Stephen Notwood's Story

---

Bobby Burkinson, The boy who had it all. He was everything a luscious pureblood family would want. To achieve, a feeling of accomplishment. To rule, a feeling of entitlement. To feed, the crave of hunger. These things are what made him who he aspired to be in the wizarding world. "Why would they leave me? Why would they put me away as if I was useless? Imperfect? a complete and utter nothing.." His thoughts reconciled. The air was filled with magic, chocolate cards and flavored beans being stepped on at the second, and the smell, like strawberries in the summer. He could just taste the sweet treat on his tongue, if only.

Bobby grabbed his luggage, followed by tugging lightly on his pet owl Pola."Oh come on you dumb twig! I didn't spend my last galleons on you for this!" He mumbled a slight curse under his breath entering the cruise as he walked forward, entering what appeared to be simply magnificent."Holy.." His mouth dropped in awe, nodding to himself in secret of the compartment room. He sat his luggage down, cracking his neck with a short sigh as he crossed his leg over the other.

"Now..if only I had a little mudblood to keep me company." He chuckled to himself, watching as fellow students passed by into there rooms. Bobby would have three others join him, and he wasn't one for a great conversation about simply anything so to himself, he was all that'd be needed. He pulled out his wand sitting it on the table next to him, slouching in his seat as he stared at the pouring rain, dripping and dropping against the hard steel glass. "It'll break..eventually." His snickering became depressing and his urgency to walk in such a close space became disturbing.

His ramblings came to a holt, as the woman opened the door. "Anything off the trolley dear?" He responded hastily, grinning with a slick smile that could break a mirror, shutting the door fast in the poor woman's face."I don't need anything from the fowl likes of her."He thought to himself in delight. Bobby was on the verge of being completely out of it. He was a mental nutcase that was entrapped inside, waiting to talk to someone other than himself. With no time needed he exited, walking to the back where a small crowd of student's were.

Stephen smiled slightly as he prowled through the ship. It was strange how some people just took a magical ship for granted due to repeated exposure to it. Did anyone wonder what spells were worked into this living piece of history? The sheer amount of people who took the same ship to the same destination over and over again for hundreds of years? Really, it seemed that people rarely saw beyond their own nose.

Speaking of people who saw little beyond themselves, he heard the predictable snottiness of Bobby Parkinson and the reaction it elicited in those around him. Sure enough, a group of people began to gather together in a compartment a significant distance from said fool. He smiled politely at the gathered throng before raising an eyebrow at the person he recognized as Natasha. He always liked the girl. She was downright pleasant to be around and attractive no matter how much she changed her appearance. Her abilities were fascinating. He envied her, truthfully. To control a type of magic so rare was something money or influence could never buy. Nor could hard work, he found to his disappointment.

"Sterling silver today, Natasha? You wear it well, as always" he stated before nodding politely at the others. There were some he knew better than others, but there was no reason not to be polite. Stephen pride himself on rarely ever being rude. Spotting Waylon, he grinned.

"Ah, Waylon. Has the Muggle Rite re-instituted the Latin Liturgy yet?" he asked, focusing on one of his favorite topics. Latin was the language of history and scholarship. It was still taught in many pure-blooded households and Stephen thought that Magnus Grexx should make the class mandatory. Why the Muggle Catholics had mostly abandoned the language for Holy Mass, he could not fathom.

