It seemed that the instant the badge had clasped itself onto his brother's new aurors' robes, the ceremony hall had erupted with screams, the colorful trails of curses crisscrossing within the crowd below. Before Hawke had even bothered to identify the threat, the pale wood of his wand whipped reflexively in the direction of the Minister, who conveniently still clasped Theo's hand in a congratulatory shake.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "Protego maxima!"</span>A shimmering translucent shield exploded around both Shacklebolt and Theo, Hawke more than thankful that he hadn't been forced to choose between the two as his family would always come first. Always.<br/><br/>His fellow aurors were not as quick on the draw, their protective shields combining with his own seconds later, but those mere seconds had been precious as what looked to be a maiming curse rebounded from its previous path towards Kingsley. Only now the very same flesh-rending wisp was headed towards Hawke, giving him no choice but to dispel his shield and throw himself onto the tiles below, scarlet sparks scattering as the curse collided safely with the floor. Boots and robes whirled around him in a chaotic dance as others stepped forward to defend the Minister, giving Hawke a brief reprieve from the action to observe for just a moment, his eyes darting over the scene below. The crowd had certainly scattered, but it seemed the doors had been magically sealed, eliminating all chances of escape as hooded figures, who seemed to have come from nowhere despite the Ministry's regulations on apparition, hosted an assault amongst the pews. Hawke's heart sank as he took in the number of motionless bodies lying within the fray, those he'd sworn to protect gone in a matter of minutes. He was used to taking the fight to the enemy, not vice versa.<br/><br/>What really gave him pause, however, were the dark figures gliding through the air above them. A familiar chill spread throughout Hawke, freezing his very bones as he watched dementors distract those who fought for their lives, granting the hooded attackers a grave advantage as witches and wizards had their happiness sapped from them. Dementors hadn't been seen in Britain for years, not since Shacklebolt had banished them from Azkaban due to their assistance of the Dark Lord. Just as he'd noticed them, though, it seemed his colleagues had as well.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"D-Dementors!" </span>The cry struck fear into those with less experience, a panic sweeping through their ranks as Hawke's class had been the last to graduate before the war had put a hold on governing functions. And many of them had died in the war, leaving very few. Any aurors trained since had never seen the dark wraiths now swarming above them . . . had never felt the despair caused by their mere presence. There was a world of difference between casting a patronus in the safety of a classroom versus in the heat of battle.<br/><br/>Rolling to his feet, Hawke whirled to get a bearing on Kingsley's location. And his brother's. A handful of aurors, which Hawke noted seemed to be comprised mostly of their newest initiates, had surrounded the Minister and were escorting him towards the side chamber. It was obvious by the look in Shacklebolt's eyes, and the resistance of his steps, that he would rather remain in the fight, but that was no longer an option for him. The Minister's assassination would spread unimaginable chaos throughout wizarding Britain. It simply could not be risked.<br/><br/>But much to Hawke's dismay, Theo was nowhere to be seen.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Theo?! Theo!"</span>He wasn't afforded the opportunity to locate his brother amidst the confusion as dementors descended upon him and the other aurors still remaining in the ceremony hall. With their soulless mouths of blackened teeth sapping the light from what memories he<i>did</i>cherish, Hawke snapped out of his panicked search for Theo. If he didn't fight back he'd end up a lifeless husk.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Remain calm!" </span>The order was more for himself than the others, but it seemed to work nonetheless. His wand at the ready, Hawke focused on one of his favorite memories.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">"Higher, Hyp! Push me higher!" </span><br/>
<i>Two heads of platinum hair. A rusty muggle swing set. An even rustier set of monkey bars. His toes digging into the sand as he gave his brother a firm push with all his might. And Theo's legs almost reached the sky this time . . . but Hawke's hands had never touched his brother. It was almost like . . . <b>magic</b>! And behind them stood their father, seated on the park bench with an almost sad look in his eyes. His mother, though. Hawke still remembered her elated smile even now.<br/>
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</i></i>​</div><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Expecto Patronum!"</span>And with a blood-curdling cry that haunted the mountains at night, silver exploded from the tip of his wand, the corporeal form of his cougar patronus launching itself into the converging dementors followed by the glittering forms of a baying bloodhound and a large bird. The ice left his veins at last as more magical creatures joined the fight, pushing the dementors away, forcing them to disappear into smoke one by one.