War of Change (Sitewide Battle Thread)

[Julianna Vargha]

The green flames roared up, twisting and turning until they finally died down, removing the Vargha residence from view and replacing it with the elegance that was the Ministry’s entry hall. Anna had to admit, for being the Ministry, it had class. No wonder they were terrible at taking care of their Austrian charges. Their money was being spent completely on designing this building, making their offices all nice and comfortable, while people out there suffered in poverty and dealt with a lack of law enforcement while they slacked on their jobs. They were so busy hunting for a Dark Lord that no longer existed in the country, hunting down people who would never be found, while their constituents dealt with the repercussions. But Anna didn’t let those feelings show as she emerged from the dying flame of the floo network fireplace, not a speck of ash or soot on her jeans or black form fitting coat. In her hand, she spun her wand in between her fingers. One direction, back the other, and repeat the process. Some would say it was a nervous twitch, but it was exactly the opposite. It was a trick to contain her excitement, to focus on something else for a moment so she didn’t just explode in happiness. Because, after all, today was the day. And she had been chosen to kick it all off. How had she become so lucky? A grin slipped across her lips for a moment and drifted away just as quickly as it had come, leaving a neutral expression as she approached the wand check-in station.

Of course, she had been smart enough to clear her wand of any unwanted spells that they could flag and deem reasonable to question her about or even take her into custody. Yes, meaning the unforgiveables. Instead of showing all of the nasty spells she had cast over the years with this wand, it showed the harmless one’s that she had been casting over the last few days, things that looked as if her wand was merely a tool for household chores. And, sure enough, her wand was back in her hand a moment later and the wizard who had been scanning it ushered her through with a half-hearted smile. She returned the smile but with much more gusto, taking pleasure in the fact that he looked so miserable working for the Ministry. Why didn't people realize that it wasn’t so much fun working for the good guys? Her smile faded into a slight smirk as she walked slowly through the far too extravagant lobby, avoiding the crowd of people surrounding the diversion for the day. The visiting Quidditch team had drawn quite the attention from the Austrian residents. The group surrounding them was dense, filled mostly with young females or fans decked out in the team colors. Green filled the lobby, but it was the black that would soon be filling it that Anna was interested in.

The others were here, some in their places already, others still making their way through. Soon this lobby would be surrounded, filled with DeathEaters in their billowing black cloaks who would be ready to damage all of these expensive decorations, harm these so called innocent bystanders. Soon, it would be filled with chaos and it took everything Anna had not to grin widely at the thought. Instead, she twirled her wand faster as she took her place by the fountain in the center of the lobby, sitting atop the ledge. She crossed her legs and continued to twirl the wand round and round, eyes slowly scanning the room. Most of the faces were unfamiliar but here and there, she saw some familiarities. It was sad that most of them were merely children, that they were being forced to rely so independently on such young blood, but she wasn’t exactly old herself. Just older. Hell, she had been doing this since she was sixteen, working under Adrian Morgan. She had experience, which she was sure was the reason she had been poised to start this confrontation, why she was given so much trust. Just the thought made her skin tingle in excitement. Just as the sensation began to wear down, a chorus of cheers rang out through the hall. Her eyes turned to focus on the group of people surrounding the visiting Quidditch team, a perfect distraction for such a perfect day. Merlin, she could not wait to see the aftermath of this. Soon. So very soon.

[Salvatrix Steele]

The slow ticking of the wall clock seemed to have ground to a complete stop. It took every single ounce of her will power not to hit her head against the table in front of her. She had been at the Ministry for hours already and thoughts of today’s events plagued her mind and seemed to slow time. Salva drummed her fingers against the countertop impatiently as she stared at the samples spinning in the specialized mass spectrometer without really seeing it, her nails clicking loudly. She wasn’t really paying attention to the machine in front of her because after today there would be little chance of her returning to this job, especially if anyone recognized her once the commotion started. Unsurprisingly she wasn’t truly upset by that fact, no more Murphy and no more Ministry. She grinned at the thought and flicked her wand at the machine to stop the spinning; its humming slowed until it was completely silent in the lab except for the slow ticking of the clock. She was surprisingly calm, except for the impatience to begin, considering how crucial her part in today’s fun was. It was almost time and she just wanted the last few minutes to go by faster.

In her opinion this was going to be the hardest part of today: waiting for the alarms to sound. That was what her signal to go was after all, because she didn’t really have access to view the lobby and still be able to avoid notice on her way to the fifth floor. The others should probably already be arriving and positioning themselves in the lobby and the anticipation was starting to spike her adrenaline. She was slightly disappointed that she would be missing most of the action, but she understood that she needed to do as ordered. Whatever was hidden in the Department of Mysteries was her focus; that was what Dunhill asked of her and that was what she would do. Salva had spent her lunch hours this week making a mental map of the route she would be taking today to from her position to the Department of Mysteries. She just had to wait. She had already sent Murphy upstairs to hand in a report and bother Ashton so that she could be alone when everything began, so she didn’t even have the girl’s chattering to distract her. As the minute hand moved closer to the time everything was supposed to begin, she slipped her wand into the holster on her arm, a deceiving tactic; she could still summon a surprising amount of power without her wand in hand, more than enough to stun an opponent on the way to the fifth floor. If she should actually need it again, a trigger from a small movement of her wrist would allow it to slide back into her hand. She stood from her seat and began to walk in slow circles around the large countertop in the room.

