Knox was in the muddle of people who rose to their feet to protest Kingstreet's intrusion.  It had been a very long time since he'd seen her - years and years, in fact, save a grainy photo in the Daily Prophet.  (As children, they had been classmates, in the same house as his ex-wife Meredith.)  He raised his voice with the rest of the people in the stadium, demanding an explanation. 

And just when the issue seemed to have been resolved and the community would be able to get on with the solemn occasion, Kyle Gibson had stormed on stage and grusomely killed an Auror.  So shocked, Knox drew his wand but could say nothing.  What was going on! Kyle had always been a problem - violent, hot-headed, stubborn.  And the Headmaster had suspected he might have perhaps been using magic he shouldn't as evidenced by the incident involving that Hairy McBoon.  But apparently Knox Greyfriar had been clueless as to how far the boy had fallen. 

Immediately he was wracked with guilt.  Where had Hogwarts gone wrong for this boy? What more could Knox have done? But it would have been impossible to spend all his energy - there was a whole castle of children who needed his attention as well.

But an Auror was dead and who knew if Kyle would live through this encounter.  Then all of a sudden, Gibson was thrown from the platform.  Only then did Knox find his voice.

"Gibson! His name is Kyle Gibson, he's a student!" he yelled to those in pursuit.  "Don't kill him!" he pleaded.

The head healer at Hogwarts had expected, like anyone else that the memorial ceremony would go off without a hitch. Apparently, making presumptions wasn’t a recommended idea because things rarely happened as predicted. Being a healer, Miranda Elliot should have known this but her mind, as she sat in the stadium, her nephew beside her, was moving back to the time of the second war. She remembered working in St Mungo’s that night and the sheer volume of people being brought in with injuries from fighting.

It hadn’t just been the aurors that had been wounded, many beyond repair. No, members of the public that had decided to fight had also lost their lives. And before the battle, many muggleborns had been killed. Miranda remembered the quantity of people that died on her watch that night and the figure chilled her. Those barely adults, wanting to fight to protect their school, the brave teachers, the order of the phoenix, the aurors…the death eaters had all fallen.

Miranda had been drawn from these dim thoughts when Theodora Kingstreet stormed the stage in all her blunt, people hating glory. Andy winced as her eyes tracked the drama on stage once the woman had been silenced. “That woman should be back inside…” Came the small mutter to George before the healer once again fell silent, continuing to watch.

What came shortly after made Miranda take a sharp intake of breath and before she knew it she was stood up by the railings; watching, panic written over her face. The auror had been killed in lightening speed and viciously. She’d seen horrors in her job, but never something so…brutally irreparable. Surprisingly, this wasn’t what bothered her the most. What was the most worrying was the fact that her brother had quickly been taken hostage, a wand to his neck. And to top it all off, the boy who had stormed the stage was the horrible brat that she’d treated not so long ago for idiotic ventures into the forest. Why couldn’t she have left him bleeding and oozing out onto the floor?

A spell went off on stage and people around Miranda started to panic, running to find exits. She, however, stood rooted to the spot, having lost track of where her brother was after the blast. He wasn’t dead was he? He couldn’t die! He was her big brother! He was the big annoying man that was always there to offer advice and criticism and now he was the hostage of a clearly disturbed, murderous child.

“George, go back to the castle with the others…” She told her nephew firmly, not taking her eyes off the stage down below.

When Maggie shook her head firmly, Kia just sighed lightly and shrugged. She had no right to insist that Maggie do anything she wasn't comfortable with, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Kia was hardly one to preach, she had never been able to admit her affections to anyone she had ever crushed on. The closest thing she had to a relationship was with Simon and that was shaky and uncertain at best. Glancing back up at the stage, she let it slide as the speeches continued.

"Well look who is walking around well on both her legs."

"I guess I had a guardian angel helping me out..." Kia replied cryptically, a soft blush touching her cheeks as she smiled up at him. He looked even more handsome in the daylight, though a bit pale. She wondered if he was eating well. Judging by his slender frame, she guessed not. Maybe, if she could work up the guts, she could ask him over for a nice homecooked meal. The mere idea sent her stomach into fits and she had to tear her eyes from him before she burst into flame. "Maggie... Simon... Simon... Maggie" She muttered almost inaudibly, pointing to her best friend and back to him. She was going to invite him to take a seat when a cruel voice shattered the peace. Looking up, she saw Kingstreet, that traitor, taking the pulpit.

"Good evening! I am Theodora Kingstreet and I must apologize for the misprint in your programs!..."

