"Bloody brilliant!"

Gideon Prewett hooted in appreciation as he was joined by members of the Order in the tunnel, holding back the dementors. Caradoc Dearborn and Edgar Bones leaped onto the tracks and, being older and more experienced than Gideon, they began a complicated sort of containment spell that seemed to engulf the dementors, something like a shield charm wrapping about them, encasing them in the forcefield. Gideon slid back down from the platform to join the other two as they started to move the contained dementors lower, tightening up so that the charm seemed to deflate, like a net, pressing the dementors together and squeezing them down, seeming to shrink the cloud of them into a smaller and smaller ball.

"Right terrifying bit of magic that is," Gideon said, nodding at the knot of magic and black smoke that made up the contained dementors by the time they were finished with them.

"A regular bubble of nightmares," Caradoc agreed, chuckling. "Oi, conjure up some sort of container to put these blithering things in so we can dispose of them properly."

"Minchum will want them," Edgar advised.

Caradoc shuddered, "Minchum's a nutter."

Gideon raised an eyebrow, "He'd use even ones proven to have defected?"

"They're loyal to any who'd give them souls to feed on," Edgar said. "Using the dementors at all is questionable, but there's no difference really between one who's not defected to one who has. They have no souls themselves - they don't care whose side they're on. Send these to Azkaban and they'll feed there as merrily for the Ministry as they would have done here for He Who Must Not Be Named."

Gideon shook his head in clear disapproval of the idea, but he waved his wand and conjured a small metal box, opening the lid and laying it down on the tracks. Caradoc and Edgar moved in unison, pushing the pulsating bubble of dementors into the box, their raspy, rattling breaths fading into a whisper. The moment they'd been squeezed in, Gideon kicked the box shut and waved his wand, sealing it properly.

The box shook as the dementors inside fought to be freed.

Caradoc bent and lifted the box up from the rails. "Well, there you have it." He said. He examined the seal. "And who's to take this to the Ministry?"

Edgar and Gideon both said in unison, "Not it."

"Blast you chaps," Caradoc swore.

Dumbledore kicked a charred skull and watched as it rolled back into the smoldering pile of the inferius remains that cluttered the tracks. Steam rose from them and the air was heavy with smoke and burned flesh. Dumbledore sighed, looking over the mess.

James and Lily stared on solemnly from a safe distance as Moody, Underhill, and Dumbledore picked their way through the rubble. 

Frank Longbottom appeared at their side, tucking his wand into his auror robes. "Dunno 'bout you," he said lowly, leaning in so that the elders wouldn't overhear him, "But I doubt very much if I'll be 'round for broiled roast for a bit after smelling this lot."

James laughed loudly and Lily looked slightly sick at the comparison.

Frank  stuffed his fists in his pockets, "What d'you reckon the point of all this was? Sending the inferi and dementors down into the Underground like this?"

"Dementors?" James looked confused, "What dementors?"

"The ones that were back at the station... attacking Rey and Sirius?"

Lily's eyes widened, "Dementors attacked Remus and Sirius? Are they alright???"

Frank held up his hand, taken aback by her panic. "Yes, yes - I'm sorry, yes, they're alright. I didn't mean to frighten you. Well, Sirius had a bit of a turn, but he's alright... They were back at the station there when we arrived... Fabian summonsed the rest of us, we were searching different tunnels 'round London, see, trying to figure out which one the inferius were in. We didn't know about the dementors 'til we got here, either."

James narrowed his eyes, thinking.

"Gods, dementors and inferius all in the same Underground - horrible," Lily shivered, and she pulled her jumper a little tighter about herself. "And poor Sirius, he does so terribly with the dementors, I really ought to go and --"

"Who all is here, Frank? Who did you come with?" James interrupted Lily and she looked up, startled, because he was usually pretty good about not interrupting her when she spoke, unlike Sirius who would cut off even the most esteemed speeches should the moment seize him. 

Frank looked surprised, too. "Well, Dumbledore, Moody, Underhill, as you know. Giddy and Fabian. Edgar, Caradoc... There's another group, too, searching to the south of London - Bengy Fenwick's leading that lot, I expect Kingsley and Doge are probably with him, maybe Marlene and Em, Dedalus, Dorcas..."

James asked, "All focused on finding the inferi?"

"Yeah," Frank answered. "We alerted Barty Crouch and he has other teams forming, I believe, but I doubt if they've departed the Ministry yet..."

"Bugger." He stepped back and without another word, he'd disapparated off.

