Caroline’s feet shuffled across the hardwood floors, soles scuffing the wood with petulant squeaks muffled by the rustle of cloaks and half stifled yawns. A sense of resignation bound them together; packed like penguins as they oozed towards the elevators, reluctant runners on the last leg of the morning commute.

Her breath caught in her throat, tendrils of icy mist rising around her despite the regular flash of flames as wizards and witches burst into reality. Shifty eyes glittered in the firelight as they searched for an adversary, taught faces relaxing as they gratefully burrowed into the crowd. More than cold kept the group together, a tension stretched over them like clingfilm pulling them tight, holding them close.

These were not days to be alone. You Know Who, the name hung round their necks, a lead weight pulling them down, the crowd a sea of bowed heads staring fixedly at their shoes. Even the ceiling seemed sorrowful, teardrop shapes and downturned mouths of pure gold twisting and undulating across a sky of deep melancholic magenta.

Without warning she shivered though it had nothing to do with the cold, even as she allowed herself to be carried into the elevators.

The office seemed normal. The senior testers huddled around the coffee pot, eyes closed and heads bowed over their cups as if in silent prayer. The juniors held court on the other side, wide eyed and bouncy as they discussed the activities of whoever was currently enduring the wrath of yet another nocturnal excursion into youthful debauchery.

Looking at the centre of the bunch, her eyes widened as she found her usual bleary eyed culprit of a Thursday morning, wide awake and head already bent over a dusty tome and she advanced on him with playful exuberance, creeping forward as he remained intent on his work.

The desk gave a dull thud as she slammed both hands down but didn’t draw a wince only a wary glance from below his fringe as he looked at her with weary glazed eyes that seemed strangely distant. If he was on something it was something she hadn’t seen before and with this lot she thought she had seen it all.

“Caracus I thought you told me that Wednesday nights at The Coven was worth the agony”

He looked at her slightly bemused before giving a weary strained smile his voice short

"Not last night,wasn't feeling it"

She clasped her hands in mocking pride her voice high and eyelashes fluttering

"They grow up so fast"

"Shut up" His face contorted with a dull snarl words snarled in a tone she wasn't sure was sarcastic. He immediately returned to his work and she turned to the group with a questioning eyebrow raised

"Who shoved an owl up his nightshirt" she whispered and Kay,his roomate, gave a shrug of her slender shoulders, blonde hair rippling in the candle light

"Dunno, he's been a cock all morning, Daz think's he's on troll bogies"

Caroline snorted

"Don't be ridiculous, troll bogies can't give you a high"

A smile twitched across David's thin face, emerald eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief

"Exactly, wouldn't you be pissed if someone sold you them to you?"

Caroline's eyes widened and she grabbed the impish face by the ear and dragged him to her desk with a low hiss

"David McIIroy, you may be able to sell stilts to giants but you were born without sense"

The cheeky cocky face twisted in confusion, the smile fading into a question which Caroline answered with a low hiss

"You don't screw with someone who could tear your head off with or without his wand. Caz has a nasty temper at the best of times, so give him his money back and keep him out of sight.You know he's on a final warning."

She gave a small shake of her head releasing the ear of a suddenly twitchy David to flop down at her desk chair with a wan smile. Not even 9 o Clock and she was already at it ; everything was back to norm... no....she shook her head,desperately trying to clear the creeping sensation that everything was far from normal.

Four men, each dressed in black, bustled with the crowds. The hum wasnt so loud today, what was left of the usual morning chatter was almost silent. The four men trudged through the less than enthusiastic crowds managing to catch up with the fifth member of their own team.

"Nott, you look rough." One man commented, catching him on the shoulder. The man turned and nodded, gesturing their voices down low. George pulled the first man in close and frowned.

"Snatchers."

"You can't be serious?"

"I caught a message. Found them all hunting muggle borns near Holt." The five all sighed. People were aware, it was haunting them all but now they all knew just how quickly it was escalating. "I honestly don't think flyers and education is going to stop this." Voices were dropped low, almost to nothing. George soon continued his way towards the elevators.

No one spoke of snatchers, giants, or the number of muggle murders that seemed unsolvable to muggle police. The Auror's were dealing with those, which continued much to George's own resentment. He were playing by rules and adhering to the slightest instruction. He'd do a good job and eventually get his place there. The lift gave a ping as the door's opened on the second floor.

"Department for Magical Law Enforcement." A voice rang, sweet and somehow unaffected by all the paranoia and incoming terror. All but George left the lift.

"You not coming, Nott?" George shook his head.

"They were Spanish." He commented simply. The doors were slid shut as the lift continued another floor up. The voice rang out once more and he stepped off. He was grateful for his team's silence on the matter. The last half of their staff needed was to panic over family and children; of course most of which would be shipped back to school in the next week.

George made a hasty dash for someone within the department. He nodded and smiled. An emotion that was dropped as soon as the selected staff member had drifted off behind him. He finally reached a door and pushed it open; he'd never cared for knocking.

"Quinn?" He asked, soon spotting her. He whistled her over and stepped outside the office. "Two things really." He pulled up his left sleeve. "What the hell is this?" During a duel in the previous evening, before either of the two nearest Auror's had apirated, George had found himself hit with what had seemed like a simple home-brewed hex. However, the long tree like mark on his arm- He wasn't entirely comfortable.

"Second thing-" He gestured her closer. "Frenis hates me, I need this files owled to Spain, this morning." He handed over a selection of sealed parchments. Grimsur Frenis was the Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, and after number visits on behalf of his own team, both George and himself had grown to dislike each other. The former had guessed it to be for his severe lack of manners and polite lies.

She was lost in the runes, submerged in silence, walking happily amongst the squiggles and signs, a little maze she had to navigate. The runes literal translation was not the issue. The spell, an ancient spell from a group of witches at the heart of the Ottoman empire, said to increase a woman's fertility "Oviedum Maximus" was simple enough, yet inflection and wand movements were poorly conveyed. She had gathered the I should be silent melding into a long e the wand moving in something like but not quite an elliptical motion.

She sat back letting the rooms bustle distract her for a moment as she realigned the runes for a new approach, letting her body twist into its natural position inhaling deep as she prepared to submerge once again.

A door banged like a gun, handle rattling as it rebounded off the wall and heads snapped upwards to face them the odd hand heading towards robe pockets, edgy nerves momentarily frayed. The cacophony of sound was shortly followed by a mass of black hair, dark eyes flashing round.

Heads snapped downwards, hand suddenly rooting in drawers as they struggled to evade his steely gaze but Caroline stood firm, knowing what was coming

"Quinn" a jerk of his head and he withdrew from the office and she gave a small snort of exasperation. Who had he pissed off this time?

Nott was alright if you ignored his brutish demeanour to see the good qualities within. He was loyal enough to make dogs look nonchalant and at the very base a fundamentally good person. A lack of common courtesy couldn't change that and she felt if people dealt with Nott instead of avoiding him perhaps he would learn in time. She stepped out ready to talk however no sooner had she shut the door behind her, an arm was thrust under her nose.

"Two things really." He pulled up his left sleeve. "What the hell is this?"

Caroline frowned momentarily intrigued, distracted from her rant as she took his arm in her hand, nose almost touching the tree shaped mark, Gingerly she touched the mark feeling the rough texture of bark under her fingers.