As Kingstreets speech echoed through the grounds, each word so filled with malice that Kia could feel it resonating in her bones, Kia felt her hackles rise. Clenching her fist and gritting her teeth, she watched the speech as impassively as she could, trying her best not to succumb to the woman's words by screaming out in rage or vomiting in disgust. A feat considering there was both a scream in her throat and a sickening bile raising in her throat. How dare she sully the names of the aurors who died... and the names of those who served the country in the Ministry... As a child of one and the representation of the other, Kia couldn't sit there and stand another moment.

"What the hell..."

Her eyes were cold when they met Maggies and she didn't echo the sentiment. She wasn't surprised at this outburst. That woman would revert to anything to get some sort of control. Those attorney types were all the same. Standing abruptly, Kia managed to choke out "I'm leaving... This has gotten ridiculous..." before turning and marching off, not even pausing to see if her friends had followed.

Reaching the end of the stairs, Kia fought back the welling tears of frustration and fury as she hurried from the scene, ignoring the frantic shouts of the crowd and the vengeful yell of a teenage vigilante.

Analiza's period of introspection lasted longer and deeper then even she expected. She sat, rigid and impassive, through the speeches, the poems and the tears, clapping and shaking her head sympathetically at the proper cues. She didn't even realize that the speech she was so enraptured in was uttered by a crazed madwoman or that the yells that followed were anything but the cheers of an excited audience. It wasn't until something warm and wet splattered across her pale features that Ana realized something was going on.

Reaching up, she touched a manicured fingertip to her cheek and wiped some of the offending splatter off. Glancing down at it, she blinked. It was red... sticky... warm. "Blood" she mused softly, carefully sticking and unsticking her fingers in wonder. And then, just as it dawned on her that there was something fundamentally wrong with blood being splattered on the VIPs, what was previously just white noise mutated into noise... and then from noise into words... and words into the angry shouts of the young man holding a wand to the throat of a Wizengamot elder.

Her hand instinctively went for her wand, cradling the well worn wooden shaft between her pale fingers as she waited for the chance to strike. Something inside her pushed her forward, encouraging her to ignore the fact that Belisario was attempting to take control of the situation and to lash out with a well aimed crucio. Static shocks seemed to radiate from her wand and down her arm as a small voice, one she recognized as her own twisted with hate, urged her to attack. As the boy moved forward again, Analiza started to stand, her wand sliding from her holster smoothly and silently.

However, as fate would have it, Analiza would once again fail to save anyone. Before she could even lift her wand in attack, her left heel dug into a large crack in the aged wooden slats of the stage and she felt her ankle twist painfully. Thanks to the tight skirt that ended below her sharp knees, Ana was unable to maintain her delicate balance and begin to fall backwards. Fortunately, for her, her descent put her just shy of the blast radius of Kingstreets sudden and devastating spell. The backlash, however, pushed her down with more force then before and she heard the crack of her skull hitting the floor echo through her mind as her vision went fuzzy and a shock of pain radiated through her entire body.

She could only watch in silence as her wand slipped from her fingers and fell two stories into the grass below. With her ankle and head throbbing, and her wand staring up at her mockingly from several feet below, Analiza sighed despondently, whispering softly "Dammit..." Closing her eyes, she let the warm embrace of darkness overtake her, blissfully unaware of the chaos Kingstreets spell created.

“Seeing as you have already killed one of my men, I can see you are resolved to do what you must… However, I can not just hand her over- And the only reason one of my Auror’s have not taken you down already is because you hold Mr. Carter. So let me be clear, if you do as you say, then you will be taken down in the next moment. As you know…”

Marc had to remember that Kyle was a hot headed teen with limited wit, judging by his reaction in the woods earlier, so he resisted making any sarcastic comments as Belisario began his sermon. The man sure knew how to lay it on thick and dramatically. A simple "Do it and die" would have sufficed. He didn't need a lesson in the consequences of killing a man in broad daylight, thank-you-very-much, especially from a man he knew for a fact had been part in destroying the little family that he had had left. Too bad Kingstreet had wanted Carter and Timmons dead, he would have liked to cut the bastard in front of him into ribbons. Pretty red and white ribbons to give his precious little daughter. Girls liked ribbons didn't they?

“Put down your wand and give yourself up.”

"Over Carters dead body..." Marc dared, his pale eyes boring into the aurors. As long as he had Carter, they wouldn't do anything to him. But Marc knew well enough that the Polyjuice would be wearing thin the longer then stood there. Whatever had to happen to get the ball rolling and him out of there would have to happen and soon. It was then that the previously silent man clutched to his chest spoke, softly and confidently, though laboring against the wand tip.

