Hey everybody, the second Chapter for you, please let me know how you feel about the pacing and if you notice any inconcistencies or anything really.

As is to be expected, the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.

Here ya go o7


Chapter 2:

Gérard pinched his nose bridge as he closed the door to the kitchens. The glass of water in his hands was a small reprieve against his fatigue induced headache. He just wasn't made for days longer than twenty hours anymore.
Taking another sip he moved towards his son's room patting the chest pocket of his vest, the outline of a small packet discernable on the fabric.
Gérard wanted to surprise his son at the train station and hand him his gift, but those plans crashed and burned, quite literally, with the explosion in Austria.
A shudder went down his spine at the thought of the gruesome sights he had to take in just half a day ago.

Now he was about to play tooth fairy and place the little parcel on the bedside table.

It may seem a bit childish but he enjoyed the easygoing bond he had with his son, many of his "colleagues" had incredibly distant relations with their family that he sometimes wondered why they even bothered building one in the first place. They let the wife handle the kid until it got old enough to be cartered of to boarding school and only started caring when they would be useful to be trained as their successor. There was so much more to having a child, than just some one to succeed.

As Gérard arrived at his son's room he noticed that the door was ajar, and as he knew Richard values his privacy and he would normally not intrude like today, but he wanted to surprise his son in some way, so he pushed the door slightly open with his free hand and preened in trying to be as quiet as he could not to wake his him.

His eyes scanning the room Gérard noticed the bed was untouched so Richard was probably in his study though that thought worried Gérard.
He knew sleepless nights never meant well for his son's mental as in those he felt his condition the worst, their close bond made Richard open up alot to him but Gérard was heartbroken when he told him of his fears and the sometimes overtly strong cynicism Richard showed, especially for his age.

Gérard's eyes moved towards the door leading in the small study, this one as well ajar and a small shimmer illuminating the gap.

Pushing the door open this time less focused on being silent, so as to not shock his son with him sneaking up on him, Gérard was met with a vacant room.

'Just where are you?'
As he was starting to worry, a bright flash, followed by an explosion that sounded like a thunderclap, from the large window shocked Gérard to the core.

At this moment his mind went into overdrive, he knew his son would often walk on the grounds to clear his mind when he was stressed out, mulling over ideas or just wanted to be alone for some time, as the servants could get a bit overbearing.
Just where the explosion came from.
Setting down his water on the large study table, he ran out of the room the shortest way to the grounds.
After what he just had seen a mere few hours ago he couldn't not think of his son's body torn to shreds, limb from limb, strewn over half the grounds.


Flames seared his back as a young child ran through the streets of his town, in his fear and disorientation not noticing that it was his burning shirt melting the skin on his back, the sheer amount of pain almost clouding his mind forcing him to stumble further.

The screeching of dropping bombs inducing a panic in his very core as the first explosions ripped buildings and streets apart, flinging debris in the air, raining death on the fleeing masses in the streets that escaped the initial blast, just to be crushed under their neighbours house, prolonging their suffering on the way to demise.

Glass shards ripped through the boy's chest as the grocery store on his right got blown to bits sending the glass windows into his direction as shrapnell, making him dumble once more as he heard the screeching closing in.

Sergyi shot upright in his bed, as he heard an explosion rock his room from the outside.
His nightmare and reality overlapping almost sent him in a panic, only his training and routine enabling him to force his body to jump in his trousers near the bed as he ran out the room towards the direction he heard the blast from.


Shoving open the door towards the garden Gérard fell into a jog down the gravel path, frantically looking around for any signs of the explosion only to be greeted by an eerily still surrounding.

As he approached the crest of the pathway that brought him to the bench overlooking the orchards he found the destruction of the explosion.

Just beneath the path where the hill sloped downwards a big chunk was blasted out of the hillside as if a giant had taken a golf swing carving the green with the tee.

Noticing the direction of the explosion impact, similar to mortar shells, Gérard looked down the hill towards the orchards trying to find what exactly exploded and if his son was harmed or not.

The darkness of the night made it hard for him to see far but he was able to make out a slight shimmer between the trees, prompting him to fall into a sprint down the hill.