She moved back a small smile on her face hand reaching into her robes for her wand

"That's a beauty" she rolled the wand between her fingers talking half to herself half to the Hit Wizard before her

"i've never seen this hex before but I've heard about it"
she began to run her wand round the arm as if wrapping a bandage

"it comes from the foothills of the Pyrenees, where a couple of early wizarding settlements had a bit of a tiff everyone now and then and used to raid eachother. From what I read it was more for shits and giggles than any particular reason but this was a parting shot used to try and disfigure and weaken one of the raiders."

she tapped the mark 3 times

"wherever it hits it turns your skin to bark and your blood to sap and using the bloodstream spreads throughout the body. The mark is small but, see the little branches above. It has already spread through your smallest arteries and veins. Within 3 nights it is said it spreads through the bloodstream and at that point there is nothing more you can do. Skin and muscle will turn to bark and the limb becomes useless."

A complicated little wave and the mark seemed to peel off the skin like a plaster, a small wooden strip with leaves and roots of glittering green liquid. She carried on talking her voice distant as she studied the undulating tentacles.

"Lucky you were not hit in the heart, they say a heart shot turns the whole body to bark and reports of such a death is not pretty. It is said if you listen to folklore that those that died from a strike to the heart are the origins of cremation, the villagers burned their bodies in the hope their souls may be reunited with their ancestors in the afterlife"

A twist of her wand and the tiny tree vanished as Nott went on as if nothing had happened pulling her in close and she shook her head rolling her eyes

"Second thing-"Frenis hates me, I need these files owled to Spain, this morning."

He stuffed a bundle of scruffy parchments into her hands and she gave a small laugh, her words coming back to her as she drew herself up to her full height. All 5 foot 3 of her moved towards Nott her chest expanding like a bullfrog, her voice contrite rather than angry

"Perhaps Master Nott, Frenis hates you because of your insistence upon bursting through doorways without knocking, dragging decent folk from their office and bundling extra work on people I might remind you are technically your superior without even a please or a thank you"

she raised an eyebrow at him

"or perhaps, just maybe it's because the last time he did you a favour you made a joke about, I believe your choice words were, his daughter's smackable ass."

she struggled to hide a smirk, eyes glittering as she continued flicking through the files

"now I'll fire your stuff off to spain and teach you a translating spell while I'm at it but I wan't something in return."

she kept on doggedly knowing if she paused for air he would give her two million reasons he was too busy

"People are disappearing from their homes and everyone's feeling the stress of it. I want you, not some numbskull trainee, you George Nott, Hit Wizard and Dueller fucking extraordinary, down here at 5pm to teach our department some basic self defense"

She stopped her voice going quieter as she leaned in

" I know as well as you do it won't make a blind bit of difference in any real trouble but I tell you what.... teach them protego, petrificus totalus, stupefy and a couple of wacky hexes and they'll at least feel a bit more secure in themselves rather than walking around like there is a snatcher around every corner"

her voice became hard again, a low rumbling growl

"I'd have you teach the whole ministry if I could but Thickness doesn't seem to give two shits about the fear running through this place. Either way 5pm Mr Nott or I'll take these to Frenis myself and tell him you tried to get round him. sit back with my butterbeer and watch the show as he makes your cocky little ass squirm."

He may have had a bed reserved in St Mungo's, alongside the rest of his team, yet he had previously doubted anyone there would have a clue what on earth was wrong with his arm. Raising an eyebrow, he stared bewildered at Caroline. How could one person be so interested in something like this? He watched her for a moment, observing the almost giddy nature of the women before him. There was relief in knowing what was wrong, but more in knowing whatever it was could be fixed. The last thing anyone needed was an arm down during these months.

The more Quinn talked, the more disgusted George appeared to be. It was uncomfortable to think that, had he ignored it, by the weekend he'd be a tree, perhaps no longer living. Yet, he continued to watch, still baffled by her interest in the spell's purpose. He's been clever enough to raise an arm, although had his concentration not been on another, this whole ordeal could have been avoided. It had damped his ego somewhat, especially having to prove his slight incompetence to another member of the faculty. He enjoyed the respect he was given, whether it was actually people's fear or simply caused by his intimidating nature, he wasn't entirely sure. Then again, it could have been neither.

George continued to watch Caroline although her knowledge in where the spell had come from and it's histories, and it's uses, and the overall effects had struck George was boring. He'd taken Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, even forced himself through two final years of Potions but regardless, he found her lecture, if you will, to be a tad boring. Quietly, he stifled a yawn. He watched as the remainder of the mark disappeared, allowing him to return his arm to his side once more. It was odd to think someone had practically set out to try and kill him; of course it came with the job yet the prospect was a little concerning. It wasn't often that an Unforgivable passed his way, although the whole office had been given extra training towards them. They were a much higher risk now..

He handed the parchment over, soon raising an eyebrow himself at Quinn's sudden amusement. George couldn't quite tell if he was insulted or annoyed. He blinked a few times and scoffed. She wasn't being serious? Regardless, she seemed to carry on. It was almost a joke! George stood still, his arms folded in an attempt at preventing any impulsive desire to punch the nose in front of him. She may have known more wacky spells than him but he was still certain his fists were a lot stronger than her own.

Her change of topic, however, intrigued him. He rose an interested eyebrow and leant casually against the wall. If she had any sense- No, there it was! The ego boost. He smirked and twisted his wand between his fingers, entertaining himself silently. She was right though, the Ministry wasn't in its usual cheer. He was aware leaflets were in the print this afternoon, all to the sent out by tomorrow morning. The Ministry was certainly going to get darker and drearier as the months went on. The sooner they finished all this- the better.

He turned his eyes to the floor as she carried on speaking, allowing himself to watch the odd witch or wizard who chose to hurry down the hall, lacking the usual smiles most people bore. The change in tone again caught his attention. Again, he felt insulted, threatened and perhaps even humiliated.

"Miss Quinn-" He took the opportunity to emphasise the title of the women before him. "-Do you not think we have extra work ourselves? Whilst you're in there dealing with home-brews and awful spells everyone stopped using, some of us are rushing around catching Snatchers and tracking down the sudden increase in werewolf cases." He sighed and forced down large inhalation of air. "However, if I feel this lot can't save their own skin when it comes to simple protective magic, I'll be out the door by 5:15." George gave a loud sigh and rolled his shoulders.

"Just make sure everyone is prepared. It doesn't take much to perform this spells but you'd be surprised just how many of them find it difficult." George stuffed his wand back into his pocket and sighed. "I suggest a briefing wouldn't go amiss. Although keeping it solely within the department is a good idea." He sighed once more and opened the door back to Quinn's office. "I'd rather this not be a waste of my time. This sort of thing tends to be if people aren't prepared." He pulled the door closed again and sighed. "Do you not think perhaps more specific spells should be mentioned? I've already had four reports this week of things I'd rather others didn't know."

Previously during the week, there had been several reports of Giant sightings in the peaks in Scotland, as well as several inferi reports. Luckily George hadn't been involved during those investigations but with the increase of random Dementor sightings, George couldn't help but feel at unease himself. He'd turned down far too many reports that involved a Dementor.

"Miss Quinn" he always liked to do that, press people's buttons and watch the rage bubble inside them, smirk as they fought against it either through fear or just a sense of common decency he didn't share. Already up to her full height, she felt herself deflate slightly, even as anger filled her, simmering below the service.

"-Do you not think we have extra work ourselves? Whilst you're in there dealing with home-brews and awful spells everyone stopped using, some of us are rushing around catching Snatchers and tracking down the sudden increase in werewolf cases."

