Chapter 29: A Vision of Death

The three Aurors landed in the fireplace with a swoosh, ash billowing out onto the dark carpet of the Director's office. Amelia stepped out, bending over to avoid knocking her head, looking around. The room was currently empty, everything seemingly ordinary.

"It's almost too quiet," she commented, as she stepped aside to let the men out.

"Look," Gideon pointed to the desk in the middle of the room, "that quill still has ink on it."

A small blue blotch had seeped out onto the parchment.

"And the wastepaper basket was knocked over," he continued, his keen eyes observing the clues, "Somebody was in a hurry to get out."

Amelia closed her eyes so she could listen. Nothing. She stood by her earlier statement. It was far too quiet for a hospital. Maybe she was overreacting, reading into an atmosphere because of what she suspected, but it really was...

There was a loud bang and the entire room shook, the pictures on the wall rattling. Books fell from their shelves, landing with thuds on the ground, their pages bending beneath the weight of splayed open covers. Amelia was thrown backwards, saving herself from falling only by grabbing onto Gideon, who had steadied himself on the fireplace. Fabian had been forced to the ground, but he jumped up quickly.

"I'd say not good," he muttered and the three Aurors rushed for the door.

Out in the corridor, it was easy to immediately see that something was wrong. A smell of smoke hung in the air, pictures had crashed to the ground and glass and debris lay all around. Amelia glanced down the stairs that led to the foyer. The far wall which concealed the entrance to Muggle London had been blasted apart, a crumbling hole revealing the street outside. Through the dust, the witch could see curious and alarmed faces, obviously non-magical, peering through.

"They've destroyed the protective enchantments," Amelia surmised, "This place is completely exposed."

She waved her wand and muttered, "expecto patronum."

A silver bird flew into the air and then disappeared with a loop through the dust. Hopefully Alice would get her message soon; whatever was happening, they were going to need backup. A bearded man in glasses ran up the stairs, stumbling as he did so, the panic obvious in his movements.

"Director Vance," Amelia stepped forward, "What happened here?"

The Director's face was bleeding and his spectacles were askew.

"Death Eaters," he breathed, his words coming out in bursts, "They've infiltrated the hospital. The shields have been taken out. More are coming."

It was what Amelia had feared.

"Mitchell Williams?" she asked, "Is he okay? And Frank Longbottom? Where is he?"

Director Vance shook his head, "I don't know."

"That's alright," Amelia said quickly, "Leave that to us. Gather as many Healers as you can and start evacuating the patients. Those who are well enough to Apparate, do it. Those who can't should be taken out the front. We'll do our best to secure it."

The Director nodded and, though he was still shaking, he went off to do his job.

"That'll break secrecy," Gideon whispered to Amelia, aware of the gathering crowd outside the broken entrance.

"To Hell with secrecy," Amelia waved the concern aside, "We can deal with the fallout, but we can't raise the dead. Let's find Mitchie."

Though the destruction of the hospital's magical defenses left a huge gap for the enemy to enter, it did allow the Aurors to move more quickly through the building. In a matter of seconds, Amelia and the others had Apparated into Mitchie's room, the sight that greeted them not the one they had been hoping for. The young man's body lay lifeless on the bed, a vicious slash across his neck dripping crimson on to the ruffled white sheets. It didn't look as though he'd even had the awareness to put up a fight. Cold and precise, this was an execution.

"Shit," Fabian cried, voicing what they were all thinking, "Shit!"

"Fabian?" it was Frank's voice, calling from the other room.

There was a loud bang and the Aurors ran to join their colleague. Frank was ducked behind an overturned bed, firing spells at a figure in black down the other end of the ward. The room was a wreck, furniture splintered and broken, feathers from ruptured pillows strewn across the floor. An arm clothed in the bright green of a Healer's uniform stuck out from beneath a cabinet. As far as Amelia could see, the owner of that arm was the only casualty in the room. Perhaps everyone had got out in time.

Seeing the new arrivals, the Death Eater sent out a ray of fire, before running from the room. The flames cut a sharp line in front of the Aurors, quickly devouring the furniture they hid behind. They tried to dowse it to no avail, the streams of water they cast merely fizzling into steam. Amelia could feel the sweat dripping down her face as the heat intensified. With a sweeping motion, Fabian managed to manipulate a small gap in the fire.

"Go, go!" he yelled, signaling for his colleagues to jump through.

Frank went first, followed by Gideon. Amelia eyed up the gap and, seizing Fabian's hand, pulled him along with her. The flames zipped back together once Fabian's spell was broken, the wizard just managing to get through safely. The group ran in pursuit of the man who had fled.

"Maybe he's gone," Fabian puffed.

"Unlikely," Gideon replied, "if this was just about killing Mitchie, then they could've been in and out by now."