____

“Break it up, y'all. Time to get back down below and stop worryin'...” Waylon stopped. The crowd was getting a little restless and fierce, and overly loud for his control. Waylon never had the inclination to raise his voice more than usual – his voice was deep and it was always slightly painful to get louder. Nevertheless, it was his responsibility. He saw the Burkinson boy walk up, smug and alone as usual. The only reason Waylon even bothered knowing the boy's name was that he was actually quite cute.
Of course, however, trouble always seemed to come to Waylon, first. Fortunately, this time the trouble was quite pleasant. None other than the endearing Natasha Daggerman, loveliest lady of House Vulpes – and a real darling. Waylon had always been a little sweet on the redhead, and although she was smiley and fun with everyone, he always felt safe to be around her.
"Waylon! My favorite country bumpkin!" she approached him. "How was your summer? Well, never mind, we'll talk about it when we're in our compartment far away from this riot. We are sitting in the same compartment, riiiiiiight?" Waylon's face, turning to see the Vulpes girl, was caught in both shock (at being called a country bumpkin) and joy at finally hearing a friendly voice.
“Now, now! Didn't your mama never tell y'all not to call people names, Natasha?” He raised his nose up at her, crossing his arms, in mock judgement. But his face lacked seriousness – Natasha always commanded a smile across his face.
”My summer was fantastic. A few of the cows were late in labor, but we had another seven calves by July. It was great! One of them was even a bull! Y'all should'a seen it.” Waylon's drawl was always thicker when he got back from Summer, but he always wondered why people giggled (especially Natasha) when he said “y'all.” ”And, of course we're sharing the same compartment! I'm offended you would even question that! Of course, it all depends on when and if I can get everyone in their compartments and figure out what's causing this damned block. God willing and the creek don't rise. Or in this case, er... the ocean.”
"Hey Natasha, Waylon," Rose greeted them, glancing between the two. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something," she said. She set her suitcase and owl cage down beside her. Rose was a cute girl – and a very smart one at that. But they weren't overly close, understandably so.
”No, of course not, Rose. We were just catching up – ya know, exchanging the obligatory insults and all that. How are you and Ginger?” Waylon always loved to talk about other people's pets – especially the owls. He waited for Rose's response, and shortly after he found himself smiling as the very handsome Abraham Delavergne approached the threesome.
Waylon always had a love/respect/hate thing for Abraham. In terms of hate, Abraham was a natural leader, charming and confident; Waylon was timid, affectionate and... servicing. As prefect, he “had” authority, but the power dynamic between them was always up in the air. In terms of respect, Waylon was a very capable prefect and always saw his own role as that of servant of his peers. Therefore, he could always respect Abraham when the other boy could rile up a crowd and dictate social policy. And in terms of everything else... well, Waylon had spent many hours in the confessional about the various thoughts he had about Abraham. Of course, none of that mattered because no one cared and nobody was interested in Waylon anyway.
"Hello? Just hello???" Natasha teased the blond, "Abraham Claude Delavergne, if you came all this way just to be uncharacteristically taciturn, then I suggest you either leave this conversation, or return to your usual outgoing disposition." Of course Natasha would follow up with a hug! Natasha always followed up with a hug. As to her lack of hugging him, he would simply guilt trip her later for an even better hug. Her eyes flickered to Waylon, Rose, and Abraham respectively. "I want to see you all in my compartment later," she said, "the one that I'm going to go find right now before the boat starts setting sail. I'll be back." Waylon gently nodded.
”Natasha is right, though.” Waylon smiled big towards Abraham. It wasn't so much that they were close. Waylon wasn't even sure if Abraham even saw him as a friend. Waylon Willard Wolfsbach, however, is a master of goofy smiles and enthusiasm for what little bit of warmth he got. ”I was going to say: seven years with us weirdos and all you have to offer is a 'hello'? Well I'll be darned, what in the Sam Hill is that? I would force a hug onto you, as well, but ya know. Never give a wasp a honeycomb!”
Stephen Notwood stopped Natasha as she stepped away, a conversation a bit too quiet for the rest of the group. But nevertheless, Natasha smiled even larger, responded and continued. Notwood then turned to the rest.
"Ah, Waylon. Has the Muggle Rite re-instituted the Latin Liturgy yet?" he asked Waylon, focusing on one of their mutually favorite topics. Latin, though the language of the Ancient Romans, was carried on by the Catholic Church for almost two millenia. Latin was gradually dropped in the 1960's in the Second Vatican Council. Catholic Latin – ecclesiastical or church latin, as it is known- differs slightly from Classical Latin, biggest difference being in the pronunciation of certain consonants. Waylon was well-read in church latin, coming from a longline of traditionalist Catholics; this was often a point of contention in some classes. When the professors pronounced latin spells and potions in Classical Latin, Waylon's immediate response was to stubbornly correct them in Church Latin. It was perhaps his most obnoxious trait in his public life.
Stephen Notwood liked to bring up this very same topic everytime he saw Waylon after a long absence. Perhaps it was just Notwood's inner troll, or a genuine interest, but Waylon took the bait everytime. ”Not quite, yet,” the half-blood replied, ”oh, but we're still holding our breaths. My uncle, the monsignor back home, says all the Masses in Latin under dispensation from our bishop. Some of my kinfolk refused to go to Mass until that dispensation was enforced. 'Course, there is definitely room for English... when German or Latin doesn't suffice.”.
The Ferre Prefect, the other Stephen, inched close enough to the group for Waylon to beckon him. Perhaps it was the germanic surname or the freckles or the cute glasses – or just everything in general- but Waylon was extremely excited to have Stephen Schwarz on the prefect team. Responsible, intelligent and kind'a adorable, he was a perfect colleague. ”Hey Schwarz, I don't mean to bother you. I'm having difficulty with this crowd. Can you see if you can get them orderly, again? If not, we might have to find a professor.” Having addressed the other prefect, he gave him an innocent wink and shrunk into a submissive smile.

