Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!"

[wand_wavers]

For one thousand years, Hogwarts castle has known dark times. Voldemort is not the first Dark Wizard to cloud the hearts and minds of the Wizarding community of Britain. He is the first, however, to directly attack the school.

Inferi plod through the front doors as Death Eaters swarm past, casting the Killing Curse as they go. The Ministry ground forces fall back inside, as the bombing unit does what it can to stem the flow of the walking dead. Dementors glide throughout the battle field, and more than one Auror is lost to their kisses.

The ghosts of Hogwarts flit through the halls, carrying messages and information from the severed lines of Ministry. Unlike owls or other runners, they can't be killed. Since Apparation is not possible - that charm at least has not been broken - they're the quickest way.


This castle was once a place of learning and laughter. Now it is a place of blood and terror.

Comments

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Angels and demons are -

(equals and)

- opposites, this is true; but where angels give and where the sign traditionally says Abandon, after all the intentions, all ye who enter here, the demons don't take. They persuade and subtly discourage and hope is a fragile thing, easily lost, but it takes a Dementor to steal it.

Another juxtaposition, then.

Dark -

(robes, and the pale faces of the fighters as the temperature drops with a rattling breath)

- and light.

Silver and almost solid, flickering on the edges of the blade.



Angels give hope. And the first of the patronuses, blazing blindingly silver, shoots past him as the Dementor crumples around his sword.

[aj_crawley]

And that's -

enough to just -

"Don't - " comes wavering from behind his teeth again, as he fights the urge to throw up.

A huge, gulping breath.

" - panic."

That's enough to push him forward, fingers firm around his tyre iron, and just concentrate on one - after another - after another - going down under it, and keeping Tonks safe, and that's enough.
(Nymphadora, it's not going well. Dumbledore, he's hurt. Badly.)
Or it.
(Voldemort is in the castle.)
It was.
(Bernard, you were supposed to stay on the battlements.)

[finalmarauder.livejournal.com]

He was ready to cast a Patronus if it was needed, but clearly it wasn't. It's a good thing Nymphadora's friend is along for this ride.

Just as he readies to move from the corner in which they've hunched, when he hears the explosion. Then there is a flurry of... of pieces, and he sees a face - just a face - that he recognizes.

He turns his own to the wall.

[kingly-auror.livejournal.com]

Kingsley has seen a great many horrific things in his time, but this is new.

He's rather glad Bernard is on their side.

He's also rather glad for the angel.

He is not at all glad for the blood.

He's trying not to look at the pieces.

[wand_wavers]

He's shaking.

The wires, the fucking wires, and the mixing and the setting, and it's all too much, and Bernard' yelling at him to speed up, and he can't--

And then Bernard stops and Aron stops, too, swinging his wand around and--

And then he's too busy killing the undead to really worry about mixing.

Pity, that. Because he was almost done. And a bomb that's almost done is a bomb that is almost ready to go off.

[wand_wavers]

She tries not to think about the fact that she's watching -- participating in -- the destruction of the bodies (if not the minds) that once sat in your classroom.

They're dead. They've been dead since the Death Eaters killed them. That's can't be changed. So there's nothing to do now but try to stop them.

It's hard to say which of those things is harder to do. There are so many of them, even now with all they've thrown at them. And she recognizes more of them -- Carmichael, Elphinstone, Erskine, Beaton -- than she can quite believe.

[wand_wavers]

Hit, thrust, parry, block, duck, fire fire fire.

Over and over, as they pour in, and the strange fellow who's been with them, throwing quips from the shadows, drops down and immediately cuts a swathe through them at her back, clearly protecting Bernard and Aron and her all at once, but clearly Bernard.

And all at once, as fire fire burn them don't think about how that looks like Josephine Atton from Potions class they keep coming and she keeps felling, she knows why he came with them, and she is grateful.

"Duck!"

She does so, and the man's weapon buries itself in the temple of the inferi at her side, shearing off half its head, exposing the grey matter below like some sort of sick science demonstration. She turns to burn it and pauses with a broken cry.

"Paul."

