A moment of singular imprecision and the consequences were dire; did she not herself say this about thirty odd times a day? Did she not know that a single mistake could cost one too dearly? It went to showed that experience was perhaps not the greatest guarantee of success, or that one could never really be too careful; that one moment of ethical ponderation could cost one. It was not a very wonderful feeling, certainly, for Helena's hesitation was not common, and her opponent had not been very relenting. Not that she would have expected her to be. Rightfully speaking, she ought to have been quicker or a bit more harsh. Reckless, irresponsible, foolish. The words echoed in her mind once the spell was lifted.

The situation had quietened down, and she was left kneeling halfway on the floor, from where she straightened herself immediately, the sharp pain in her limbs ignored and mouth tightened to as expressionless a mode as she could manage. It had certainly been her own fault, but she would not let the effects linger. Or at least not in a way that was clearly visible.

Hand still clenched very tightly, she looked around, her eyes lingering on the body of the masked man on the floor. He was dead, of that she was sure, although she would have not been very educated in her guess, and another survey of the room made it clear who'd had a hand in that, the sheer disbelief of the act imprinted on the man's face. Her mouth tightened, though she said nothing, the idea of it not quite processing itself in her mind at the moment, when she was almost inclined to give in and sit down on one of the upturned stools or something. An unforgiving litany of reprimands in her own mind kept her from it, for she at least for her own part agreed with Professor Dumbledore on the matter of not allowing something get to oneself, which provided an ultimate victory to the other side. Never mind that she would spend hours just dwelling on this matter to make sure it did not repeat itself.

"Rabastan, Helena, I'm sure that you, and your colleague, can make a full report to the Ministry."

"Right," she said, nodding, watching Leathan get to his feet and leave. For once she agreed with him; the sooner this was done, the better it would be, although she said nothing as he departed, the young Hit Wizard soon to follow with a promise of a report in the morning. Very efficient of him, certainly. Wordlessly, she bent to pick up her wand, deliberately unclenching her fist. It was an odd sensation of defeat she felt, even though in perhaps technical terms, victory had been theirs, and in even more technical terms, there was no such polar opposite of that sort. However it was not very relieving, not in any manner a sensation of having done something worthwhile, perhaps a personal defeat. Straightening, she took one last look at the professors who remained, and with a nod, departed with a pop! of her own.


(Sorry, very museless.)
"Dog. A kind of additional or subsidiary deity designed to catch the overflow and surplus of the world's worship."
- Ambrose Pierce -