Lily looked completely stunned now. "I - James?!" She looked at Frank helplessly.

"Where's he gone?" Frank asked.

Lily shook her head, worried.

James appeared in a small alley that led to the courtyard in the shadow of Westminster. Luckily, no one had been looking through that particular close into the garden beyond or else he would have been spotted. Muggles were strolling by with cameras 'round their necks and taking pictures of the old architecture of the cathedral, and James quickly rushed through the lot, apologizing as he bobbed in and out of muggle photographs of the high clock tower that loomed into the sky.

He hurried along the road, past the parliament buildings and the signs for the War Rooms. He ducked 'round a bend and there was the shoddy old telephone box. Quickly, he rushed forward, slipped into the phone box, and lifted the receiver up. 

There was silence for a moment, then he reached up and tapped out the number - 6 2 4 4 2. More silence, as though the phone were considering his entry. Then there was one crystal clear ring and a cool witch's voice said calmly, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit." 

"James Potter, I'm here to - erm... Well, to figure out what You Know Who's up to."

There was a clicking sound and the voice continued, "Please collect your badge below and wear it at all times while inside the Ministry for Magic." The phone booth shuddered and the floor began to lower, dropping right into the ground. James reached into the change return and withdrew a narrow badge. 

"James Potter, Erm well to figure out what you know who's up to" the badge read.

James rolled his eyes and attached it onto the front of his shirt.

"You will be asked to surrender your wand at the security checkpoint at the far end of the atrium. Thank you, have a magical day." 

The phone booth shuddered to a halt and James turned about as the back wall opened and he found himself at the end of the long corridor of floos that led to the entry way of the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Last time he'd been here, he'd been campaigning with Sirius and the others from his class in the name of Harold Minchum, trying to encourage witches and wizards to vote for who they thought would do best at being the Minister for Magic. It'd been several years since then, but not much had changed about the Ministry. 

Except that the entire place was in absolute chaos.

Hooded and masked to conceal their identities, Death Eaters were casting spells about the atrium. Several witches and wizards were fighting back so that jets of light were flying every which way, sparks showering down over the floor. James yanked the two way mirror from his pocket even as he ran down the entry corridor. "REMUS? SIRIUS?" he yelled at the glass. "REMUS?"

There was a long pause and then the dark mirror reflected the warm Underground lighting and Remus Lupin's face swam into view. James could see the top of Sirius's head leaned against Remus's shoulder. "Prongs?"

"Moony, tell the others to get to the Ministry. It was a distraction! Regulus said it was a distraction!"

"What?" Remus sat up and leaned Sirius to the side. "Stay here Pads..."

"No, no, Moony, don't go --"

"I have to love," Remus replied, and he hurried, leaving Sirius on the platform, and lowered himself over the edge onto the rails. "What's happening there?" he asked James.

James replied, "They've infiltrated the atrium of the Ministry. Dunno how far they've gotten." He ducked as a jet of white light flew over his head, throwing himself to the floor and rolling.

"Are you alright?!" Remus shouted, worried as he saw the motion and heard the exclamation James made as he hit the ground.

"Yeah, just - tell them to hurry!" James yelled, "I've got to go. They've spotted me. Hurry."

Caradoc Dearborn clutched the box to his chest tight, his arm wrapped 'round it, trying to keep it safe from any damages as lights flashed and flared about them. He'd stepped out from the phone box entry after disapparating from the Underground and found himself in the midst of chaos, much the same as James had just done. Caradoc, being a veteran of the Auror program, a young member of the Resistance during the uprising of Grindelwald, had seen attacks on the Ministry before. He knew the protocol. As an upper level auror, he had to get to the Minister's office to protect Harold Minchum at all costs. 

He'd fought his way through the mess of the atrium and jumped the golden barricades where the wand weighers usually stood and was now fighting his way to the elevator that would carry him to the Minister's office. Only a couple of Death Eaters had made it this far into the Ministry, most of them distracted in the atrium by Ministry officials and security guards. Of course, the ones who had managed past that lot were the nastiest of the bunch. A hulking figure he recognized without unmaking as a man named Crabbe was his current component. Crabbe shot a spell whose blue sparks sizzled past Caradoc's ear, nearly getting him as he dodged to the left.

"Yer a good dancer, ain't you Dearborn?" Crabbe cackled, "Dance, old man, dance." He shot spells at Caradoc's feet.