____

Waylon couldn't help but brim with excitement when Abraham snuck an affectionate moment with the Texan. “Oh come here,” the blond boy had said to Waylon, then proceeded to pull Waylon into a quick hug. Waylon's face was clearly frozen, his heart sinking, as he was unsure how to react. Should he hug back? Should he try to squeeze every opportunity out of this moment and make it a warmer, closer embrace? Before Waylon could decide, it was over and Abraham's cocky smile was plastered all over his face.
Waylon's eyes popped out of his head, his heart leaped and his mind seemed to disconnect with reality. Staring at Abraham, he couldn't help but think there was something... more significant there. Did Abraham know how pathetic Waylon really was?
People never seemed to understand why Waylon was so quiet. Maybe he was just so used to not getting what he wanted, that he just stopped trying to get it. He took what came to him, cherished it and moved on. It wasn't worth fighting for because there were other people fighting harder. He tried to shake away his yearnings for the handsome man next to him as the Stephens entered the fray.
Stephen Schwarz responded to his beckoning in a very Schwarz-like manner. He seemed to mumble a response and lift up his pocket watch, but Waylon could only barely decipher what he was saying. The timid young man was more extreme than even Waylon. You see, Waylon was reserved but not quiet – shy, but not timid. Schwarz was a fantastically cute guy, but always seemed to be caught up in something else.

All of a sudden, a five-foot-something first year ran right into Schwarz, almost knocking him off his feet. More surprising than the fact that someone can be so blind was the fact that Abraham reached out and steadied him, then turned so that he could look back at the first year with a powerful glare burned onto his face. “YOU HAVE EYES FOR A REASON, so get your head out of your ass and use them.” Abraham’s voice alone was enough to send someone running for the hills, but as soon as the first year caught a glimpse of his furious eyes he scurried off without so much as a glance back. The outburst made Stephen raise his eyebrows, and he could only imagine the look of surprise on his own face. He readjusted his spectacles much like he did in awkward social situations and cleared his throat.
The reality was that the outburst shocked the whole quarterdeck, lulling the crowd into a tolerable hush. The opportunity seen, Waylon lost not even a single moment to corral the students up into orderly lines and towards their compartments.
In what seemed like a flash, Natasha was back at the quarterdeck just as the lines began to swell down the stairs. It was a bit shaky because the whole vessel was moving, but it was nothing a person would lose balance over. "Found a compartment. It's a rather big one, so we have to hurry before it's taken," she said to the group: Waylon, Abraham, Rose and the two Stephens. "Follow me,” she exclaimed, turning around and rushing back down into the dark.
"Could someone help me?" Rose questioned the boys in her soft, timid voice. She probably meant for one of the boys who were more... inclined towards her. But Waylon's immediate reaction with all requests was to do them. Without missing a beat, Waylon grabbed one of her bags and looked at the other boys to grab the rest.

