He heard the explosion first, deep and heavy, followed by the heavy whomp of a shockwave. He ducked instinctively, shielding his head with his hands as dirt rained over him. Men shouted in English around him, jostling his body as they stepped forwards as one unit. Another command, lost to another screeching explosion. More dirt was thrown over him, spraying into his eyes and clogging his throat.
The nearest man was perched on a ladder, long muggle weapon drawn and carried in one hand. A savage, gleaming knife was attached to the end and he breathed heavily as their commander bellowed another command. A piercing whistle split the moment of silence, then the men roared, clambering up their ladders and over the top of the earthen barricade.
He scrambled after them into a hail of what seemed like spellfire. Invisible curses that cracked in flashes of fire and sent the English men flying backwards. There was another screech and fire and dirt exploded to his right, bodies tossed like rag dolls. Mud and blood splattered his face and arms as he scrambled over a mount of metal thorns. He landed heavily on the other side in a deep puddle, his feet sticking and sending him tumbling.
A hoarse cry tore form his throat as he came face to face with a bloated, decaying corpse. He scrambled back and away, up onto the torn but dry land to the side of the crater. A hand snatched at his jacket, heaving him up and tossing him in the direction that everyone else was running. Terrified, he obeyed even as men fell around him, stumbling and tripping over uneven ground, through smoke and dirt.
People fought back around him, their long muggle wands spraying fire and invisible spells even as they were mown down. The ground around him shook, heaving beneath his feet. He tripped, falling and landing on another body. His hand sunk into warm, sticky entrails and he screamed again.
'Gellert! Wake up!'
His eyes snapped open, and he heaved over the side of his bed. Nothing came up, but his shoulders shuddered as hot tears ran down his face.
'it's alright, it was just a dream.' Someone said. Someone else rubbed his back reassuringly, helping to untangle him from his blankets.
He pushed everyone away, stumbling past the shadowed faces of his dorm mates and barging out into the corridor. The freezing air that flowed in through the small window was blessed relief and he heaved a sigh, pressing his face into the slit. Frigid air stung his chest, calming his racing heart and reminding him that he was not there - not in that awful place.
Yet.
Berg brought his cloak out at some point and he remained sitting there, wrapped in the garment until the sun peaked over the horizon and his lips were blue with cold.
He slipped back into the dorm room, dressing before anyone else was awake and leaving again, making his way out to the grounds to go for a ride. As usual, he chucked a couple of gifts into the water for the Mer people at the bottom of the fjord - a glass vial and a box of sewing pins that he'd made in transfiguration.
He felt no more settled at lunch time, so instead of returning to the dorm room to do homework, he instead took a left, climbing into a part of the castle that he'd never visited before - the teacher's wing.
There were plaques on all of the doors, informing him who he would find inside should he knock.
He kept walking until he reached Professor Ezra.
'Come in, Gellert.' The professor called before he could knock. Unsurprised, he pushed the door open.
Professor Ezra sat at her desk. As she so often preached, her workspace was immaculate. She had two sheets of parchment on her desk, a paintbrush and ink held loosely in her right hand and her eyes closed. An image of his face was already completed, peering uncertainly around a door that was unmistakably hers. The second image looked like slices of ham and bread on a plate.
He took a seat quietly so as not to disturb her concentration as her hand skimmed over the parchment, adding several more dark lines to complete the image with an apple.
She opened her mismatched eyes, looking down at the picture she'd drawn and sighing in frustration.
'Yet again, I have predicted what I will be eating for lunch.' She sighed, cleaning her brush with a wash of magic and putting it away. Then she scrunched up both sheets and tossed them into the waste basket by the door. 'The trick is to ask a question without closing the eye, I'm certain of it.'
The professor's brows drew together, then she shook her head, looking up at him.
'What can I help you with today, Gellert?'
He took a moment to collect himself.
'I had a dream.' He said simply. His divination professor nodded in understanding.
'I will not demean you by asking if it was just a dream, but I must ask if it was similar to the last one?' She asked.
'No. It wasn't.' He said decisively. 'I wasn't me this time, or I was me, but I didn't have my magic or my family bonds. I wasn't hurt by anything, even though I'm sure I should have been.'
'So like watching a memory in a pensieve?' His teacher asked and he shook his head.
'Except they could touch me. Someone picked me up in it, and made me keep running.'
'Another battle?' Professor Ezra asked, leaning forwards. He nodded, putting his inherited wand to his temple and drawing out the memory. The professor reached under her desk to pull out a pensieve and he dropped the memory of his dream into it.
'I don't want to see it again.' He announced pushing the bowl towards her. She nodded acceptingly and dipped her head into the water.
Gellert waited nervously, looking around the bare office. There wasn't really much to look at; Professor Ezra believed that clutter would disrupt her focus on the future, and consequently preached tidiness. She had lamented many times that her gift just wasn't as powerful as Gellert's and that she really had to focus to see clear visions of anything. His was the opposite - he often found himself bombarded by images when he focused on any of the mediums but he agreed that organisation helped with focus.
Professor Ezra straightened, her expression haggard.
'What do you think it is?' He asked, praying that she'd tell him it was just an ordinary dream.
'Definitely a premonition.'
He sagged.
'But they're all muggles. Not a single wizard in it. Those are rifles, muggle weapons. They use a kind of explosive to force a lead pellet out of the tube. It flies through the air and hits the target like a spell.'
'So it's a muggle war?' He checked. His professor shrugged.
'I imagine.'
Gellert relaxed slightly, relieved to know that at least nobody he knew was involved this time.
'Do you think I see things for a reason?' He asked after a moment of consideration. Last time, it was only because he'd seen the vision that Hermione had given him her protection rune which saved both him and his mother from burning alive in the initial explosion. Was this another warning?
'Nobody knows. Divination is one of the least understood disciplines.' His teacher said, pulling another sheet from her desk. 'Whilst my foresight is nothing quite so grand as yours, I did see this earlier. I thought you might appreciate it.'
Gellert accepted the sheet of parchment curiously. It appeared to be the duelling beach, near the far end where he usually stood to throw his offerings to the Mer. He was puzzled, until Professor Ezra leaned forwards and tapped a small detail at the base of the pile of rocks.
'I believe this might be a wand, returned by some lake denizen?'
'There's nothing at the bottom of the fjord.' He answered automatically. Professor Ezra raised a single brow.
'Okay.' She agreed, obviously amused. 'But I still believe this is yours. Perhaps returned by chance - conveniently resting on a rather wonderful shell.'
'Yes, chance.' He agreed, 'Thank you, I will be glad to have it back.'
'My pleasure. Let me know if anything else troubles you. I'll keep this memory in case we need to review it later.'
He sketched a bow as he left, still clutching the parchment. Feeling lighter, he headed down to find his wand.