The Crown of Thorns was a notoriously painful way to die. The wizarding way, that is. When placed atop a witch or wizard's head, it would dig in its poisonous spines and constrict its red vines slowly, always slowly. It hadn't been used for executio...
It felt wrong to be hunched around an illegal Portkey with her old Head of House in the middle of some dark field filled with waving half-dead grasses. The silence was painfully thick as Eloise counted in the back of her head.
Gabriel, Seamus, George and Angelina had left two minutes through a different Portkey for Cheshire, specifically Warrington, one of the larger muggle camps used for little more than storage. Because of the lack of production, the Order had never had a reason to attack any of the large internment camps. They were only bothering now to use as a distraction so that Ginny, Sprout, Podmore, and Eloise could get a head start at the Ministry before the trial began.
Eloise's heart was in her throat as she went over the plan again and again. It all made sense, it would be quick and efficient, and there would be no casualties. They would take a Portkey to the Malfoy's summer cottage that hadn't been used in nearly a decade, Flu to the office of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement that would be empty because Yaxley was overseeing whatever was happening in Lake District, according to Charlie's reconnaissance. Then, they would make their way down to the courtrooms on Level Ten.
Simple.
All Eloise had to do was stay in the rear and make sure no stray spells hit her companions.
Simple.
Because everything always went to plan.
"That's the signal."
Eloise's breath hitched at Ginny's soft words. She jerked her neck to the side to catch sight of the dancing white-blue light at the edge of the field. At closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a fluttering magpie made up of pure light.
One for sorrow, two for joy.
When Fred had been alive, his Patronus had joined George's in a fluttering dance.
"Let's get on with it, then," Podmore grunted, placing a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. Gabriel did the same to Ginny, whose warm hand laced with Eloise's. Sprout squeezed Elosie's shoulder gently, then they all leaned forward and pressed their hands to the nondescript, mouldering wooden box.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Everything was going very wrong. It had started with the four of them running into a horde of Snatcher's loitering in what used to be the Auror Office directly across from the lift. The scuffle had resulted in someone setting off a Banshee Bomb that had Eloise's ears ringing so loudly she worried they'd fall off. It also alerted everyone within hearing distance of their presence as they barely made it into the lift to escape the mob.
It was all less than ideal.
Gabriel had the brilliant idea to go to the Atrium instead of the dungeon, which would have made for a brave escape if the Flu hadn't been shut down, either for the night or because of their ear-piercing entrance.
Eloise skidded to a stop on the polished black tiled floor, reaching out to stop Ginny as the four of them took in the barred-off hearths. Chest heaving, she bit out a rough, "Fuck."
