Sir!
What?
Telegram!
He tore it from the messenger's hand and paled as he read it.
Men! Suit up!
What's going on?
Suit up he says.
He says?
What's going on!
Come on, men! Suit up, suit up!
What's going on officer?
Dumbledore, get the men ready, we're ordered to head over today.
His face fell, Over, sir?
Yes, corporal, over. Now get the men ready. We're going in from the side.
Yessir.
Alright men! You heard him! Get on with it!
What are we doing now?
Waiting.
Righto.
Righto at a time like this?
He shrugged. Optimism, eternal optimism.
Get ready men.
A pause. Alright men, to the left flank!
Move, move, move!
Up and over!
No Man's Land.
Gunfire riddled the troop. Then came the shells. The wind picked up billowing clouds of yellow and green that rose up like clawed hands, choking and terrible.
Dumbledore drew his wand. They would have to make it through this. He ran ahead of the men into the poisoned air and shouted an incantation
DISSERENAT AURA
A light blue wave of light flashed from him. The green smoke dissolved swiftly before the machine gun riddled the troops following him He put up a shielding charm, but not before a score of the men sucked in mud as a last breath.
Down men!
But it was too loud.
A grenade exploded and it was odd to see the shards bounce, causing ripples in the charm and it was wearing off…
It would be gone. Another grenade went off. He shouted in pain as hot metal seared his leg scathingly.
Albus! She gasped, clutching her chest as it felt as if a heavy weight had just been dropped squarely on her heart.
The grass was gritty and hot from the shrapnel. Blood smeared across his face like war paint. He stood up again… his men were running ahead.
Pomfrey! Jonny!
He disappeared into the smoke…
His words echoed… he tripped and cut his lip. The taste of iron corroded his mouth like acid.
Jonny!
He looked up as a boot passed him.
Jonny!
Guns cracked in the dust.
Dirt rose around him. Suffocating.
Something in German.
He coughed. Crimson spattered on the grass before him.
Jonny stop!
A jet of violent orange light pierced the smoke.
Jonny stop!
He stood rigid for a second. Then dropped to his knees. And blood fell from his lips also.
Jonny!
He strained to see through the smoke. A puff of wind stirred it in great swirls and a figure in black stood. A gnarled stick poised in his hand and a hard look of satisfaction on his face.
He spoke in harsh biting tones.
But he couldn't understand.
He repeated it and raised his wand. Green icy eyes stared down at him coldly.
The figure smiled and thrust a wand under his chin.
Where have I seen you before, eh?
English? He spoke… English?
I speak English nodded the figure.
Who was this man? Surely, he recognized that face, that gash. He knew it. Those cold green eyes… so much like his son… his son?
Grindelwald?
Are you that little school boy who not so many years ago, he said in a mocking singsong voice, should have been dead?
The wand dug sharply into his chin. Those oversized fangs glistened. It hissed venomously.
More German echoed from the back of the battlefield.
Sectumsempra
He wasn't prepared.
Pain tore across his chest.
And the figure disappeared into the mist.
She collapsed in her chair, a dead faint.
"Minerva?"
"Oh…….. where am I?"
"Your room…"
"Am I?"
She looked around her. She was in bed, her long black hair fanned about her on the pillow. Light streamed in from the window. She struggled to sit up.
"Don't get up!"
"Oooo… what happened?"
"Don't get…"
She looked up at the speaker.
"Poppy! What are you doing h—…? Oh! Oh my G—…"
"I came because Miss Stev…"
No! No, no, no…
"Minerva! Calm down! What's wrong? Minerva!"
She looked at her friend wide-eyed and fearful. She buried her face in her hands… No! She couldn't have seen it!
Jonny!
The voice echoed in her head. She had seen it all. She had heard the voices, smelled the smoke, felt the wind and the grass and the blood and the gunfire…
"You were delirious and…"
"Poppy, listen to me," she said suddenly grasping on to her friend's hand feverishly, "Poppy! I saw it! The battlefield, everything! You have to believe me. Poppy… and… and… Jonathan… Jonathan… he…" she whispered.
Her friend sat down slowly, still holding Minerva's hand, her face paled at a bit scared.
"Minerva…" she said in a whisper, "What's wrong? What about Jonathan?"
Minerva's green eyes stared off out of the window into the blue sky. Her friend grasped her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
"Minerva? What is wrong?" She repeated.
Minerva hung her head.
"What's wrong?" she asked desperately, "What's wrong with Jonathan?"
She looked up, her green eyes shimmering with tears.
"He's… he…"
"He's what?"
"He's... dead… My God! He's dead!"
"I don't believe you!" She said pushing her friend away, "No… I… I can't!..."
"Poppy, I…"
"No!... no… no!"
"I only saw it…"
"No! Oh Minerva!" she said collapsing into her friend's arms. And the two sat there sobbing in each other's arms.
Everything was a blur.
The light burned his eyes.
There was a woman. He felt her touch upon his forehead.
"Minerva?"
"You can call me that all you want, sweetheart, but that's not my name,"
He recognized the accent immediately. He looked up. There stood before him a blue-eyed, blue-blooded, East-coast American girl fresh out of Radcliffe, or so any one would believe at the first glace of this bleached and starched uniformed nurse.
"Demmed American, how did you get here?"
"Flew," she said under her breath.
"What?"
"I'm new,"
"Yes, I can tell… ow! Watch where you're putting those hands,"
How he made it back to the trench he would never know. How in fact he got to this hospital was beyond him.
"Oh, that's kind. For a man who nearly lost his life twice yesterday, I should say…"
"Sorry," he said weakly, "I'm… just a bit…"
The nurse looked around them and her tone softened to just above a whisper.
"Look, I know what you are… I pried this from your hand yesterday morning…" she said pushing his wand into his hand, "I wasn't sure, but then… how you're healing. It's alright. I went to the American Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry," She said dropping below a whisper, "I also found your firebird circling outside. A letter from… Minerva, I presume?" she said with a smile, handing him a note, "He was terribly tired. You might want to use Muggle post next time," she said with a laugh.
"They don't know where I live…" he said extremely weakly.
She laughed, "Get some rest…those wounds must heal…" she said walking away.
He rested his hand on his chest and nearly screamed in agony.
It felt like his chest had been sewn together.
Upon further inspection, he found that it had been.
What was the need for that? Causing more damage when a healing charm would… Oh, but that was right… Muggles… well, they have their way and we have ours.
The hospital was not pristine white and silver as one would hope a hospital to be, but rather yellow and dingy. He could tell that at one time, it had not been a hospital but something else, what he didn't know, but definitely not a hospital. Men coughed dangerously around him and he could almost smell infection steaming in the air.
He groaned. There was no way to stop the pain.
Jonny!
Where was… Jonny….?
But he was gone…
Oh, he knew it….
Gone…
Everything was suddenly numb…
The smell of chloroform hung faintly in the air. It was overwhelming… everything…. Was so… but his mind couldn't finish it and everything went black.
(I hope y'all are enjoying it so far, I know I am!)