His fingers desperately clawed at the ground, producing a shrill, bizarre scraping sound. He did not even care about the pain of his nails splitting. His body stretched from a curl, then curled up again, then stretched again. At last, after a violent convulsion, he went still.
The Auror leaning against the wall whistled, nudged the discarded wand with the tip of his shoe, then kicked it into the corner and tilted his head toward his companion.
"Tsk... What a disappointment. Why didn't he hold on a little longer?"
"Forget it, forget it. Don't dwell on it. There's plenty of trash like this. Keep your spell power under control later and find another one to play with."
Douglas took the lead through the side door across the corridor. As he passed through it, an Auror rifling through drawers looked up at him briefly before turning his attention back to the personal belongings of some prisoner in his hands.
Without looking up, he called lazily toward Douglas, "Hey, brother, are you taking that bunch of trash out for some fresh air? Take it easy. Don't go too far, or the report will be a pain to write—two were dealt with over by the passage just now. They shattered all over the place, and cleaning it up was a damn hassle."
Douglas did not stop. He tilted his head in acknowledgment, then kept walking.
That silent group of Death Eaters followed him through the side door, passed through the shadow of the east wing's outer wall, crossed a stretch of gravel repeatedly washed by the tide, and stopped south of the reef area.
The armed patrol boat near the dock remained where it was. Its hull was gray. Two Aurors were on duty on the deck, one standing and smoking, the other