Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.

[wand_wavers]

The light is turning grey as the last of the village residents scurry through the front doors of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Rosmerta, heading up a straggling train of tenders and shopkeeps, most of whom - the reason for their tardiness - are laden down with bags. This doesn't endear them to anyone at first, until they're stopped on the castle steps and the contents are revealed to be not personal possessions, but flasks of butterbeer, simple rolls and scones from Puddifoot's, and as much Honeyduke's chocolate as could be carried.

They're waved inside with backslaps and slightly heartened grins, pointed towards the Room of Requirement (Dumbledore's express orders - anyone not fighting is to stay here, under guard).

Outside, the atmosphere soon tenses again, and it's not long in spreading through the castle, particularly anywhere there are north-facing windows. In the distance, nestled between the dark masses of two harsh Scottish hills, there is a faint red-orange glow against the dusk; that's where Hogsmeade used to be.

And between there and the castle - almost to the gates now, though with a long trek across the lawns afterwards - another glow. Except this one, this one is a sickly green, and comes not from one source, but from many, far too many wands, held aloft above a solid swarm of black robes. Behind these tight-serried ranks, a still larger horde crowds the narrow roadway, some figures slow and shambling, some switching freely between two feet and all fours, and some, silhouetted against the ghostly light, horrifyingly, stomach-clenchingly huge.

It seems strangely cold - colder than it should be, for a midsummer's evening. There are slow tendrils of mist sneaking and snaking their way out from the Forbidden Forest.

It's nearly night.

It's nearly time.

Comments

[wand_wavers]

Ginny Sighs as she looks around the room at every one in it.. Seeing Draco and his minions in one corner. she keeps to her self, Wrapping her arms around her self., wondering where her family is. How they are.

She looks up Seeing her Mother and wants to ask if she knows how things are doing out side... How Her dad is, The rest of her family. Friends, the whole wizarding world as a whole a million other questions she keeps to her self. She walks to a wall sliding down it sitting on the floor hugging her knees to her self.. Silent tears fall down as she starts to worry and get scared.

Hoping every thing on the out side is going well when she fears it’s not.. She’s stuck here with every one they deem to young to fight.

[wand_wavers]

Molly Weasley walked silently among the students gathered in the Room of Requirement. Her wand was out and held in a tight grip, as she strained her ears for any sound, any sign that the battle was coming their way. She would willingly fight tooth and nail to protect these kids, but prayed fervently that she wouldn’t have to.

She was both proud and terrified to know that her own children were out there fighting, doing their best to defend their world against He Who Must Not Be Named. And she thanked whatever powers there were that Ginny was not also out there amongst them.

Her eyes search the crowded room, and find Ginny with ease. What a fine young woman her daughter has grown to be… she wants her to have the chance to grow even more, and hopes that this day will see the end of all of the worry and fear that has plagued them all for so long. She walks closer and sees the tears on her daughter’s face, and sighs inwardly. Of course she’s frightened. They all are. She doesn’t embarrass her by embracing Ginny like she wants to, but instead simply hands over a handkerchief and whispers a soft word of comfort before moving on to check on some of the others.

Arthur is outside where she can’t see him, and she is worried that she may have already laid eyes on him for the last time. A sob wants to escape, but she swallows it down. They will all make it through this. They have to.

[iambetadraconis]

How he'd become roped into this assignment he had no idea. Perhaps the Dark Lord felt that Rabastan Lestrange was not as loyal a servant as his kin were. Or maybe it was the fact that Rodolphus had done most of the work during that mass killing spree that had him so displeased.

He always believes we're capable of treachery, he told himself as he made his way oh so carefully through the corridors, remembering where all the trick steps were on each stair case. Having been a student here at Hogwarts proved to be an ironic advantage during this war. I don't think he trusts any of us further than he can throw us with that new body of his.

Rabastan Lestrange had been instructed to lead a motley assembly of about seven or eight Death Eaters [not including himself] into the castle to seize it, and from there find a way to allow the remaining followers of Voldemort into the castle and take it for their own. They'd complained at first, not wanting to be led by such a spineless coward on such an important mission as this, but after a couple of applications of the Cruciatus Curse they consented and here they were, thinking dark, ugly thoughts at their leader for the night, wishing they were somewhere else or being led by someone far more worthy of the task.

Like Mulciber for instance. He'd been one of the dissenters, and was the first to be given a round under Cruciatus for daring to speak out against Voldemort's orders. Yes, he'd probably have made a better leader, given his age and time spent with the Death Eaters as well as his skills with Imperius, but he wasn't.

"Quiet back there!" Rabastan said in a stage whisper when they were a floor below the Room of Requirement. "They'll hear you and we'll all be dead!"

He wasn't talking about the guards he knew would be stationed along the way, but the paintings themselves. If one of the occupants awoke, they'd sound the alarm and the Death Eaters would have a fight on their hands.