Caradoc threw himself over each of the jets of light that Crabbe sent his way, and sent a stupefy in Crabbe's direction, though he missed and the sparks went wildly wide of their intended target. Caradoc tripped and nearly fell, only just barely managing to catch the box of dementors from spilling from his grasp. He hit the door of the elevator face-first with a grunt and punched the button that would grant him access. More sparks flew at him from Crabbe and Caradoc shot a few more back as the elevator opened and he all but fell inside. One last aim and shot from Crabbe sent sparks ricocheting off the inside of the elevator as the doors closed, Caradoc laying face-down on the floor.

He crawled to the wall panel and reached up, striking the number for the top floor. The ricocheting spell struck his hand and a searing pain shot up his arm and he let out a bellowing wail, falling with all of his weight onto the box. It hurt, knocking the wind out of him, and he rolled onto his back beside the box, clutching his arm. The place where the spell had hit him had turned a horrid shade of greenish-black and a wicked hole had opened up on his hand, a thick greyish sludge of pus falling from his skin. He had no idea what the hell he'd been hit with, but it didn't look good. Nor did it feel very nice. Plus, it had been his wand hand. 

The elevator lurched upward, and when the door opened, Caradoc grabbed hold of the metal box and got up, his arm bent at the elbow and pressed to his chest. It was useless, his arm. He'd have to put down the box of dementors before he could use his wand - with the wrong hand, no less. He looked around the Minister's outer office and saw the young witch who worked as the Secretary to the Minister crouched beneath her desk, tears in her eyes, her wand on the floor at her side. She looked over at the opening elevator with a terrified expression. Seeing Caradoc she gasped in relief and began sobbing all the harder.

Caradoc paused at her desk, putting the box of dementors down on top of it for a moment. "Are you alright?" he asked her, "Anything hurt?" He was only partly aware of the irony of it, his arm dripping sludge from a gaping wound, his whole hand now discoloured, the skin cracking like a parched desert ground.

"N-no, not h-hurt," she sobbed.

"Is there a Death Eater in the office?"

She nodded.

"Do you know who it is?"

"No."

"Is Minchum in there?"

As though in answer, there came a roaring shout and the door of the inner office blasted opened, a Death Eater sent flying backward, Harold Minchum following, his wand aimed and his face red with anger. Caradoc stood upright and drew his wand awkwardly with the wrong arm, hurrying around the secretary's desk to join Minchum against the masked Death Eater. 

Minchum glanced at Caradoc and grinned, "Like old times, my good man," he said in a sportsmanlike tone.

"Indeed," Caradoc replied, and he jabbed a defensive spell at the Death Eater as Minchum ducked away from one sent his way. "Now stand down and get your arse back into that office."

"I'm not - abandoning you to do my dirty work!" Minchum grunted, retailiating against the shot taken at him with one of his own. "Especially not when your bloody arm looks like that!"

"Forget my arm, Harold," Caradoc answered, "You're more important than I am - if you're struck --" Caradoc moved just as a green jet came for him and a large plant in the corner exploded, sending shards of the pot and soil everywhere. The secretary let out a shriek from beneath her desk at the sound of it. "Go, Minchum, get the bloody hell in there. Where are your security?"

"Dead," Minchum replied. "All dead."

Caradoc lunged forward as the Death Eater aimed a cruciatus at Minchum, throwing the Minister toward the wall. "Get in your bloody office, Harold, I'm not saying it again."

Minchum started to argue, but Caradoc pushed him - hard - through the door and with a flick of his wand it had closed and sealed. Caradoc turned back 'round and shot a quick series of spells at the Death Eater, who deflected, and sent them spinning in different directions, crashing into the walls and - to Caracoc's horror - the box of dementors.

There was a split moment in which Caradoc saw the box alight with the spell he'd cast - bright and luminescent, like a fireball, and then it exploded. But dementors cannot be killed, they cannot be destroyed by things like explosions, and rather than destroy them, it released them, the box and the magic charm that had netted them up failing and the cloaked figures rose up from the desk like nightmarish ghosts, their deep, rattling breath and ice-cold chill filling the room.

He saw for but a split second the laughter of the Death Eater who pointed at Caradoc Dearborn with an evil smirk upon his face, saw the cloaked figure spiral through the air toward him, and he shouted, falling backward, trying to catch his fall with his bad arm, which seemed to shatter, like fragile glass as he struck it - and the pain that shot through him was unlike any other he could have ever imagined.

But he did not feel that pain long for the dementor descended upon him and everything went black.