'Please Richard, don't.'
Not even wanting to imagine what happened Gérard stopped himself from thinking and sped up to reach whatever laid down there.

'Maybe, it is something totally different.'
Thought Gérard, but his silent prayer was quashed the moment he was able to see what exactly he was running at.

His son laid in a heap of broken limbs at the foot of a large cherry tree, his arms twisted in unnatural angles and visually broken in multiple places, his shirt ripped from his shoulders from the twists his arms had done to end in their current position.

Falling to one knee Gérard didn't know what to do, the curled up form of his son was a heart wrenching sight but he wasn't sure if he should move him or if he made his injuries worse.

With shaking hands he moved towards his neck to check for a pulse.

Seconds stretched like years until he finally noticed a small quiver under his evidently shaking finger relieving him the slightest bit possible.

Checking his body over once more he noticed that only the ankles seemed to be broken and as Richard was already curled up, he slid one arm under his back and legs, lifting him up slowly as to not move his body to much staggering up the hill tears running down his cheeks he hadn't noticed before.

His wife and Gérard were married in a hurry, not from love, but out of political motives as well as necessity when war was waged across Europe and Sofias health was starting to fail.

Only after her death he realised that he started caring more for her and for the potential family they would have than he expected, the prospect of a family giving him a direction and a drive, something he never had.

But just a week after their son was born Sofia succumbed to her illness, the same Richard was plagued by since five years ago.

He couldn't lose his son as well, not already.

Gérard was not a strong man in any capability he worked behind a desk and had a wiry build, but as his son was also not the most active child and had no big appetite since his body often punished him if he indulged, he was light enough for him to carry but Gérard wasn't fast and if the dark liquid running down his arm and dripping from his elbow was any sign, it was his time running out and fast.

"Herr von Erlach!"

Sergyi was running towards him with large strides, his eyes wide open, he looked shaken and his face only fell when he saw what Gérard was carrying.

"Was ist-"

-What has"
"Nicht jetzt! Er blutet aus er muss-"

-Not now he is bleeding out he has to-

Before Gérard could finish, three audible cracks behind him made him swivel around.

Around the big hole ripped in the hillside stood three robed figures turning equally towards him and Sergyi.

"Čort zabaraj"

A curse left Sergyi's lips.

The three figures walked towards them, the strangeness of the situation nagging at Gérard, but his dying son in his hands shocked him from his stupor, as he turned back to Sergyi.

"Wir müssen rein! Er braucht einen Arzt!"

-"We need to get him inside—he needs a Doctor!"-
Gérard screamed, but Sergyi's eyes remained locked on the three approaching figures, only focusing back on him a few seconds later.

"Stop right where you are!"
The deep voice of a man boomed behind Gérard as he tried to move towards the estate.

"My son is dying—this is not the moment!"
Gérard shouted back, not even turning around, as he rushed towards the house as fast as he could.

"Can you help him?"
Sergyi's question went unheard; Gérard's focus was solely on getting his son inside for treatment.

"For that, he has to stop!"
Another, younger voice called out from near the robed figure, raising a wooden stick at Gérard. A white flash shot from it, but before it reached the moving man, Sergyi stepped in its path. With a flick of his wrist, a similar wooden stick slid into his hand, and in one smooth motion, he batted the projectile away with perfect precision.

"Rest your wand against my lord!"
The earlier surprise had left Sergyi's face, replaced by an angry scowl.
"To jinx a Muggle in the back—"

Before Sergyi could continue, the robed figure with the deep voice flicked his wand faster than Sergyi could see. Both Sergyi's wand and the younger figure's wand were ripped from their hands, and a slight shimmer hit Gérard, freezing him in his steps.

"Tell me what has happened. This doesn't have to escalate. But you've just lost your position for such an action."
the deep voice declared calmly toward Sergyi, before admonishing the younger person beside him.

Sergyi's hand instinctively moved towards his chest, where his gun would have been, but he didn't have it with him. He froze, realizing he couldn't defend his liege in this situation. He had failed him so quickly. But perhaps he could use this situation, he thought, looking up at the figures.

