September 14th, 1893 — Triage Site
Tycho could not help but feel like he was to be blamed for this. Logically, Tycho knew that none of this had actually been his fault. His visions sometimes just did not make sense. Besides that, those dragons had to have been in transport long before his vision had come to him. But with Tycho he was emotions first, logics second a lot of the time. So he was doing what little he could do to help.
He was good for healing milder injuries, delivering potions, giving rations to hungry people waiting to be evacuated. Whatever he could do to lighten the load on the triage sites healers so that they could focus on the more dire injuries coming through.
He had spotted Ford earlier from across the triage. He didn't know if Ford had spotted
him though and Tycho didn't want to disrupt whatever it was the Ministry had ordered Fords department to do. Hopefully Ford was keeping himself safe. He was worried but trusted that his lover would be okay with the rest of his department working alongside him. At least, he was assuming that to be the case. If he let himself worry too much, he would render himself useless.
He was looking around for more to do when a semi-familiar face caught his eye. The main thing knew about Cassius Lestrange was that he had retired from Quidditch and was friends with Ford.
"Has a healer seen to you?" He asked as he bounded over, his curls wild around his face.