The anger bubbled closer to boiling point, his cruel dismissal of her work and she opened her mouth but he overrode her, his tone resigned

"However, if I feel this lot can't save their own skin when it comes to simple protective magic, I'll be out the door by 5:15."

She held her smile within her anger gone because for all his petty jibes she knew she had him and better still he knew it.

"I suggest a briefing wouldn't go amiss. Although keeping it solely within the department is a good idea.... " he hesitated opening the door for her to reenter the room with a gruffI'd rather this not be a waste of my time. This sort of thing tends to be if people aren't prepared." she opened her mouth for a smug parting shot but stopped he halfway through, closing the door again and speaking in a hushed whisper

"Do you not think perhaps more specific spells should be mentioned? I've already had four reports this week of things I'd rather others didn't know."

She felt a chill run down her spine. She had heard rumours, they all had, and she had believed many of them, yet the solemn face before her, tired eyes that had seen too much even as they drank hers in was enough to tell her that the rumours were but a fraction of the truth. Nott was a tough man and for him to be feeling the strain said it was worse than they could have dreamed out there.

Anger and gloating happiness evaporated and she started to reach out, to touch him on the shoulder but thought better of it instead speaking in hushed tones

"However bad it is out there, I'm glad we have men like you protecting us, George" the name felt alien on her tongue but she ignored it continuing in a more business like tone

"As much as I'm a fan of transparency, if you starting teaching us curses to deal with specific threats every person in there will read a reason into it. They will assume it is because a hoard of god knows what foul manifestation is baring down upon us. By 9am next morning it will be spread through the ministry, by 5pm tomorrow what started as an innocent idea will have caused full scale panic."

her mouth twisted as she thought, sucking on the inside of her cheek

"best you teach us to defend ourselves against humans, everyone knows there are snatchers and worse about even if the ministry denies it and.... Dementors" her voice quivered

"everyone here knows they have abandoned azkaban even if the public don't. I think that will make everyone rest a little easier just feeling they have a chance to protect themselves"

Her tone became hushed again her voice hesitant, concern forcing her to ask what she would rather not know, what she did not want to have to face

"Is it that bad out their? I was only a child when it happened last time, but I..." her lip quivered " I remember... is it like last time?

George may not have been an Auror who dealt with the worst, the rampages, the werewolves, the dementors or the inferi, but the sheer number of reports were beginning to overshadow everything else his department was trying hard to prevent. Not much information ever left the Department for Magical Law Enforcement that the public didn't need to know. The Prophet told them all of sightings, but never of how many. It was terrifying really. He gave a short sigh and passed a small smile. In all his exhaustion, it was a mere moment of vulnerability. They all shared it, they all had it. Yet it was his job to hide it, to make sure people felt safe, something of which had become a vague hope and dream. They weren't safe anymore and they all knew it. People couldn't leave there homes in fear of snatchers, Death Eaters or He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named himself. He glanced over to Caroline and nodded. She had a point.

"I'll try to work those spells in there without reason. They are difficult." He'd leave out the Patronas Charm. Ever since his escorting trip, his ability to cast the charm, something which was required of all staff within the Department, had all but vanished. He couldn't beat his own fear of the creatures, he probably never would. "I'll try to keep it simple." He commented, sighing a little. He wasn't going to admit things. He wasn't going to give everyone else a reason to think he was weaker than he really was. Not when he was supposed to be a Hit Wizard. Of course he wasn't an Auror, he was too temperamental for that. However, there were times when even he suspected they'd detected this weakness, this underlying fear and insecurity about the world now.

He picked his head back up when she spoke. The nerves were clear, they were more obvious than he'd first noticed.

"Yes, things are getting out of hand. We've already lost two this month. The Auror's are struggling. With the students going back in a few weeks, numbers will be even further down. We can't leave them without protection." He spoke almost without sound. People didn't need to know, that's what he'd been told. Sure panic would flurry if everyone knew but at the same time, leaving people in the dark was the worst option. People would be blind as to what was truly happening. "I was only eleven. I remember being scared and being forced to stay at school over the Christmas holidays but that's it. I remember the teachers being scared too, everyone was but I don't remember much else. It feels worse this time." They'd stop it all though... They had to. Not matter what it took, they would stop all this madness, even with the help of a foreign government. Yet even they weren't without fear. The giants weren't just coming from Scotland and the highlands. There were reports of Austrian and Hungarian giants on the move.

George gave out a short sigh and shakily stood up straight. He needed to compose himself, completely.
"This doesn't leave your mouth. I'll lose my head if it gets out. Its as bad as the Ministry says it is and that's all anyone can know." His tone rose and a somewhat authoritive sound took over. He wouldn't allow the panic and the mayhem to be put on his head. "Just keep everything I've told you to yourself, I can't have a riot on my hands." He was already on probation for all his years of accidents and mishaps. He stepped out the way of the door once more, giving Caroline leave to head back to her own office. He was grateful for the conversation, to share his concerns with another so easily.

He moved his hands into his pockets, pushing himself into his usual character. He didn't smile however, instead he simply furrowed his eyebrows and waited. It was a silent moment before something caught his ear.
"Morsmordre."
He pulled his wand from his pocket and pushed against the door. He could feel a similar force on the other side. He could hear panicking too, shouting, screaming. He glanced over to Caroline and pushed harder. With the force of a higher number of people on the other side of the door, they swung open and forced George back against the wall. He could hear the sounds of other offices emptying to see exactly what had caused the panic. Yet with the sheer number of people in the halls now, he couldn't even move.

From what he could see, inside the room stood a huge, wide green mist. The same green mist that each person knew so well. His heart started pounding. People were dashing about, running back and forth, finding friends and hurrying towards the lifts. He began to push forwards, elbowing his way towards the door. He was the only wizard on his floor who would have any idea how to tackle whatever had caused the mark in there. He pushed towards the doors, shoving his own way. He feet carried him along with the crowd, eventually shoving him up against a wall.

"Bombarda!" He yelled. The noise itself was enough to cause everyone in the halls to stop. Yet the sight of the walls opening and stone scattering into the air caused more ruckas than needed. George threw himself into the office once again and made a quick gesture with his wand. He wasn't skilled at unspoken magic but silently casting a restricting charm worked at treat with people like the man before him. George watched the man fall, arms and legs trapped by his sides. It was only on closer inspection that George noticed something. He furrowed his eyes and swore loudly. How did this get past security? They checked for the Imperius curse.. He turned slowly back to Caroline and frowned.

Caroline didn't really hear the words, just menacing fragments but she heard the tone. A chilling tone like the wind at winters heart, engulfing her and she struggled to suppress her trembling, gripping at the pleats of her green dress with fumbling fingers. Worse... how could it be worse?

She remembered being unable to go outside, her mother and father having whispered conversations about running away, about her father always having his wand in his hand head twitching through the windows even as they sat in their own living room. The stink of fear in her nostrils from dusk til dawn.

Perhaps it because she was older, because she understood the implications of the bad men in the night her father spoke of. Of what they could do, of what they had already done. She felt worse too

George was looking at her intently eyes bright yet he seemed more relaxed his head a little higher, back a little straighter as if a weight had been removed.

Then he changed like a dog catching a scent. She saw his eyes widen and he threw himself against the office door even as the screams began.

