Auror Academy Attack

[batshitscary]

~ Not far across the city from the Ministry, the students at the Auror Academy are reaching the end of their day. Nothing too remarkable has happened aside from one trainee missing a hex and having to spend the rest of their marksmanship lesson covered in pulsing boils - Moody's policy that if you make a mistake you suffer the consequences

Comments

[notquitefacist]

*when he makes the trip over to the Auror Academy, Crouch Sr. usually times it with the end of lunch so he can be seen but no one will stop him, they have there own places to be - there was a time when being a seen involved in the trainees educations was a definite smart step in his career, but that time has passed and he has moved on to bigger fish - today, however, he was late, and he is just looking over the last of Moody's reports when the lights go out*

[notquitefacist]

*he abandons the door, swooping across the hallway easily avoiding two of Barty's Crucios and just missing the third as he comes in on the offensive now too with a crackle of blinding blue heading straight at Barty*

[jrisamadhatter]

*Barty's attempt to deflect it is unsuccessful and it grazes his neck as it passes, underneath his robes his skin pales and his capillaries and veins grow dark, enlarged and very visible where it touched, the side of his hood, meanwhile, looks like it's been burned with acid - the pain flicking a switch within Barty's mind, spurns him to send a relentless barrage of Defodio charms down the length of the hallway, not even bothering to aim as adrenaline drowns out his already clouded mind*

[notquitefacist]

*even without aiming, the sheer number of Barty's charms force Crouch Sr. to duck temporarily into a doorway, leaning out to throw more ropes Barty's way while he's distracted*

[jrisamadhatter]

*if someone were to listen to all of Barty's deluded boasting, they would probably get the impression he is some sort of hulk-like juggernaut - in reality, of course, Barty is frail and small, and it's fortunate that he is because even with his father's expert marksmanship the ropes fail to bind him, some catching only sole limbs, winding around them uselessly before being shrugged off as Barty nimbly dodges their searching tendrils, after a moment he too ducks into a doorway, hoping to lure his father into a more convenient arena*

[notquitefacist]

*letting this Death Eater escape is not an option as far as Crouch Sr. is concerned, but he is the Head of Department for nothing either and is not about to be lured, he directs his wand at the doorway where Barty disappeared and it's mere moments before the temperature of the air inside the room rises to uncomfortably hot and shimmering heat waves appear on the other side of the room from Barty*

[jrisamadhatter]

*Barty gasps, his body hasn't even had the chance to sweat before he can barely breathe in the heat, he lingers only for one stubborn moment before desperately fleeing the room*

[notquitefacist]

*the second he sees something moving in the doorway he drops the heat and sends several vicious streaks of red at Barty's mask*

[jrisamadhatter]

*Barty's world dissolves - pain, nearly as intense as what he felt that day in the Dark Lord's clutches, racks his form, he's not even dimly aware that he's no longer standing, or that his sore limbs are contorting in ways they shouldn't - but most of all he isn't at all aware of his damningly bright yellow converse, currently hidden under his smoke-like robes, all it would take is one wrong motion and he'd be revealed*

[notquitefacist]

*Crouch Sr. abides strictly by the rules, his life centers around them, never straying - however the concept that there are rules other than his own that deserve to be followed has never been able to infiltrate into his moral code, so to him the Unforgivables are resources that should be used when the object of the curse has committed crimes that are themselves unforgivable; when his Crutiatus makes contact he bears down on the writhing form on the floor with no intention to let it off easy*

[jrisamadhatter]

*Barty neither notices this nor is in any position to care*

[notquitefacist]

*despite their constant conflict, Barty does indeed share things with his father - mainly a propensity for bulging eyes... and an explosive way with magic, Crouch Sr. Cruciatus is excessively brutal and eventually he has to stop or lose his chance to try this man in court*

[jrisamadhatter]

*Barty's breaths are coming in ragged, uneven gasps, yet somehow he begins to shakily scramble backwards - now his survival instincts are often dormant, allowing him to fearlessly preform all sorts of exceptionally stupid feats, but in this moment Barty is not Barty, he's simply sore limbs and base impulses - both of which seem to know what they have to do while they wait for Barty to emerge and take back the controls*

[notquitefacist]

Drop your wand and put your hands on the floor.

[jrisamadhatter]

*it seems like Barty is about to do just this - however, in a split second, there's a flash, a dependable cutting curse lashing out towards Crouch Sr. instead*

[notquitefacist]

*he jerks away but a moment too late, the shoulder of Crouch Sr.'s suit slices open, his shirt underneath staining pink*