How High the Moon
.ψ.
Chapter Sixteen: The Battle of Bricks
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The whole world was moving too fast.
Charlie's senses seemed disconnected, some dull and impossible, others so sensitive that he felt ready to sick. The music suddenly cut off with a tremendous explosion, but the club lights continued to rove and surge with an almost perverse sort of vindictive glee. Everything was spinning at a pace he couldn't possibly hope to comprehend. People were moving everywhere. Some were screaming and stumbling. Some were running for their lives. Some didn't get that far.
But none of it really registered. Not the blood, not the hooded criminals and the psychopathic murderers, not the danger.
There was only one thought in his head.
Stella.
She was gone.
A purple spotlight skated across his vision. A wild eyed woman dove past him, narrowly escaping a charmed brick flung towards her skull.
Charlie couldn't breathe.
Stella.
She'd been there just a moment ago, her warm back softly molded into him and her eyes twinkling. Now he was cold and sharply alone.
Merlin, where is she? I've got to get her out of here!
Another brick came hurtling out of nowhere so quickly that Charlie didn't have a chance. It jettisoned into his gut with a sizzling sound and an amber glow, knocking him to the ground. Several pairs of boots trampled him in their flight, desperate and uncaring. His stomach felt like a gaping hole and every part of his body was on fire.
Even thoughts of Stella flew right out of his head as he struggled to stand.
Gotta get up.
Curses and hexes flew in the air above him, deflecting in showers of scorching sparks.
Up. Up, bugger it!
Suddenly there were no more people rushing past him. He heard screams and buzzing and the roaring of fire somewhere else, but he was alone.
Then he realized why.
Get up! Get out!
Staggering to his feet, Charlie could barely make out the towering figure headed his way.
No. No!
The figure aimed for him, sending a virulent hex directly at his still aching stomach.
Run!
It was far from running –more of a stagger and dive than anything- but somehow he managed to fall fast enough to avoid the fate of the pillar behind him. It began to melt upon contact.
Melt.
That had almost been him!
Charlie found himself behind a pair of overturned barstools. All it would take was a few more strides and he would be back. This time there would be no place to fall.
Wake up Charlie! Merlin, let this be a nightmare!
Someone bellowed "Liquefactious!"
One of the barstools began to melt.
He was done for.
Think! There's gotta be something!
He couldn't remember anything. Why hadn't he paid more attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts? The only things that came to mind from school were his notes for Transfiguration N.E.W.T.'s.
Well at least McGonagall will be happy to know that I died with something useful in my head.
The hooded face he had been dreading peered into Charlie's hiding place.
Please, I don't want to die. I don't want to die.
The figure raised its wand, preparing to strike.
"Inanimatus Conjurus!"
He had no idea why that particular spell popped into his head. It was a simple one really. Even though McGonagall was convinced that conjuring was one of the more difficult aspects of transfiguration, he'd had it down by the end of second year, even with the handicap of a lack of power. Nor did he know why he had concentrated on the image of a tea kettle. No reason really. Just something, anything to fling in the way of impending doom.
And somehow it worked.
The figure stumbled back, surprised by his attack.
Think, think! What next?
"Oppugno!"
The kettle began to assault the dark figure, using its spout like a battering ram on the skull.
He remembered the day that he'd mastered that one, October of his third year. It was the day before the Halloween feast, and McGonagall had been so impressed that he'd managed something as advanced as commanding conjured objects that she gave the entire class a night without homework. That was the day Donag warmed up to him.
His first real friend.
The sharp memories gave him an extra sliver of strength, and he used it to transfigure the kettle's copper makeup into unyielding iron. He needed every last drop of it too. Alchemy was a lot harder than conjuring.
The death eater fled, kettle close behind.
Did I just do what I think I did?
A shout from behind him was all the warning Charlie got before danger reared its ugly head again.
No! I don't have anything left!
Screams were becoming louder again as terrorized people were herded his way. Flickers of Aurors and Order members could be seen at odd intervals, flashing as they defied the death eaters. He struggled to his feet once more, desperate to avoid the stampede.
I can't … oh no! Merlin, no!
In that dark robe the death eater almost looked like a dementor.
But a dementor would not have two dozen glowing bricks flying in circles around its head, shooting out and attacking victims.
RUN!
His feet just wouldn't seem to listen.
He franticly searched for anything, ANYTHING, to stay alive for the next five seconds. This time it was like trying to grab at starlight or sunshine. Trying to get a fist full of sand. Trying to touch the moon. He could hardly breathe, let alone think.
RUN!
The death eater advanced, sending two more bricks flying in other directions. Charlie watched in mute horror as one hit Tonks in the back with a resounding thud. The curly headed woman dropped to the blood spattered floor like an empty sack.
That's what I'm going to look like.
Charlie saw the robed figure turn its head to better see him.
This is it.
He closed his eyes.
There was a sudden bang, quickly followed by a series of clunks.
Charlie's eyes shot open to reveal the death eater on the floor, still and quiet in a growing pool of his own blood. He turned franticly in search of his savior, only to find Bresa Mackay and the end of a shiny silver wand pointed at the deceased.
"What the …"
"No time." She grunted, wincing as she hobbled forward. The metal wand projected something with a bang and another death eater fell. "Watch my back."
Neither of them spoke a word after that, except when Charlie called out incantations. Death eaters fell, order members fell, fires raged, and light bulbs shattered. It lasted only minutes, perhaps half an hour, but the events of that night would be seared into the mind of Charlie Weasley until the day he expired.
When it was all over, he stood uncertainly in the middle of the swaying room trying to comprehend what had just happened. He could hardly process what he saw.
They were everywhere, unmoving and tainted by the alternating flickers of strobe lights and the occasional stunning beam.
Bodies.
Human bodies.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Charlie noted that the only remaining light at Club Bricks was still swirling around the smoky room, staining everything in pools of red.
Then the world went black.
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Authoress's Notes: Short chapter. Sorry readers. I've been rather ill, and chapter seventeen has been occupying more of my mental space than this one. Not to mention studying for finals, writing term papers … urg, there just aren't enough hours in the day! I hope to have the next chapter up sooner.
Out of curiosity, how was my pacing on this chapter? I'm still kinda green when it comes to action scenes, so any feedback is most welcome.
Oh, and did anyone happen to notice what (or better said who) was not seen much of? Wonder what she was up to…
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Possum- Course you didn't see it coming! Once again, you've been broadsided by the twisted twistyness of my plot twists. It's like being hit by the Knight Bus, courtesy of CMG (I've been filling in for Ernie, you see). So happy to hear that Stella is still loved, even with her faults beginning to show through. Dark past? What on earth do you mean? What is all this rubbish about Ted not being her daddy dearest? You must be mistaken, dear!
Aqua- Hater of cliffhangers, huh? Well, something tells me that this chapter is going to earn me some major smackage then (cowers in terror) Just as long as you keep your shiny wand where I can see it, I might be able to survive long enough to write the next chapter, haha.
HarryPotterMagic- Yeah, Charlie is DEFINITELY a guy. Gotta love him though, the big oaf. Stella does get worse, but that's just cause our darling boy doesn't like to think ill of anyone. (he really needs a lesson in real world thinking) He doesn't exactly save the day, but I'll deal with that in a while … muahaha!