#event: Timor Vincit Omnia

[alicebarnettbottcm]

&& timor vincit omnia &&

“I don’t have time to--” Her boss is hurt. So many people she knows are hurt and she’s honestly terrified. The words snap out before she can stop them, and she forces herself to take a breath before continuing. “What can I help you with?”

[wildagriffiths]

timor vincit omnia

“Can I help? I’m half-decent at healing spells, if you need a hand.”

[penrose-phoebus-blog]

Timor Vincit Omnia

“I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.” He warns.

[wildagriffiths]

She smirks. “Well alright, then. This has been some crazy shit.” She nods, smile dropping away. “Yeah, tell me about it. I was scared out of my damn mind that day. You never think it’s going to be right here.”

Timor Vincit Omnia

[apisremus]

timor vincit omnia ;;

Madam Puddifoot sent over food. Can I get you anything?

[herckinnon]

timor vincit omnia ;;

Are you trying to find people? I can help you look. 

[ettootsbrute]

timor vincit omnia ;;

What can I do to help?

[wildagriffiths]

“Oh, that’s interesting. Very into quidditch pride over there, hmm? The Welsh wizards are like that for the Harpies. That’s cool, is he at Hogwarts?”

event: timor vincit omnia

wildagriffiths‌:

Wilda brightens up at the question, and barely notices the healing. “I’m part of the Puddlemere United team. Chaser. Do you play?”

“No, but I’m from Portree, which is very nearly the same thing, just with much less exercise. My brother hopes to play once he graduates.”

[floreo-flora]

timor vincit omnia ;;

I’ll do whatever you need me to. 

[europinitsme]

timor vincit omnia ;;

No, I wasn’t in there. Were you?

[mssrtoebeans]

event: timor vincit omnia

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” It is, but he doesn’t care. His voice is lacking a certain quality, a spark that it had in Hogwarts. If you were to put him next to the boy he was then, they’d be wearing the same face but otherwise unrecognizable. “What d’you want?” 

[wildagriffiths]

She nods. “Yeah, I started heading up but ran into some people and we kipped down in an empty room instead until it was safe. Did you ever catch all the death eaters that were fighting?”

timor vincit omnia ;;

[saraheimear-archive]

event: timor vincit omnia

“Does anyone know the identity of the injured aurors yet?”

[abigailellery-archive]

event: timor vincit omnia

“You are being a terrible patient right now, if you want to die just say so and I can get on with helping people who actually want it.” 

[biliweasley]

[ They set the tea in motion, and turn to look over at Molly ] Well, at least they want to meet the new - boy? [ they smirk ] I know I wanted nothing to do with my brother before he was born, but I was a little shit when I was younger.

timor vincit omnia

[assidua-vigilantia]

timor vincit omnia ;       i guess i’m human no more ;;

( trigger warnings : blood / violence / death / body horror / injury )

a meter apart, you blankly stare. we shout in our heads--  are you still in there? well this ends bad, then we knew it would. so we won’t eat our words, ‘cause they don’t taste good. [ ... ] a thousand words are left unsaid ‘cause no one listens to the dead... [ x ]

Constant vigilance. Probably the two words most associated with him, and the two that seem like a joke as he stares up at the ceiling. Constant vigilance. He can’t remember when he’d started saying it, whether it had been him that had started preaching it or someone else that he’d taken the words from. He repeats them to himself, over and over and over, like he can rewind time. Like somehow, magically, he could just make everything go away. 

He’d lost track of Frank. Alastor looked around with his magical eye, trying to reorient himself in the crowded halls of the hospital. There was shouting from every side, people pushing at him and trying to rush past him. It was an endless, horrifying flood of frightened people that he didn’t know how to stop or control.

He knew what direction he’d come from. It was something, at least. “Go to the stairs!” he shouted, loud enough to startle a few people into listening to him. “There are Aurors at the stairs that’ll take you out of the building. Go to the stairs!”

The flood shifted, and Alastor kept pushing through. His magical eye continued scanning the crowds, trying to find where the threat was coming from. His eye turned downwards, to the floor below him. That was where the real trouble was. He didn’t wait for backup; he shoved his way to the staircase and ran down to the next floor. 

It was less crowded than the floor above him had been, and easier to run down the hall. “Get to the stairs,” he said again as a group passed him. “There are Aurors at the stairs to take you out of the building.”

“There’s Death Eaters--” stammered one healer as they ran towards him. “They’ve got people stuck in one of the examination rooms--”

“I’ll take care of it.” He wasn’t sure where the rest of his Aurors were. He’d gotten ahead somehow, left them all behind, but there wasn’t time to turn back. Alastor ran down the hallway, looking with his magical eye to see if he could find what the healer had been talking about. 