[Ashton Wentworth]

It had been a month now since Stavros had officially been replaced. Rutherford had just come wobbling into his office with a box in his hands, and picked up a few things off of the other desk that Ashton had been attempting to push out of here for weeks. He had been practically begging for the desk to be removed or for the other office to be finished so that he could just move in there. It just, hadn't worked out that way. Apparently, he had been assigned another partner, and there was nothing that he could do about it. Whenever Booth had arrived....things hadn't been much better. Despite Ashton's constant insistence that he worked better alone...Rutherford just seemed hell bent on keeping him squashed with a person that he couldn't stand. Not that Booth was anywhere near as annoying as Stavros had been. He'd walked in all smiles and firm handshake, but there was just something about him that didn't sit quite right with him. Then again, most people didn't sit quite right with him. He'd not been anything but kind, really, but there was something about him. It had taken them a week just to finally go through the stuff that had been bogging down the desk, since he'd been landed with all of Stavros' paperwork, Ashton had been sticking some of his own onto the pile so that he new guy could handle it and he wouldn't have to bother any longer. It worked...most of the time. They had finally managed to get most of it sorted into the black cabinets resting behind Ashton's desk. Today, they had been landed with another stack but Ashton had already resolved not to bother with any of it. Not today. Today was supposed to be a fast day, no calls, no paperwork, just him sitting here. Nothing else but that. Ashton leaned back into his chair, his boot clad foot coming to rest on the edge of his desk, as was his habit. He was in the process of lifting his second foot to cross at the ankle whenever he noticed out of the corner of his eye....Booth doing the exact same thing. His foot paused in midair. Why was Booth copying him? His foot finally moved to rest on the other leg, but he couldn't relax. Booth was sitting nearly identical to him...which wasn't acceptable. They weren't fucking twins or some shit. He couldn't outright look at him either, Ashton's hands grasped onto the arms of his chair, lifting his torso up and into the seat better, before attempting to lean back as Booth adjusted his own jacket. What was with this guy? He felt like he was being watched. He should be able to sit any way that he wanted to in his own damned office. Frowning deeply, he readjusted his feet....only to stop because Booth was doing the same fucking thing, again, with awkward, uncomfortable grunts thrown into the mix. Ashton was just about to move again...whenever there was a knock at the door.

Not that the knock did any good as little Miss Murphy just let herself right in without waiting to be invited. Apparently she was still operating under the assumption that people in this office liked her. While he wouldn't presume to speak for Booth, he knew he couldn't stand the little witch. She was too bright, too peppy, too much to handle. He hated that she added extra letters to the ends of her words every time she spoke, that is of course, whenever she wasn't running on long winded diatribes. Much like the one she had started shortly after Booth had taken the folder she had been holding from her. He could feel his patience like a string about to snap. Being pulled tighter and tighter with every passing minute. The wench in his office just didn't know what to shut up, and he had about enough of her. Well, if he was being honest, the moment that he saw her, generally speaking, he had had enough of her. At least it had been Trix that had been bringing him stuff as of late. He didn't like listening to Murphy, and for some reason she always felt the need to explain every single line in her reports to him like he was an invalid. As if he wasn't required to read the damn thing anyway. Still she yammered on and on, wanting to elaborate on each and every point that she made in the paper. The only good thing about her presence was that she had ended whatever that awkward mess was that had started before she had shown up. But , now that it was over, she was free to leave. He wanted her to leave. Ashton's fingers started to drum against the blotter on his desk, but there seemed to be no end in sight. She didn't know when to stop, and since she seemed to be attempting to find a place to park her narrow rear, she was going to be settled here for the future. He couldn't have that. He couldn't stand even the shortest conversations with her, let alone being stuck in a small space with her. He was likely to curse his own brains out. Rising from his desk abruptly he grabbed his coat and badge. “And that's lunch!” he proclaimed to nobody in particular. “No, no don't get up. Booth loves hearing about the toe fungus you found on that corpse...” he shot a rather strange look toward the man, not quite pity, but not really boasting that he was leaving either. “Maybe he can take you down to your office after, make sure everything is settled properly?” He muttered as he was pushing himself out of the door before Murphy could attach herself to him, he couldn't eat near her. No way.

