On a Mission

It was not long for the news to reach the Deputy Minister of Magic of the events that were taking place in Diagon Alley. With one of the secretaries hot on his robe tails, Elijah Krum apparated straight into the shopping centre. Another crack burst in the air beside him and he glanced over to the secretary, taking in the horrified expression on her face. With a heavy sigh, Elijah turned his gaze to Sparks and the carnage that was bursting from it. From the looks of the place, most had escaped, but if the expression on Robert’s face was anything to judge by then there was something else going on, something much, much bigger.

Stepping over the glass that now covered the cobbles that wound through the alley, Elijah removed his wand from his pocket and flicked it at the neighbouring buildings, creating shields of sorts between them and Sparks in preparation for the chance that the Fiendfyre could spread. Once that was done, Elijah lowered his wand and looked about himself, watching as Wizards and Witches of all ages hurried through the alley, no doubt heading as fast as possible to the Leaky Cauldron where, once there, they would be safe from all harm.

The young wizard dared not draw near, his experience with Fiendfyre having left him badly burnt and still bearing the scars. Swallowing hard, Elijah made his way over to the people huddling together, some crying, some merely silent. Conjuring blankets and mugs of hot coca, Elijah settled with them, beginning almost instantly the political warble that everything would be alright; though this time, he really wasn’t sure that it would be the case.

Robert saw that both Jess and Eli were here amongst the others. Leadership--thats what he was looking for at the moment. He looked at Potter, who was helping him conjure rocks and build the wall. "Potter! Get every available hand to help you! I must have a word with the Deputy Minister and with the other Mr. Potter!" He turned to the others. "Oi! You lot. If you can transfigure to rock or levitate, then come help! Lets get this fire contained and get a lid on it quickly!" He looked back at James Potter. "You're in charge of this containment until I return." He went over to Jess.

"Jess, a word. Please," he said, its urgency not able to wait much more. He motioned Jess to follow and slipped into the Leaky where he'd seen Eli go. "Eli!" he called. He motioned to him. He wanted to have a private word with both men together. "Tom--I need a room for a moment." The barkeeper tossed him a key with a tag on it. "I would not ask if it were not important," he told them. "Please." he motioned towards the upstairs.

Jess broke from his trance-like focus on the various countercurses he knew for Fiendfyre as Robert's voice reached out to him, calling for his help with a tone of urgency Jess rarely heard utilised by its owner.

Glancing behind him as Robert retreated to the cauldron he pointed at James and yelled "If you can't contain the damned thing, blast apart anything that connects sparks to its neighbours. We don't want this spreading any further than it has to." And with one last murmur he followed the Minister.

"What's this about, what do you need?" He asked immediately as he entered the room with Eli and Robert.

"Yes, Minister!" James shouted back, not taking his eyes off the task at hand, "and thanks, Jess, I'll remember that."

James grimly sped up his spellwork as safely as he could, so as not to make mistakes, but also to make up for the two men who had departed. James could not confess to know much about Fiendfyre, and honestly was glad that the Minister had thought to contain it in this way, because he himself would never had thought of it. James could never be accused of being a subtle man. If the Death Eaters were going to begin using Fiendfyre, however, James was determined to learn more about the stuff.

"Right! This is what we're doing," James bellowed to everyone in general, "Anyone who can carry a wand, converge on the fire. We need stones to build an urn over this thing, so transfigure, summon, do what you need to do to get stone and help build this shield. We need some people to begin soaking the buildings next to this thing. I know it won't stop Fiendfyre, but it may slow its spread. I don't want to have to demolish any buildings if I can help it. We could also use some protective spells around the surrounding buildings. Anyone who can perform advanced shield spells like Protego Horribilis, Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri, and Repello Inimicum; it would help very greatly. For those with less skill, even a more simple shield charm or even Impervius could help!"

James could do some of these charms himself, however Transfiguration was his strong suit, and he needed to keep concentrating on keeping this dragon of fire contained. They were gaining on it, but to lose even one more could turn the tide in the opposite direction. James could only hope that someone in the vicinity knew these difficult charms.

Michael was not unprepared. He had spoken with Brian and Kate before going to Diagon Alley, to where Sparks used to be. He apparated in beside a young man who was issuing orders. Clearly trying to work on the containment unit Brian had said Robert had started.

"Ah! Blocks! I haven't played with blocks in years!" Michael said, flicking his wand at a pile of rubble to join in the construction. Michael didn't do anything in a conventional manner, not dealing with emergencies, and he handled enchanted beings and things with even less tradition. He glanced at the dragon briefly, sizing him up as he worked. Enchanted fireballs just didn't impress him much. Not even big ones. There were things that did frighten Michael, but this just didn't happen to be on his list of scary things.

"You must be Potter. I've heard about you from Robert. I'm Michael Tremaine. Looks like you could use another hand. " He saw the fiendfyre dragon and saw it trying to rage above the box that was being swiftly constructed. Michael scowled at the dragon, not liking dragons much in general, but liking Fiendfyre dragons even less. Michael levitated several large pieces of stone up onto the wall in front of the dragon, which the dragon appeared to resent. It attempted to snap at Michael. "Get back, you grouchy son of a matchstick!" he shouted at it, unimpressed.

