Pray that Hell or Heaven Lets You In

When he sat down beside her, Katherine closed her book, but continued to gaze at the building across from them. His question wasn't a surprising one, but she was silent for a few moments before starting to offer an explanation.

"Right now, there is a young man sitting in one of the rooms across from us. I think you might be able to guess which one, given the location," Katherine said casually, turning her head to look at him. Why did he seem tired? Whatever. He didn't have to help for this to work. "He's probably reading, or writing... The verb doesn't matter. But he's in there."

The book, she transfigured back into a leaf. And then she turned fully towards him, her arm settling on the back of the bench and one leg crossing over the other.

"Tell me," she probed. "How much do you know about my father? Or what happened to Mother? If you know about them, you know exactly why we're here."

Caleb often wondered about the Order of the Phoenix, more so than one might suppose out of a seemingly self-involved pureblooded Death Eater trust fund baby. In all truth, Caleb thought a lot more than most would assume, and that was exactly why he was so dangerous. People suspected Camila was clever, too, but guessed that she'd end like the rest of them, condemned to a life of pushing out heirs and running an estate. The Flints had learned early how to set up an expectation.

It made the victory sweeter.

Caleb had decided, long ago, that the Order had to be as rife with inner squabbles and petty bias as the Death Eaters. Why else had the groups hardly rubbed elbows in years? They probably tried, put in a valiant effort, and the toppled in on themselves. If it was the leader she was referring to, he would venture that the man was a do-gooder who put in more effort than he'd ever see realized.

If Caleb respected their cause whatsoever, he might have spared him some pity.

She was looking at him, demanding answers out of him. He was still watching the house as he spoke. "I know your father fought alongside mine. And, if your father is anything like mine, fervently believes the war never really ended." He wet his lips. "I know your mother is gone. I don't know the specifics." A pause. "Forgive me."

It was the first apology Caleb had ever given.

Katherine didn't spend very long wondering why he wouldn't look at her. His final two words gave her the indication she felt she needed, and all it really brought out was a sigh. "You don't need to worry about my feelings, Caleb. Remember?"

Oddly enough, her words lacked the venom they'd clung to as of late, just as his did. Though his was more high-nosed arrogance most of the time. But still. They had a mutual reason for being here, though their motives probably didn't line up very well at all.

"My father wanted to be enough for his own father. Mainly because Grandfather died before he could ever get to be a dad. So, in an attempt to honor him, I suppose, Father went in with the Death Eaters. Hard. Now, he was inevitably difficult to please," she mused, tilting her head back so she could gaze up at what little patch of sky could be seen through the clouds. Somehow, the city lights hadn't drowned them all out. "Mother was even worse.

"I loved her desperately, if only because she liked me more than Father did. She knew what my future would hold, just as hers had, and expected me to rise to the occasion. She died before we found out I was sick, so.. You could say there's some unfulfilled goals on my part," she shrugged, looking over at him again.

"The man in that building did nothing to me. Or to her. But the people who came before him did. And if you know one thing, I'm sure it's this: A warning or threat is irrelevant if it doesn't hit hard, and hit close to home. I fully intend to let them tear each other apart, but in order to do that, they need something to be fuming about. Someone to fight for."

She drew her wand from beneath her leg, twirling it a bit. "You get it? There's this nifty little spell that leaves not even a trace, but destroys everything it can reach. I've done the calculations, and it can take out the entire street across from us without moving past it. Thank goodness for ridiculous Muggle street planners. It's a shame, I guess, that these Muggles had nothing to do with it. But, like I said. A sign needs to be blatant. Shall I do it myself? Or would you like to help me?"

Ever since this new Katherine had revealed herself, she had put in the work to develop this air of 'girl against the world', a solitude even captured among a crowded ballroom. She was simultaneously in everyone's eyeline but under no one's influence, and the attention she did dole out was veiled in a distance, as though she wanted everyone to remember that she was a lone agent. And yet, she certainly spent quite a bit of time letting Caleb in on her secrets. He could guess that she simply didn't know how to keep up the act.

Or maybe it wasn't an act. And he was an exception.

Her story was more like his own than she might have imagined. It was the story of most of the Death Eater families. They were all children of children desperate for Daddy's approval. Caleb didn't have any intimate knowledge of his grandfather, but he knew his father had not exactly rebelled in his choices. It was part of the deal. You got the blood and status and money and you joined the Death Eaters. It was understood.