Without thinking, he grabbed Abraham by the elbow and said, “Come on, y'all. Never stare at a stampede's ass.” He eyed Schwarz and directed him to manage traffic as he ensured him that he would indeed save a seat for the freckled boy. It would only be a moment, and the kids would listen to him.
By the time they had almost caught up to Natasha, in the empty hallway just outside the compartment, Waylon let go of the blond's wrist. He had finally realized the discomfort and confusion he had caused. “I 'm sorry, hoss. I... don't know what that was about. I just wanted to get down here quick, and did what seemed natural. I definitely didn't mean to embarrass you like that. Forgive me?” He sunk back into his shyness and gently kept the door opened ahead of them so he could maintain some semblance.
As they stepped in, he gently placed Rose's bag in the corner, smiling at Natasha. The compartment was a larger one, indeed. Large enough to hold at least six or seven students. Waylon knew what sort of compartment this was. “This is a teachers' compartment!” Waylon exclaimed, bolting with enthusiasm. He was sort of giggling. “This one is normally filled with tired teachers, but this year we only have two teachers aboard and they aren't using it. Thank God! Am I right?”
“Rose, did you have any more luggage to carry? If not, I'm going to get mine from the lounge, and grab Florence. Y'all don't mind wolves, do y'all? Is everyone good? Can I get anything for anyone? Some tea or water? Maybe a hug?” He smiled, let his questions sink in, and waited for any responses.

On his way past Schwarz, he relieved him and directed him towards the compartments. Before he left him, he pulled him into a soft hug and saying, “I'm so glad to have you on the team, this year. You're a really great guy.” Before the other boy could respond, Waylon stormed off so that he could grab his luggage.

Honestly when Rose asked for some assistance with her luggage, she was shocked when she found that Waylon immediately went to help her. She smiled over at him, "Thanks Waylon," she stated to him as he sat her luggage down beside her. She found herself glancing out the window, feeling a bit shy around all of these people she doesn't really now. The only one she felt truly comfortable around is Natasha.

"How are you?" Natasha questioned to Ginger. "I bet your mama took very good care of you over the summer..." Rose smiled as she watched the blonde talking to her owl.

Rose noticed Natasha remove her attention from Ginger and towards herself. "I miss not having a pet," she said, "although if I were to get one, I don't know if I'd want a cat again, or if I should change to an owl. I guess I'll decide sooner or later. There's no way I'm getting a toad, though." she chuckled, "They're so freaky-looking..." Rose chuckle a bit at Natasha's words and nodded her head in agreement, "That's for sure," she responded with a sigh. "When we have the time maybe we could go pet shopping for ya," she stated to Natasha, thinking it would be a great way for the two of them to spend some time together after the long summer that was behind them.

She couldn't help but to notice Natasha picking up a newspaper from the floor and begin to scribble some words onto the paper and handed it over to Stephen, the freckled boy who was sitting next to her. She was a bit curious about what was going on but decided that she wasn't going to get into it. It was none of her business, if Natasha wanted her to know what was going on she would tell her.

Though when she heard Waylon's words she just shook her head at his offer, "Thanks for the offer but I'm fine for right now," she stated. Mainly because she didn't want to eat anything while on this ship after finding herself puking over the edge of it just moments before. Rose couldn't wait until they got to Magnus Grexx so she wouldn't have to worry about feeling nauseous again. Then she would be able to get some food into her stomach and have a great time.

Rose crossed her bare legs and pulled her skirt back down just above her knees. That was one of the main things she hated about wearing skirts and dresses, she constantly has to make sure they haven't risen up too far. She then let out a soft sigh and leaned her head against the window and stared out, trying to calm her stomach down. The last thing she needed was to get sick in the compartment. The brunette closed her eyes as she placed her hands upon her stomach.

