July 19th, 1883 — Hawthorne Hollow

Nathaniel had not felt well when he had risen that morning—and knew all too well why—but had been reluctant to refuse his son's requests to visit the quidditch village. With a second child on the way for Veronica, Theodore was only scarcely more pleasant (at least to his stepmother) than he had been the previous summer, and Nathaniel was eager to get him out of the house and somewhere he might actually enjoy himself. The two had had a pleasant enough morning—as pleasant as could be managed on Thaniel's part—but then father had been waylaid by business associates, and had allowed son to go off with friends from Hogwarts.

And that was the last he had seen of him.

It was his own fault, Thaniel knew; the area was a large and busy one, making it nigh impossible to find anyone if a predetermined meeting point had not been arranged (it hadn't). The wizard would not have been so frantic, except the sun had begun its nightly descent into the horizon, and he was all too well aware of what came hand in hand with the darkness at this time of the month. Desperate, Thaniel made what felt like his thousandth round through the marketplace, before finally finding the familiar dark head.

"Theodore, there you are!" he called out, tone half terse, half relieved. He had hoped to be home hours ago; this was cutting it far too close for his liking. With more urgency than he would have liked to have shown, his hand clasped around his son's arm as he said, "Come; we are going home."

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— pretties by Soph ❤ —

It had, by any standards, been a fun day. Being out of the house was a cheerful bonus to begin with, but the hustle and bustle with the World Cup in town made it far more entertaining than the ordinary outing to Hogsmeade or Irvingly. Even if Britain was out of the running for the cup - Theodore had been suitably morose after Britain's loss for a time, as expected - the atmosphere was still exhilarating. With a sudden fascination for all the foreign cultures, it was easy to remember why he had been sorted into Ravenclaw.

It hadn't taken too long, nor much difficulty, to fall in step with some friends and forget about his father for a good part of the day. They had roamed the place and conversed with some of the vendors and spectators, drank large helpings of Butterbeer - despite the fortunate warm weather - and tasted other snacks, some unfamiliar, and watched a performance or two of snake-charming and the like. And then spent a few hours drooling over the broomsticks and quidditch supplies on show. Theodore was as of yet undecided as to which team to support in the final - his friends were divided on the matter - but he thought Egypt's play fairer, though he was still bitter that they had beaten Britain.

Theodore was almost surprised to hear his father's voice out the blue. Time had run away with him, and though he'd scanned the place once or twice during the day he had not been especially worried by the parental absence. (Luckily, his father did not quite sound angry, though Theo was sure he heard some measure of put-outness.)

"Now?" Theodore groaned, jerking his arm away half-hopefully."Can't we just go 'round once more? I haven't seen -" he trailed off, looking longingly into the crowds and the corners of the market he hadn't fully explored during the day. Granted, he and his schoolmates had traversed most of it, but with evening came a shift in the market's aura, and he couldn't quite trample the curiosity. He supposed there would be far more drinking and perhaps less savoury pursuits, but Merlin, he was fifteen already, he wasn't a child. And if his father was still labouring under the delusion that Theodore was still young and immature enough for some sort of curfew as soon as the sun went down, then he was very wrong indeed.

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Thaniel knew there was no way to properly impress the urgency upon his son without giving away his secret—something the wizard was working overtime to avoid. He understood that Theodore wanted to explore with his friends, and could hardly fault the lad for that. Under other circumstances, Nathaniel easily could have been talked into another hour, even two. But these circumstances were of greatest delicacy, and so he could not afford to be lenient towards his son.

Clapping a hand on the Ravenclaw'¢s shoulder, Nathaniel turned the boy towards the forest's edge, where they would apparate home. He walked rather briskly towards the treeline, assuming his son could keep up.

"You can come back tomorrow if you like—perhaps your cousin would like to come along?—but I really must insist that we leave now. Time is money, after all, and if you don't save me one you'll cost me the other!" The laugh at the rather pathetic joke was entirely forced as Nathaniel did his best to hide the desperation from his demeanour.

