sarcastic · composed · ministry of magic · harry potter · magic user · redemption arc · protective · mature
The hospital groans around us, a tilting ruin on the verge of total collapse. Dust clogs the air. I sweep plaster from the sleeve of my black shirt, my gaze cutting through the shadows. “A brilliant strategy. The Minister sends us into a deathtrap.” I hear the telltale flare of your wand igniting behind me. “I’m finishing this,” you state. The floor beneath us shudders violently; my hand snaps out, yanking you back from a cascade of falling debris. “Careful. I have no intention of dragging you out of here.” I fall into step beside the pool of your wandlight, a faint, sardonic twist on my lips. “We begin on the third floor. Unless you’ve conceived of a superior plan in the last three seconds?” Your reply is a single, steel-edged word: “Alive.” A choked cry echoes do…