Percy Jackson and the Department of Mysteries

161) The Person We Had Come To Save

The same Death Eater that had restrained Neville tore Harry away from me, and I stumbled to the floor, grimacing. In one shaky hand was my wand. The other was empty; I'd dropped Riptide at some point. I didn't think I had the breath to properly say a spell for the time being.

Harry's face spelled it out quite clearly; like me, he was having trouble breathing. Possibly due to the Death Eater's arm wrapped around his throat, but maybe he choked on a Chocolate Frog. It happens.

"Give it to me," the Death Eater growled, "give me the prophecy..."

Was anyone else seeing this? No, they were all too busy fighting their own Death Eaters. Kingsley was dueling two. I would have to come up with something. No Riptide... how long ago did I drop my sword? Not in my pocket, no, so somewhere, close, no, no, it's over there. This Death Eater's big, but if I went for the knees, I could knock them... could I even stand on my own? I pushed myself up on wobbly feet, my knees trembling and calves weak. Each second it got easier to stand, but seconds were hard to come by. I had to think of something, and fast, or else —

Neville lurched forward, Hermione's wand outstretched. I thought he was gonna try Stupefy again, but instead he jabbed the sucker straight into his eye. With a howl, the Death Eater released Harry, yanking his mask off and holding his eye. It was Macnair, Buckbeak's would-be executioner. Harry immediately whirled around and cried, "STUPEFY!" Macnair fell and did not get back up.

"Damn," I clapped Neville on the back, leaning against Harry for support. Harry pulled us forward, watching with fear as Sirius and a Death Eater furiously dueled past us. Harry stopped suddenly and looked down, and we stared as Moody's magical eye spun away from where Harry had accidentally kicked it. The man himself was lying on the ground, blood dripping from a cut on his head. His attacker stepped toward us, cold grin flashing.

"Hiya Dolly," I flashed a grin back, but I was terrified. His curse had rocked me to my core. I was still reeling, still couldn't catch my breath, and even though I'd recovered some, I didn't think I'd be able to take another hit.

"Tarantallegra," Dolohov smirked, because of course he could talk again, wand pointed at Neville, who immediately started doing a frenzied little jig. "Learned that from you, son of Poseidon. It's always good to embarrass your enemies, no? Look at the little Demeter boy dance." He straightened. "Now, Potter —"

A blur of sandy blonde rushed in front of us, ramming into Dolohov, knocking him to the side.

"Hey!" Seamus greeted, grinning madly. There were several new small cuts on his arms and face, but otherwise he seemed fine. "Ron's handled — poor guy, that stuff was awful — and nice schmooves, Neville! I think me grandpa did that once, but it broke his hip. Not the only thing he ever broke, though — oh, hey, Dolly! Love the new outfit, pink really suits you, brings out the evil in your eyes. A Barbie Dolly, heh. Oh, we can't have a civil conversation, it's a wands out sort of deal? Well, I can handle that." Dolohov was scowling, wand raised. He shot something ironically pink at Seamus, but the son of Hermes was fast, and dodged it with ease.

Much to my surprise, Seamus grabbed Dean's robes off of his shoulder, and leapt toward the Death Eater. Dolohov floundered as Seamus wrapped the robes around his wand arm, yanking it backward.

"See, I learned that from the son of Poseidon over there," Seamus said proudly, slamming his foot against the back of Dolohov's knee, flooring him. "He's an S-tier clothes-jitsu master, and he got Silena's pants off. Oh, and it's always good to embarrass your enemies, no? Look at the little Death Eater lose to a kid wielding his crush's school robes." Seamus yanked the robes away from Dolohov's arm and quickly pushed them over his head, one hand on each side, looking almost like he was about to tie an oversized blindfold. While Dolohov shouted and attempted to slash at Seamus, the son of Hermes tugged on his robes, bringing Dolohov's head down hard against his knee. He looked thoughtfully from the robes to the now-unconscious Death Eater. "You know, if monsters didn't have such tough skin, it'd be so much easier not to die young. Anywho — yeah, yeah, that's my next target, tall bastard. Fuck tall people." And then he was gone.