The vibrations of the lift seemed to hum, rattling against George as the question of his own mortality crept into his mind. Sure, he could swing a hex, toss a charm, or launch a curse if he had to. He knew he would if the moment came to it, but they were outnumbered. So many of those they'd received reports against were turning, stepping out from behind their facades and joining the ranks of Lord- with a grit of his teeth and an unwavering stomach- Voldemort. It was as if something had lifted from his shoulders, a weight he'd never known had existed. Their own worst nightmare was coming to hunt them all, the least George could do was not cower in fear when it happened. He'd never be a hero, but merely a name on the wall of the lost and he found peace with that. Hero's didn't act like him. They were selfless, brave beyond their years, wise and compassionate; nothing like himself.

The lift speed along in the darkness, jolting as it rushed through the warren layout of the Ministry. Barely a minute passed before the elevator doors opened and George stepped out in the hall, his feet instantly pushing off the ground and into the halls beyond. His wand still clutched tightly in his hand, his palm sweaty, the man bounded down the halls following the sound of voices and the faint trial of chaos. Clearly heading further down into the Ministry had been a mistake. He would have already been where he needed to be if he hadn't paid Caroline a visit. Of course, if he hadn't gone down to see her, chances were he'd lose an arm before the morning. 

Twisting about a corridor, George side stepped around a desk and barely considered the reason for it being out in the hallway now. There was no denying the whole building was under attack, if not their whole world. George barely had time to consider exactly what was going to happen if they lost this- or when. His journey brought him to a long hall, giving him the briefest glimpse of a cloak at the end of the hall before it disappeared the right. Immediately George followed. He could hear voices, although currently too far away for him to specify exactly who. He pushed forwards, sprinting as fast as anyone could in a heavy cloak. He hadn't seen any signs of the individual being a Death Eater, and to that he was thankful. Regardless he didn't call a name-

"Nott!" George quickly span. The wiry hair of his closest colleague and friend was a welcome sight. "Merlin's Beard, we couldn't find you anywhere. I sent Fletcher to find you, but I guess he missed you. This way." The two men barely gave way for a friendly catch up before Travers hurried them both down the hall and towards the bundle of Aurors and black cloaked Hit Wizards like themselves. In the middle of it all was a man who seemed to collect far more respect than any other in the Ministry. Rufus Scrimgeour, the harden Auror they all looked up to. George and his friend slowed their pace as they reached the back, joining the ground like two late students blending quickly so notice wouldn't be taken.