"Protego Horribilis!" Michael fired, knowing the spell well. "Annoying, isn't he?"

Thaor continued his efforts to put out the fire. He watched as Robert, Jess, and Eli went into a building, no doubt Robert had a clue as to who caused all of this. Thaor saw Michael apparate in and curse at the dragon.

Thaor ran over to Michael, You still owe me dinner my friend. Thaor said, half jokingly. It was true Michael owed Thaor dinner, however, Michael had extended invitations many times, Thaor was just too 'busy' to ever cash in on the offer. Any word on Khaat? Thaor asked, knowing there would be none.

Thaor noticed the fire was deadly close to the tree he hid in, which was a good thing, he just needed the fire to get a bit bigger. He continued casting nonverbal spells to contain the fire, and then started using small things that would help the fire, sending oxygen in so the fire couldn't die. Damn thing! Thaor said as the dragon shot at him and Michael, producing a shield for the two nonverbally.

"You've missed more five star dinners than any other person I know," Michael said. "When are you going to actually come?" When Thaor asked about word on Khaat, Michael shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I've been busy with Alette. She...had an accident." Michael lied deliberately to Thaor about the one woman that Michael had ever considered marrying. Michael hadn't brought Alette's name up into any conversation with any of his friends in almost 40 years. But the woman was back in his life, whether Michael was thrilled or not, and it made his life feel upside down. "Accident'' wasn't even near accurate for what had happened to his old flame. The truth was that Michael hadn't left Alette's side for days. Michael doubted if Thaor knew Alette was even back from the continent and back in England, much less anything else.

"Kate just passed the word on to me that I might be able to lend a hand," Michael said When the dragon seemed to get irked with Thaor too, Michael shot Thaor a dirty look. "Didn't you do less than stellar at Care of Magical Creatures? You seem to be pissing it off."

I've only missed a couple dozen, that isn't that much. Thaor laughed. Thaor stopped what he was doing when Michael mentioned Alette. His face was in pure shock. Alette huh? No wonder you opted to come here. Fire breathing fire dragons are less scary than a women in a white dress. Thaor chuckled, deciding to avoid the subject.

I believe you were the one who flunked Care of Magical Creatures Michael, I was the one who taught it. Thaor said, being interrupted by the dragon who flew at the pair of men. Thaor knew it was his chance, he quickly jumped infront of Michael, transfigured a stone to resemble his body and clothes NO! Thaor said, as the dragon engulfed the two men, Thaor nonverbally cast a shield to protect Michael, but to make sure the dummy was charred, and disapparated just after casting a retraction spell canceling the fiendfyre, reappearing moments later at D'eath Manor.

Everything went as planned, it would appear that he gave his life to protect Michael, and that selfless act defeated the fiendfyre.

He noticed his cloak caught on fire, he took it off and stomped it out. Now that they believe I lost my life saving Michael, it's time to go back to my cave. But first, take care of Khaat. Thaor said to himself.

"I would indeed be Potter," James replied jovially, and despite himself, amused at the man's unconventional attitude in a disaster.

James nodded his head in thanks as Michael cast the shield spell, maintaining his efforts in containing the dragon. He listened in on the conversation between Michael and Thaor with a disconnected interest as he worked.

Suddenly, the dragon burst through its restraints and went for Michael. Before James could react, Thaor stepped in front of the man and was burned into nothingness. The Fiendfyre disappeared immediately afterwards, leaving nothing but its signs of destruction. Somewhere in the back of his mind, James wondered what had finally defeated the Fiendfyre. He had never heard of the curse merely disappearing on its own. The threat was over now, but at what price?

James sank to the ground, his head in his hands. Yet again someone was lost, and James had let it happen. He was supposed to be in charge, and got someone killed for it. James sat for a few moments before resignedly dragging himself to his feet again. Buildings needed repairing, casualties needed to be tallied, the injured attended to, and bodies would need to be recovered. Now was not yet the time to succumb. There would be time for reflection later.

The whole business had taken only a moment. What Michael saw was the fiendfyre leaping what bit of a containment they had constructed and was flying full on at them. Then he was surrounded entirely by flame. He hadn't had time to get frightened. By the time he'd drummed up that emotion, it seemed to be over. The fiendfyre was gone and there was a charred corpse where Michael had last seen Thaor.

Michael stared at the corpse. Dumbfounded. Numb. He looked up to Sparks. The flames that were left were the nonmagical offshoots of the Fiendfyre. Witches and wizards around Michael were screaming, saying the fiendfyre had burned thaor to death. Michael could hear them already saying that Thaor sacrificed himself to protect Michael--to protect them all.

So--Thaor was dead. Was this the third time or the fourth? For some reason, Michael wanted to remember. He looked up at an auror who reassured him they would take care of his friend. After a moment, Michael merely nodded silently, as if he were trying to at least look like he believed them.

And then he turned and walked away. He walked down to the Leaky, accio'd a bottle of firewhiskey. If the kiddies couldn't summon an aquamente now, well, then let it all burn to the ground. Michael picked up the bottle and a glass and went to the darkest table in the room and poured himself a drink. He sat down, drew the silver cigarette case from his pocket, and lit one of his Italian cigarettes and exhaled slowly, wonder what the hell that had just been.