---

Bobby stood at the front of the cruise, looking on at the sight of Magnus with awe and aspiration within. He couldn't control how much his lust for returning outpaced itself. "Ah, fresh air indeed.. He thought silently to himself. He fixed his posture and licked his lips, followed by untying the knot in his freshly green tie. Bobby sniffed, once and again, finding himself uncontrollably sneezing at that. He whipped his nose with his arm, shaking his head as a sign of relief as he peaked over, noticing something strangely odd, grotesque rising to the top of the ocean losing all hope as his face changed from relief to horror within seconds.

They were humongous, rising in the league of hundreds, mermen and maid alike. All holding on tightly to their tridents and pitchforks. But they were waiting, almost as though they had been signaled. With shock came blood, as the skies lit up in a dash of multiple colors, snakes in fact, swirling around the other, almost hissing like a python in the Egyptian deserts. He gripped tightly onto his wand, turning left to face the cold that awaited him.

Men, covered in masks and smoke. Demons he thought? But he knew all too well for what was to come. Screams filled the air, followed by laughter and spells shouting left and right from one another. He fell down, watching the death eaters board the cruise one by one, filling what joy the students had with coldness, rain and death.

He pulled out his wand, breathing heavily with short pauses to catch his breath. Where were the others? Were they safe? Secure? His thoughts mesmerized and changed, crossing his arms as he hid under the cupboard by the deck, surrounded by spells shooting back and forth. "We're at deck! We're at deck!" The captain cried, stopping the cruise to a halt as Bobby exited. Pushing, following and running for his life.

"Dementors! Dementors!" A poor young girl screamed, pointing to the skies as they fell like rain. Bobby could see the carriages in clear view that would lead him to the school, safe and unharmed. He sped up his pace and ran, turning his back to see an all out war still on the cruise. "Faster, I must.." He repeated by the dozens. He could see it, the carriage just a few distances away, finally, he had made it.

Too soon the boy had hoped. Bobby clenched hard onto the carriage door, unknowingly realizing his fate would be decided right there. A word came..followed by a flash of green light. Bobby hit the floor with a face that had been filled with pink now cold like ice. He was dead.

”Not quite, yet,” the Texan replied, ”oh, but we're still holding our breaths. My uncle, the monsignor back home, says all the Masses in Latin under dispensation from our bishop. Some of my kinfolk refused to go to Mass until that dispensation was enforced. 'Course, there is definitely room for English... when German or Latin doesn't suffice.”.

"Quite true. I have a great deal of affection for the English language. With its patchwork of words and grammar from other languages, there isn't a language like it," the pure-blood noted. With that, he remained mostly quiet, observing the others and contributing to the conversation here and there. The cruise was pleasant and he was looking forward to another school year.

Then, an icy hand gripped his heart and everything went to hell in a hand basket. He cursed and gripped his wand as he watched helplessly as other students fell to an unholy alliance of Death Eaters and Dementors. In a split second he had to make a decision. Would he have a better chance of survival hiding somewhere in his compartment or fighting their attackers?

He calmly stepped out of his compartment and, spotting a group of Death Eaters, he thrust out his wand and softly murmured, "Flipindo Tria."

He watched with some satisfaction as the fools were knocked against the wall by a tornado of magic, losing consciousness. Honestly, it was a third year spell. He smiled charmingly at his friends.

"I really see this as an opportunity to cut loose, don't you?"

As he said that, he grimaced as a Dementor flew towards him. He had not yet fully mastered the Patronus Charm. It took great effort for him to produce a corpeal one.. Quickly, he drew circles in thin air with his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Sure enough, a jet of white vapor erupted from his wand, halting the creature as he grinned, his patronus clearing his mind enough to allow him to regain a happier state of mind. Now then, what memory was strong enough for him to use? Ah yes, last New Year's Eve. He had not gotten any sleep that night.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Sure enough, a luminescent snake was produced by his wand. It hissed as the Dementor before lunging at it and Stephen nodded in satisfaction before he heard a familiar scream.

"Schwarz!"

