Chapter Sixteen

The lobby of the Ministry was already evacuated. There they stood, a handful of Hogwarts students, waiting for the unknown. Were they brave? Some of them. Others were quite obviously frightened. Zacharias, for all his bravado, was pacing between the front desk and the old fountain. Pansy, still red-eyed and weary, stood away from the rest of the group, waiting.

Michael was scared. Never would he have thought he'd find himself in a situation such as this one. In the last fifteen minutes they'd had at the old house, they were referred to as Order members. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but it bolstered the confidence of some of the others. That last fifteen minutes... It had gone too quickly. Was he going to die? Is this what a soldier felt like? Somehow, he always thought that a soldier should feel a lot braver.

The older members of the Order were gone, deeper into the Ministry, into the Department of Mysteries, where they were removing one by one the protective shields around the Weapon and around the Ministry itself. This would allow Harry to apparate in from wherever he was. It would also allow Voldemort and his Death Eaters the ability to apparate in. Such safeguards, placed only a couple years prior, were now a hindrance rather than a help.

And the Weapon needed to be activated by Potter before Lord Voldemort got to it first.

They felt a sudden surge around them, and each one looked around as if the end had finally come... It was just the apparation shield dying, though. Moments after it was cast, there were three pops. Three people apparated into the lobby. One with red hair, who had obviously been tortured but was standing. Another, blonde, had been almost well taken care of and showed only the barest hints of injury. The third was the Boy who Lived.

Michael admittedly was never on close terms with Potter, but he knew the dark haired young man was never one for speeches, and now was no exception. Even as Hermione shouted to him and Ron--her voice cracking with relief--he was already taking off towards a door Michael had not noticed before. Somehow it seemed like the Boy Who Lived was somewhat familiar with the layout of the building, but Michael really couldn't see how that was possible. Ron Weasley started to follow, but began to crumple. Malfoy's arm was suddenly under him, and the two shared a look of resigned distaste before Ron righted himself, and Malfoy released him. Then they, too, ran off in the direction Harry had gone. At that moment, Ginny, Luna, and Neville Longbottom appeared.

Lupin began to quickly bark out orders. "All right, remember the plan. We need you to hold them back at strategic spots throughout the Ministry. Hermione, Charlie, Tonks, Ginny, and I will go after Harry, Ron, and Draco. The next level of defense will be to guard the cross-roads--that'll be the black, circular room and the corridors before and beyond it. The area with the weapon cannot be accessed without going through this room, so it's very important you hold out as long as possible. Molly, Bill, Dedalus, Hestia, Terry, Seamus, Zacharias, Mackenzie, Ernie, and Clare will defend it. Our first line will secure the area before the cross-roads. That will be Kingsley, Arthur, Minerva, Neville, Luna, Anthony, Cho, Daphne, Pansy, and Michael. Spread yourselves out. Don't group together or you won't be able to move. Beware of the Imperius Curse. Dodge unforgivables--don't try to block them. Good luck!"

There was a moment where nobody moved, and then suddenly everyone was in motion, following after the others one by one or in pairs or by threes... Whatever happened to be convenient. They went through a golden gateway to several lifts, the first of which was already departed with the first group. Those that would be heading into the circular room described by Lupin went next.

The lifts were noisy, though the sound did a bit to lessen the fear inherently induced by the abandoned state of the building. There was a horrible moment of loneliness as Michael listened to both lifts stop somewhere below. Daphne, her wand out, was facing back toward the lobby. Michael, too, retrieved his from his inner pocket. After all, if Potter and the others could apparate in, surely the Death Eaters would learn that they, too, would be able to.

As soon as the lift returned, Kingsley Shacklebolt throw open the gate. "Let's go," he said to them, ushering them in one by one starting with Professor McGonagall. Neville followed, as did Mister Weasley and Luna.

Then there was a crack from the lobby; the sound of several people apparating in unison. Shacklebolt locked eyes with Weasley for the briefest of moments, then secured the gate, sending the lift down.

Michael's heart was beating in his throat by this time, but there was nothing to do but face what was coming. In the next moment there was another sound - a crack - which was either more people apparating in, or some apparating out. Whichever it was, the footsteps soon followed, and he could see the shadows of the approaching Death Eaters.

