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John can’t even bring himself to be surprised when he finds out Mycroft’s umbrella is magic. Although the circumstances surrounding its revelation are a little dramatic, in the middle of a battle with dark wizards and even darker creatures at a bloody enchanted circus.
“I’m going to have to ask you to stay down, John,” Anthea says, holding her wand in one hand and throwing fire at any of the Inferi who shamble forward, close enough for her to hit. She’s picked off six, so far, and the stench is ungodly.
Right, and Anthea’s a witch. Which is surprising for about a minute until it turns out to be really bloody lucky.
John levers himself back up off the ground and takes a potshot at an Inferi just out of Anthea’s range. He feels a bit like he’s been cast in some cheap survival horror film - zombies and wizards and all that. Head shots aren’t as useful as the movies make them seem, though. Probably because these zombies are kept going by magic, not some mindless hunger for brains. At least as far as John knows. None of the Inferi have gotten hold of anyone long enough for him to find out.
The bloody magic zombie he hits staggers backwards before regaining its footing and shuffling forward again.
“Sorry,” John says, “Not really the keeping-down sort.”
“Usually, I’d respect that,” Anthea says. “Right now, you’re in my way.”
Apparently all it takes to get her to say more than two words to him at a time is a lot of Inferi trying to tear them apart. Not the sort of situation he can recreate to have a bit of a chat, but now he knows, at least.
Suddenly, a great gout of flames erupts behind the Inferi and most of them collapse to the ground, burning. Behind them is… Snape, who John has yet to adjust to rescuing him. Every time, he’s a bit disconcerted. He’s a member of the Order and all that, but otherwise he’s acts like a bit of a wanker around John.
Then Snape eats the dust, for reasons John can’t see, beyond the flames. What John can see is a Death Eater running towards him, drawing their wand. Which is the moment Mycroft appears from bloody nowhere and, just as the Death Eater casts… what John doesn’t know but he’s willing to bet it’s not pleasant, Mycroft pops his umbrella open and holds it in front of himself, like a shield. The air shimmers faintly, and, as the spell strikes, a silvery bubble forms around Mycroft and Snape. The spell bounces back, and the Death Eater falls to the ground and doesn’t get back up.
Like John said. A bloody magic umbrella.
“Tripping over your feet, Severus, really,” Mycroft says, mildly.
“I was only giving you the opportunity to gloat,” Snape says. “I know how fond you are of that.”
“You know me too well,” Mycroft says, and then somebody lets out a great bloody howl, and John can’t hear whatever else he says. Suddenly, a Death Eater with sharpened teeth and a network of scars all across his body - he’s forgone his mask and, apparently, his robe - is bearing down upon them. John recognizes Fenrir Greyback more by reputation than by sight, but he’s hard to mistake in person.
Anthea doesn’t even hesitate before dropping to the ground and pulling something out of her boot. A dagger, as it turns out. She throws it with unerring precision for it to sink into the Death Eaters chest. He howls again, this time in terrible, obvious pain.
So apparently Anthea knows how to throw knives in addition to being a witch. That’s only mildly terrifying.
“You know,” Anthea shouts over the din, “They say diamonds are a girl’s best friend. But I prefer silver!”
“That was actually pretty good,” John says.
“Thank you,” Anthea says.
Mycroft shouts to her, right as he clotheslines a Death Eater with his umbrella - he’s actually a bit of a terror with that thing - “If you would like to request a raise, now would be an excellent time to do so.”
“I’m alright, sir,” Anthea says, “Behind you!”
Mycroft pops his umbrella open without even looking and a spell bounces off. Snape casts a rather ill-tempered Confringo, and the Death Eater who just cast against Mycroft goes flying and lands in a heap. He doesn’t get back up.
“Thank you, Severus,” Mycroft says. “You do know how to make these things less trying.”
“And for someone who questions my sense of self-preservation,” Snape says, “You have quite the habit of drawing fire.”
Someone shouts behind, “Behind you!” before Mycroft can reply, and he turns, executing what John can only call a precision orbital strike against another Death Eater with his umbrella. They crumple to the ground.
John really would like to know when and how he learned to use his umbrella like that. It’s as impressive as it is terrifying.
Lily - who must have been the one to shout - comes running towards them, Sherlock at her heels, casting so another gout of fire erupts from her wand. The rest of the Inferi fall to the ground, making an ungodly noise.
“Less flirting, boys,” Lily says. “You’re distracting Regulus.”
“I am not distracted,” Sherlock says. “I’m appalled ,” then casts a curse at a Death Eater who foolishly tried to stand up again. As another Death Eater tries to hit Sherlock from behind, John fires twice. The first bullet shatters the shield. The second - well, they’re not going to get back up, John’ll say that.
“Thank you, John,” Sherlock says, and then they all just about eat the dirt as the very ground shakes. Then a bloody fucking dragon comes charging in. John’s pretty sure they’re all going to die messily, before he see Charlie riding on the dragon’s back, followed by Fleur and her Veela compatriots, who are singing softly.
“Hey, guys!” Charlie says, “We caught the dragon. Turns out it’s a boy.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Sherlock says.
The battle pretty much ends there.