He ran towards the scream and spotted his classmate and the perpetrator, his mask hiding his expression, but Stephen could tell he was enjoying torturing the boy. He gripped his wand before making a slashing motion, casting the first spell that came to mind.

"Sectumsepra!"

Stephen watched coldly as his spell made a large cut across the man's chest. He cursed when he heard a scream. Okay, it was time to lose the bravado.

"Stephen is not physically injured, but he's not getting up anytime soon," he murmured to the group, not caring in the slightest what they thought of his using a dark spell to leave a man to bleed out. He was not going to think about it now. He stepped down the hall and his heart clenched. He hadn't known Bobby well, but he didn't deserve to die.

"We can give him his last rites later. For now, we can make his enemies suffer greatly before they die."

____

Waylon felt the scream as if it were right in front of his eardrum. It pained him. His heart sank down to his ass, and he felt light headed as he popped up. Stephen rushed out of the compartment, swiftly followed by Abraham. The two 7th years locked eyes for a brief moment – as if everything was going to change. Waylon cursed himself.

His boots were still off when the two had left, leaving him a very tight window to get them back on. He was able to swing them on, but not before the two other boys had already made their grandiose exit.

"EVERYBODY STAY IN THEIR COMPARTMENTS," Schwarz shouted out in the hall.
"Wait, guys..." Natasha exclaimed. But before she had the chance to escape the compartment herself, the door in front of her slammed shut, followed by a heartbreaking clicking sound. 
"No, no, NOOO!!!" she roared, pounding her fists against the wood.
"Son of a banshee jinxed the doors shut..." she angrily exhaled. Furious, she pulled out her wand and gazed out the window. Dementors and colored lights from cast spells were flying all over the place.
She turned to Waylon and Rose. "Stand back..." she commanded, guiding them behind her, and getting as far away from the window as she possibly could before pointing her wand at the wall.
"BOMBARDA!!!"

