Post by charles septimus weasley on Nov 30, 2021 21:39:57 GMT -7
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Everything on his person was blackened from cyclone of soot and ash inside the castle, or fraying from burns caused by the dragon that had erupted from somewhere deep within Hogwarts. The previous evening had started well enough, a late visit by an excited Charlie Weekly, who he always found hilarious both in and out of his class. Trying to highlight the lighter moments of that conversation was impossible; he couldn’t even recall anymore after everything that had happened since. That sort of thing was inconsequential now. For the second time in his life he stood in front of Hogwarts and saw it broken and burning, bodies being brought out still. It was unclear if these were still paralyzed students that were simply found late as rescue teams went in, or if they were deceased. He didn’t envy whoever had to take a headcount at the end of this, knowing full well that the names without responses were taken by fiendfyre or already at St. Mungo’s fighting for their lives.
The expeditious arrival of the Ministry and appropriate parties hadn’t been quick enough, to the point where he was still reacting to the sudden appearance of the young dragon on the grounds when they assisted him in dealing with it. While he was more useful handling the creature, getting up to the castle once he realized what was going on was more important. It was a hell of a night to be late for dinner, and in a way, he was thankful that he could assist from the outside. Trying to organize the surging crowd of students, both those physically able to move and those that were paralyzed, and get them to where the Ministry had cordoned off a safety zone in Hogsmeade had been more trying than the Battle of Hogwarts had been. At least during that he knew he had to fight. The unknown of what was happening inside the castle and the inability to enter without risking the lives of hundreds of students that had already escaped was still eating away at him. Snippets from panicked voices mentioned that Blaise Zabini conducted a vicious duel with a mysterious man just inside the Entrance Hall, though Charlie never saw his fellow professor until late into the night when he emerged with a levitating parade of frozen students. Those, he assumed correctly, were ones that had fallen victim inside the Great Hall though were still alive.
Feeling useless despite heading efforts for evacuation was something he knew all too well. It had happened last time, after the battle, and he was told that it was a form of survivor’s guilt. Charlie hated that he had convinced himself that it was okay back then because they all knew what they were doing and that was either them or Voldemort. This was different. It was a terrorist attack and he was helpless outside of doing what was expected of him. Battling dragon fire was easy enough, he’d done it thousands of times and could probably do it with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back. Fiendfyre was beyond his scope of expertise and he wasn’t equipped with the tools nor the knowledge to effectively enter the castle and fight it. By the time it got to that point though, the Ministry probably wouldn’t have let him. His job, according to some unknown Auror that bumped into him, was to keep the students walking towards Hogsmeade and make sure nothing else happened.
The scene in the wizarding town wasn’t pretty, and Charlie made sure he didn’t stay long. The tents that had been erected by Mediwizards were overflowing and hectic – another area where he was of no use. Running back and forth up the pathway that connected Hogwarts to Hogsmeade was all could do, directing haunted and blackened faces to where they needed to be until his voice was shot and could only come out in a gravely, hoarse croak. He only recognized a few throughout this, usually because they talked to him first. Otherwise he had no idea if his students were alive or dead.
At some point, the Ministry seemed content with how much they had dealt with the fiendfyre and he found himself close enough to the castle that he was tasked with clearing out rubble in the Entrance Hall and Great Hall. There was still smoke billowing out of the dungeons, which he was told were most likely destroyed completely. Moving the wooden entrance doors wasn’t the hardest thing in the world as it looked like someone had already ripped them off of their hinges earlier in the night, probably to prevent any impediments in the evacuation process. The same had happened with the tables inside the Great Hall, where they were expertly stacked above the head table and away from where Ministry workers and Mediwizards were still working. It seemed to him like those that had fallen inside the Great Hall had only been paralyzed, though anything that could convince him the majority of the children were already outside and being taken care of would work right now.
Silently following directions for rubble removal, eventually Charlie was relieved of his duties and stumbled back outside. The morning air actually stung as it hit his face, which felt burned from the amount of ash that had clung to his skin; more than any single dragon had ever done to him. It would take days to get it to come off and from under his nails, which he couldn’t even see at the moment. The solitary walk from the still-burning Hogwarts towards Hogsmeade - which was now full of tents and open shop doors to accommodate the students and arriving parents - hurt.