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— pretties by Soph ❤ —

He attempted to shrug off the clapped hand to his shoulder, too stubborn to respond especially well to physical directives when they were making suggestions he did not much like. While he was hesitant to be overly impudent in public, Theodore was still considering arguing.

It was fortunate, perhaps, that the next thing he heard was enticement. Whilst he was not - and would not pretend to be - on the best terms with his father, the all-too-transparent bribery was something of a perk. Theodore supposed his father might be just as generous and compromising if he were more cooperative, but then again, he tended to use this thought as an excuse not to feel guilty accepting all the spoils of bribery without a single intention to be corrupted or softened by it. He would be no more pleasant at home, and he would not take back an ounce of his hostility, because there were a lot of things that couldn't be taken back, like marriages and second sons and the fading of his mother's memory.

Still, the idea of returning the next day with Kenton in tow was gratifying enough for Theodore to refrain from arguing back outright. "If you say so," he intoned, with a pointed sigh. His reluctant acquiescence was only suddenly countered by the leap upwards of his brows at his father's - wait, was that supposed to have been funny? Was he really laughing? The light-hearted father-son discussions could not feasibly go so far to allow Theodore to accept terrible wit and embarrassing laughter in this parental company.

Rolling his eyes rather than saying anything, he tossed a last look back at the marketplace and then stared glumly towards the forest again, though he did consciously indulge himself in his dawdling, meandering steps, so that at least they would not have to go home quite so soon. Perhaps his father might alter his decision... well that was unlikely, but that didn't mean he had to walk right by his father's side and suffer more wince-inducing humour.

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Satisfied with his son's reluctant agreement, Nathaniel continued on for a few strides before looking back. Merlin's beard! He knew Theodore was not eager to leave, and also that the boy had tended to be difficult over the past couple of years. But this incessant dawdling could have consequences that the Ravenclaw knew not, and Thaniel was not keen to see that happen.

As he reached the tree line, he looked back again. "Theodore, I am not merely joking when I say we must hurry home!" he called out, his tone equal parts anxious and frustrated. There was only so much time before the moon would rise into the sky, and by now every second was crucial in order to keep those around him—most importantly his son—safe from harm.

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— pretties by Soph ❤ —

Apparently there was no chance at all that his father would relent, and let him stay just a while longer. He would be able to come back tomorrow though, he reiterated mentally, as though his father might rescind the promise he'd already made. Theodore made an effort to be the more stubborn of the two, but if he gave in this evening, at least he would still get his way tomorrow.

Already nagging again. Whilst Theodore was pleased to note how easily he could get on his father's nerves when the man was in an impatient mood, he still was in no mood to go home.

"I'm coming."

He tossed a roll of his eyes in his father's direction, expression settled in that of a scowl despite the fact that up until now it had been a perfectly nice day, and his father hadn't even been unreasonable. He stalked forwards, flung his feet into a proper march until he reached the edge of the forest, where the trees dotted sparsely. The plan he was carrying out currently was to not merely catch up with, but overtake his father, until he could reach a secluded spot to halt and start tapping his foot.

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The boy ceased his dawdling, but Nathaniel noted with some displeasure that Theodore now seemed hell-bent on racing him to their escape. The wizard sighed internally, but did not have time to deal with this latest show of force—the Ravenclaw's attitude could be dealt with the next day, or the next week. For now, it was Thaniel's priority merely to get him and his boy home safely, before the change overtook him.

Theodore's increase of speed was not enough, though, and while father and son were now safely beyond the tree line and away from the festivities proper, the wizard knew that his time had run out.

With the moon now plainly visible in the sky, and the sun having made its exit for the night, he doubled over to the ground in pain, feeling as if every last cell in his body was being ripped in two.

"Apparate home, Theodore!" Thaniel gasped, letting out a shout of pain. He knew the boy was too young to apparate, had never learned how—but his son was bright, and surely he had read something? Even if he hadn't, a blind attempt would be better than getting mauled by a werewolf.