It was easy to find the room. Alastor felt oddly calm as he rounded the corner, raising his wand and disarming the closest Death Eater. There weren’t as many as he’d thought there would be; their focus was on breaking into the room, not on anyone coming for them from behind. The duel was quick. Alastor stepped over the bodies and opened the door to the room. 

“Get to the stairs,” he said, looking at the scared faces staring back at him. “There are Aurors waiting to get you out, just get to the stairs. You--” He fixed his gaze on one of the healers. “The way’s clear if you go now. Take everyone up to the stairs.”

He held the door open as the dozen people hiding in the room hurried out into the hall. His magical eye spun to look at the hall back to the stairs. It was still clear. They could make it up, and he’d keep going--

Someone screamed behind him. Alastor spun and ran towards the sound. The others would be fine; the way was clear, and they’d reach the rest of the Aurors soon. He was certain he was no longer the only Auror that had made it to the floor by now; frankly, he counted on it. He heard the sounds of a duel and rounded the corner, a spell already on his lips as he raised his wand. 

It all seemed to happen uncommonly fast. Spells flew through the air, streaks of red and green and blue above his head and around him. He shot hexes at each mask he saw, barely registering that one had fallen before aiming for the next one. In a fight, it was easy for him. It was a dance, an unrelenting shift that was just one step after another, one spell after another. He reached another door and yanked it open. 

“Get to the stairs!”

The floor was slick with blood. Alastor wasn’t certain where it had come from, but the tiles were dark with it. People running past him left bloody footprints in their wake. He tried not to think about it as he shot another hex through the air. 

“Help!”

He didn’t know who’d shouted it, just turned towards the sound and moved. He could see another group in the next room down the hall, their leader crouched in the doorway desperately searching for a clear. “Go!” Alastor shouted, turning back to make sure the way was clear for them. “Stay against the wall, head for the stairs!”

Other Aurors had finally reached them. Alastor could see them joining the fray, hear the shouts of familiar faces over the chaos of the duels. He caught a brief glimpse of Kingsley’s head before he lost track of him. The group he’d told to go were hurrying along the wall, keeping low to avoid the spells flying over their heads. He ran to catch up to them and rejoin the rest of his Aurors. 

A jet of green light slammed into the wall above one of the stragglers of the group, and she screamed, slipping on the slick floor as she tried to duck. Alastor hastily turned back and ran towards her, shooting a hex back at the Death Eater that had shot the spell. 

“Sir, watch out--!”

He spun, but it was too far. His shoes slid on the bloody floor, and the spell he shot flew too high. A bright red light flew towards him, and he knew, without a doubt, that this was it. 

But the shot was too low. Alastor felt blinded by the pain in his leg, hurting with such intensity that he nearly passed out. He gasped so hard he almost gagged, grabbing his knee. Don’t go down, he said to himself, repeating the words over and over. Don’t go down, don’t go down, don’t go down. He wouldn’t get up if he did; he fired another hex, and this time it found its mark. The world that had felt like it was moving so fast suddenly slowed. Don’t go down, he told himself again as the room seemed to spin him around. Don’t go down....

He’d woken up in a bed that wasn’t his own. The room was trashed, but it was the best that could be managed, and Alastor could still recognize it as being in St. Mungo’s. There were a few others around him, but curtains had been at least partly drawn to afford some shred of privacy. Every part of his body hurt, but his leg hurt perhaps most of all. He didn’t know what he’d been hit with. He sat up slowly, grimacing in pain. 

“Auror Moody,” a little healer said, hurrying over to him. “You really shouldn’t be moving--”

“I need to help my Aurors.” He grabbed his wand from its place on his lopsided nightstand. “Out of my way.”

“Sir, you can’t--”

He pulled the blankets off of his lap and stopped. Stared at his bandaged left leg, which stopped abruptly at the knee. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t true-- the healer’s words only seemed to half process. ‘Had no choice--’ something. ‘best we could do....’ something something. ‘recovery will be hard--’ His head was spinning. ‘It won’t be the same.��

“Thank you,” he said, interrupting the healer mid-sentence. He wasn’t paying attention. The healer seemed to realize, and let him be. He continued to stare down at his leg blankly. It won’t be the same. He looks up at the ceiling. 

Constant vigilance. He repeats it to himself, over and over and over, like he can rewind time. Like somehow, magically, he could just make everything go away....