For a moment it felt as if the whole world was screaming, voices she knew erupting in fear and she felt herself stagger, her wand still in her hand. She felt paralysed, bemused by the situation even as George threw himself against the door only from it to burst back upon him, a small sea of people surging outwards, eyes wide, mouths stretched in silent screams as they fled. She moved forward even as they surged outwards,stopped in her tracks by a tendril of green mist,horrifyingly familiar.

The dark mark in her office,but who and who, she wasn't sure which who was worse, who was dead or who had conjured that foul sign?

It was as if a spell had unlocked her feet and she threw herself forward,pushed back by a hand she didn't recognise. She could hear the rumble of feet above her, screams down the corridor, somewhere in the distance the bang of a spell going off.

"This is everywhere" she whispered half to herself "we're under attack"

People were flooding the corridor, pushing in different directions each with their own idea of how to escape, the only thought in their head to run, to hide, to escape. Perhaps it was for the best she had not seen the mark with her own eyes. perhaps she would be running too. Fear was turning to anger, ice boiling to steam and she gave a little growl,

" not in my fucking house."

the anger was boiling, turning into drive,thoughts of flight lost in a steely focus even as she saw two people smash into eachother both running for their lives, impact coming with a sickening crunch. At the other end of the corridor She could see three hit wizards being carried away from the action even as they fought against the sea of people.

Pandemonium. Headless chickens in a farm yard, perfect prey for death eaters. She was ashamed and angry that in such circumstances this was the general reaction of the ministry of magic,Terrified cowardice.

but not everyone

She heard a snarl from George as he gave up on the door searching for another way in. She could tell by his demeanour what he was about to do before he did it and turned
away

"Bombarda" dust flooded the hallway and more screams filled the corridor, hands moving to cover eyes, people staggered, stumbling back stunned by the sound the sea suddenly motionless as people struggled to recover from the force of the blast.

Through the dust she heard a thud as a body hit the floor and a small grunt of satisfaction from George. First problem solved.

She recovered quickly , her diminutive height always a factor in these situations, she touched her wand to the floor a single idea in her mind, restoring order.

"Elevarte"

A small piece of the hardwood floor began to rise and she balanced upon it precariously as it took her above the massing crowd, terror temporarily suspended as they stared at her between racking coughs, through streaming eyes.

Not for long, George had inadvertently bought her precious seconds, she had to use them.

Her wand now at her throat she hissed "sonorous" her voice suddenly booming to carry amongst the corridors of the second floor

"The emergency apparition points on the second floor are located next to the cafeteria . Please, all those wishing to leave the building stay on the right of the corridor walking three abreast so magical assistance and support can reach those that need it."

It always amazed her how terror turned people into sheep the crowd forming up beneath her, the odd twat pushing and running through the crowd, most happy to feel that suddenly all was in hand, walking quickly the odd smile for those moving along the corridor in opposite direction and she continued

"Any that cannot apparate please attach yourself to someone that can, Any that wish to stay please begin a thorough search of each room. Mark each searched room with an M and seal the door. Then assemble at the stairs and await further instruction."

Her lips became a snarl her voice the same sing song sound of the elevator

"Any traitor coming into our house and thinking they can fuck with us, please stay where you are and pray the hit wizards reach you before I do.Thank you for your cooperation"

The plank of wood descended and she moved to join George stopping for a moment, anger fading as she steeled herself for what she might find, all she could see was death in her mind, Kay slumped over her desk eyes wide, Daz throat cut, the images flashed and she felt her breathing rise. It couldn 't be as bad as that?

She stepped through, eyes shut

George was leaning over a single body on the floor, no death thank the lord..., they had got to him in time, only a traitor, one of her own that had betrayed them all.

The black hair and thin features made her turn away with a snarl, not only because of his betrayal but her own failure. She had talked to him all but an hour ago, she should have known, known something was wrong. George turned to her with a frown and she opened her mouth to speak but a new voice burst through the corridors. A voice they all knew, a grizzled voice that rumbled with anger, a storm travelling through the halls

"Today,we come to a head. Death eaters try to break our spirit and scatter us upon the wind yet today is the day we stand tall and show them that we will not be cowed.... we will not bend.... we will not break. Get to safety, hold your families close for today the fight for liberty comes to our shores. We will meet them in the atrium and we will not be found wanting"

She looked from the body of Caracus sadness in her eyes as she met George's

"lets go"

It certainly wasn't what he'd expected. The Ministry's staff entrances detected the Imperius curse. He stood slowly and watched his mind reel. He could hear Caroline's voice booming, bouncing off each wall and passing into a still panicking crowd. This man was either cursed from the inside or their defenses were down. Chances were learning towards the latter. He dared not to think who exactly had turned everything off. He knew it would be someone higher up. He also knew they weren't alone in the Ministry. He'd seen dozens of reports and files against various members of the staff, all with very little effort. George had even sat in on a trial, watching someone be accused of various 'unthinkable' acts. Without evidence, however, nothing could be done. Veritiserum wasn't used unless it was completely required.

He still felt angry. The man's eyes were still glazed, even as George looked in. Someone was on the other end and he had no idea who. The sounds of people hurrying to leave finally returned to George's mind. He turned to look at the door, spotting Caroline as she entered her office, or what was left of her office. Above him, he could hear screams, below he could hear the same. This was happening on every floor. They were attacking. He would thank Caroline for calming the crowds down later; providing he didn't get killed. There were plenty of other spells that could kill a man instead of simply 'Avada Kedavra'. It wasn't just the Death Eaters, the snatchers and the worst of Azkaban that had taken lives either. He knew Auror's took them on a regular basis. Murder was legal for an army. Hit Wizard laws were different. Murder in self-defense was accepted. A dangerous and hostile target should still be restrained for a trial. Auror's were advised to take them down at first notice.

George retrained his grip on his wand and turned his eyes back to Caroline. The sound of their own Minister echoed past his ears. It was worrying to hear exactly what he was saying. Chances were everyone would leave, at least most. There would be the few who believed themselves strong enough, having the mental ability to kill or seriously maim the humans before them. Problem was, very few of those who would stay had that mental ability. Most of them were already doing that job. He knew not many of them would survive the attack and he knew most of those would be Auror's or Hit Wizard's like himself. Very few civilian wizard's would survive.

He stood up and turned towards Caroline. He quickly shook his head.
"Caroline, no." He commented, choosing to stay still for the moment. "You have to leave, just like everyone else. Get home, go to your parents and stay inside. Down there isn't going to be safe, its not even going to be easy. You have a family, parent's who'd miss you. You can't just throw your life in the hat for the Minister. There are people who can handle it, who are strong enough. Caroline, you're not strong enough. You may think you are but really look inside, you wouldn't end a life if it really came down to it. You couldn't push forwards when people on either side dropped or howled in sheer agony. They won't fight like school kids." He paused and walked towards her.

"You've never seen an Unforgivable, have you? Most people cannot cast them. It takes a certain type of person to cast something so powerful. Offensive magic may be something that demands power and we all know the strongest can perform insane amount without even uttering a word. You're talented at charms, Quinn, but you're not the type of person for that. You're a healer, not a fighter. You're meant to pick up the pieces when people like me have gone. No matter what the outcome, you're the kind of person who repairs people's spirits and gives them reason to carry on. You're not a fighter, Caroline." He walked out into the hall and pointed down along the halls. "Get out whilst you can. Apirate home and get with your family, use a safe house if you can. I would even encourage the use of a Secret Keeper, stay out of sight until the Ministry gives word."

