“Not really,” Gracie Slant replied, “not if you count the blood. We’re not convinced it’s ours, you see, even if it’s, you know, a bit impossible to tell…” The tip of Nadine’s wand dipped ever so slightly, but the three of them were still on high alert that the students were not alone. “Could you do us a teeeeensylittle favor and lower your wands before we take you to the others? You don’t have to put them away, it’s just been a really long day and after everything, all of this– Is a lot less comforting than you think.”

“It’s a-“ Nadine began in a softer tone, but her former sister-in-law interrupted, an urgency in her voice.

"Are you injured?” Andromeda was always rather blunt, but she did get results with her quick thinking, but could be terribly impatient. Nadine sucked air in between her teeth, and lowered her wand, eyes not leaving Gracie and Nick to see if they replied. "Homenum Revelio. Aurors! Lower your wands.”
"By all means, barge in.  Traumatise the traumatised teenagers.” Nick snapped.
Bert, Nad, they are all covered in blood. We need help down here.”
"Yes I believe we might have mentioned that given the chance-”

“Must apologise for Auror Gamp,” Nadine spoke smoothly and calmly almost like a mother apologising for an over-ethusiastic child. “We couldn’t be sure if you had unwelcome company.” Muffled by the door she could hear Andromeda trying to soften the blow, but it sounded as if anything they might say would sound cack-handed to the teenagers.

“Are you hurt though, are any of you in urgent need of a healer, because we should get you to safety as soon as we can. It’s not safe out here in the open.” She eyed both of them up and down, examining how fresh the blood was. “Shall we go in, talk to everyone together…” she glanced pointedly into the doorway at Andromeda, adding very clearly, “… calmly.”

Bastian stared at the others. It was not something he had considered – but of course the ministry would want to collect evidence. It just seemed… there had been so much blood. A lot of blood. And he wanted not to be covered in blood. Which stank. He had been kidnapped, surely he was entitled to clean clothes?

At Esther’s comment, his indignation faded. The others were right. There was no guarantee that they would be able to get back to the room, and blood was a nightmare to get out of clothes. He could only imagine how much more irritating it would be if the blood needed to be uncontaminated. “Alright,” he agreed, lowering his wand. He was unwilling to put it away; even if he doubted he would be able to do much with it, it was still better than nothing. Even if he had nearly just stabbed Esther with it. He made a quiet noise of surprise, but his arms were already curling around her, pulling her closer.

“I’m covered in blood,” he reminded her, “you’re undoing my good work.” He rested his cheek on her head.

The moment of peace didn’t last long, a wash of something washing over Bastian. He startled, pulling back from Esther and raising his wand again.

His hand was shaking, the wand only vaguely pointed in the direction of the door. He gripped it with his other hand as well, steadying it somewhat, but it was still barely able to point at the woman who had just come through the door. She was speaking before he had time to hex her, but Bastian didn’t lower his wand, staring at her blankly. He was about to demand to know where the others were when he heard Bevans yelling from outside.

The trace must have worked much faster than he had expected. “Safe?” he repeated, uncomprehending. “Safe? That explains the complete lack of medical assistance for Virgil! And why we’re still in bloodstained clothes in a random warehouse in Camden market with a strange lady YELLING.”

Bertie let Andromeda and Nadine take the lead on this one. This was a difficult case for him-- all the students who had been abducted, had been his students last year. There was a personal twist to it, and he struggled to separate his emotions from the situation. Was it even right to do so?

At the sight of Gracie, Nick, Esther, Bastian, and an unconscious Virgil, he felt a mixture of relief and deep, deep dread. Where were the others?  Why were they covered in blood? They looked pale, ghastly, haunted. Some of the blood could've been their's. Either way, they had to get the students out of the muggle town and back to either St. Mungos or the Ministry.

His vote was St. Mungos.

Bertie snapped out of his fog. He rushed to Virgil's side, checking his vitals. Carstairs was alive. "We're going to the hospital." It was both a statement and a command. "All of us."  Whatever evidence collecting they needed to do, they could do there.

Bert took out his wand and called for healers, statute of secrecy be damned. They could afford giving obliviators something to do. They'd already be here due to the appearance of blood-covered teenagers anyway.

Before either student – or any of the aurors – could so much as formulate a reply, Andromeda muscled past them, requests be damned. As she began her own barrage of declarations (Nicholas quick on her heels), Gracie whipped her head around, pinning Nadine with a flat, incredulous stare. Really, it said. Really?

Really, it seemed, as the older witch apologized for her colleague but, judging by her tone, appeared far from apologetic, as if she hadn’t just diminished the situation to a children’s game just seconds ago, like they were a bunch of, of hysterical first years who had gotten carried away. Her words reeked of condescension. It was all Gracie could do not to demand, verbatim, if she was fucking joking. Or, for that matter, point out that mentioning a need for an act was not the same as performing the actual act itself; it was basic diplomacy at best—and, in the Slytherin’s opinion, a dick move.

But she suspected it all showed on her face anyway. She definitely twitched at the reminder.

