Feast of Saint Valentine Ⅶ

The ground shakes as the battle intensifies between the giants and their foes. The goblins from within the secure permitter are guarded by the Auror in command Rufus Scrimgeour and those in his team as the goblins use catapults to hurl deadly attacks against the giants. Slowly the tides of battle begin to turn in favor of the Aurors and their allies as the fierce battle continues to rage on.

Among the combatants on the field is Auror Alastor Moody. Temporarily blinded in his right eye, Alastor struggles to blink the blood away that is dripping down his right side. Dolohov had not permitted him any time to breathe much less heal the wound that had reopened over his right eye.

"Arresto Momentum," Auror Moody hastily roared casting a charm to slow down the razor-sharp glass fragments are hurled at him by Dolohov. He rolls onto the ground to dodge, before hastily scrambling to his feet as the next attack follows.

"Incendio," Dolohov countered as a magical rope made of flames emerged from the tip of his wand that instantly lashed violently and dangerously at his target.

The flaming magical rope sizzles the air as Alastor Moody desperately casts "Aua Eructo," as waterspouts from his wand to extinguish the magical flames. A thick mist emerges with a hiss as the two forces of nature violently collide. A sizzling sound is heard as the flames are extinguished and Dolohov's figure is easily concealed in the thick fog.

Through the fog, Dolohov tauntingly says, "You have gotten old, fat, and weak."

"Considering that I'm only 7 years older than you and the bastard that you follow, I will take that as a compliment," Alastor retorted while hastily wiping his right eye clean permitting him to see again.

The hairs on the back of Alastor barely give him warning as a deadly violet spell hurtles through the air. Alastor manages to conjure a glowing shield, but not in time as the spell still breaks through to strike his face. A roar of pain escapes his face as he feels the spell cutting into his cheek and right eye. Instantly he feels blood gush through his right eye socket in terrible agony.

At that moment, Alastor Moody knew that his right eye was unsalvageable, but he did not have time to curl over in pain. Gritting his teeth pushing past the agony, he casts "Ventus" causing a jet of strong spiraling wind to erupt from his wand and clearing the battlefield of the thick fog that obscures it.

Dolohov darts from the fog shouting "Expelliarmus," causing the wand from Alastor Moody's hand to be ripped out and towards the smirking twisted face of Antonin Dolohov. With a vicious gleam in his eye, Dolohov takes hold of both ends of Auror Moody's wand and slams the wand against his knee. A loud crack is heard as the magical wand snaps into two.

Droplets of cold sweat drip down Alastor Moody's face as he scrunches up his face in both physical and emotional pain. His wand had been with him since he was eleven years old. It had been his closest companion for 46 years. And now his wand was simply gone.

"I would love to toy with you further, Moody," Dolohov said, "but the giants have begun to retreat, and the battlefield will soon be filled with Aurors. It's best to tarry not!"

"Aveda-," Dolohov's voice abruptly chokes as his pale face twists in surprise and confusion. He paused to glance down at his chest only to see a dark wet spot begin to grow over his chest. "Well, that was certainly unexpected," he mumbled before limply falling over dead.

Standing directly behind him is a panting wild-eyed John Dawlish. His short wiry hair had been singed and there was a wound on his arm. Despite orders, John Dawlish had halfway turned back to return for Auror Alastor Moody. After some quick thinking, he had concluded that even if he managed to reach Team 2 in time, there was no sure way to locate Auror Moody in the middle of such a large battle.

John Dawlish was many things, but he could not bear the pain nor guilt, and shame of losing another partner even a temporary one. Even now, Dawlish blamed himself for not having been there for his mentor and partner, Auror Percius Clements. He knew that he had simply obeyed orders but that did not lessen his guilt and grief. But not this time, this time he would not fail even if it meant disobeying a superior's direct order.

Stubborn and greatly determined, Dawlish turned around and attempted to retrace his path through the deadly battlefield. He was wounded and attacked even, but he still managed to press through the battle until at long last he spotted the two wizards dueling in the distance. He crossed the ground as quickly as he could only to see Auror Moody's wand be broken by the wanted Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov.

Throwing any personal qualms away, Dawlish raised his wand and blatantly attacked Dolohov from behind. He knew that it was a coward's act. Yet he would rather be called a coward than to lose another comrade again.

Rushing forward Dawlish hurries to catch the falling figure of Alastor Moody. "I've got you, Moody," Dawlish hastily said as he began to perform simple healing spells that all Aurors had to know on the battlefield. A small healing spell to stop bleeding could mean the difference between life and death for an Auror.

"Dolohov cast a dark cutting spell at my eye," Alastor Moody feebly rasped in lamentation. "The bastard took my eye."

"I'll let the healers know. Rest now, I'll keep watch, Moody," Dawlish steadily replied as cast a warming spell on Alastor Moody to keep him from going into shock from blood loss.

"My wand," Alastor Moody tiredly mumbled as he found himself drifting off against his will.

"I'll collect your wand for you, sir," Dawlish solemnly answered. There was no worse crime that could be committed against a witch or wizard than the snapping of their wand. And for that act alone, Dolohov more than enough deserved death.

Sending red sparks into the air, Dawlish signaled for help. The ground ceased to shake as the last of the giants fled the battlefield leaving the corpses of the dead behind. The reinforcement teams begin to swarm forward to transport the wounded and protect the healers from any possible second wave of attacks.

Soon after a young mediwitch in training arrives accompanied by a more grizzled mediwizard with a long nose and two A.P.D. officers. The mediwizard roughly moves aside Dawlish and begins to cast spells onto the person of Alastor Moody. "Auror Moody was attacked by a dark spell," Dawlish quickly said.

The more grizzled mediwizard rolls his eyes and sarcastically says, "I would never have guessed that." Gesturing to the A.P.D. officers, the mediwizard says, "The Auror needs immediate treatment. Send him directly to St. Mungos.

"Yes, Healer Prewett," the two A.P.D. officers replied as they hurriedly moved the body of Auror Moody onto a stretcher to be carried off to the secure apperating point and be transported to St. Mungos for emergency treatment.

"Wait, aren't you going to treat him?" Dawlish protested in disbelief. "Auror Moody is badly wounded."

"His wound isn't fatal, boy," the grizzled mediwizard, Lancelot Prewett harshly retorted. "I have worse off patients to tend to. Now be off!" And roughly marched past Dawlish heading to the next location with red sparks hanging in the air.

The younger mediwitch in training flashes Dawlish an apologetic smile, before rushing off after her apprenticeship master. She happened to be the latest apprentice of Lancelot Prewett after the successful graduation of Healer Hippocrates Smethwyck. Still, there were days when she wished she had selected another master to become a mediwitch.

With no other option, Dawlish could only hurriedly pick up the two broken pieces of Auror Moody's wand and hurry after the A.P.D. officers carrying Auror Moody away. Either way, he needed to report the death of Dolohov and the current circumstances of Auror Moody. He knew that he was going to have his ears pulled and shouted at by Auror Scrimgeour for having left Auror Moody alone. And frankly, he deserved it.