George made a break along the empty side of the hall, pushing the occasional person out of his way. He had hoped his speech would have been enough to deter Caroline Quinn. He wasn't a public speaker, he never gave the empowering speeches others did. The Minister was there for that. He just hoped she'd have the sense to listen to him and head home. He didn't want her death on his hands, it was the last thing he needed. They would have a lot of cleaning up to do, no matter the results. He pushed his way into the lifts, elbowing a younger man out of his way. He would be in the Atrium within minutes, standing along side a group he knew well and a group he knew were stronger than anyone else in the Ministry. Despite Scrimgeour being a lot older than himself, as previous Head Auror, George felt safe in his hands. They would stand strong, fight, probably die and hopefully win. It occurred to none of them that it wasn't possible. Sheer forces alone couldn't take on the Death Eaters, no one seemed to even consider the fact.

George pushed his way out of the elevator, almost breaking the thick metal fencing that kept everyone safe. The atrium was already filling, mostly with those dressed in black, like himself, but also with random employees who seemed to think that taking part would bring them valor and an ability to survive the entire ordeal. It would only take one spell before they'd be another number on the body count.

She could tell he was only trying to protect her but she almost wished he was mocking her. The certainty in his voice, his adamant nature that she was not strong enough, that she should run and hide left her empty, stunned and speechless. Even his compliments that she was a builder, a healer, even a leader echoed off the shattered halls that had once housed her self belief.

She had never doubted her capabilities, knew what she was and was happy with it.but to hear such condemnation even with the best intentions left her stricken.

Even as he walked away the echoes of his footsteps like the final steps of a funeral march she could still here his words playing on a sickening cycle inside her head.and she placed her hands in her hair mouth open wide as she struggled to shut out the sound but they words were rebounding, reverberating through her.... your not a fighter.... your not a fighter.... your not a fighter. She could hear screaming inside her head then the dam burst and the indignation came rushing to wash the wounding words away.

Who the fuck did he think he was? Acting as if he knew her, knew the strength inside of her. Knowledge was power and she knew a lot more than most. No she wasn't the type to walk past an individual that was screaming in agony and leave him, she would help him,defend him by whatever means.... no by whatever legal means necessary... he was right about that,, get him to safety, nurse him to health if possible then go back and get the next one and the next.

That was who she was,and nobody would tell her otherwise.

Was it really such a weakness, compassion, that she would stun not kill, protect over harm?

Her indignation was draining, leaving nervous energy in it's wake, could she really fight in a battle?

She could just go home, come back and pick up the pieces the next morning, no one would think any less of her.

There was one feeling she couldn't shake, a feeling that got her feet moving down the left side of the corridor towards the atrium... the fact that if they lost this one, there may not be anything left to rebuild.

She stepped from the elevators calmly, a small smile on her face as she saw not only auror's hit wizards and members of the magical law enforcement squad but cleaners, cafeteria workers, even the 92 year old witch that pushed the tea trolly round on the 4th floor. People that had come here willing to stand for freedom, to lay down their lives.... she frooze midstep, her own mortality a hammer smashing into her, a lurch of nausea making her sway ever so slightly

She could die here today? She was cold, confronted by the icy skeleton of her lonely unfulfilled desires, her future stolen from her in a simple second. Some things were worth dying for, but would that make it any easier if the time came.

No but she almost feared loosing her nerve and fleeing as much as that deadly flash of gre... no don't think it.... a look at her trembling hands told her she was lying to herself.

Desperately she tried to distract herself, eyes fixing upon a huddle of people standing eyes raised to the heavens. She followed their gaze to see the dark mark hanging above them like a noose above their necks.

A message, death was coming.

It was odd, mere minutes ago this would have sent her running, weeping, desperate to escape. Now compared to the weight of her own mortality, threats to her life seemed insignificant, a mere pawn in a fatal game.

She could here the minister's growling voice, a tubby security guard's hurried words beyond her hearing, his flushed face twisted with terror, eyes flitting anywhere but the mark on the ceiling.

" Well that explains it, if Thickness conjured the mark, it explains how the imperiorised got through security, why they've been two steps ahead of us for months and why Graves tried to kill me. I would never have suspected the ratty little cunt"

The slow solemn voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt answered him

"Rats are most likely to hide in the darkness"

Scrimgeour gave a grunt
"Well it means we should assume all of our defences are compromised. He Who Must Not be Named could throw anything and everything at us"

Dawlish's voice was grim " We should move minster. Thickness knows all the emergency entrance and exits, he could attack us from downstairs and through the front gate"

Scrimgeour gave a wry smile

"Being minister gives me some power. Once Tanner gets up here confirming the apparition points are clear I'll lock the elevators and the apparition points down. Our backs will be covered and anything he wants to throw at us will have to come through the front door"

Dawlish gave a frown

"Couldn't you lock down the front door too minister?"

Scrimgeour's look held a hint of longing in his voice

" I could but only one thing is getting through that door once I seal it and that's You Know Who Himself and a handful of giants and if you think I want giants in the middle of muggle London you've got another thing coming"

"What about You Know Who?" piped up the portly security guard, his mouth falling open as he realised the words had slid from his mind to his tongue

"Oh he's coming Mr Perkins" Scrimgeour's growling voice was almost amused as he clasped the security guards suddenly weak shoulder "he's coming for my head but we're going to make him pay a high price for it"

The conversation was disturbed by running footsteps, 3 more portly figures eyes wide, mouths working desperately to shout a warning through ragged breaths

"Inf....Infe.... Inf"

"Inferi" growled Scrimgeour tone suddenly business like, cloak rippling behind him like a cape as he snapped into action " form the line"

She felt a lurch in her stomach, the dead walked, necromancy befouled this place. Perhaps she knew too much, had read and seen too much, images from books making her head whirl. A look at the Minister, brought her back to reality. You could tell he was a warrior, a grizzled battle commander, see conflict etched in the lines on his face as he took his place at the heart of the line. Pausing only to take Old Mrs Gregg from the 4th floor by the hand to lead her to pride of place next to him. He stooped from his great height, words in her ear that none but her could hear, turning her worried and confused gaze into a small smile followed by steely eyed determination.

She was moving herself though she had no idea what the line was or what it should look like. People jostled her,knocking her, eyes flitting til she found Nott. Half tempted to stand at the other end of the line, she swallowed. He would not forgive himself if she died and he could do nothing. He might be an insufferable prick but she knew he card, knew her death would tear him apart. She owed him an explanation.

Tentatively she moved to stand next to him

She knew he knew she was there, knew he was probably disappointed, worried or irritated by the little girl coming to play at soldiers so she broke the silence the words begrudgingly dragged up from within

" I know you think I shouldn't be here but this is my house too, part of my life they are trying to tear down."

she never faced him, the words spoken to the shadows that moved in the darkness ahead of her, limping and leering as they shuffled forwards

"I can't shake the feeling that if we don't stand against him today, he won't leave anything for us to build again, or the life we have after this won't be worth living. I think that's worth fighting for... i think that's worth dying for "

she bowed her head even as she drew her wand from her robes, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper

"I'm sorry"

George jogged ahead, joining the remaining stragglers. His feet were heavy, lined with his own hidden fear of mortality. He knew he'd die one day, it was likely to be on the end of a wand; or if his brother had his way, simply with a kiss. George felt his skin crawl, hairs rising across his arms. A quick hand to the back of his neck, he checked the area for Dementors before relaxing. No one was relaxing though. The Auror's stood still, faces plain, stone and emotionless. The rest of George's own team were trying the same, yet untrained hands twitched and nervously spun wands between fingers. Each of them was aware that all efforts over the last seventeen years or so, would have been completely for none. They were all aware they'd know faces ahead, they'd be fighting against forces they'd already fought before. It wasn't going to be easy. Not even in the slightest.