While he probably helped someone throughout the night, a student that desperately needed to see a familiar face working tirelessly for them when they needed it the most, or when it came to the dragon, he didn’t feel like he had been useful. The whole point of becoming a professor at Hogwarts was to help teach and enrich the students about his love for magical creatures. And where did that get him tonight? Any competent witch or wizard could incapacitate a young dragon if they were quick thinking enough. The guilt over this had been building up all night and desperately wanted to pour out as he shuffled towards Hogsmeade, sore and dirty. It had to wait a little longer though. At least until he was allowed to go home.
The expeditious arrival of the Ministry and appropriate parties hadn’t been quick enough, to the point where he was still reacting to the sudden appearance of the young dragon on the grounds when they assisted him in dealing with it. While he was more useful handling the creature, getting up to the castle once he realized what was going on was more important. It was a hell of a night to be late for dinner, and in a way, he was thankful that he could assist from the outside. Trying to organize the surging crowd of students, both those physically able to move and those that were paralyzed, and get them to where the Ministry had cordoned off a safety zone in Hogsmeade had been more trying than the Battle of Hogwarts had been. At least during that he knew he had to fight. The unknown of what was happening inside the castle and the inability to enter without risking the lives of hundreds of students that had already escaped was still eating away at him. Snippets from panicked voices mentioned that Blaise Zabini conducted a vicious duel with a mysterious man just inside the Entrance Hall, though Charlie never saw his fellow professor until late into the night when he emerged with a levitating parade of frozen students. Those, he assumed correctly, were ones that had fallen victim inside the Great Hall though were still alive.
Feeling useless despite heading efforts for evacuation was something he knew all too well. It had happened last time, after the battle, and he was told that it was a form of survivor’s guilt. Charlie hated that he had convinced himself that it was okay back then because they all knew what they were doing and that was either them or Voldemort. This was different. It was a terrorist attack and he was helpless outside of doing what was expected of him. Battling dragon fire was easy enough, he’d done it thousands of times and could probably do it with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back. Fiendfyre was beyond his scope of expertise and he wasn’t equipped with the tools nor the knowledge to effectively enter the castle and fight it. By the time it got to that point though, the Ministry probably wouldn’t have let him. His job, according to some unknown Auror that bumped into him, was to keep the students walking towards Hogsmeade and make sure nothing else happened.
The scene in the wizarding town wasn’t pretty, and Charlie made sure he didn’t stay long. The tents that had been erected by Mediwizards were overflowing and hectic – another area where he was of no use. Running back and forth up the pathway that connected Hogwarts to Hogsmeade was all could do, directing haunted and blackened faces to where they needed to be until his voice was shot and could only come out in a gravely, hoarse croak. He only recognized a few throughout this, usually because they talked to him first. Otherwise he had no idea if his students were alive or dead.
At some point, the Ministry seemed content with how much they had dealt with the fiendfyre and he found himself close enough to the castle that he was tasked with clearing out rubble in the Entrance Hall and Great Hall. There was still smoke billowing out of the dungeons, which he was told were most likely destroyed completely. Moving the wooden entrance doors wasn’t the hardest thing in the world as it looked like someone had already ripped them off of their hinges earlier in the night, probably to prevent any impediments in the evacuation process. The same had happened with the tables inside the Great Hall, where they were expertly stacked above the head table and away from where Ministry workers and Mediwizards were still working. It seemed to him like those that had fallen inside the Great Hall had only been paralyzed, though anything that could convince him the majority of the children were already outside and being taken care of would work right now.
Silently following directions for rubble removal, eventually Charlie was relieved of his duties and stumbled back outside. The morning air actually stung as it hit his face, which felt burned from the amount of ash that had clung to his skin; more than any single dragon had ever done to him. It would take days to get it to come off and from under his nails, which he couldn’t even see at the moment. The solitary walk from the still-burning Hogwarts towards Hogsmeade - which was now full of tents and open shop doors to accommodate the students and arriving parents - hurt.
While he probably helped someone throughout the night, a student that desperately needed to see a familiar face working tirelessly for them when they needed it the most, or when it came to the dragon, he didn’t feel like he had been useful. The whole point of becoming a professor at Hogwarts was to help teach and enrich the students about his love for magical creatures. And where did that get him tonight? Any competent witch or wizard could incapacitate a young dragon if they were quick thinking enough. The guilt over this had been building up all night and desperately wanted to pour out as he shuffled towards Hogsmeade, sore and dirty. It had to wait a little longer though. At least until he was allowed to go home.
charles septimus weasley ● 1,087 ● Heat Death by Tomb Mold
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0