"We could apparate down," Cho suggested, standing shoulder to shoulder with Anthony and Daphne.

"We're the first line," Shacklebolt said quietly.

In the darkness, Michael could see Anthony's head turn to the side, toward the lifts that led up from the ground floor - These were across from the lifts that went down. There wasn't a lot of time, and they had the same general idea. Without pushing the call button, both of them began to work on opening the doors, soon aided by the stronger Kingsley. when there was enough room for them all to fit, they retreated, hiding therein and waiting.

It was Daphne that had the idea first. As the first of the Death Eaters appeared, securing the area with the lifts, she moved just enough so that Michael knew exactly what it was she was up to. Her wand already in hand, she was getting into a better position so she could hex them from behind. Michael wasn't brave; neither was he a coward. But the situation was dire. He, too, shifted his position, and could only hope that the others would catch on.

Eight Death Eaters. Five Order members. This could work. This could work.

"Stupefy!"

A shot of red burst from Daphne's wand--perfectly hitting its mark--and one Death Eater fell down without so much as a cry. Another shot of red went by his face as Anthony, too, shouted out the hex. He didn't even have time to rub his cheek, which smarted slightly from the force of the spell, before the Death Eaters had realised that they were being ambushed. At that moment, two more apparated in to replace the two that had gone down. Michael had not actually seen a Death Eater in person before. There was something upsetting about the way their faces were hidden under those hoods--it made them appear something less than human.

However, now that they're cover was gone, there was nothing for it: Pansy, Cho and Kingsley were already rushing past, straight into the fray. Michael barely had a chance to reorient himself before Anthony was grabbing him from behind, helping him to his feet, and giving him a gentle push forwards. More Death Eaters were starting appear now. Somehow the odds weren't looking so great, but at least they were in enough space to dodge without running into anyone.

Daphne ran past him, darting towards Pansy to shove the girl aside as a burst of green light nearly hit them both. In the disorder of the moment, Michael really couldn't tell who was casting what and at whom. All he knew was that Daphne was just barely missing being hit by quite a few rays of green, and Anthony was directly in the path between himself and her. His eyes stung with the afterimage of red, white, black, green, yellow shots of spells meant to simply incapacitate and spells meant to kill. No one was dead yet, though.

"C'mon, Michael, let's go," Anthony said, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, and Michael just had time to yank the back of Anthony's shirt as hard as he could--feeling it rip a little--to keep his friend from being hit by a rather nasty looking streak of black light.

He heard someone scream from the other side of the room, but he couldn't look, blocked by Anthony who was scrambling to get off of him and continue fighting. Michael assumed this was just what Remus meant they ought to not be doing in those last minute instructions, but even if there was some space to move in, there wasn't a lot. He stumbled to his feet and tried to find the source of the cry. Daphne was bent over Pansy, who looked to be still alive, but in severe pain. Cho was yanking at Daphne's shoulder, trying to tell her to get a move on--after all, the Death Eaters had very little interest in anyone who was down for their count. Michael grimly reminded himself that all they wanted was to get to the weapon before Potter did, and if they could simply secure a path to that room, it didn't really matter if they killed, maimed, or just knocked their adversaries out.

Daphne stumbled to her feet, but didn't move away from Pansy, instead steadfastly shooting off spells to try and protect both of them. Cho, looking frustrated, positioned herself at Daphne's back, defending from the other side.

"Duck, Michael!" he could hear Anthony shout from nearby.

Michael didn't question the command. As soon as he processed it, which didn't take long considering the already fast pace of the battle, he ducked. It was just in time, too; he felt the spell brush his hair, burning it just enough so that he could smell it. He heard someone attempt a scream, but the sound only died in the middle and fell off into a thud. Someone had taken the spell meant for Michael.

he wasn't sure which spells he cast, but he hoped they were all reasonably dangerous. His voice mixed with the ones around him to a point where he couldn't even hear his own words above the cacophony. More fell...

And then suddenly, everyone stopped.

Michael tried to stand again, but realized that the leg he was kneeling on was in quite a bit of pain. The room was too dark to see, but when he reached down, he could feel blood. It was warmer than he thought it would be, actually... Mostly since the last time he'd been covered in it, it had felt so cold. Had he been hit by a spell? If so, he couldn't remember it.

