The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix - Part One

A Duck Then

James's jaw was squared with determination and eyes trained upon the figures coming toward them in the dark tunnel of the Underground. The inferi lurched and staggered along, slow but undeterred by the uneven ground beneath their feet.

"Alright, Evans?" he asked, voice stiff with nervous anxiety.

"I'm alright, Potter," she replied. "And you? Are you alright, too?"

"Positively spiffing, my love," James answered. He was too focused on the inferius to smile.

The pair of them stood their ground, watching the progress of the undead. Lily felt her heart thumping wildly within her. She stretched her wand arm, tightened her grip, and glanced at James, waiting for a cue to begin the fight.

"Reckon fighting the undead is as easy as the Death Eaters are?" James asked.

Lily answered, "Sure - this ought to be right dull, it'll be so easy."

James nodded, "I mean, half our work's already done, innit? Them being dead and all?"

"Precisely," Lily nodded, too.

"Evans?"

"Potter?"

"I think of all the evil shite we've seen You Know Who try, I'm afraid of these buggers the most."

Lily looked up at him - her brave, wonderful James. She could see the fear flickering in his eyes. "But you're not running from it," she whispered.

"I'm fighting every instinct I've got just to stay put here," he confessed. "I want to run, I want to get the hell out of here." He looked at Lily, his eyes clouded, ashamed. "I'm only staying here to fight because I know I've got to; I know the whole wizarding world depends on blokes like me, staying here to fight. But I am afraid."

"That's what bravery is, James," Lily said firmly.

His chin rose with pride at her words, she could see his nerves turn to steel at her encouragement. She'd bolstered him, and she could see the self doubt melt away.  She watched as he resolutely turned back forward, facing the figures that were now close enough they could see the detail of the rotting corpses - no longer mere shadow.

He was ready now.

"Come on," James murmured, and he took the first step forward.

Together, Lily and James moved over the tracks, wand raised. "We've got to get as many of them collected here as possible," James said, "Get them all clustered about, then we'll incinerate them." 

Lily nodded. "Alright."

James took a deep breath, and then brought his wand arm down in a slashing motion. A jet of magic shot from his wand tip, bright white and snapping with electricity, and it moved in a motion like a whip, slashing through the leading figure with a hissing, then squelching sound and the torso of the corpse fell away from the lower extremity, falling in two nasty bits to the ground, spilling blood and innards about. James recoiled at the sight of it, his stomach turning, and had to remind himself that what he'd done was not kill a person, but immobilize a walking corpse.

Lily winced, too, at the sight of it and she had to hold back the urge to be sick. It was grotesque, the sight of it. And worse yet was that even after being slashed and spilling itself everywhere, the corpse was still trying to drag itself forward, grabbing at the rails and rocks with decaying hands and pulling the torso along, eyes red with the magic that animated it. They could not be killed, she remembered, only slowed, and she used a charm to blast the thing back and away into the dark, separating it from them.

James's wand was slashing, slashing, and Lily blasted away each one he tore down, bodies flying back and knocking down others, piling up and crawling over one another, their mouths hanging open and rasping, terrible moans and wails coming up from them as their hands clutched and reached, their legs fell and the rails flooded with blood and entrails. The smell seemed to build with every cut and the noise grew louder and louder as more and more of the horrid things came, a seeming unending line of them. The inferi in the back climbed carelessly over their fallen comrades, not seeming to realize they were there at all, and they moved quicker than Lily ever expected they could, James's forehead was getting damp with sweat as he moved as quickly as he could, his whole body pitching this way and that as he slashed and cut his way, plowing into the corpses.