The bit about her mother was a bit more exclusive. If he cared more his parents, loved them for people rather than because they were his blood at it was his obligation, he imagined he might have despaired if either had not seen him come into his own. But he knew they were impressed by their heir, knew he had more ambition than either. If either were to drop dead, he'd only be sorry that they had not gotten the assurance of their line continuing in the form of an heir.

He was more interested in her plans for the stranger inside. He followed, easily enough. He didn't even need all of the motivation she had. At this point, he just wanted to act, to remind the world that there were those of them who had other plans for the wizarding world.

"These muggles have more to do with it than they know," he sad, his voice almost a growl, revealing the actual indifference, tinged with disgust, that he had for the population. "They're boring, they don't contribute, and they make people like our friend inside feel like a hero, like their secret avenger. I could hardly care if a city of them died, but you bet his friends will."

She didn't needed to ask. But if their sign needed to be blatant, maybe she needed him to be to.

"You're the woman with the plan. I'll go on your count."

"Don't misunderstand me, Flint. It would be less of a shame if these Muggles had actually caught on by now. As it were, this lot have no idea at all who lives among them and causes so much trouble. Perhaps if they did I'd be less unimpressed. Boring," she said, tilting her head towards him, "indeed. But also completely oblivious. And that, in itself, is a shame."

Katherine's lips pulled into a dangerous, almost feline smile just before she gestured with her wand. The light behind them shattered, and she grinned fully. As it turns out, her practice had been helping her along even better than expected. It was just one light, sure. But months ago she couldn't have managed it even with the correct spell being said aloud. So perhaps she could be forgiven for having to remind herself not to start preening.

Then, she pushed herself to standing and looked pointedly at Caleb until he followed suit. When he did, she pointed her wand at the building across from them, a fiery rage filtering into her gaze as she straightened up and spoke the name of the curse. A faint smirk darkened her look that much more when she flicked her wand, the motion cutting off the stream of pure fire that was flying forth from the end.

The animal it made? Well, that was probably predictable as far as she and Caleb were concerned. But the instant it crossed the street and met the grass, the railing up the stairs, the front door... Oliver Connolly hadn't a hope in hell. And neither did that building. Or those along the street, for that matter. And those Muggles?

Oh well.

Caleb was glad she was on the same page regarding non magical populations. He was just about ready to throw his lot in with her fully. She was young, she was overconfident, she would make mistakes... but she was willing to do something, and Merlin if he wasn't exhausted with all the careful political maneuvering. If each member had their own tactical moves they had to do to stay hidden, but appeasing the Ministry should have never been a group effort.

The were weak in doing so.

And Caleb didn't like to take part in a weak club.

Kit had the intentions, and he had the experience. Her mistakes would be minimized with his help, and his legacy would be secured with hers.

She he stood, and he, too, raised his wand. And perhaps it was because he still had ties to the old ways, or maybe he and Kit were more in sync than they could imagine.

And so the two tendrils of fire crept up the house, devouring it eagerly, and Caleb turned to look at Kit. "Fancy a drink?" he asked, certain that the job would be done and they would be better off with an alibi.

Especially considering that a certain redhead had decided that night to drop in on Oliver Connolly, determined once and for all to settle the potential conflicts between her old group and her new one.

[ooc: Definitely listening to "Heathens" while writing this. #SpotTheReference ]


Katherine was more than happy to oblige, curling her hand around his arm, while the fire ate away at the houses across the street. If they had stuck around, perhaps they would have realized what they'd set in motion.

See, Oliver had arrived at Number 12 about an hour before it kicked off. He needed a few moments of quiet, mostly, after the clamor and chaos of Diagon Alley over the past week. Students were out for holidays, and it was truly a nightmare at varied points throughout the day.

He'd asked Dyllan to come by, thinking that - genuinely, he needed to get past the mistrust he felt for her. He knew it wasn't actually rational, given their history. But at the same time, it was entirely rational knowing her history with the Order. But, as he was Oliver Connolly and she was Jack Dyllan, he had shown up early to go over paperwork, and she would be on her way soon.

But as the hour turned over on itself, he could have sworn he heard something break. But he wrote it off as the house's oddity or one of the Muggles living nearby. In fact, he wrote a note to himself to fix the wards to get rid of all non-magical sounds if it hadn't been done already. He thought it had, but he hadn't done all of it himself. Maybe Jack would know when she arrived.

Something changed. The wards flickered. He actually called out, thinking it was her. But it most certainly was not.

