"Pack if you must, but on your own head, be it!" Kit called over his shoulder as he moved to the next door.

Emergency. Irvingly. Disappeared. Evacuate.

These were the broad strokes that Christopher Moony had been given has he had been dispatched, having already been in the Auror Office to catch up on some delinquent paperwork. The wizard had apparated into the streets of Swallowbury—the apparition ban from the streets had been duly lifted by the Department of Magical Transportation, and under such circumstances, the sensibilities of muggles were the last thing on his mind (as a muggleborn, Kit rather thought himself qualified to serve as the final word on that).

Three heavy knocks fell upon the next door.

"Aurors! Open up! Evacuation!"

The tension of the situation was building up within him, a powerful but frantic energy that could not be stemmed entirely, but that years of professional experience had taught the wizard to wield instead. Was it wrong to hope someone would refuse to go, require a bit of a kick in the arse to get out the door?

"Excuse me, Sir?"

The plaintive words reached him, and the auror whirled to face the speaker with what could have been read as hostility.