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.
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.
