Scratches (Fred Weasley)

(155) Always You

Sloan nearly went in to a spiral of blind rage as he saw Florence's blood covered body being dragged out of the building, feeling the entire world blur around him as he watched his fellow Aurors load her up onto a stretcher, her arm flopping over the side like a lifeless corpse. He could hear nothing but his heartbeat, thumping wildly in his chest, a swirl of panic and fear brewing at the pit of his stomach. He stood there motionless for awhile, feeling someone put a hand on his arm.

"Dad," Julien's voice stirred him out of his daze, feeling too overwhelmed to reply to his son properly. Instead, he shrugged his arm off, motioning for him to follow as he walked to the direction of Florence's stretcher.

The next few hours were a blur, Sloan, Julien, Remus and an animagus Sirius had been waiting outside the room where Healers had been trying to fix her up as best as they could. Two hours in to the wait, Alexander Haddlowe came bursting through the doors of St. Mungo's, a frantic mess, his eyes blood shot as if he had been crying too.

Nicolai was on duty that day as well, pestering every single person that she could in order to get an update about Florence, but remained unsuccessful. So, like the rest, she waited, and waited, and waited.

It was near midnight when the Minister and Mr. Robards came in to St. Mungo's, and upon locking eyes with them, Sloan wasted no time, grabbing the Minister by the collar and dragging him in to an empty room.

"With all do respect, It was only supposed to be a dry run, Mr. Scrimgeour!" Sloan snapped rather fiercely, his former proclamation of respect diminished by the murderous glare he was shooting the Chief Auror. "You told them, your first year trainees, to engage, and with that you dragged my niece straight in to harm's way!"

"Your niece is not the only one who's been badly injured, Mr. Price. Some students lost their lives, so I suggest you contain your rage." Mr. Robards said in a calm voice, "Please, let us not raise our voices at each other while contained in the facility of St. Mungo's."

"You've always had some mouth on you, Price," Scrimgeour scoffed, "Indeed it was only a dry run, but as you know we had some unwanted visitors. Now had I known that it would be compromised, I would have set it on a different date—"

"Or you could have told them to fall back!" Sloan retaliated, "To retreat. They were not ready. You, and every person in this bloody room knows the protocol."

"To fall back? So what? The Death Eaters could pick them off one by one easier because they have their backs turned?"

"There are others ways to retreat without casualty. But to command them to engage in battle is absolutely despicable. First year trainees cannot handle the duress that we do. Not yet, atleast!"

"It is my understanding, Sloan, that these trainees have sworn an oath prior to their training. You made the same oath, to prevent Dark Wizards from roaming free, and they were simply upholding it."

"But they've only had four months of solid training!"

"What of it? There were attacks fabricated by dark wizards, and they, despite being in training, are still Aurors, are they not? And with this comes the for ordinance of our office. To be an Auror is to expect the shortest life. If you did not want your niece to put her life at this kind of risk, you should have not allowed her to engage in this line of work. I expected for you to have learned this from your brother—"

Sloan  lost his composure, striding forward to shove Scrimgeour against the wall, an arm pressed aggressively against his throat, "Don't you ever mention my brother ever again."

"That's enough!" Mr. Robards yelled, prying Sloan off of Scrimgeour, "Mr. Price, if you can't act civil about this, then you are advised to leave the premises. Now."