I'd rather not be fighting, really. I just... Rodolphus knew I never had it in me to take lives...

One more flight of stairs and their paths would intersect with the Order members themselves.

[wand_wavers]

Professor Sprout is.

Well, she isn't a warrior.

She plants things. She puts down seeds, she helps them grow. That's what she does, you see.

Oh, she's pruned plenty of plants. Sometimes, you have to cut off a few dead leaves to make the shrub grow taller, better. But she never has tried to. Tried to. Well.

But she has been put children, these children and before them, to the soil and watching them grow. She has helped them grow. And she isn't going to see them cut down before they can even reach their prime. No, she isn't. So she takes a breath and clutches her wand a bit tighter and--

What was that?

She can do this. She knows she can.

[iambetadraconis]

This?

Is not what Rabastan needed, not when stealth was more important than oxygen for survival.

Amongst the group was a new recruit from France, who'd been all-too-eager to join this particular group in order to prove himself. Some curly-haired boy who for all intents looked like he'd only barely graduated from Beauxbatons, and as was to be expected, knew nothing about Hogwarts castle itself, as, when Rabastan turned to look behind him, had noticed that the youth had fallen behind the group and had become stuck in one of the trick steps along the staircase.

He'd let out a shout of surprise and at the moment was cursing a little too fluently and too loudly in his native tongue while he tried to pry his foot from the step he'd taken.

That's when Rabastan heard a new sound: one from the floor above them. Somebody had heard the young man's noise and if Rabastan's guess was correct, the person or persons who'd heard the commotion were more likely to be guards than to be students roaming the halls after hours.

"Wands out," he hissed, not bothering with stealth any more, not now that the entire castle seemed to be awake. "And Talbot would you help out Monsieur Tremblay and get him unstuck? We're about to have company."

[wand_wavers]

Arthur Weasley knows very well that he's not the sort of man one normally associates with brilliant battle strategies, which is all very well; he hasn't got any.

What he has got are seven wonderful children, and an amazing wife, and a pair of grandchildren on the way. He sneaks a worried look at Fleur; as insistent that she'd been that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he'd feel better if she were inside with Ginny and Molly.



He starts-- along with everyone else-- at the sound of muffled cursing from the floor below.

Here they come.

"All right, girls," he says, in what he hopes is a confident and authoritative kind of voice. ("Girls" may very well include Professor Sprout.)

"Just-- remember what you've practiced. Watch out for the Killing Curse ... but don't rule out the other Unforgivables, either. And look out for each other."

He looks around at his little group (too little-- but then, it isn't supposed to look as if they're guarding anything important), praying that they won't have to face Death Eaters that are too numerous, too experienced, too anything.

Arthur looks grimly towards the stairwell, fingers tightening over his wand.

All right, old chap-- time to prove why you're in the Order.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_clearly_penny_/]

Penelope bites her lip, gripping her wand so tightly that she thinks her hand is probably about to cramp.

She's been running through situations in her head-- if he uses this spell, I'll use that one-- and ruling out various techniques as being too slow or unwieldy for duel-type situations, but there's only so long she can go before the moves and the tactics start to blur.

Of course, there are always hypothetical farewell letters.

Dear George,
I'm thinking I'm about to be in a lot of trouble. I just want you to know that I really, really, REALLY regret not having snogged you before I left--

A noise on the stairs; her breath catches in her throat.

I don't want to be here. I want to be home--

Closer. Louder.

Expelliarmus.

Whatever happens, just *use it.*

They're only men in stupid masks, after all.

[iambetadraconis]

The masks might appear stupid but the men who wear them are anything but.

Unless they're Crabbe and Goyle, who arguably could be outsmarted by the masks they wear while carrying out their duties, of course, but neither is with this particular group.

No. Voldemort knew they were too clumsy and stupid to pull off this mission, so they were assigned elsewhere, where it wouldn't matter how many brain cells they had between them to rub together.

Tremblay's swearing was soon accompanied by Talbot's, who, in his efforts to pry Tremblay's foot out of the step had only succeeded in getting himself stuck thanks to a frantic Tremblay who was more hindrance than help.

Possibly because Tremblay barely spoke English and Talbot's knowledge of French couldn't even make up a full sentence including adverbs.

Which meant that Rabastan would have to intervene, being the only one who knew any French at all.

"Monsieur Tremblay," he began, irritated by the young man's idiocy as well as the fact that there was going to be a skirmish between the Order and the Death Eaters. "Stop thrashing and let Talbot pull out your foot. If you don't I'll let those Phoenixes have you as their first target."

And to the rest of the others? He'd have to put on his proverbial brave face.

"They won't be taking prisoners, men, so we won't be either. Up the stairs!

Mulciber! Locke! You're to take point!"

Well. That sounded braver than I really felt.

[leplusbeau]

Fleur is not very good with waiting. She isn't a soldier, either.