But he wasn't the only one frozen. The rest - the Order members, the Death Eaters - were all staring at one man, who had suddenly appeared soundlessly among them. The cold red eyes focused on nothing in particular, though the fact that Michael could see them, the fact that they just didn't care...

And then the man was gone, and it was seconds later when the remaining Death Eaters apparated out after him. There was no mistaking then in the silence that the fight was continuing below.

"What was the point?" Daphne demanded. "What was the damned point?"

Pansy groaned and stirred. She seemed to be coming to, and Michael could already see that Cho was trying a few preliminary healing spells. The truth was, Pansy Parkinson was most likely out of the fight.

Michael turned a little, wincing as he realized he'd knelt right on the sharp half of a broken wand. At least it wasn't his own. He tried to remove the broken stick before Anthony could see him with it stuck in his knee, and it was about then that Michael realized that it was Anthony's wand. He turned to look for his friend, only to find him lying motionless on the floor next to a stunned Shacklebolt.

The blood slicked wand dropped out of his hand as he stumbled over to Anthony, dropping down beside him and ignoring the pain in his knee as he started to shake him.

"Hey, hey, Anthony... Wake up," he muttered.

His friend's face looked so different like this. Of course, they lived in the same room for seven years, so he'd seen him sleeping, but... It wasn't right. He looked so still and white, and Michael began to shake him even harder, lifting the taller young man's shoulders off the ground. "Don't," he kept repeating, and he wasn't sure how time passed. It felt like it had when he had found Daphne injured. Moments just disappearing as he tried to bring Anthony back to consciousness and the hands that finally wrenched him away.

"He's not dead, Mikey!" Daphne said, giving him a sharp shake. He realised she and Cho were there, only Cho wasn't now, because she was working on healing Anthony. He sort of remembered that she had been training to be a healer.

"We're going to go on to the next area to help them try to hold the cross-roads," Cho commanded.

"Wait, we're just going to leave them?" Michael asked, pushing himself to his feet.

"No, I'm going to do what I can for them, and then I'll join you," the Asian witch replied calmly. Anthony moaned softly, and the sign of life seemed to put Michael back in his senses.

"There's no time to waste!" Daphne snapped and disapparated.

"That was dumb," Cho muttered, still leaning over Anthony. She'd managed to get him into a sitting position against the wall, and his head was rolling back, pausing now and then as he drifted in an out of the edge of consciousness. Michael noticed that Cho's voice didn't sound as biting as it usually did when she spoke of the girl. He crouched down next to her as she focused a spell on Anthony's chest, where there was a growing spot of dark blood forming on his shirt.

"You're bleeding, Cho," Michael noted absently as he noticed the pinpricks of red already blotting her arms. He could see it soaking through her robe, too.

Anthony blinked his eyes open, and Cho gently steadied his head as he shut them again. "Daphne... Cast a shield charm around both of us. Well, all three of us, really, since Parkinson was there."

Despite the shield, the spell had made it through. But it could have been worse. And no one had died. "We should get to them," Michael said, half-limping over to Shacklebolt. Cho followed shortly after.

"Ennervate" she said, and a moment later, the senior Order member opened his eyes, blearily looking around. As soon as he got his bearings, he barked one command.

"Report!"

It was said in such a manner that Michael replied almost instantly. "Anthony and Pansy are injured. Daphne apparated ahead. I don't know where."

Shacklebolt struggled to his feet. "Corner, help me get Parkinson and Goldstein into the elevators where they'll be out of the way." Already, he was grabbing Pansy under her arms and gently dragging her into the elevator. Michael and Cho were able to get Anthony into the other one. They could only hope that they didn't wake up and panic... Or apparate into the fight. But at least they wouldn't be found. They stepped around the downed Death Eaters, some of which Michael feared might have been killed.

"Apparate straight down. There's a room down there, and a hallway beyond that. There will be fighting, so have your wands out." Kingsley then apparated away. Michael and Cho looked at each other...

And then suddenly, they were right back in the fight, and this time, there wasn't any cover.

They were in a windowless room with McGonagall, Neville, Luna, Arthur Weasley, and Daphne who were already lost in the heat of the battle with... more Death Eaters than Michael would liked to have seen. At the far end of the room was the door that Michael assumed lead to the corridor going to the cross-roads that Kingsley had just spoken of. The entire wall on that side of the room was glowing an ominous red, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not among the fighters. Kingsley appeared with a loud pop and immediately threw himself into the heart of the fray. He felt a tug at his arm and glanced down at Cho.