George moved towards his friends and smiled. George slapped a hand on the back of one of the other men, each trying to provide some form of comforting and supportive notion. They had each other's back but the Minister came first. They stood silent for a brief moment before words escaped, small and vaguely audible.

"Thickness cast it." Traver's spoke, noticing Nott's eyes glance up. They'd all seen it before. It was preemptive but true. There would be more than one life lost this morning. George passed his eyes along the congregation, McDougal, Horst, Smith, Kevins, Dias-Dougan... He let out a sigh and nervously twisted his wand.

"Why didn't anyone notice? He's the head of department... The Auror's should have seen." George commented, his voice still low. It was a conversation for himself and a select few only. The various brave souls who were joining them didn't need to know. It was heart breaking enough to know that those on the other side of the door were threatening their entire world. The Ministry was all the British Wizarding World stood for, besides Hogwarts. However, the castle would remain silent until the students returned at the beginning of September. George forced himself to believe it would be all over before then.

More than a few people heard the Minister's comment. You Know Who was coming but despite everything, no one wanted to believe the idea. He was powerful, although George had never witnessed his strength himself, and everyday he counted himself lucky. He knew a few in the room would have, very few who did lived to tell the tale, unless they stood opposite the Ministry. George saw both of the Thursby's hold hands, out of hideous fear. Andries, worked in Quidditch Rulings, wasnt the type to survive, but seeing him stand strong with his girlfriend Emilie, George felt almost protective. They weren't even married and from the various rumours he'd heard, she was expecting. He'd never considered how so many people would be so willing to lay their lives for the Ministry.

George turned his head, watching the rest of his squad tense up as three figures hurried towards them. Inferi? On either side, everyone tensed. They weren't dealt with often, but the idea of an army which had been long speculated concerned him. Fire was the main way of dealing with an inferius, but an army- He knew it would only be so long before someone tried to fix the problem themselves. Fire may have been a charm, something controlled mostly by charm spells and summoning, but it was still uncontrollable. Light also worked, but lacked the real power before flames and fire.

Without question or consideration, they moved. Shuffling forwards and setting themselves into two lines, the Minister behind them all. They watched as the stragglers wandered around, eventually finding a place to stop. The comforting note was simply to know that the Inferi couldn't hurt them if they never got close, despite how many there was, or would be. They were frightening, and George held them high on his list of reoccurring nightmares but they weren't the first, they never would be.

Hearing Caroline's voice pulled him from the distance thoughts he had drifting cloaks and icy breath. He glanced down for a second, two eyes pulling themselves back up to watch the entrance once more. They couldn't miss the first movement, the first wave, even if it was only the dead. He listened, waiting quietly, knowing they'd wait until someone lost their cool before engaging the attack. Someone would be watching. George nervously fidgeted with the designs along the handle of his wand, playing a finger on the leaf pattern that traced up the left side.

"Fire. They hate fire." He spoke shortly after herself, quietly and calmly. "If you see the fire getting out of control, you get out." There was the possibility of someone casting a fiendfyre. They were almost uncontrollable. They didn't need to get dispersed and killed by their own kind. "If the worst comes to worst, the Minister will unlock the fireplaces again. You can apirate from the entrances." He stood still for a moment before someone finally cracked.

She was a tall women, thickly built and a strong arm, Auror too. She launched a burst of flames into the front line of the dead, soon followed by a few more.
"Incendo."
"Lumos solem."
"Confringo!" George yelled, sending his own spell speeding towards the oncoming hordes of the dead. The spell launched a flicker of orange, leaving it to speed ahead and explode into flames upon contact with the first inferius. As each flame hit and as each burst of sunlight found its way onto the creatures' skin, a revolting, ear-piercing, teeth grinding scream could be heard. It was harsh but high pitched and dangerously loud.

The line held steady, flames pushing forwards from each wand until the dead fell back down. As each one went down, they could all just how many more there were. It was going to be relentless but they couldn't stop now. Wands sent sparks, flames, and even redundant spells that would not stop the creatures but were shot out of fear. George could see the faces of panicked wizards and witches. He couldn't ease their pain, not without the help of every other wizard in the Ministry.

George checked on Caroline for the briefest second and felt the uncomfortable pang of guilt. She'd probably die because of him. He could try and protect her but not even a shield charm could protect her from the worst. George turned back and launched another spell, sending it speeding alongside ever more continuous waves of the undead. They would keep up the fight until death took them, but even now people were noticing the line pushing closer and closer towards them.

"Confringo Expulso." One of the Hit Wizards yelled, sending similar sparks ahead. They reached a closer inferius and exploded, continuing on with each and every spark and flame. The spell took out forty or so inferi but it wasn't enough. They were still closing in. Each wizard carried on casting. Each spell used to hold back the line.

The crowd moved in a jerky stop start fashion undulating in a tidal wave of unwieldy limbs. Buried in shadow it looked almost comical, a collection of poor slapstick comedians all pitching their wares simultaneously to an unappreciative audience.

No one laughed, the silence was suspended, a blanket held over them all as every living soul in the room held it's breath.

Then the faces moved into the light, expression stretched in a pale remembrance of their last breath, many screaming, some slack jawed, oozing puss as rot began to strip at the flesh. Bleached bone protruded from under robes, bloodstained gashes torn through jeans, muscle or intestine leaking from wounds that had been fatal. Some jaws worked frantically, grunts and moans torn from reanimated throats even as their limbs reached out hands splayed and eyes fixed. One purpose to reach them, to pull them down. There was movement no from the defenders some shifting, unnerved, restless, but they held no one fled.

Caroline was disgusted, revolted that the rest of the dead had been disrupted that they have been pulled from the warmth of their graves to face life as husks. This was not an atrocity to attack these creatures... this, this was mercy.

"Fire. They hate fire." muttered George next to her, his voice like the ring of a hammer off cold steel, powerful, controlled. "If you see the fire getting out of control, you get out."

She twirled her wand gently,searching for a spell, something novel, something new, something that played to her strengths. Then someone broke, like dominoes they fell to the primitive urge to attack. Shouts,curses wands were waved and Inferi ignited, rotting flesh seared away, bones turned to ash, lights blazing over the scene, flashes illuminating ragged rank after ragged rank of foul fiends. They seemed infinite one burned away replaced by two like the heads of the hydra.

She alone had not fired a spell, she alone was still thinking even as the seething mass moved closer, to many she must have seemed frozen as if she had bottled yet her brain worked for she new single spells alone could not turn back the hoard.. They needed more fire.... more fire.

Her eyes spread to the walls, to the torches and candle that illuminated the great atrium....More fire

She raised her wand the charm coming easily to her

"luminem totalum"

Candles shifted bunching together from where they have hovered in midair, torches stirred in their brackets and they rose as one high into the air but she was not done, Better to funnel them band them together into a killing zone, than waste these precious resources on taking out a few stray inferi within a sea. She could kill and slow them down.at the same time

Directly ahead of the shuffling crowd she set them down. Candles and braziers intertwined to form two small flaming barricades with a chasm still 100 feet wide cleft in between. She continued her plan forming

"Vegitatum totalum"

Plants and ornamental shrubs rose together and she threw them upon the fire the flames rising and swelling licking at the inferi who recoiled some backwards knocking others upon their backs where they struggled like stranded tortoises. Others caught in the sudden surge of the blaze recoiled, searing limbs unravelling the charms that held them upright. A puppet with it's strings cut they fell feeding the growing fires.

