Timothy was more inclined to follow one of the young mens suggestion of finding some sort of overhead shelter instead of continuing to the outskirts as one of the other ones was suggesting. He ducked into a porch that seemed to have adequate roofing and surveyed himself. Some burns and bruises but he would live.

  

[Post]Amidst all the chaos, Fletcher noticed Eavan's father drop to the group to try and extinguish the flames on his person. He ignored all else as they seemed to be taking care of themselves and each other well enough.

As he got closer to the older man, He shrugged out of his jacket and used it to help smother the flames. He offered a hand to the man with his left hand once the flames were extinguished. "Let's get under cover," He said simply enough, "Hopefully with the hail stopped the rain will be quick to follow."

  

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BEE-utiful Set!

Mr. Umbridge was beside Somersby quite suddenly. The seventeen year old could hardly object to a second pair of hands holding up Ben - he’d never quite realized how heavy Ben was,what with how skinny he was and all that.

The gentleman that Umbridge told him to follow was the other ministry guy, Somersby remembered from the train, he nodded. Moments later the quidditch enthusiast was by his side to help, relieving Somersby’s weight altogether.

As the downpour slowed and the hail stopped. Somersby noted a porch. Who cared who it was, “There’s shelter!” He pointed and dodged ahead, arms again held over his head to protect from the still flaming rain.

  

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Made by magic (MJ) <3

Though the hail had proved an immediate danger to him, it seemed he's suffered less at the hands of the fire-rain. His eyes tried to locate everyone as they came to the shelter, though his attention was soon brought back to the unconscious child. He glanced back towards the other one—his friend, he presumed, based off his willingness to put himself in harm's way to get the other boy to safety—with an inquiring glance.

"Did you see exactly where it hit him?" he asked, all the while trying to locate any bleeding or obvious bumps. He was no healer, but he did not want to be That Guy who let a child die on his watch. "We can't just drag him along if the forces of nature continue pelting us with the unnatural. We need someone to care for him until we can safely contact the infirmary."

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— set by MJ! —

Though the hail had stopped and the rain had slowed, Thomas could still feel the pain shooting through his body every time a splatter hit him. He wasn't really sure what to do. He was just kind of... following the crowd half expecting something miraculous to happen. It did seem a safe bet to stay with the unconscious kid, the other kid, and the Ministry bloke though - and so Thomas followed them toward the shelter.

"Can I do anythin'? I wanna help," He said sheepishly. He hadn't come here to just be a terrified chaser - though that's exactly what he was, "and I ain't a healer but I can stay 'ere if you need me to?"

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Finally there was some reprieve from the flaming water as they threw themselves onto the porch. His arms stung with the burns that had made it through his shirt, but his attention remained on Ben and the other men.

“I think it was his head.” Somersby answered Umbridge.

Looking at the quidditch guy Somersby remembered the chunks of hail in his pack, surely melting now and the one’s on the ground. “If we can get some hail to put on our burns, that would likely help all of us with the burns.” He told him, fishing out a piece of hail from his pack and offering it to the man in some form of demonstration.

  

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Made by magic (MJ) <3

Ben’s eyelids began to flutter open, like butterfly wings or, if he were to tell the story later, something much more masculine.

“Owwwww,” the Ravenclaw groaned.

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— graphics by mj ❤ —

He could hear talk, a ways off, about someone else that had gotten themselves in a scrape, but Conall was more concerned, currently, about the way the burst of pain had shot up his arm and his right cheek, which still felt like it was sizzling.  

Out of nowhere, another jacket came down to pat out the flames. Conall did little more than grunt at the man who'd come to his rescue - out of pain or out of annoyance, he wasn't decided. Grateful as he was to not be on fire still, he didn't take the offered hand, because he wasn't some doddery old fool, he could get to his feet bleedin' well himself. He pushed off the wet ground with his hand instead and stood up again, gave the man a curt nod - yes, get under cover, the obvious plan - and then started off limping towards a nearby roof overhang without a word.

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His arms were burning by the time he reached one of the porches, itching to look back to see if the others were okay but equally aware that dawdling in a sky of fire wasn't very smart. Fortunately, his arms were so literally burning, only they just felt like it. That said, the hair on his arms was now very patchy and there were lovely welts where the "rain" had hit him. He brushed his hand against the spot where a hail stone had grazed his head and found it still came away bloody, otherwise it seemed like a shallow enough wound that he could go on ignoring it for now.

