"Ooof!" Art expelled as he landed roughly on his big hairy duff.

"Ye always were a fair pain in the arse, old man"

He shook off the jolt of his landing, clambered to his feet and hollered

"EXPULSO!"

The leaves around the Snatchers erupted and glass shattered from the car.  When the smoke cleared Art could see Sorkin and his followers had been blown free of their roots and were prone and unconscious. They were covered in a vibrant green rash.

"Ha! Looks like it worked!" Art said as he clapped Knox on the back and headed through the brush to inspect their handiwork.

Knox had just a moment to enjoy a laugh at Art's expense before the old Scot was raining his alchemical havok on the Death Eaters.  The sound was immense and when the last echos stopped ringing, Knox's heart was racing and he moved towards the road with his wand drawn.

"They're out cold.  Probably more to do with the spell than the potion."  Knox had been a Healer in his younger days. He knelt down by the nearest one and gave him a poke.  He grunted.

"Alive still."  Good. "He's drenched in it. Rash is already raising."

The effects of the mackled malaclaw brew that Art had been tinkering with could be entirely predicted, but they were hoping for something that would neutralize its targets for a good length of time, be it by fever or the peculiarity of the mackled malaclaw: horrible happenstance.

Knox Greyfriar made his way to the next nearest.  She was leaning against the back tyre, head lolling. "Out, but breathing," he confirmed.

"You've outdone yourself, Oglesbee. This soup you mixed up is second only to your homebrew in its deliberate gut-churning.  We should vanish the car and get out of here."  He clapped his old friend on the shoulder.  He was relieved. It was done. Nearly done. They just had to make it official by tucking into their own beds.

"Dinnae know about ye, but ah could use a wee dram after the day we've had"

Art checked the squat lackey who had flung the Cruciatus at him earlier.  He too was fine, out cold with no idea of the fun that would greet him upon waking.

"Serves the dunderheid right" he grumbled, mostly to himself.

Art turned his attention to Sorkin, who also appeared intact.  As he approached, Sorkin sprang up and lunged with his wand

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The green ray streaked toward Art, but instead exploded on a small branch that fell from the tree above as some squirrels obliviously quarreled overhead.

Art closed the distance in a few quick steps and clapped the wand from Sorkin's hand.  Sorkin bore a look of utter dismay, whether from the explosion or the stick wasn't clear.

"Ye know how yer folks told ye that ye can do anythin' ye set yer mind ta?  Well, Ah dinnae like the things ye were settin' it ta, so now ye cannae.  Hope yer dark lord is fond of useless chanties."

"Ah think oor work here is done" Art turned to Knox and proclaimed, as Sorkin scrambled for his wand in the background, trousers falling to the ground and tripping him into a face full of mud

The sudden and comprehensive ineptitude of one of the north country's most deadly and wanted Snatcher overcame Knox who could scarcely believe it.  If it hadn't worked so well, there'd be a great mound of dead Oglesbee on the pavement and Knox's own corpse soon to join.  But the potion had rendered Sorkin deathly unlucky. 

CRACK!

"Did he try to Apparate?" Without a wand and in his condition, Sorkin's attempt to transport himself bodily to another location was only going to end... in pieces...

Knox could only blink for a moment.  Then a smile grew wide across is face and he clapped Art hard on the back and then embraced him. Giddy they were alive, pleased with their grim handiwork.  "Merlin's beard, man, Merlin's beard! But really - someone could have heard us.  We need to clear out.

Another quick check showed the other three still out cold.  "Get their wands."

The old bear himself got to work with the car.  He circled it, giving it an eyeball.  "Finite Incantatum."  And foom - all the lights went out and the last of the smoke whisped to nothing.  They were left in the darkened street.   It was going to be a big vanish, but nothing the seasoned wizard couldn't handle.

"My apologies to the Ross's," he said to Art in the night, "they'll never know they traded a car for longer lives."  He leveled his wand.

"Evanesco."

In a flash of purple light, the car lifted a few feet from the ground seemed to wrench around on itself and then a mighty metallic pop.  It was gone.  All that was left of the scene were three prone bodies, tree limbs scattered around, and two tall wizards having a look.

"Pub?"

"Maybe Sorkin wasn't that brite a wand after all." Art chuckled as he went around gathering up the wands of the others.

"Pub?"

"Does a bear patronus shite in tha spectral woods?"

Art's typically goofy grin was more shit-eating than usual.  He was rather proud of himself. And his cowardly old blunderbuss of a friend.

"I'll have ta try this brew again, I think I wrote down the recipe somewheres...you up fer another malaclaw fishing trip, old man?"