Waylon coughed and felt the dust of the wood enter his lungs and choke him half to death. Waylon hated not being able to breath. He hated the feeling of suffocation. When the dust cleared, he looked out into the hole that Natasha had opened. It was an opening, but Waylon couldn't use it. It led to the water, and that was worse than the dementors.
Besides, as Head Boy, his responsibility was to the youngin's. He nodded his head to Rose, and looked back to the door. Reaching for his oak wand – substantially larger than most, being that everything is larger in Texas- the Cervus swiflty directed his thoughts towards the jinxed lock. With a flick of his wrist, he tapped the lock, exclaiming “ALOHOMORAH!” The trick was done and the door opened.
Entering the dark hall, he said to his wolf, “Florence, scout the perimeter of the ship. Find the students and help me bring them to the docks. Now!” The wolf, without question, left his side and faded off into the darkness, no longer lit by the extinguished candles.
“Where are the 'fessors?” Waylon asked himself, getting a survey of the hall. It was quiet, but behind the doors of the compartments, he could hear the whines of all sorts of young students.
“Cave inimicum!” Waylon needed to know if these attackers were coming nearby. He had a mission, and although he wasn't a particularly skilled dueler, he excelled at passive spells. He knew the ship, in and out, and he had to get the remaining students out as soon as possible. Whatever the cost to himself.
“Lumos Maxima!” he exclaimed, swinging his wand with precision down the hall to the other side. A ball of light projected and detached from his wand and found itself a spot to tag onto, illuminating that part of the hall.
“Lumos Maxima!” he said again, this time swinging to the opposite direction, illuminating the other side of the hall. That would buy him some time. He ran down the hall to inspect the situation. He could hear the battle up on the deck – it was killing him to not be involved, but he knew he would be a bigger impediment, anyway. He needed to do his duty. He couldn't fail. He couldn't.
“Muffliato!” Waylon exclaimed, breaking his silence, imagining the curse to envelope the inner halls of the ship. With proper concentration, he would be able to create a channel to speak to the students, but muffle his communication to the attackers so that he could maintain some sort of stealth.
Pointing his wand to his throat, he exclaimed “Sonorus!” With the amplification of his voice, he could know speak to the younger students. “Students who are still in their compartments. This is Waylon Wolfsbach from House Cervus. We are under attack. I need you to remain calm and brave. I am going to unlock your doors soon, and we need to remain as quiet as possible. If any of you are still here, I need you to meet me in the foyer between the galley and the stairs up to the quartedeck. If you want to survive, remain quiet and be swift. Quietus.”
He then concentrated his wand towards the hall in front of him, imagining each lock unjinxed. With a flick of his wrist, he exclaimed “ALOHOMORAH TOTALUS!” And with great luck and providence, the doors were unjinxed. Many of the students were rushing out, only for Waylon to quiet them with “Silencio!”
Leading the students up to rendezvous, he met up with another group of students, led by Florence. A few of the prefects were there, as well. He gazed onto the boys and girls, most of them first and second years. They were so scared, or pale, or petrified. Many of the seventh and sixth years were already up top, perhaps many of them dead. Waylon felt himself shutter – he felt like a coward.
He arranged the students in various groups led by prefects. and calmly gave some of the more experienced prefects orders. He was going to barge the students directly through the combat and onto the docks at any cost, even his own life if necessary. A younger boy pulled on his robe and asked him, “Head Boy, sir. Are we going to be okay, sir?”
The Cervus thought for a moment, leaned back and smiled at the younger one. He gave him a tiny wink, a slight smirk, and said softly, “They're just lucky it's not a full moon, tonight.”
He looked back at the group of students – a lot less than he had hoped. But he had to push on, through.
They steadily climbed up the stairs to the quarter deck, the light from the battle illuminating their ways as they went up further. He could hear the muffled voices of Natasha, and Abraham. All of a sudden, a few of the masked men dropped down in front of Waylon and the group. Behind their masks, Waylon could feel their cruel smiles. “Ventus DUO!” Waylon exclaimed, a whirlwind escaping from his wand, pushing the men far off into the distance. “How's that for a Texas Tornado, huh?”
As they left the comfort of the hull, Waylon project a spell to protect the younger students, with some of the other prefects joining in. “Protego!” each of the remaining prefects screamed, casting a shield to protect the younger students. Having only to break his concentration momentarily to make a clear path, he casted “ventus” a few times to clear the way. Instructing the prefects to keep towards the carriages, he attempted to deflect the onslaught of the attackers.

As they came about the beach, he was able to deflect many of the nastiest hexes, although a few had broken through. Sadly, more than a few of the remaining prefects were seriously injured – one even killed. They had to keep moving on, however. Waylon's hear was panging, losing concentration on the battle. Despair was seriously affecting him.

All of a sudden, he heard Abraham shout out “EXPECTO PATRONUM.” Turning his gaze towards the end of the beach, he watched as Abraham's glorious lion rescued Natasha from the hordes of dementors. Freed from them, however, it seemed rather fleeting. Abraham didn't notice the dementors carve they way back to the two seventh years. They were still feeding.

“ABRAHAM!” Waylon screamed! Waylon silently prayed the Pater Noster, hoping that it might invoke some sort of inner strength, as he ran to the boy and girl ahead of them. The dementors were regrouping and doing it quick. He had to provide a distraction and get the rest to safety. With all the things he hid, bottled up, under the light of the moon, memories past... he should've been like a magnet to the dementors.
“Expecto patronum!” the Cervus exclaimed, though it was merely incorporeal. Enough to finish the job that Abraham had started. He found himself reaching Abraham, Natasha in his arms, and grasping to hold both of them. The energy and emotion of it all, he just wanted to know they were safe. For a brief moment, he embraced Abraham warmly.
“Please, Abraham, get up! We've got to go! Just bring Natasha! Please! Hurry!” Waylon was pedantic, almost. All he could do was beg. Reaching out his hand to the blond boy, he attempted to look into his lost eyes. He had so little time, but all of this seemed perpetual. “Abraham, please, not now. I hate this. We can't lose. I can't be alone. I need your help. I need you.”