"Greengrass, with me." With a flick of his wand, Cassius covered his face with his mask, the smirk lingering around his mouth vanishing behind it. This is what they had been waiting for, though part of did admire the boldness of the strike. The Order could be commended for that, if nothing else, if not for being smart enough to know to die quietly, like the wounded animals in the wood they were. Never mind that. Cassius was not opposed to putting wounded animals out of their misery personally. Then, a hint of surprise. It was not simply a rescue attempt, but an escape. The hostages were out. Someone had fucked that up, he thought, feeling now more of a sense of urgency. He turned to Philippa, a protege of his, a pet project - though she was not an obvious choice for it, in a sense, weak - still, she had potential. He could remake her. "How's your Cruciatus curse coming along? I see some uninvited guests you can practice on." @thrustfists
