Morsmordre...
Every hair on George's arm seemed to stand on end all at once. There was a short snap in George's brain that made him immediately push on the door again. The force of a dozen people screaming to get out was more than enough to keep the wooden entrance closed; very few saw sanity amoungst the panic stricken. This only infuriated George more. He needed to get inside and every fucker and his best friend were too stupid to let him do his job. How hard was defensive magic? He heard a yell on the other side of the door and suddenly an ocean of people burst from Caroline's office like floodgates during a storm. No matter how hard he tried, the current pushed him back against the stone wall, holding him there as the ocean only grew wider.
There must have been a hundred people in the halls, bustling and shoving every which way. No one seemed to know what to do. The whole floor had gone mad. He could see Caroline fighting against the crowds, trying her hardest to keep the endless stream of the confused from doing anymore damage. It was complete chaos. George quickly dipped his hands into his robes, pulling out an elegant wand, a stunning comparison of white against the drab black of his Minsitry uniform.
He'd been in love with the item since the moment he first set his hands on it. The first had been Oak, although the complete destruction of the front window of his shop. Without much hesitation, the elderly man swished his wand and repaired the damage. There had been a short pause before Ollivander climbed up a ladder that was almost bending in age and pulled out an stunning box, covered in the intricate leaves that stretched the entire way up his wand. George had marveled at the craftsman ship before watching his older brother Theo chirp with excitement. It took George only a moment before something clicked. The elderly man passed him only the faintest smile, a short nod before pointing back towards the window. This time, especially for a second time wand user, George was less than scared. He waved his wand like he'd seen his father do and watched as the glass shot out from the window panes and out into the street. It had seemed so similar to before but instead it shot upwards, pushing further and further into the sky before each shard exploded. George and the wand maker hurried outside to see the end result. Yet what fell was snow-like; thousands of dust size cuts of glass fell from the sky as if in remark to the previous wand.
"You'll stand out wherever you go carrying that, my boy." Ollivander smiled, his hand on George's shoulder. "You'll face tests in your life, but you must always trust yourself. Never fear to fail. Aspen wands rarely do."
George twisted the wood in his hand and pushed into the sea of Ministry Officals like a parent pushing towards a drowning child, struggling through the waist high waves that were too rough to swim. He managed to grab Caroline and push her towards the door again.
"Stay." He yelled with a voice that had seemed so different to the usual cocky tone. His voice rung out like cold steel, hard and determined now. His eyes were set on the door of the office and with the chaos behind him, getting there was going to be less than simple. Witches and wizards were running all over the place. It didn't surprise him to see two witches run head long into each other, both resulting on the floor. With his elbows out, George shoved his way towards the office doors. They swung shut quickly enough, leaving him trapped out in the hall. He could here the sound of spells inside and quickly, recklessly and totally without thought, George stepped back into the chaos and lifted his wand directly towards the door.
"Bombarda!" With an almighty thunder clap the solid out doors of the office flung off their hinges and flopped directly onto the ground. Dust flew up covering up only the sight of inside that office. He felt the chaos around him pause and in the sickening silence, he heard no words, only the ear-rattling ringing of his previous spell. The sound of screaming pierced that silence however and the haunting green light flashed before his eyes. How? George pushed himself forwards with his wand above his head.
"Incarcerous!" There was a grunt before another body hit the floor.
Finally looking around himself, George's eyes were less than happy to see an office that looked more like a battle ground than a boring room in the Ministry. His attention shifted from the now trapped wizard to the witch that seemed to be laying face down on the ground by the doors. George didn't know her by name but there was certainly no coming back from what happened. He certainly felt guilty. That death could have been prevented. Quickly his mind shifted over to the grunting and struggling murderer. He edged over for the first time, judging the caster's every move. George was prepared in case anything else happened, but there was no way to dodge an Unforgivable. Quickly his mind reeled off the importance of the simple fact they were cast. They were strong magic, not something that even He Who Shall Not Be Named could say without words. Not everyone could cast them, military or not. George had managed Crucio three times but not long enough to do damage. His mind watched the man before something began to ring in his brain. The man's eyes... George stepped over his body and looked down, staring into colourless and vacant eyes. Imperio was certainly harder than the Cruciartus curse. Concetration was needed and a sheer amount of strength. Then there was the final curse which lingered so clearly on the room. Whoever was behind those eyes wasn't a weak wizard, they were strong and most obviously not of good intentions.
DestinyStar