They entered a large hall, usually reserved for family members to have meetings with their invalid loved ones. Amelia suspected that the large portion of the roof that was missing was not a usual feature. Frank's Death Eater stood at the end of the hall with a group of people. Amelia recognised some of them from work she had done in the past; Antonin Dolohov, pale with dark hair, a Dark Lord fanatic from way back; Fenrir Greyback, the notorious werewolf. Until this point, Amelia hadn't been certain he'd been working for You-Know-Who, his involvement not surprising but certainly not desirable. Others wore masks, though Amelia probably would have known some. All together, there was about nine or ten of them. This was why the wizard had fled; he had been looking for backup of his own. Four against ten. The Aurors were outnumbered, hopefully not out classed. A short figure, masked, sent out a spell and that was the beginning as both sides followed suit.

Amelia dived behind a couch, sending out body binding spells as she did so. If they could take in some of these character's alive then the Ministry would have some valuable assets in their custody. A jet of orange light cut through the back of the couch, missing Amelia by centimeters; the witch recognised that taking people alive might not be possible in this battle.

"Amelia," Alice ducked in beside her, the other reinforcements, including Cho and Mad-Eye Moody, taking up positions, "This is certainly not what we expected."

Frank looked up, his face paling. He moved quickly to duck beside his wife.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice terse.

"I told Amelia that I would be in place for backup," Alice replied, trying to sound nonchalant, "And, if you'll look at our situation, I'd say that was a good thing."

Amelia didn't think she had ever seen Frank, usually so chilled and so laid back, look this worried before. It was disconcerting.

"Your wife's a big girl, Longbottom," she said gruffly, momentarily rising up to fire a hex at the other end of the room.

Frank looked pained.

"I know that," he whispered, "but it's not just her anymore."

Amelia felt a sharp breath stick in her throat. She turned who Alice, who had opened her mouth to say something, but was obviously struggling to find the words. The witch's hand had involuntarily gone to her stomach.

"You're pregnant?" Amelia asked.

"Early stages," Alice said sheepishly, flinging a bolt of blue light across the room, "We didn't want to tell anyone too soon, in case-"

"-something happened to the baby," Frank sounded pained.

Amelia's eyes were fixed disapprovingly on her friend.

"I will not be treated like an invalid, Amelia," Alice snapped in response.

"You're going back to the office," Amelia said coldly, "Now."

Alice was about to retort back, when Frank grabbed her hand.

"Please," he said, his eyes watering, "We're fighting this war so that our child can come safely into a better world."

"I want that to be a world with their father in it," Alice whispered, her eyes also glistening.

Frank wrapped his wife in a jerky, tight hug. Alice reciprocated, burying her head into his shoulder as the noise of the battle drowned out what Amelia was sure were sobs. There had been so much death lately that the possibility of new life seemed like such a foreign concept. But a necessary one. Nothing, Amelia thought in that moment, had ever been needed more.

"Alice," Amelia barked, "Get out of here."

Alice broke off from Frank to look at her.

"Frank is right," Amelia continued, "your baby is a concern now. It's my concern. Frank, as soon as we level this playing field, you're gone too. I mean it! As soon as they start to tire, you're out of here."

She might not have been the head of the Auror Office yet, but in that moment, her voice strong and commanding amongst the commotion, she sounded like she had been for years. Alice nodded, a reluctant but resigned action.

Suddenly there was a spray of debris, plaster and glass showering down upon the Aurors crouched behind the over-turned furniture. Amelia, wiping the dust from her face, stood up cautiously to survey the scene. It was as if everything had been slowed down, the noise of the fighting fading into silence. The first thing she saw was Mad-Eye, his misshapen figure standing like a battlement amongst the clearing dust, wand at the ready. Fabian stood slightly behind him, his wand lowering slowly in shock. Amelia did not have time to register where the others were before she turned her head to look at the end of hall, now a gaping space where the end wall should have been. Out of that space stepped a man and Amelia felt her breath stop and her body go cold.

Amelia's high school boyfriend (she did not think of him often now) had come from a Christian family and one holiday she had gone to stay with them. On an afternoon where they had not terribly much to do, he took her to his church. Halfway through their tour, Amelia had stopped before a tapestry. Depicted on it were many figures, but Amelia was caught by one astride an ashen coloured horse, the image filling her with a sense of dread she could not explain. Who is that figure, she had inquired of her then-partner, who followed her gaze and then answered. That is the fourth rider of the apocalypse, he had replied. That is Death. And though Amelia did not believe in what he did, she looked at this figure and thought how terrible it would be to see it walking on Earth. Looking now at the man who came towards her, Amelia thought perhaps she was finally seeing it. His steps were slow and measured, no rush, no hurry, just a cool and calculated surveillance. His pale body, tall and lithe, was clothed in shadowy black, the rippling swathes of fabric contributing much to the idea that he seemed to be floating.Nothing moved except him, even his followers seeming to be caught unawares at his sudden arrival. His voice was high pitched when he spoke, full of quiet contempt and dripping cruelty.

"This entire affair has been..." he paused, letting the drawl of his words hang in the air, "Untidy."

He took one more step forward and then stopped.

"It would seem," he continued, "that once again I must look to myself for a satisfactory result."

Amelia felt herself shiver at the sharp sound of his voice and, in the corner of her eye, she saw one of their masked attackers shiver too. The man looked around once more. His voice was almost a whisper.

"No matter."

The Dark Lord raised his wand and the battle began a new.