (UTC)
leplusbeau: (veela girl)
From: [personal profile] leplusbeau
There is the distant sound of something, masonry maybe, falling.






And then a gasp of surprise.




From somewhere, it isn't clear where, "How did you first learn I waz pregnant?"

Date: 2006-06-30 04:51 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (shadowy)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
That's my girl. "From an entire room full of snickering and silly people in Bernard and Tonks's flat. I had to rattle on the door to the bath to convince you to let me in, and I wondered why everyone else in the universe but me was there with you."

Now it's his turn. "And what was the name of the first Healer we saw after we knew?"

It's a game: she'll know it's him and he... well... he already knows it's her. He can feel it in his veins.

Date: 2006-06-30 04:58 am (UTC)
leplusbeau: (wretched and fragile)
From: [personal profile] leplusbeau
"BILL!"

And she is launching herself at him from behind her upturned table hiding place, and she doesn't care that she is the size of a house, she leaps at him because HE IS ALIVE, HE IS HERE, HE IS FINE, HUSBAND!

And she is weeping, clutching, kissing his face. "Bill, Bill, Bill!"

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Date: 2006-07-01 04:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dragon-paznic.livejournal.com
Charlie leans against the great stone wall beside the front door, for a moment, just closing his eyes and trying to breathe.

It's difficult.

His broom is... somewhere. He doesn't care. It doesn't particularly matter, just now.



The path to the hospital wing seems longer than ever, but it's the only place Charlie can think to go. He wants to go to Gryffindor Tower, to find his old four-poster and curl up in it for a thousand years, to re-awaken and find the world's returned to the way it was, when things made more sense than they do now.

All Charlie can think is I hope they already know.

Because he doesn't want to be the one to tell them.

Date: 2006-07-01 04:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_our_king_/
"Charlie!" came a relieved voice, and Ron pushed through the masses of people going in and out of the infirmary to his brother. He didn't want to leave Harry's side, but every so often he'd been going to the door and keeping an eye out for his family.

"It's done! He's gone! The bloody gits done for good!"

Six feet and 170 pounds of teenage boy barreled into Charlie as Ron hugged him, completely relieved to see him alive.

"Have you seen Mum and Dad yet? Or Ginny?" Ron asked worriedly. "I think I saw Bill through the crowd, but--"

...And he noticed the look on Charlie's face.

"What's happened?"

Date: 2006-07-02 02:00 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_our_king_/
"Mum? Dad? Ginny!" Ron hugged Ginny back, tight, glad to see that she and his dad and mum were all right. "You lot all right? Harry and Hermione are fine, and I think I saw Bill through the crowd maybe--but he ran off--probably to find Fleur."

But...but where were the twins?

He turned back to Charlie, now wondering, fearing...

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Date: 2006-07-01 06:39 am (UTC)
iambetadraconis: (Happy)
From: [personal profile] iambetadraconis
It's strange, really, how it all came to an end.

I couldn't tell you how, because I wasn't there to witness it. But I can tell you that I
felt it.

My arm felt as though it was being ripped from my shoulder. The left, you see. That's the one that bears the Mark.
His Mark. The Dark Mark. That came first. And as soon as it started it was over, and my arm felt lifeless though I could still move it.

Dare I to hope? I asked myself as I hesitantly withdrew the sleeve to see—

—that
it was gone.

Gone.

The skin of my inner forearm was unblemished as though it never bore a mark of any kind at all upon it. Or in it, as it were.

That meant only one thing:


He was gone. Gone for good.

And it was in that moment that I finally found it in me to believe in a god and his heaven.

Only a god of kindness and mercy could find it within himself to allow those who never truly wanted to serve the Dark Lord [dare I to call him by his infernal name now that he's truly dead?] at all.

Thank you. Oh, thank you.

That's when the world about me began to [literally] cave in about me—


*******


He let out a yelp of pain as several stones hit him in the side, threatening to kill him if he didn't get out of the way. The walls were shaking. The ceiling was shaking.

Bloody hell the stairs were shaking.

Even Rabastan himself was shaking, partially from fear; partially from elation.

After what seemed to be an eternity of indentured servitude to a man born only of hate and darkness so deep it was impossible to fathom he was...

"...free... Oh gods I am ... I am..."

He checked his arm again, as though he found it hard to believe the truth of the matter.

Sure enough, the Mark was gone.

He pulled the bone-white mask from his face, dropped it, raised his foot, and gave it a decisive stomp.

It shattered like glass.

"He's gone and I can be free—"

"But you won't live long to gloat about it!"

Rabastan whirled about to see the furious faces of Rodolphus and Mulciber. Clearly they had survived.

And were angry.

"You spineless coward of a dog I'll tear you—"

Rodolphus didn't finish what he was about to say, as he and Mulciber fell down the stairs.

"There's three of them down here and—

Is that a broken mask at his feet?"

"Broken, yes. He's gone. I need it no more," Rabastan said. "The Dark Lord is gone. I am no longer bound to him."

And he said those words with a joy he'd never found within himself before.

"He's gone! Gone!"

"Mad, that one," said the stranger.

"What do we do with him?"

"I don't care," Rabastan said. "He's gone; I don't have to worry about him any more. No more death. No more killing."

He breathed out his next words.

"No more pain..."

And with that he turned on his heel and ran down the stairs three at a time, not even stopping when he reached a door, opened it, burst out into the night.

"He's GONE! GONE! FREEDOM!"

Date: 2006-07-01 09:39 pm (UTC)
capt_angie: (scared)
From: [personal profile] capt_angie
In the wake of the battle, Angelina slips away and goes walking by herself. Her shoulder is torn up and she has yet to see a healer, but though it's painful, it isn't life threatening. She walks over the grounds, away from the battle and she keeps going. So much destruction lies behind her, so many lives cut short- some she knew, most she didn't. The bodies of her parents are back there somewhere, and Fred and George... oh Merlin, Fred and George... they were her oldest school friends and- even though they hadn't spoken in months- she still cares for Fred in a way that is more than just platonic.

Angelina wipes the back of her hand across her eyes and it comes away wet from tears she hadn't even realised she was crying. She thinks this must be a dream. For the past two- no three- years she has been living each day at a time, hardly daring to think of a future that she might never see. But she's here. The war is over and she's survived. The sharp pain in her shoulder reminds her of that and a small sob escapes her. The tears she cries are bittersweet- part grief for those that where lost, part guilt that she survived... and partly for the sheer joy and relief of being alive.

And oh she has so much still to live for.

Date: 2006-07-02 05:54 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sullen-seeker.livejournal.com
And long after the Death Eaters have fled, long after the giants have turned and retreated towards their distant mountains, long after the violence stops - Viktor flies.

Not going anywhere. Just watching it all from above, and from away, a god's-eye perspective. Below the people are light fireflies, lighting their wand tips and going back and forth between each other; he can almost hear them asking are you alright? and is he hurt? and where's our friend, is she dead too? They swarm together and break apart, chaos-pattered, mandala-like; Viktor wonders if you could tell new prophecies from the shapes their movements form.

New prophecies for new times.

Gently the distant tides turn their flow towards the castle and Viktor takes a moment to rest, alighting atop a burn-marked tower. Funny how from up here it all seems so peaceful, a wholly different world. Somewhere he knows there are people who will want to know that he's alive, to check his wounds, to tell him just how badly it all went - but for now he can hold this moment for his own, and keep it tight lest it slip from his grasp.




In time the first rays of the sun stretch over the horizon, striking the highest parts of the castle first. It's dawn, come at last, and Viktor lifts a hand to protect his eyes from the light.

IncalaEarneve francoeu

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