He really did feel quite pleased with himself. He'd managed to not only escape from Murphy but also had managed to get out of the office, landing Booth with all of the paperwork. Not too bad really. The cafeteria food here was something horrible...but he just didn't have the time to get out and purchase something better. He would just have to take what he could get. He could have attempted to sneak into Rutherford's office...he had a full sized fridge in there and that was always stocked...but the chance of bumping back into Murphy was too much for him to risk. So, he headed to the lifts instead. Once inside, the flier on the back of the doors reminded him that there was something going on in the Atrium today, some sort of Quidditch gathering or something. He knew it was bound to be nonsense...it was just going to mean that it was going to take him even longer to get to where he wanted to be going. To get the food that his stomach wasn't really asking for yet. If nothing else, he could squeeze past all of the people and just smoke his lunch break away. The streets had to be a lot less crowded than the lobby was seeming to be. From the moment that the lifts opened...he had a hard time getting in. he hated functions like this. He knew why they were needed, and he knew why this was the best place to have these things...but still, he couldn't stand it. His hands stuck into the pockets of his black leather jacket and pulled the fabric closer around his body with the leverage, attempting to push himself through the people. It should have been a lot easier to do, he wasn't exactly a small man. Still, apparently the drooling fans didn't care about any of that.

[Deleted]

'cause i'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby

yeah, i'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby 

no, she doesn't know what she's missin'

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This was it; today was the day. She stood over the bathroom sink, her face dripping from the cold water she had just splashed in her face. For the past few weeks, Alina kept herself a recluse in the apartment. She took a leave from the bar––which luckily her boss understood with no question––as her relationship with the Order developed and the Death Eater cause was sidetracked. The new Dark Lord contacted her with a call to a meeting and wrote that he expected her presence, a.k.a. she was going to eat shit if she didn’t show up and present her undying loyalty to him. Alina obliged, of course, and did suffer consequences, but it was nothing compared to the moral repercussions she would pay to herself and her family if she didn’t avenge her family. And it was hard. Every day, she and her siblings sat to discuss their plans, their courses of action, and every day, she would become more involved with both organizations and see the human side to both. The Death Eaters, in all their tarnished morality and evildoings, were a very tight knit group and supported their own. The Order, which often came off too cold, clinical, and analytical, had some of the warmest, noble, and loyal people she had ever met. And both sides had their reasons. What she had to remember was that she had her reasons, too, that surpassed what they were doing entirely.

Lina stayed in. She cooked and she cleaned. She planned during the day and she trained by night. Finally, the day had arrived and the plan was all too clear. There was a level of uncertainty, mostly one that came in the form of an Order member would see her and that she would blow her cover. Granted, the masks and robes would be on long before she was seen, but the chance was still there. Lina stood back and took another look at herself in the mirror. She wore beige editor pants, a black button up, and black kitten heels. Top it off with a cloak and a briefcase and she would blend right in. She walked out the bathroom and the past the bedrooms of her brother and sister, signaling them both goodbye. They both left their rooms to watch her go in silence. 

”Sis?”

She turned back to both of them.

”Good luck.”

Lina nodded towards both of them and shut the door behind her, closed her eyes, and apparated. After a lurching feeling that almost caused her to vomit (every time), she opened her eyes to find herself in the Atrium, the main lobby of the Ministry. Everyone buzzed around her, including Ministry officials that apparated into the space at the same time as Linda did. Quidditch officials and fans buzzed around the lobby; Lina was almost hit with a foam finger that was enchanted to emit fireworks from its fingertips. She smirked and rolled her eyes. How charming. How funny, and how strange, really, was it that so much chaos was about to ensure, when it already seemed like the Ministry had its own sort of organized chaos occurring? She pretended to check her watch thoughtfully––though she had no wristwatch––and began to walk with purpose in the same direction she saw so many Ministry officials go. Her goal was to find the basement and meet the Dark Lord there, who was probably planning on torturing her a little bit before the attack began for being completely unreachable. Such was her status, though she had sworn her loyalty to him both under the influence of Crucio and without. Surely, it was enough? She furrowed her brow as a crowd of people walked towards a lift. They all piled in and squished together. Lina kept her head down, her claustrophobia, and general panic towards the situation increasing with every person that entered.

After the last goddamn individual finally made their way in, everyone announced to the man closest to the numbers of the lift where they were going. Lina waited for someone else to say ‘Basement,’ but as no one did, she piped up herself, “Basement, please.” And lowered her head further. No one seemed to object, so they made their descent. After what seemed like 15 people exited the lift, there were three people left in the box with her when they finally hit the Basement. Lina walked out and marched forward, wondering if she would simply be able to detect the Dark Lord and hoping she would be able to follow through justly.

Everything was going according to plan. As long as she didn’t run into any Order member, all would be well.

song/poem lyrics: Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus
outfit: Grey editor pants, black button up, black kitten heels
tag: Everyone!
word count: 784

notes: Back with a blast?