theodore nott is healing everyone but himself (ex_masker481) wrote in uprisingrpg, @ 2011-04-01 20:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | theodore nott, tracey davis |
Who: Theo, Tracey
What: lots of lovely stuff involving Theo's dead dad.
When: Friday morning.
Where: the Nott family home in Wales, and then Theo's house in London
Warnings: death.
Status: Incomplete
It was dark, and before Theodore had even opened his eyes, his head was killing him. Very nearly like a hangover, except that he hadn't been drunk the night before. He didn't think he had, anyway. He took stock of his physical health before moving, feeling bruises on his arms and a stinging sensation on the skin of his throat. Something had definitely happened to him, but he couldn't remember what it was. He tried very hard, lying there with his eyes closed, wanting to be prepared for what he'd see before he opened them. What was the last thing he remembered?
He had closed up at the clinic, alone. After that, he remembered nothing. His mind was attempting to organize itself, to find the right information, but it wasn't there. His headache was increasing with the mental activity, too, so he stopped. There was no way to prepare himself mentally for what he might find when he opened his eyes. He just had to do it.
When he did, and his eyes adjusted somewhat to the dim light, he was surprised to see that he was at home. Not his home in London, but his childhood home in Wales. If someone had captured him, hurt him, why would he end up here, and all alone? If his father had negotiated his return for some ransom, why would he be on the floor?
His injuries were entirely superficial, aside from the distressing lack of memory, and so he got slowly to his feet to look around. It was dark, pre-sunrise dark. Theodore was surprised to find that his wand was still in his pocket; if he'd been attacked, apparently it had happened so quickly that he hadn't even managed to raise it to defend himself. He lit it, and promptly stopped breathing at what he saw.
The dead body on the floor was one of the most horrifying things that Theodore had ever seen. Not because it was dead, or even the nature of the death that could be surmised from it, but because it was his father. Enough of him remained to be sure of that. Which made it much more difficult to keep his usual calm even in the face of the most horrifying and disgusting injuries and deaths, many of which Theodore had seen in his time as a healer. Nevertheless, what was in his stomach - if there was anything, he was not aware enough of his body to know - stayed down.
He searched the house, finding no one else there, and no other clues. Theodore went back and sat beside his father's body, wishing that there was a hand or a shoulder he could touch without feeling as though it might fall apart, or crumble into ash. He knew what he had to do now, knew the protocol for reporting a dead body to be taken in for an autopsy, knew that the longer he waited the harder it might be to catch the person or people who were responsible, but he couldn't seem to make himself move.
Light was starting to come in through the windows by the time Theodore moved from the chair, going to get his father's owl and sending it off. Soon, there were people arriving, asking him questions that he couldn't answer, and eventually they were gone, his father's body gone with them. Theodore sent another note with the owl, this time to the clinic, to let Amanda know he wouldn't be in today.
After taking one last look around, as if expecting some sort of answer - or even a person - to jump out at him, he finally, finally took the Floo back to his home in London.