As one, the inferi seemed to move together, pushing inwards circumnavigating the flames, heading into the killing zone

The sound was intense, screaming, gurgling and pained shrieks that would haunt the dreams of any man, echoed off the walls, the floors and the ceilings. It wasn't like the shriek of a banshee or a hinkypunk but something unworldly and strange, alien and grotesque. George felt the hair on his arms raise up, his skin crawling. It was hard to truly comprehend that the things before them were wizards, muggles and witches only they'd been forced into a unnatural state. Never peaceful. Never silent. Always angry. Never free. However, he carried on, joining in the constant battle to destroy each of the creatures before they destroyed the Ministry.

As the battle drew on, people began to notice the plan form. George pulled from his attack and watched Caroline. She was incredibly smart. He turned back to the oncoming horde and spyed the large fire. Others began to understand too, piling more and more of their own magic onto the fire, helping to build it higher and higher. Emilie, a tall, pale girl he believed worked in St Mungo's department within the Ministry changed up her tactics to defensive spells. With a raise of her wand she pushed herself to project a shield between the growing fire whose flames now licked eight feet tall, and those who were casting. Another Auror joined in too, helping the girl to keep them all protected. The inferi were strong and a threat but so was the huge fire that was building up.

Soon the smell of the attack was drifting back to them. It was a thick stench; if clung to the throats of the smeller, forcing itself to be breathed again and again. There was no stopping it. The smell had a similar consistency to treacle, thick, black and sickly. Some of the volunteers covered their mouths, desperate to keep back the smell of burnt and charred flesh, most of which was already rotting. It was a powerful aroma, I unpleasant and almost toxic. It felt like a smog, flooding the lungs upon intake. Many coughed and spluttered, unable to take the taste that lingered on their throat and along their tongue.

"What's your plan, Quinn?" George asked, adding to the protected fire once more. She was more clever than he'd anticipated, especially after he'd previously expected her to be fleeing the Ministry after his awful prep-talk. He knew full well she'd follow him down and fight to the death, yet her intelligence shocked him completely. Whatever she was planning was brilliant, the horde were travelling slower, pushing back from the flames. At least You Know Who hadn't released an army of dementors, upon them all. He couldn't expect anyone to deal with those. He knew the Auror's could handle it, yet Dementors weren't slow. They'd suck the souls from everyone around, without mercy.

In the moments he dwelled on the subject, George felt his stomach lurch and his heart race. His hands became clammy and it took him a moment to recompose his demeanour and his composure but soon he was done, adding to the flames once more.

She had not expected others to pile in, had expected them to keep on with their own casting, yet they seemed to catch on to her idea, the flames strengthened by means well beyond her own skill.

An original lasso charm from Dawlish whipped the feet from under the front rank of the inferi and they toppled haphazard into the flames, flailing arms seeming to settle in peaceful acceptance as the foul magiks that animated them were seared away by the cleansing flame. In turn their corpses fed the fires that defied their cruel masters. Their progress stuttered the remaining inferi caught between the drive that kept them moving onwards and wary fear of the flames that danced before them.

Some pushed into the gap between the flames yet they met the full force of their resistance. Bodies ignited as if caked in petrol, their smouldering corpses the sealant between the two walls she had created. Inch by inch the smouldering chasm became a fall of fire, a cast from a wizard in administration often rumoured to be part troll provided the final flourish that sealed the flaming barricade shut.

Arms raised memos flooded through the grates in the floor and ceiling like sparrows taking flight in autum. Up they rose, fountains of little white airplane soaring high on fragile wings. For a moment it seemed pointlessly beautiful,before each burst into flame with a twist of his wand. As they ignited they plummeted like arrows striking inferi in the chest, robes catching flames, fires roaring as if in triumph.

For a moment they all stood in awe at the sight of it. A 10 foot high wall of flame between them and the inferi, a barricade breached by the odd stray limb a reaching hand grasping hungrily upon air before it was consumed by the fires around it.

Even as she exhaled she felt a wash of heat, a blast of warm air that knocked her back a step, the intense searing at her face, scolding her pale skin, even as sweat poored down her face,

Panic flooded her even as she saw one of the older members of this band of warriors stumble, face flushed gasping for air. She struggled for a spell, yet others beat her too it, protective spells like a wash of cool air.

Yet they could not protect her from the smell. Noxious fumes billowed from the flames, roasting flesh tainted by a foul taint that made her gag, another step back even as others covered their faces with their robes. Many wretched, even as two of the janitors took action, wands raised to the ceiling, she felt a gentle breeze at the meteorological charms kicked in, the smoke pushed backwards upon the air. The flames leaning slightly in the breeze, new screams splitting the air as more inferi were caught in their barricade.

Cool air flooded her lungs and she drank it in, like a man dying of thirst desperate to clear the taste from her mouth even though it remained, a putrescent tingling on the back of her throat.

"What's your plan, Quinn?"

George's voice brought her back to reality and she ran her fingers through her hair, a little stunned he was turning to her, slightly embarrassed that she hadn't thought as far as this. Her mind working frantically for a quick and considered reply and she felt elation as she realised, if the flames got out of control the meteoric charms could douse them

She opened her mouth, but her elation died in her throat, her stomach clenching as a wave of cold ran over her. She felt like someone had dropped a bucket of icy water down her back, even the sweat from the heat of the flames seeming to freeze as it an down the nape of her neck.

She knew what it was, the hiss from some of the aurors, those that had felt the sensation before, an echo reverberating in her head, the name of the foul beast enough to make her knees weaken.
"Dementors... dementors.... dementors"

Her eyes slid shut as a wave of hopelessness ran over her yet she clung to the image of the fiery barricade before her. All creatures of foul darkness feared the light of cleansing flame. She opened her eyes and felt despair boil up inside. The fire before her was dwindling on 8 feet high it seemed to be becoming pale, flickering and fading as all the heat was drawn from the room, leaving only icy despair and the mist of her breath before her.

Then the fire froze, It seemed beyond belief, despite the magic at work before her, it seemed beyond comprehension, only her shock holding back the despair. The great wall of flame was now an icy cliff, frozen like the rolling curve of a 7foot high wave glittering despite the darkness it's natural beauty overpowering even within the grandious confines of the ministry, Then she saw them and it no longer seemed relevant, everything was pointless, they were all going to die.

She had seen pictures but that could not prepare her for the real thing. Ragged black cloaks that seemed to leech the light from the world around, the darkness seeming to congregate around that hood. That terrible hood a fixed point to which everything seemed drawn.

Even the inferi seemed to cower, a few stray ragged hands barely visible over the icy cliff between them and Caroline withdrawing suddenly as the dementors passed only to return with renewed vigour as they moved on. She could see fingers struggling to gain purchase on the icy shelf at the top of the cliff, only to slip away as grasping fingers slid off the ice. Elsewhere dull thuds and the crunch or crack of shattering ice came as the inferi struggled to batter their way through. Impeded but nothing could stop their relentless pursuit.

God even if they survived those evil black hooded figures, the inferi would tear them to pieces.
I'm going to die, it was a statement, a horrifying fact that seemed to swell in the blackness, her own voice on a loop telling her it was over.