"Hey, Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't die, okay?" she said, ducking her head as she uttered the words, and then running straight after Kingsley.

He'd have to thank Potter later, because if it hadn't been for the D.A., his head would have probably have been taken right off by a stream of black. He managed to just duck in time, sprinting towards where he saw Daphne last. In the mix of bodies--and there was not much room to dodge and move, so many were right on top of one another--it was hard to get his bearings, much less find her, but he could hear her voice shouting off hexes right and left at the other side of the room. He narrowly rolled out of the way of a jet of green light and scrambled to his feet between to Death Eaters who tried to hex him and instead hit one another. He thought that was sort of cool, except he really didn't have time to think much on it, because he could just see Daphne ahead near that wall of red.

He lunged forward, knocking a Death Eater down in his wake. "Stupefy!" he shouted before the man (or woman, he couldn't tell) could get his or her sense back enough to retaliate. Daphne was just there ahead of him. All he had to do was go a few more yards...

The nearer he got, the hazier his mind felt, almost as if he was extremely and suddenly calm for absolutely no reason. He remembered somewhere in the back of his mind that this must be the wall Anthony told them about. This was the beginning of the massive... Somethingsomethingsomething...

CURSE! IMPERIUS CURSE! He felt his own mind cut through that haze, but only just. As Michael staggered backwards, his thoughts did clear... But then, Daphne was quite close to the wall, and she wasn't being affected by the curse. He didn't have time to think, though, because he had to dodge a flash of red that went streaking past him and burned right into the wall next to Luna Lovegood's head.

"Stupefy!" Michael shouted. It seemed to work well so far, so he may as well keep using it. The Death Eater that had attacked him went down, and he turned to Daphne again. She, as well as Neville, were backed up against it. Tiny electrical bolts from the surface would arch to them if they happened to brush against it, but it seemed almost solid. He took another step toward it and felt the haziness again. Why...

Daphne and Neville were Pure-blooded, and he wasn't. It was only affecting wizards that weren't Pure-blooded.

Somehow through the haze of light-headed comfort that kept coming over him, it occured to him that he might be the only not Pure-blooded wizard in the whole room, for no one else seemed to be concerned by the wall at all. He knew he should avoid the wall. Lupin had told them to avoid the Unforgivables, rather than try to fight them, but Daphne was here, and she and Longbottom looked like they were becoming trapped in the corner just beyond his reach.

Someone yanked on his shirt from behind, just saving him from another bolt of the Killing Curse that hit a Death Eater instead. The hood slipped off to reveal a gaunt faced looking man who at the moment Michael found rather indescript, except he had the sort of sharp features that many Pure-blooded wizards shared. He turned back to see who had grabbed him, but Cho was already disappearing between the bodies of black robes.

"Cheers," he started to call after her. With that Death Eater out of the way, he could now easily reach Daphne and Neville. He started to dart forward when he felt perhaps the most terrible thing he had in his entire life. He barely registered that a female voice had screamed, 'Crucio.' He couldn't move to turn or duck or anything, because it seemed like every nerve in his body was going off at once. He wasn't really sure even that described it, because even in all the Quidditch accidents and bouts of the flu and all other injuries and illnesses he'd endured in his life, nothing had felt like this. He thought he would go insane with the pain, and it seemed his assailant had no interest in letting up.

Maybe he screamed, he couldn't really tell, but Daphne turned to him as his body jerked forward--nerve endings moving his limbs beyond his control--and fell into the wall. The moment his shoulder made contact with the red shield of light, the pain from the Cruciatus Curse immediately ended, replaced by something just as bad, perhaps because it didn't feel like his nerves were going insane, but rather like he was being torn apart from the inside out. It seemed like everyone in the room had paused and gone silent. Maybe they had. Then again, he might have become delusional with pain. It wasn't really something he could be sure of anymore, except he thought maybe his back had also fallen against the wall, and it felt as though he were being drawn taut against it like a magnet to metal.

A scream rent the quiet, and it sounded uncannily like his own voice. It echoed in his ears, sliding away with everything else into the static and stillness.