Been a long road to follow;
been there and gone tomorrow
without saying goodbye to yesterday.
Are the memories I hold still valid?
Or have the tears deluded them?
The countrywide silence was all but unnerving to the small band of travelers who, on foot, pushed forward in protest, as much against the very elements as their fears that were urging them to return home.
Merciless northern winds bit at any portion of the face or hands that went uncovered while knife-like grains of sand and frosty globules of ocean water added to the discomfort as they set foot upon the beach, happily providing an endless supply of irritated eyes, wet robes, cloaks, and masses upon masses of numbed extremities. Yet, remarkably, not one of them complained throughout the ostensibly infinite march. Their hearts and minds were driven on by a purpose the body couldn't begin to understand, and the minor discomforts mother nature threw at them would not hinder their intended path.
Overall, about twenty five Order members followed this self-isolating route. Men and women from different backgrounds, with different beliefs, with different ideals, all united under the roof of tragedy in hopes of opening a door of hope for those who were trapped within the iron grasp of their enemies. They were, in a sense, heading out to war. Their own personal battles and feelings were pushed aside, and all focus was centered on this one night where all the difference might me made. They were a unit unbreakable. Bound together by each owns silent guilt, and determined due to the overriding desire to atone for their faults and individual failures.
The Order was a union of witches and wizards, a brotherhood and sisterhood of people who all desired to stop the spread of evil and save the lives of those in danger of the Dark Forces and its minions. Tonight, it seemed as though they were a unit bound in grief. All heads were bowed against the commands of the elements, and all eyes were downcast, as if the screams of the wind and the roaring of the nearby ocean mimicked their own inner screams and private roars for reprieve.
How fitting, Sirius thought as he observed the sorry troupe for himself. Those who were once bound in hope and purpose are now bound in grief.
With a sorrowful sigh and the unwilling bow of his own head, Sirius too acquiesced to the demands of mother nature. He prayed that the asylum's base was not too far off, for the ghost of days long past was beginning to tickle at the back of his mind again. A heavy heart would soon be what bowed his sorry frame, and not the surrounding weather.
Pulling his cloak tighter about himself, Sirius warmed his body and heart with thoughts of having Harry back safe at home again.
Once they had reached the loving arms of concealing shadows, all twenty five Order members were able to relax by taking shelter within the crevices and boulders of the outlying stonework. True, the wind was still cold, and occasional showers from the violent waves of the North Atlantic were impossible to avoid, but here they were permitted to cast small fires so long as the angles did not cast shadows that would reveal their placement. Most didn't bother taking the risk, but a few extremely chilled rookies didn't bother considering such things. No one else could really blame them, and even a few seasoned veterans were grateful for the reassurance that warmth could still be felt in their fingers and toes.
After five minutes of tucking themselves away into hiding, a fleet of wizards and witches landed just outside of their makeshift encampment. They were a straight faced bunch, not at all the hearty, typically warm countenances that usually graced a Phoenix member's face on a good night. Then again, very few of them had glistening smiles after the weather they had just endured. Once more, every last one of them knew that the night would not be getting any better from this point onward.
The twenty five were joined by a number of fifteen armed Aurors and five Unspeakables. They were to act as safeguards. Specialized training allowed these few individuals the proper tools and trades so that they might easily recognize even the slightest signs of ancient and dark magic.
Nothing was to be put past the mission tonight. The Keep held the Dark Forces' most valuable leader, and their most valuable prisoner. Failure was not an option, and risk was not a factor.
For a few moments, both parties stood in consideration of one another, as though measuring factors that could not be considered through speech and friendly hand gestures. Then, without warning, a tall, burly figure stepped out of the broom-equipped mass of people and extended a gnarled hand to Moody. The seasoned Auror help up an equally gnarled hand and shook it with a slight grimace. He, unlike the others, knew who this person was, but judging by Moody's expression, he was not too fond of the man.
"Dumbledore sent you, ay Millie?" the man asked.
"Aye," came the unexpected response. Despite the character's build, the voice was surprisingly feminine, if slightly deeper than normal for a woman. "Me and my team'll be assisting you and yours." There was a pause, as though this person called Millie were daring Moody to challenge the Order passed down from the high, mighty, and unquestionably wise Albus Dumbledore.
There wasn't one, leaving Millie quite pleased.
"All right. So that's that, then." She slapped her hands together and turned to the Order of the Phoenix. "Each of our riders, myself included, has a broom that will carry, on average, one passenger."
There was a sense of apprehension at the thought that some of the Phoenix' members thought of being left behind. After braving a hellish wait in a so-called summer home, and an equally unbearable walk down mother nature's trail of brutal lashings, none of them liked the idea of being made to stand outside in the continuous rain of unforgiving elements whilst their comrades fought valiantly against Voldemort.
"But never fear," the person named Millie continued. "Some of our men and women are willing to make second trips. You will all get the battle you've so desperately been waiting for."
A hand raised from the back of the group. All eyes turned to Dedalius Diggle, and all agitated minds prepared themselves for the voicing of a ridiculous question, yet he amazed them all when his mouth was opened.
"If that's the case, then what are we going to do if we find more prisoners than we can carry?"
Millie nodded, pleased with this man's aforethought.
"Never fear, good sir. We have an owl waiting at the top of the castle who will come at the bidding of out whistles. We will simply transfer the message from him to the Ministry and they will meet us, where needed, with more passenger-allowing brooms. Satisfied?"
More than one head nodded.
"All right, lets get moving."
This will hopefully start moving faster in the next couple of chapters. I need to devise a mock floor plan for the castle if I'm to know where my guys are going. (sheepish grin)
Don't forget to review!
Lyrics: "Gravity" by Maaya Sakamoto
from the "Wolf's Rain" soundtrack.