“How old are you, kid? Your emotions got away with you… they don’t have to condemn you to life in Azkaban. Most here don’t sympathize with that woman… she’s a betrayer of her country and fellow man. I would have half a mind to let you have her. Your best decision would be to listen to Department Head Belisario. Kingstreet is too important to give up over a threat on my life, boy.”

Marc didn't appreciate the lecture from Carter anymore then a three year old child appreciated their favorite toy being abruptly taken away. The only difference is that a three year old could only cry and kick their feet in a tantrum... Marc would take his bloody head off. Twisting the wand tip deeper into the mans neck, he hissed softly in his ear "It would be wise to shut the hell up, old man, lest you forget your predicament..."

He didn't need to have his options outlined by some moron with a superiority complex, who's life amounted to nothing more then him spending his days on a comfortable bench, staring down his nose at the poor souls who had been forced into poverty and desperation. What the hell did he know anyways? Marc had been in Azkaban. He knew that hell, and he wasn't going back for any reason. That included lowering his wand and letting that pompous ass Belisario take him into custody.

Glancing at Kinstreet, their eyes met and Marc's mouth curved ever so slightly into a smirk. The next move was hers.

"Back! Back, boy! I'll not be kidnapped! I said back off!"

The spell had not been planned per say... in fact this had mostly been a gamble from the moment she contacted him about the assassination. Marc was a dirty street fighter by nature and did most of his fighting based on intuition and instinct. While this made it highly likely he would be caught, it certainly made for a more interesting and terrifying show. As the spell hit him, Marc let himself lift from the podium with the wave of concussive energy, dragging Carter along with him. The blast threw them bodily from the stage and Marc twisted like a cat, forcing Carter to face the rapidly growing ground. The two slammed hard into the pitch below and Marc gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. Carter wasn't so lucky. Even in the kids smaller body, Marc's weight crushed more then one bone... Maybe he would be lucky and an organ or two was punctured.

He didn't have time to wait and find out however. As people rushed towards the stage, Marc was to his feet and running. Though winded, he had a good head start and the forest wasn't too far off. As he ran, he summoned the waiting getaway broom he had hidden nearby. Moments later, with a high pitched squeel of air splitting at high speed, the broom appeared at his side and Marc climbed on with ease. Pushing off, he weaved back and forth through the oncoming spells, aiming at the woods. Once he was out of the spells surrounding Hogwarts, he could disapparate.

"No!" Knox's own protest was echoed by other around him.  The stadium was roaring with yells and the sound of thousands of people moving.  As Gibson fled in the commotion, Knox Greyfriar looked around him for a moment, a brief island of calm in this calamity.  He focused as much as he could, still shocked at what Kyle had done.  Strangely, despite the heinous nature of what looked to be a double homicide, Knox Greyfriar's concern was for Kyle. 

With an Auror and a Wizengamot Elder struck down, Knox didn't know if the Auror Corp would be holding anything back.  Medi-witches and Medi-wizards were streaming onto the grass towards poor Leon Carter.  Purple-robed Aurors were speeding off towards the woods.  And a flood of people were pouring out of the stadium.  This needed to be contained quickly - no! It was up to Belisario and Raynor to handle security.  Headmaster Greyfriar had Hogwarts to think of. 

The Headmaster joined the queue of people leaving the dais by way of only two staircases.  As soon as he was free of the crowd, he hurried with all urgency up to Hogwarts.

As Moira approached Covi, she nodded as the other woman instructed her on how to deal with her brother who still had a grip on her.  Slowly, gently, she laid a hand on Robbie's arm, watching him closely for any reaction.  The touch, much to her disappointment, barely seemed to register.  She knew she couldn't just grab a hold of him, she didn't doubt for a moment that might lead to a harsh physical reaction from him.

He was protecting his sister, and Moira suddenly had an idea.  Perhaps the touch wasn't enough.  Some sort of verbal reassurance always seemed to help her when she was in a tense situation.  She knew there was only one way to find out, and it couldn't earn any less of a reaction then her previous try.

"It's alright, Robbie," she said gently, and was relieved when he looked at her when she said his name.  "We're getting out of here...But, you need to let go of her.  It's alright now, the worst is over."

His grip on Covi started to loosen, and Moira breathed a little sigh of relief as she managed a small, comforting smile before turning her attention to Convi.

