Lorcan had been on high alert since the quake. He’d been lucky enough to get out of the house before anything broke or collapsed on him. But, when everyone was running about, pulling out their wands and helping others, Lorcan found himself being useless. He had his excuses of course, like telling Nathan he didn’t have a wand (which was not technically a lie), but Lysander and Albus were right. It was going to come out eventually, and it was better if he’d told him in person.
Of course, Lorcan was perched on the grass, trying to figure out the best way to casually drop such news into conversation when he heard his name being called. It was still vaguely trippy to hear his fathers voice, and looking up to see a man who was so clearly the same person, but younger. Still, it brought a genuine smile to his face—no matter how old Lorcan got, his parents would always be a reassuring sight.
“Hey dad.” He said, pushing himself off the ground and moving towards him. When he got closer, he reached out and hugged his father, being mindful of the small badger in his arms. “You okay? No injuries or nothing?” Lorcan himself had gotten a few bumps and bruises, maybe a scrape or two, but nothing serious, not when you considered that there were others still trapped in buildings.