She had not expected others to pile in, had expected them to keep on with their own casting, yet they seemed to catch on to her idea, the flames strengthened by means well beyond her own skill.

An original lasso charm from Dawlish whipped the feet from under the front rank of the inferi and they toppled haphazard into the flames, flailing arms seeming to settle in peaceful acceptance as the foul magiks that animated them were seared away by the cleansing flame. In turn their corpses fed the fires that defied their cruel masters. Their progress stuttered the remaining inferi caught between the drive that kept them moving onwards and wary fear of the flames that danced before them.

Some pushed into the gap between the flames yet they met the full force of their resistance. Bodies ignited as if caked in petrol, their smouldering corpses the sealant between the two walls she had created. Inch by inch the smouldering chasm became a fall of fire, a cast from a wizard in administration often rumoured to be part troll provided the final flourish that sealed the flaming barricade shut.

Arms raised memos flooded through the grates in the floor and ceiling like sparrows taking flight in autum. Up they rose, fountains of little white airplane soaring high on fragile wings. For a moment it seemed pointlessly beautiful,before each burst into flame with a twist of his wand. As they ignited they plummeted like arrows striking inferi in the chest, robes catching flames, fires roaring as if in triumph.

For a moment they all stood in awe at the sight of it. A 10 foot high wall of flame between them and the inferi, a barricade breached by the odd stray limb a reaching hand grasping hungrily upon air before it was consumed by the fires around it.

Even as she exhaled she felt a wash of heat, a blast of warm air that knocked her back a step, the intense searing at her face, scolding her pale skin, even as sweat poored down her face,

Panic flooded her even as she saw one of the older members of this band of warriors stumble, face flushed gasping for air. She struggled for a spell, yet others beat her too it, protective spells like a wash of cool air.

Yet they could not protect her from the smell. Noxious fumes billowed from the flames, roasting flesh tainted by a foul taint that made her gag, another step back even as others covered their faces with their robes. Many wretched, even as two of the janitors took action, wands raised to the ceiling, she felt a gentle breeze at the meteorological charms kicked in, the smoke pushed backwards upon the air. The flames leaning slightly in the breeze, new screams splitting the air as more inferi were caught in their barricade.

Cool air flooded her lungs and she drank it in, like a man dying of thirst desperate to clear the taste from her mouth even though it remained, a putrescent tingling on the back of her throat.

"What's your plan, Quinn?"

George's voice brought her back to reality and she ran her fingers through her hair, a little stunned he was turning to her, slightly embarrassed that she hadn't thought as far as this. Her mind working frantically for a quick and considered reply and she felt elation as she realised, if the flames got out of control the meteoric charms could douse them

She opened her mouth, but her elation died in her throat, her stomach clenching as a wave of cold ran over her. She felt like someone had dropped a bucket of icy water down her back, even the sweat from the heat of the flames seeming to freeze as it an down the nape of her neck.

She knew what it was, the hiss from some of the aurors, those that had felt the sensation before, an echo reverberating in her head, the name of the foul beast enough to make her knees weaken.
"Dementors... dementors.... dementors"

Her eyes slid shut as a wave of hopelessness ran over her yet she clung to the image of the fiery barricade before her. All creatures of foul darkness feared the light of cleansing flame. She opened her eyes and felt despair boil up inside. The fire before her was dwindling on 8 feet high it seemed to be becoming pale, flickering and fading as all the heat was drawn from the room, leaving only icy despair and the mist of her breath before her.

Then the fire froze, It seemed beyond belief, despite the magic at work before her, it seemed beyond comprehension, only her shock holding back the despair. The great wall of flame was now an icy cliff, frozen like the rolling curve of a 7foot high wave glittering despite the darkness it's natural beauty overpowering even within the grandious confines of the ministry, Then she saw them and it no longer seemed relevant, everything was pointless, they were all going to die.

She had seen pictures but that could not prepare her for the real thing. Ragged black cloaks that seemed to leech the light from the world around, the darkness seeming to congregate around that hood. That terrible hood a fixed point to which everything seemed drawn.

Even the inferi seemed to cower, a few stray ragged hands barely visible over the icy cliff between them and Caroline withdrawing suddenly as the dementors passed only to return with renewed vigour as they moved on. She could see fingers struggling to gain purchase on the icy shelf at the top of the cliff, only to slip away as grasping fingers slid off the ice. Elsewhere dull thuds and the crunch or crack of shattering ice came as the inferi struggled to batter their way through. Impeded but nothing could stop their relentless pursuit. 

God even if they survived those evil black hooded figures, the inferi would tear them to pieces.
I'm going to die, it was a statement, a horrifying fact that seemed to swell in the blackness, her own voice on a loop telling her it was over.

Around her she felt others running, nerves shattered, they fled for their lives. Caroline wanted to run too but she felt frozen to the ground.

Then the voices came

"Have you seen this report card" her mother's voice was disgusted "we've raised a sheep Stephen..."

Her father's voice was weighed with disappointment, his reproach half hearted " Marianne, it's not her fault she lacks drive"

Her mother gave a great snarl " Have you read this Stephen, she wants to be a mother.... a mother... such pathetic lack of ambition, after all we spent"

"No"... she whispered... she felt an icy tear rolling down her cheek

"your not a fighter.... your not a fighter.... your not a fighter... Miss Quinn"

Eyes moving round she saw how others knelt on the ground,hands tearing at their hair even at their flesh as the dementors closed in drifting over the icy cliff with contemptuous ease.

Then the minister moved forward. She could see dear old mrs gregg huddled in his thick brown cloak which he had wrapped round her, her hands on her knees rocking to herself as she mumbled wordless sounds. He moved forward as casually as if he was heading out to get the paper, his languid grace and self assurance impregnable against the icy cold.

At their head he raised his wand, eyes looking around even as growled like a conductor before his next symposium

"Shall we?"

Others were still on their feet, she could see Kingsley Shacklebolt, immovable as granite, Dawlish looking a little queasy but steady, Tanners having joined them during the battle looking eager and hungry. More and more seemed to be there the more she looked, blinkered eyes opened wide for the first time.

And she was still on her feet, sure she might feel sick and was in two minds whether the liquid dripping down her thigh was sweat or urine, but fuck it she was still here, standing, wand held high.

Hope, hope was her tonic holding her upright. She knew the charm but she knew she could as easily pull flowers from her ass as cast a patronus even without dementors around. Once again she played to her strengths,. Even as voices around her cried out she bellowed

" Lumos Maximus"

A flash of white light burst from her wand, useless perhaps but to her it was a ray of purest hope shining through the dementor's darkness