“By all means,” she said with a thin, saccharine smile, gesturing at the door with every ounce of sarcasm she possessed. Maybe on a good day she might have sassed an auror in spite of dire circumstances anyway, but today she was an escapee from the bowels of a government building, dressed to the nines if by ‘nines’ one meant ‘blood’. It had a way of lending perspective.

Bertie, at least, seemed to have some sense. Instead of standing around and making them all feel they were wasting someone’s time, or… whatever it was Andromeda thought she was doing, he was actually doing something—without being an arse about it.

On Virgil’s other side, Gracie clutched his hand tightly.

The spell washed over them, sudden and startling. And then the doors slammed open, a pair of aurors rushing through.

The first of them unfamiliar, Esther couldn’t help but flinch horribly, cold dread and terror seizing her at once. Recognition came quickly (she never forgot a professor), but neither of the other seventh years were among them; it would take more than a moment for her heartbeat to settle, the fist curled at her chest to loosen. She glanced at Andromeda, uncertain. “Professor?”

But then Bastian started yelling, and. Well. There was no telling what the older witch would do, really. Esther tugged at Bastian’s arm, trying to put some more distance between them and her before he got, like, hexed or something. She wouldn’t be able to do anything if he got hexed; she could barely even stand! “Bastian,” she urged, eyeing Andromeda with worry.

Then, worry grew into alarm. She had known Virgil was fading, before Bastian took up her attention again, but she had assumed he was only closing his eyes; after all, they were all without visible signs of injury. She hadn’t thought he was fainting!

With every passing second, the prospect of St. Mungo’s looked better and better.

Still…

“Then we can go home?” When Gracie, Nicholas and Nadine finally joined them, Esther released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding and took a step towards Bertie, eyes round and hopeful. Her voice cracked at the end of it, all too fragile under the combined weight of that hope and want.

“Safe? That explains the complete lack of medical assistance for Virgil! And why we’re still in bloodstained clothes in a random warehouse in Camden market with a strange lady YELLING.”

Great. Just great.

Nadine tried to keep her expression neutral when really part of her wanted to snap at them all for being so damned ungrateful. It wasn’t like the three of them had personally kidnapped them and taken them through whatever horrific ordeal it was. But that part of her quickly subsided, overturned by the more maternal instinct, especially considering these students were the classmate of her first daughter.

Gently, and in the calmest tone she could muster, she tried to check on each of the students in turn while Bert checked a rather lifeless looking Carstairs and hurried to notify St Mungo’s.

Bert was a recognisable face to them, that made it a bit easier, Andie was neither recognisable or maternal, and it was all backfiring around them. She was sure Andromeda didn’t mean to antagonise. Nadine didn’t either, but whatever they said was not what the students wanted, which was their parents, their friends and to go-

“Then we can go home?”

One of the younger faces vocalised exactly what Nadine was thinking.

“Yes, we want to get you home. St Mungo’s, safe, home.” She agreed sincerely, stomach churning at the sight of so much blood. It couldn’t belong to them. Nobody had any significant wounds it seemed.

“Andie,” Nadine addressed her colleague who the students were eyeing defensively, “Update the office with your patronus, get them down here.” She thumbed pointedly out the door, as if to imply that the conversation was best out of earshot, but more to get her away from the students in an attempt to calm them down ever so slightly. It was unlikely they would calm by a long shot given their dire circumstances.

Outside there were the sound of sharp cracks of apparition.

Why were the students not relieved? They were here to take care of them? Andromeda was irritated. She kept her temper. Nadine started to give her orders. This was more annoying. Andromeda wanted to help Bert with the unconscious student. Nadine spoke sense. She felt like whatever she did it was wrong. She clenched her jaw and walked outside. Thinking of happy things she created her panther patronus and spoke to it. "Located Carstairs, Bevans, Slant, Desrosiers and Morrell." She read the co-ordinates off an enchanted map from her pocket. "One definite casualty, St Mungo's informed. Need help to seal off the area." It did not take long for help to arrive.

Tensions notwithstanding, things were finally winding down. It was in no small part due to the presence of a former professor, who despite his awkwardness and short stay had left an overall favorable impression, but now that the immediate danger was no longer quite as immediate and the impending arrivals were a known force, there was really no other choice but to let the promise of calm wash over, as strong and implacable as an ocean tide.

And so moment spilled into moment. The tense outlines of fellow students shrank and curled, until they sagged under heavy blankets, obscured by solicitous green robes. Nicholas sat off to the side, going droopy eyed when he wasn’t glaring at Andromeda and Nadine. Bastian and Esther stayed close to each other, clearly tired but unwilling to be parted. Gracie’s own gaze had gone heavy; she allowed herself to be drawn away from Virgil and checked over, too drained to be something other than pliant.

She wasn’t quite ready to fall asleep, though.

Despite her lethargy, she watched as more Aurors poured into the stable. She had never been more appreciative of how much her father’s family were involved in law enforcement until now, when she spied the familiar faces of a great-uncle and several cousins among them.

“Can you stand? We’re gonna take you all to St. Mungo’s now.”

Gracie looked back at the Healer who had been attending to her and met the concerned brown ones of one Tracy Jones. She cast her gaze down to her legs and stretched them experimentally.

As it turned out, she could. “Yeah,” she said. And then held out a hand. “But you have to help me up.”