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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