Around her she felt others running, nerves shattered, they fled for their lives. Caroline wanted to run too but she felt frozen to the ground.

Then the voices came

"Have you seen this report card" her mother's voice was disgusted "we've raised a sheep Stephen..."

Her father's voice was weighed with disappointment, his reproach half hearted " Marianne, it's not her fault she lacks drive"

Her mother gave a great snarl " Have you read this Stephen, she wants to be a mother.... a mother... such pathetic lack of ambition, after all we spent"

"No"... she whispered... she felt an icy tear rolling down her cheek

"your not a fighter.... your not a fighter.... your not a fighter... Miss Quinn"

Eyes moving round she saw how others knelt on the ground,hands tearing at their hair even at their flesh as the dementors closed in drifting over the icy cliff with contemptuous ease.

Then the minister moved forward. She could see dear old mrs gregg huddled in his thick brown cloak which he had wrapped round her, her hands on her knees rocking to herself as she mumbled wordless sounds. He moved forward as casually as if he was heading out to get the paper, his languid grace and self assurance impregnable against the icy cold.

At their head he raised his wand, eyes looking around even as growled like a conductor before his next symposium

"Shall we?"

Others were still on their feet, she could see Kingsley Shacklebolt, immovable as granite, Dawlish looking a little queasy but steady, Tanners having joined them during the battle looking eager and hungry. More and more seemed to be there the more she looked, blinkered eyes opened wide for the first time.

And she was still on her feet, sure she might feel sick and was in two minds whether the liquid dripping down her thigh was sweat or urine, but fuck it she was still here, standing, wand held high.

Hope, hope was her tonic holding her upright. She knew the charm but she knew she could as easily pull flowers from her ass as cast a patronus even without dementors around. Once again she played to her strengths,. Even as voices around her cried out she bellowed

" Lumos Maximus"

A flash of white light burst from her wand, useless perhaps but to her it was a ray of purest hope shining through the dementor's darkness

Watching the flames grow and swell, the heat increasing with every inch in height, was comforting in a sense. Despite the smell and despite the high temperatures, people showed a vague shine of hope. The inferi were failing as the flames lapped and barked at them. The roar of the flames seemed to drown out some of the quieter shrieks yet nothing could really stop them. The powers combined for each of the witches and wizards involved was a powerful and beautiful sight. To see exactly what the determined forces of Ministry loyalists could do was comforting and reassuring. Watching the efforts of each caster there, seeing their unique talents. It didn't take a genius to understand that despite what would lay beyond the fires, the inferi and the doors, some people were less nervous. The Auror's were feeling the familiar feelings of growing victory, an upper hand, the civilians couldn't easily hide the vague elation some of them had.

It was until the cold set in. It was an unnatural cold, a harsh wind on a summer's day. A looming black cloud on a clear blue sky. It was a simple drop in temperature that caused George's heart to thunder in his chest. His hands pulled into themselves, tightly gripping whatever was nearest; one being his wand, the other being his own fist. He could see the fire decreasing in size, the floor beneath his feet chilling until the soles of his own feet were beginning to chill and freeze. He took a stumbling step back, as if trying to combat the icy floor would stop the one thing on the earth he'd never wanted to see again. The dead hands and grotesque mouth beneath the hood. His heart continued to pound, visibly had he been laid down. It thundered in his chest, the feeling of his stomach twisting and knotting growing stronger as the things got closer. He couldn't see them yet, he couldn't see anything. He stared straight ahead, watching the black figures drift closer through the huge wall of ice. Yet, the images didn't rest in his eyes, instead he saw a world made entirely of shadows, a place similar to the Ministry yet without light.

The world George saw was black, dark and twisted. The huge wall of ice remained yet it was black and dripping black liquid as if melting. His hands shook, no matter how hard he balled them. No matter how hard he tried to keep himself in the real world, he couldn't. He could hear a voice on his right, but the words weren't human. They were merely sounds, vague snippets of meaningless dribble. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, his throat, his ears, and his own mouth. The sound of blood rushing past his ears was immensely loud, much louder than anything else he'd ever experienced. His body shivered, laced with a freezing layer of cold sweat, chilling him to the core. The dreaded feeling of hopelessness, despair, insecurity and the hideous sense of his own real mortality took over. This was it, he was actually going to die. It wasn't going to be by the wand like he'd always hoped, but through the kiss like his brother had thrown at him during his trial eight years ago.

George lifted his eyes, each glazed, and watched at the first of what was probably far too many appeared over the ice wall. He shivered, a wave of nausea, agony, fear and sheer terror formed within his stomach. He could hear things he'd forced out of his own head. His dad's response to his Second eldest brother's retreat to Ukraine, his parents response to his own desire to join the Ministry, the hideous noise that filled the house when his eldest brother did something wrong. The pained screams of the muggle family next door when his father had finally had enough of their 'ignorance and insolence'. The noise filled him, pulling every vague hope and fantasy he'd ever had from his head.

His appearance and struggle, however, was noticed. Travers, the strong and tall looking wizard on George's right pulled himself closer to George and shook on the boy's shoulder.

"Nott?" The sound passed through into George's hearing, although remained distorted and twisted. "George, now isn't the time." There had been a small number of instances that involved the sight of a dementor since the introduction of what now seemed to be a paralyzing phobia. Most of which came from a Dark Wizard trial that whoever had caught the villain had been forced to sit in. His return from those meetings as a pale and shadow of his usual self had clearly been noticed yet a small trip up the corridor and into the large office they all shared, kept his fear pretty quiet and close to home. Travers again shook his friend and co-worker, although panic was clear on the elder man's face now. Even despite the remaining few, neither of the two could feel the inspiration and new found determination that the Minister seemed to shower on most of them. Travers took a step forwards and placed himself between the oncoming beasts and George, he could provide more protection from the front and the sooner they were free from the cold, the sooner they'd be back on their feet as a group.

George couldn't however take his eyes off the hoods and floating cloaks. He shivered constantly and desperately fought his need to close his eyes and curl up. It was embarrassing, humiliating. Some distance part of his brain, perhaps the only part of him that spoke sense, pushed hard against the fear. George knew the spell, he couldn't cast a fully formed patronas but the shield of light he knew would help was far out of his reach. He stared ahead, his eyes and body wincing as a strong white light appeared by his side. He turned to his left and spotted Caroline, or what he assumed was Caroline. He heard more and more of the real world yet his feet and eyes remained fixed ahead on the creatures that he feared so much. If they survived this, and George knew they wouldn't, only a fool would believe they had a chance, he'd need to push hard, to save face and his own job. He knew full well that the sight of himself staring with direct and uncontrollable fear was something he'd clearly lose his job over. He couldn't lose his job.. He needed this, he enjoyed it, but he knew he would lose it, if he didn't die instead.

The racing thoughts within his own head were strong and dark, each one picturing the various ways he'd possibly die. There were some he preferred and some he'd shivered against. He was afraid, incredibly yet he couldn't shake them away. Vivid green light, strong hands ripping at his skin, pained screams and agonising torture, fire, snakes, The Kiss. The wave of nausea grew and grew, his shivering sweats growing stronger and stronger. The small part of his brain kept saying four words, over and over, barely audible against the intense despair that lingered within his own head.

Stay standing. Expecto Patronum. Stay standing. Expecto Patronum. Stay standing. Expecto Patronum. Stay standing. Expecto Patronum.