Her husband looks at her with what's left of one eye, and reaches for her. She reaches back, until the dark-haired man--

He--

Paul has no hands to reach with.

Elektra can't do anything but scream.

[clumsy_auror]

Her Patronus is weakening. The Dementors have doubled, tripled in number, even Aziraphael can't hold them all now, and she's backed against the wall, her voice hoarse from repeating the spell over and over again.

Cold sweat breaks out all over Nymphadora's skin, and she fights the urge to close her eyes or vomit into the singed remains of the potted fern at her side.

It's all done. We've lost. And I don't even get to die beside my husband.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

They're all fighting tooth and nail, and Bernard has always hated guns, but boy does he long for one now.

Aron is at his back, holding them off, and Bernard frantically modifies the bomb next to the one Aron was preparing, setting it to detonate in thirty seconds, and starting to mix the boomslang and the--

Fuck.

Aron's bomb--

It--

Fuck.

The components are nearly mixed, the wires are set, and as far as he can see, it's ready except for that final push.

The spell.

Just then, Elektra starts to scream, and Aron swings around, shooting spells like mad, and something glances off a shouting portrait, and there's a flash of yellow and--

It's not the right spell.

Not right at all.

But it hits the bomb.

For a split second, Bernard can't even move.

Then, "ARON! IT'S LIVE, RUN--" And he grabs him, and Raph hears and grabs the shrieking Elektra, and oh my God, that's Paul, that's--

They run, and the inferi run after.

[aj_crawley]

There are too many.

There are too many, even with the fire, and 'Dora's looking like she might pass out, and Ber'd is up there somewhere without even a wand to defend himself and there are too many of them.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Something lurches past, burning, and Crowley's not even sure if it's alive or dead, but only that it's burning. He backs up into 'Dora, and that was an accident but he whirls them behind a suit of armour, and it's close enough to singe his wings as he presses her face against his shoulder, and in the moment she can't see he slips a slender sheaf of paper from his pocket, and.

Home, in a sense. But more what he comes home to.

In the noise of the battle, the sound of tearing paper isn't audible.

But in the sudden breath of silence afterwards, the slow, meaty thudding of Inferius after Inferius crumpling to the floor - that seems very loud indeed.

[not-death-eater.livejournal.com]

Lucius fled the tunnel ahead of his master. He didn't wish to incur his wrath for failing to make the way clear. He'd joined the fray half-heartedly; the Inferi and Dementors were doing the difficult work.

He was going over ways to prove his worth to his Lord, as they were clearly on the winning side - finally - when he saw one Inferius drop before him. Then one more. And soon, all of them had collapsed, magical animation completely gone.

The Dark Lord must know this. He grabbed one of the robed figures near him, and then another two as he stalked towards the stairs. "We have to get to the Chamber," he snarled. "Follow me!"

Lucius Malfoy wasn't going to be the one to relay this bad news to Voldemort. One of them could bloody well do it. He made certain they were right behind as he headed for the girls lavatory that led to the Voldemort's headuarters deep under Hogwarts

[wand_wavers]

He's forgotten his pictures. He's forgotten everything but the pure drive of survival instinct, because they're everywhere, and Jonathan and Jonas are fighting hand to hand and with spells, but Atticus doesn't know how to fight.

He got into a fight, once. In school.

Got his arse handed to him by a Hufflepuff.

An inferi lunges toward him, and he throws a firebomb into the crowd of them, then ducks, flailing, as it hits the railing and falls seven stories. He turns to the others, and cries out as Jonas is overwhelmed, Jonathan backed to the top of the stairs, and moving down in desperation.

He stupefies, stupefies, oh God, he can't remember anything, why? A woman who was once beautiful grabs him by the hair and pulls out a hank, and he shrieks, elbowing her in the face out of instinct.

And then, just as quickly, she's gone.

They're all gone.

Well. Not gone.

The inferi.

They're on the ground.

Dead.

Dead as they were before.

He and Jonathan stare at each other, blank, shocked. Unable to process what has just happened.

And then the whole world turns to fire.