There's a crackle that flame makes when it takes to an object and starts consuming it. A spark. A whoosh, in some cases. This time, it was all of the above. But you know what else happened? That blasted kettle went off. And Oliver made his way into the kitchen, leaving his wand behind. And Merlin, if that fire didn't move fast.

Calling his wand to him, sheer panic led to a poorly thought out apparition. Straight upstairs. Just in time for the fire to lick the floorboards while it also started eating away at the Muggle houses on either side as well.

Jack was considering telling Oliver about the Knight's Watch. She had gone over it with Kip, had even pulled Keiran aside, and both men were of the mind that Oliver didn't need to know, that he was more protected if he was kept in complete ignorance. And she knew they were right. Mostly. Two of the wisest men she knew had advised her against putting Oliver in a delicate position. They respected her thoughts about perhaps offering him some leverage, a means of assuring him of her loyalty to him, if not to the group. And still, they reminded her it would be reckless.

But reckless was kind of her thing.

In truth, she knew she was probably going to keep it to herself. He had reached out, which she supposed meant he was ready to do some work on the behalf of trusting her. She had never had reason to doubt him. She might have lost faith in the Order, but she hadn't lost faith in him. She could hardly begrudge him for his uncertainty with her. She had the Dark Mark, had run the group before, had swung in and out of favor with the Ministry. She was a questionable person.

She had hoped she wasn't a questionable friend.

So it was with the spirit of an open mind that she strolled towards the familiar neighborhood, preferring to walk so she could give herself some time to think. Even though she knew it best to keep her group to herself, it'd hardly be fair to decide, categorically, he should not know. She'd hear him out and make her decision.

She wouldn't get a chance.

She was the street over when she sensed something was wrong. She stopped in her tracks and could hear it, quiet at first but undeniable. And she doubted it was a coincidence.

She spun on her heel, landing right outside Number Twelve, which was already buckling under the siege of the hellish figures. She registered instinctively that there was no fighting this on her own. They were trained how to suppress Fiendfyre in training, but there was no way she could do it without help. She immediately sent off a patranous to the ministry, watching as it split into many to try and track down anyone that might help. Muggles across the street were spilling out of their homes, gasping and crying out.

Jack spun again and landed on the top floor of the house. The heat was already blistering, smoke beginning to fill her lungs. She ducked her head, wondering how in the hell she was even going to find him-

She heard a short yelp in pain and immediately turned for it, running past rooms that held so much history, crumbling beneath a hateful curse. She stumbled into a room and there he was, trapped beneath a beam, the fire reaching out to embrace him.

Jack's wand swiped through the air, and the beam lifted off of Oliver's back, and she was scrambling forward. The beam was buckling, though, and the roof was going to cave in. She jumped, the ground giving way beneath them, stretching out to grab Oliver by the wrists before she turned midair-

and they landed in a heap in the middle of St. Mungo's, the wispy tendrils of fire still clinging to Oliver's form.

((SUPER GODMODE-Y, so let me know what/if needs to change.))

Michael knew he could ignore the sound of apparition, since people were always apparating in and out of Emergency. The shrieking, though, was novel enough to get his attention.

He gave his patient a tight smile and assured her he'd be right back before striding out onto the ward.

There was the screaming healer, she wouldn't last long in this job, and there was-

"Shit."

His wand was already in his hand from treating that patient, so it was a moment's work to cast a containment shield around both the bodies on the floor.

It wasn't till he got closer that he realised who those bodies belonged to.

"Jack are you awake?" he demanded furiously, though it was a fury fed by fear.

"I can't take this down until you douse the rest of the fire."

She was an unspeakable. She ought to know how to do that. Michael hoped she did; that shield was intended to contain magical mishaps and contagions, not powerful dark magic.

Thank Merlin Corner was there.

Their landing was hard, and Oliver managed to land mostly on top of her, as the maneuver to apparate them midair had forced her to do a sort of impromptu roll. She jostled painfully against the ground, and the smoky smell of the fire seemed stronger than it should have. She rolled Oliver off of her, and that was when she saw the flames properly, clinging to him, attempting to grow.

The air around her shimmered and she turned her head to see Corner bellowing at her. She fumbled for her wand, raising it with both arms, feeling a ripping sensation around one of her forearms, as a tendril of flame tried to wrap around her. "Expugno Maleficum!" she stated, holding back a cough. The fire rolled back into itself, smoke and ash replacing the flickering of light.

And with the ward up, they were losing usable air.

She turned towards Corner again. "He's bad. And Grimmauld - it's going down. I gotta get back!"