"Can you walk?" she asked.  "We need to get you back to St. Mungo's."

Two lay victimized by a young wizard's hand, and there wasn't a damn thing Marcus could physically do about it in this crowded space. Politics aside, Marcus would not have hesitated for a second to hex the murderer to oblivion. Instead though, Marcus would stand back and allow Alex to do his job. Marcus' wand would not leave his hand for the forseeable future.

The Aurors that had apprehended Kingstreet remained where they were, a firm grip on the other agitator. Far less dangerous, but they had their job to do. Tamis had trained them well.

While entirely possible that the two events are unconnected, Marcus could not underestimate Kingstreet. Scheming to her was like foreplay, and Marcus would not at all be surprised if she was the mastermind behind it all. A far-fetched idea, to be sure. Regardless, something that needed to be asked. Luckily, they were well within their rights to bring in Kingstreet.

Marcus watched as the Healers did their work, catering to those who had been injured in the immediate panic. There were still several miniature freak-outs going on, as well as a catastrophe on the dias itself. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just stay home, Theodora?"

Wow… she truly was an angel!  It had been quite a while since she had seen Robbie obey or even listen to someone strange to him save those who worked with him at the hospital.  This instance only strengthened her silly theory that the people who worked there must exude some kind of aura that she could not see.

Grateful to be in control of her upper limbs again, Covi rubbed her forearms a bit before bending over gingerly to collect her wand and her late brother’s Order of Merlin.  Overjoyed to see that the face of it was in no way marred she wrapped the black ribbon attached to it around her hand and over the silver medal for further protection.  Sure, it was probably forged by Goblins and therefore nearly unable to be broken by something as simple as a four or five foot fall, but this was precious to her.

"Can you walk?"

Looking up to the woman she shrugged her shoulders for a moment, finally realizing that she had unconsciously kept most of her weight off of her right leg when Roberto let go of her.  Carefully she put one foot in front of the other to try and test it out.

“Heh, hobble is more like it,” she admitted, putting a hand on the lady’s shoulder as another lightning bolt of pain went through her side. 

Then Moira mentioned going back to Mungo’s.  Her face fell.  She wanted to stay and find out what the hell happened!  Turning her head about she saw Marcus holding onto Theodora… and the people in the stands pretty much a mess.  The small witch looked up at her brother, who was looking in Moira’s general direction.  She knew there was no way he was going to allow her to go past him.  It seemed Moira had figured that out far before she had.

With a growl she murmured, “Fine…” like an impetuous child.  Perking up a bit she squeezed the shoulder she was stabilizing herself on, “lead the way, my dear!”  The more she thought about it, she knew it would be better if they left.  She could always owl someone tomorrow… not that this fiasco wasn’t going to be in the papers, but she didn’t trust the press. 

Glancing to the stage, George frowned as he watched. He’d heard Gabby’s speech and was surprised the younger Gryffindor had it in her to be so compassionate. Well… at least openly so. Then Kingstreet was making a fuss and he merely crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes and smirking as his aunt mentioned something about her being back inside. “I bet Uncle Leon wouldn’t mind that.” George really didn’t care one way or another; he heard his uncle moan about it, though.

His smirk didn’t last long, however. When he saw Kyle (it was Kyle, wasn’t it? It looked an awful lot like his fellow housemate…) go forward and kill the Auror, he also jumped to his feet in concern. What in the world had gotten over him? Frowning as he looked ahead, unable to draw his eyes from the scene, George wondered briefly if the man would be okay. A bit of shock kept him rooted to the ground, his hand against his forehead. Surely they would be able to fix the man right up… put everything back in place… he’d be okay. Right?

George was slowly wrapping his brain around the fact that the man was definitely not going to be okay. He had never seen anything like it, and it turned his stomach a bit. Then his eyes were drawn to movement on the stage, and he blinked in his shock at what he saw there. What was Kyle doing holding his uncle? Frowning a little, he put a hand out as if that might make a difference. His hand fell, however, because he couldn’t think of anything to say. It wouldn’t have reached anyway.

The spell seemed to wake him up from his shock. Blinking, frowning, he glanced around to see where Leon had gone. George felt incredible remorse for the man who had died, but couldn’t comprehend much more for fear of not being able to handle it. Staying near his aunt, his eyes swept the stage (and the area around it) for any sign of the annoyingly self righteous man that he called his uncle.