The hail seemed to have stopped which was a blessing, but the fire rain remained. It at least seemed a little less torrential or was it his imagination now that he was relatively safe from the elements? Squinting through the weather, Theo tried to figure out what the current situation was. As an auror he felt obligated to go above and beyond to help, but loitering in someone's porch didn't feel very brave or very helpful. There had to be something he could do... He scanned his surroundings until his eyes came to rest on the hailstones that were still in reasonably good condition. Someone had said something - hadn't they? - about collecting them. Even if he'd misheard, it might prove useful to collect what he could of them.

Bracing himself for fiery impact, Theo raced out from the porch and began scrambling for shards of ice. He had a bit more than a couple handfuls of hail when he spotted Umbridge across from him scrambling into a sheltered doorway. "I'VE GOT ICE!" he yelled, sprinting through the fire-rain to join them. He came to an abrupt halt in front of them, cradling ice he really hoped wasn't melting as fast as he thought it was. "Quick, it's melting!" He made a vague yet frantic gesture at the clumps of hail in his arms.

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Thomas nodded at the words of the boy. Smart. Ice did cool down (and put out) fire so that would make sense. Ducking outside quickly, Thomas grabbed whatever hailstones he could and came back inside with an arm full of them – dropping them in front of the floor before picking one up himself and rubbing it on the burn marks that had patterned his arms, “There ain’t many left but you’re right, it is helpin’ a little.”

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Edric Umbridge Fletcher Langley Conall MacKay Thomas Tilcott Timothy Ainsworth Theodoric Jameshill Benjamin Turner Somersby Fudge

Once they hunker down under the porch, the sun starts to set. (A natural sunset, though that may be anticlimactic.) The fire keeps streaking through the sky, petering out until it finally stops a good twenty minutes after the sun has fully set. If the men squint, it may seem that there's a pattern to the burns in the grass outside the porch, but they certainly cannot see it right now.

While you have respite, is there anyone who has to visit the infirmary?*

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"I have bandages in my pack if he needs them," Timothy said as the injured youth was brought into the shelter of the porch. Timothy was more than glad to snatch a bit of hail to help sooth the singed bits of skin he was now sporting. Things gradually seemed to calm and Timothy was relieved when the fire rain ceased.

  

The rapid series of events that had led them to the porch made Edric question if time had stopped once everything went still. The grass was presumably burnt to a crisp, though the shadows caused by the setting sun did little to help make out the reality of the situation. The slices in his skin were unable to be cured by the same hail rocks that had caused them to begin with; thus, he left the icy rocks to those who'd suffered the harshest burns.

"Mr. Turner needs to see a healer—I suppose we should find a way to get him to the infirmary. That is, of course, unless Mr. Langley thinks he can be of use without all of his trinkets," he suggested, all the while rummaging around in his small bag. He wanted to write to Febs, though doing so while surrounded by a bunch of prying eyes was probably not the best course of action.

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— set by MJ! —

Fletcher had apparently gotten off easy compared to some of the others. He could feel burns on his body but the majority of his pain was from the hail ball that had hit him square in the right shoulder. But, others were bleeding and one looked to be knocked out.

He approached the young ones with Mr. Umbridge, oblivious to the view the sky was giving them. "Use the bandages on Mr. Umbridge's arms. There's little that can be done for them without the proper suture kits. The infirmary might have them but it'll hurt something awful without pain potions," He said, not bothering to respond to the auror's remark about not having his trinkets. He then turned his attention to the knocked out boy, feeling his head gently and prying his eyelids open to see the reactions of his pupils.

"He should be fine," He said simply, "Probably lightly concussed but until he wakes up, there's little more I can do. Anyone have something with a particularly strong smell?" He doubted there were any true smelling salts but something strong in scent could do the trick.

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BEE-utiful Set!

Another of the ministry men came with bandages and hail and quidditch guy also grabbed hail. Somersby began to put the hail on the fire burns for his friend as the gentleman talked.

“I think he’s waiting up.” Somersby contributed at Ben’s ‘ow’.

Glancing up the fog was starting to turn orange and the flaming rain seemed to be slowing. Taking stock of their injuries was a better priority than figured out the fog at the moment. Regroup and recover, Somersby figured.

The following 1 user Likes Somersby Fudge's post:1 user Likes Somersby Fudge's post
   Benjamin Turner

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Made by magic (MJ) <3

Thomas stood with the others, frantically rubbing his arms with a contented look on his face. He wasn’t really sure what was happening – though he knew that the hail was making his burns much more pleasant and easier to cope with.

Looking up for a moment, Thomas turned to the men who seemed to have taken the lead of the group, “What now? We can’t just stay here.”

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