Time seemed to churn to a crawl for Izaiah as he watched the scene play out, almost as if he were an observer, not an integral player. His mind regarded the scene with a detachment born of desperation, noting in every minor detail the young auror could hope to perceive.

One Target
One Hostage
Uncertain Surroundings.
Subject deranged.

Thankfully his wand was already in hand, a drawing motion would likely be enough to set the madman off, this way he could negotiate from a position of strength. If negotiate was even what he intended, looking into the eyes of the assailant and his would-be-victim, insane surity versus unquestioning fear, Izaiah only found the rage building deeper within him. All the gifts that life had bestowed on this wretch, and this is how he chose to use them. It was a hot rage, burning within him like liquid metal, enough to override any sense he might have for the situation, and so a new plan formed in his mind.

His wand was moving before even he had registered it, his lips spelling out the letters of a spell, he saw his counter begin to react, but it was too slow, he was only half way to finish the killing curse before the golden bolt struck him in the face, sending him tumbling away from his potential victim, who subsequently screamed. Izaiah was moving in the next moment, vaulting over a worn table, complete with potions set, as he dived forwards. Quickly interceding himself between the cowering girl and any reprisal, it was only then that the extent of his position became evident. While the original hostage taker recovered from the magical blow to his temple, others had assembled nearby, and soon let the exposed Auror mage know the extent of their wrath.

Izaiah's wand darted back and forth as he defended both himself and his charge. He was one of the better duelists of a bright generation of Aurors, but outnumbered as he was, it was only a matter of time before the angle of his block was slightly off, with a hiss of pain, his wand was shot from his hand. He swore as one leg buckled beneath him, plunging him to his knees, he was up quickly, but only in time to hear the killing curse uttered. The green bolt of light seered through the air towards him. He contemplated diving aside, but that would leave the girl exposed to the full force.

So. This is it then.

No.

He snarled as he put one hand up, all his rage and energy in one motion, a simple refusal to die, and leave another in the same danger as him. A surge of magical energy pushed through his hand, a wordless outpouring of power, and with a brief detonation, the curse was turned aside. Izaiah could only stare in disbelief at his own hand for a moment, a reaction no doubt mirrored by those trying to kill him, if only that could buy them enough time.

"Up, quickly now." He pushed the girl behind him to his feet, practically carrying her as they tried to escape the next retribution of the dark magi.