“George, go back to the castle with the others…”

Making a face at that, he glanced at her for a brief moment before they moved back to the scene. “You first.” A moment later, and he was starting to feel a bit panicky. “Where’d Uncle Leon go?” He hadn’t noticed where he’d gone after the spell blast. George rubbed the back of his head, starting to feel a little sick to his stomach again. Surely Kyle wouldn’t hurt his uncle… Surely his housemate wasn’t that stupid.

His feet started to move him forward, heading towards the stage, pushing people aside who were running the opposite direction. Leon… he would be just fine. Nothing would happen… it couldn’t. He was always bossing around people, thought he was right… it wouldn’t be the same if he was gone. He couldn’t be gone. A small, hysterical laugh made its way out of his lips before he shut his mouth forcibly, glancing back for his aunt. Miranda would come with him…

Moira watched Covi carefully as she tried to put weight onto her bad leg.  Her fears about her actually walking were confirmed when the shorter woman reached out for her shoulder, the pain obvious from her expression.  She seemed reluctant to leave and Moira was glad her brother was not going to allow her too simply refuse to get the help she needed.

She was vaguely aware of everything else going on around them.  Kingstreet was apprehended, and she assumed being led away for questioning.  As she looked out over the crowd there were also some familiar faces tending to the wounded.  She was sure St. Mungo’s would be a mad house for at least the next few hours.

“Fine… lead the way, my dear!”

Moira gave her a slight smile as she positioned herself to help Covi walk.  She looked to Robbie for a moment; sure he would follow to ensure his sister was safe.  As quickly as she could, given the other woman’s condition, she led her from the dais and through what remained of the crowd to a spot where they could apparate to St. Mungo’s to treat her reinjured leg, leaving the quidditch pitch and the evening’s chaos behind them for now.

(slight godmoding done with permission)

 Disgust! That was the initial emotion that dominated Theobald as Theodora Kingstreet walked on stage. It was bad enough that she had been released. That she had managed to acquire sufficient license to wreck the celebration was intolerable. Yet when she spoke, despite his irritation, he could not help but agreeing with something of what she has said. Fudge had been a disaster and he and his cronies had helped the country on its way to ruin. The right man, Scrimgeour, had eventually been appointed but by that time it had been too late. Of course the fact that he could not totally dismiss her arguments only made him angrier.

 What happened next shocked Theobald as much as everyone else. Gibson had always certainly been trouble but he had not thought him capable of something like this. Torn by his desire to help the aurors and his need to protect his niece and nephew he was paralysed for a second, doing nothing but drawing his wand. After hearng his nephew's cry as a panicked member of the public smashed into him he realised that his family's needs overcame his civic duty and he focused on comforting Laurissa and Charlton and protecting them from harm.

Michael had entered the pitch by himself, he had looked around for some of his fellow classmates but he had only seen fellow 6th year George Carver, who was obviously with family.  Not wanting to disturb him he found a seat next to an old man who also appeard to be by himself.  They nodded to each other and proceeded to listen to the speeches going on below.  Michael was outraged when he saw Theodora Kingstreet walk on the stage, the woman had been involved with Voldemort, some nerve to show up at a remembering day celebration at all let alone the one at Hogwarts.  He also didn't like what she had to say, they were some things he had agreed with.  Last month he had taken the opportunity to read up on what had led to the fall of the ministry at the hands of Voldemort, the woman was right, Fudge should never had been minister for magic, he thought that they should have demanded that Albus Dumbledore had taken the position himself, but he knew that that probably would never have happened, Dumbledore by all accounts had been entirely loyal to Hogwarts and was where he should be, preparing Harry Potter for what he needed to do. 

He was pulled out of his thought when someone else had charged up on the stage and fired a spell at an Auror.  Michael was so far back he couldn't really see clearly what had happened, he would have sworn that was a fellow 6th year Gryffendor, Kyle Gibson though, but that was preposterous, why would he do such a thing.  It seemed that most of the crowd had come out of what was obviously a great shock at about the same time, everyone was heading towards the exits.  This was not good, people were scared, this was quickly becoming a stampede.

Part of him wanted to join everyone leaving the stadium but he knew that the chances of himself being hurt were to great, he would wait until the end and do what he could to help, even though he should probably go back to the dormitory.

Josh had stayed in the same position since the Auror had been killed. He was shocked. Then, noticing everyone was leaving, he had a decision to make. Did he leave, taking Charles with him, or did he stay waiting for one of his parents? He decided to leave. " Charles, lets go." He said, getting up, his brother following suit. Grabbing his brother, Josh made his way towards the exit, when his mother caught up with them. She told him to hurry up, and that his father would catch up with them.