"We—I don't know. I was asleep when I heard an explosion and came upon Master Gérard carrying his son. He is severely injured, so we need to get him medical aid—and fast. Could you send for healers? You've already shown yourselves here, so please, help save him, and I'm sure the father would let you examine whatever happened here."

The lead figure slightly lowered his wand, seemingly contemplating what Sergyi had said, before moving closer.
"Let me have a look,"
he said as he walked past Sergyi towards the still-frozen Gérard. With two small gestures of his wand, a small stone platform rose before him as he levitated Richard out of his father's grasp, setting him down on the slab.
Just mere inches from the surface, the levitation fizzled, and Richard sagged down, nearly crashing onto the stone. Startled, the figure took a few long strides to close the remaining distance to the platform, holding his hand over Richard's body now resting on the stone.
"By Merlin..."
Before Sergyi could ask what he had found, the figure pulled out a small flask from his robes, setting it to Richard's lips, making him drink the potion. Without turning around, he yelled,
"Angeliné, move down the hill at least a hundred meters and then get some healers here. We have a volatile magic anomaly, and it's pretty unstable."

The shortest figure affirmed with a feminine voice before turning around and jogging down the hill. A crack was heard, and she disappeared into the darkness.

"Please don't act rashly. I will undo the binding on you and explain everything." As he couldn't get any confirmation, the man leveled his wand at Gérard, who suddenly halted his unsteady step. "Your son seems to be a wizard. How did he have a core collapse at his age? How old is he, anyway?" Gérard couldn't even ask what was going on as the figure in front of him started half-explaining and questioning at the same time.

"A wizard? I—I didn't know until now." Somewhat overwhelmed, Gérard had to find his mental footing and sort out what had just happened around him. People teleporting and levitating were not things he had ever seen.

"So you were not aware of his abilities? And how old is he? He looks like he should've had at least one year of education." The figure turned around while speaking and started attending to Richard, straightening his arms, which popped back together with a hard-to-stomach crunch.

"He just turned fifteen. What are you doing!" Gérard questioned when the crunch sounded.

"I fed him a potion that will strongly increase his regeneration and force his body to correct any defects. If he wasn't at death's door, he should've been in peak physical condition after about an hour. It was a special issue from the bureau. I don't know if any other healing potion could save him long enough for the healers to arrive. Where are they, anyway?" The figure rambled on a bit before finishing his work on Richard and turning back to Gérard.

Sergyi moved closer and caught Gérard's attention, whose gaze dropped to the wand clasped in his hand. "So you are one of them?"

A sad look crept onto his face as Sergyi nodded.
"I didn't hide it by choice. We are forbidden from notifying bezdarnyy, muggle, non-wizards of our abilities and, by extension, our existence."
He bowed toward Gérard.
"I am sorry."

As Gérard was about to answer, a series of cracks where the feminine figure had disappeared grabbed his attention. Even if everything that was going on was abnormal, he could understand the word 'Healer.' If his son was to be saved, who better to ask than a wizard? He saw the wounds Richard had sustained and knew that no one else could have saved him, even if he had been in denial when trying to get him inside and find help. He couldn't accept his son's death.

"I am sure you were briefed, but just as a warning, he is an unstable anomaly at the moment, so no spells—just potions. I will try to contact the Unspeakables to get this handled." The figure turned to Gérard.
"Please show them a place where they can rest your son. I will come back shortly to further investigate and get specialists on this."
With those words, he headed down the hill, but Gérard's voice stopped him.

"It may be a bit late, but what is your name? You saved my son from certain death, and I want to thank you, sir."

"Adrian Morrel," came the short reply.

"Thank you, Mr. Morrel. My name is Gérard von Erlach. I thank you and offer you every support I can in clearing this up." Gérard bowed to the man now known as Adrian and expressed his sincere thanks.

"Well, I won't say no to that. Till then, Meron with me." Adrian said to the third figure, who shot the first spell towards Gérard, hauling him down the hill before they disappeared with two cracks.

"If you would follow me, I will show you a suitable room." Gérard turned to the assembled healers and led them towards the estate. "We will talk later. Richard is a more pressing matter at the moment." He said to Sergyi as he grabbed his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Yes." Sergyi acknowledged, his gaze focusing, following the rest towards the estate.