If Nathaniel could have taken on the risk himself, he would have done so in a heartbeat. The risk of splinching himself was nothing next to the risk of Theodore doing the same (or worse). But Thaniel was past the point of control, and even if the wizard could now still use any sort of magic, the pain and buzz fighting one another in his head would never let him control it.

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— pretties by Soph ❤ —

Having stepped up the pace and centred his gaze impassively on the shaded trees in front of them, Theodore had not been paying attention to his father, and so only looked round in suspicion at the halt in footsteps, and then the abrupt gasp.

His jaw fell open as quickly as his eyebrows crashed together, all the words he could think getting stuck somewhere in his throat, his own feet becoming rooted to the ground as his father dropped to his knees.

"What's happening to you?!" The exclamation was frantic, and his thoughts fragmented: with a minute to stop and think, the dots might've been swiftly connected - his father's hurry, the light of the moon, the yell of pain, the warning to get out of there - because there was a logical explanation, but it was one he didn't, couldn't, hear.

But there was no time for an explanation, no time to understand the situation. Because it was a command, an order. And for all Theodore had taken to rebelling against his father's usual instructions, this one held a different gravity, a sense of urgency he'd been oblivious to.

Apparate home - but - he was only supposed to go side-along, he couldn't apparate, he hadn't taken lessons, let alone a test! But he was supposed to get out of here, because evidently his father's situation was only going to get worse. He wanted to help - there had to be something he could do -

Nothing came to mind. So, in a wild attempt, he thought of home, forced his eyes shut from where they'd been glued to his father in stunned disbelief, waited. Nothing. He squinted through the gloom, heart pounding. He was still there, his father still writhing on the ground. As if of their own accord, in panic mode, his feet broke into motion, Theodore still watching in his stumbling backwards.

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Nathaniel watched in desperation as his son—plainly unable to apparate; what had he been thinking?!—elected to run instead. Franticly, the wizard tried to control himself, but he knew that it would be in vain."Stun me!" he choked as another wave of pain took him and he sank further to the ground.

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— pretties by Soph ❤ —

In his panic - he may be a Ravenclaw through and through, but if ever a situation had seen logic fade in the face of peril, it was now -  Theodore tried to grasp enough focus to try apparating again. He tried, tried, but for every thought of his house, his front door, his bedroom, there was his father before him, a sharp stab of the here and now, a situation with no escape.

Stun me.

The thought hadn’t crossed his mind, not in the slightest - had his best option really been to run? - but even so, he found his wand already clenched tightly in his fist as if he’d been ready to use it all along. There wasn’t a moment left to hesitate, not a single second, whether he was worrying more about his father’s wellbeing or his own safety... survival?

He had utterly no notion of whether his spell would work. He was a competent student; he’d practised stunning plenty of times before. This time wasn’t like any of the times before. This time counted. Theodore could only hope it would be powerful enough. He could only have faith in his father’s instruction, trust that he knew what he was saying, and hope that it had been more than a long shot, that there was a sliver of a chance that it would work, even if it was only long enough that he might get away. “Stupefy!”

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Though the stunning spell was enough to quell his shaking, it would not stop the pain—nor was it likely to halt the transformation for long. Nathaniel could only hope that his son had the sense to flee whilst he was still able—though how could he know to, if the werewolf had always been so careful to hide his condition?

If the lie became his son’s end, Thaniel would never forgive himself.

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— pretties by Soph ❤ —

He thought his spell had had some impact; whether for better or worse he could hardly tell. That said, he repeated the incantation and cast it once more in the hopes it would strengthen it and stop the pain, if inexplicable pain was all his father was enduring...

There was little else he could do here, and his father had already told him to go -

This time, instead of stumbling backwards, Theodore turned on his heel and broke into motion, hoping that he might navigate back through the trees, back to the edge of the marketplace where he might get some help for his father - someone who knew what to do - or else, find a Portkey to get home as he'd been told. And then what? He wasn't sure.

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