#magic abilities

Tyler could do nothing but watch the scene in front of him, terrified to make a sound. If they heard him, it was over. They’d kill him on the spot. He couldn’t let that happen.

His father was hanging in midair, nothing holding him up but cruel, agonizing dark magic. Race could see the way the man’s muscles were tense in pain as he twitched and gasped for air that would hardly reach his lungs, only barely keeping him alive. The young man’s back was arched. His arms were stiff a few inches away from his sides as he was dangled above the table the Death Eaters all sat casually around, like they were putting him on display. All the boy’s father could do was lay there, his head nearly hanging upside down as the magic of fifteen wizards trapped him and slowly tortured him. Tyler couldn’t help but let his heart sink. His father was in pain and there was nothing he could do to make it stop.

It wasn’t until he swore those panicked green eyes locked in on him that he heard a strangled cry. The boy quickly pressed his back into the post he hid behind as the quiet murmurs ceased. “Wiesel, did I not ask you to keep our guest quiet?!” Tyler squeezed his eyes shut tight, hearing a spell being muttered. The small whimpers that he could only assume were coming from his poor dad were slowly silenced.

“Sorry, my Lord...” someone apologized.

Tyler felt sick.

He peaked his eyes open to glance over at the corner where he saw his friends hiding out, waiting for him. He shook his head, feeling more helpless than he’d ever been in his life.

“Welcome, my children,” a smooth, stone cold voice announced. A chill went down Race’s spine. “I expect you are all curious as to who our guest of honor is this evening...” The boy listened carefully, watching as Spot and Albert both readied their wands. Race slid his own into his hand, not knowing what was to come. “James Francis Kelly, Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at my own Alma Mater, Hogwarts.” The old man sounded impressed and Tyler couldn’t help but sneak another glance. “The youngest person to ever teach such a complicated subject at that school.”

The young man’s mouth hung open wide again as he desperately gasped for air. He’d no doubt been up there for far too long. His face was flushed as he hung. Tyler bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from crying out for the man who’d always protected him.

“Mr. Kelly, here, is a muggle born wizard. He advocates for the right to allow wizards and witches to fraternize and mate with creatures who are below us!” Race’s hand began to shake with his wand. He tried to think of a spell, anything he could do to get his father out of that place. But the dark lord was not done speaking. “He has even gone so far as to exercise this right himself.” Tyler’s breath caught in his throat. He once again hid himself behind that large pillar, praying he wasn’t giving himself away. “Once we find the boy, we will show this young teacher his mistake. I believe Mr. Delancey has had the pleasure of making this half-blood’s acquaintance.”

Cold hard betrayal settled in Race’s chest. He and Oscar had never once had a common thought to share but that didn’t mean anything. Just because they didn’t get along didn’t mean Tyler expected the other boy to be okay with this. His father, Jack Kelly, he was a teacher. He was Oscar’s teacher. He was a good man who only wanted the best for his students.

And this is where it got him.

“Y-yes, sir... I know him...” That was Oscar’s voice. He sounded terrified. Still, he did nothing.

Race looked back down to his friends. Spot was moving towards him, every step calculated and quiet. He didn’t make a sound. Not until he reached the younger boy. “We have to get you out of here—“ Race just shook his head, tears falling down his cheeks at the thought of leaving his father like he was. Spot placed a steady hand on his arm and nodded. “If they find you, they will kill you right in front of your dad,” he whispered as Race tried to calm himself down. “They will torture you and then murder you right in front of him. We have ta go. Now.”

Still, Tyler hesitated. Everyone knew what the dark lord wanted. He wanted to purify the wizard world. He believed that pure bloods were the only true wizards and those who didn’t fit that criteria should be disposed of in order to cleanse their once sacred world. Trouble is, only very few witches and wizards these days were pure bloods. In fact, the dark lord himself had muggle blood running through his veins. But these people didn’t seem to care. They still hung on his every word, fetching him muggle borns and making a grand show out of torturing and killing them.

His father was next.

As he peaked around the corner again, he saw that the dark lord was still talking, but many of his followers had stopped listening and were instead throwing food and drinks and insults at the paralyzed man floating above their dinner table.

“Scumsucker!”

“Blood-traitor!”

“Filthy mudblood!”

They were laughing. It was vividly clear that the young man was in pain, hardly able to take a breath, now horrified at the thought of his only child being brought here to join him and they were laughing at him.

“I can’t leave him here,” the child argued, grasping his wand even tighter in his hand. “Spot... I can’t leave him—“

“You are the only thing keepin’ him alive, Racer!” the older boy hissed, grabbing his arm. “We have ta go. You have ta go!”

Before he could protest again, Albert was at his side too, grabbing his other arm and guiding him away, gently pulling his wand from his grasp.

The derogatory terms sunk into Race’s skin like fire. They burned and stung and he didn’t know why. They were just words. None of it should hurt him this bad.

He could remember stories his father had told him about his time as a student at Hogwarts, how other kids had been rude and mean to him because of where he came from. They’d called him “Mudblood.” They’d written the word everywhere they knew he would see it. Someone from his own house even carved it into his wooden bed frame. He remembered his father telling him how much the word hurt even though he knew he was on his way to becoming a very powerful wizard.

The young man had been trying to explain to him that some people would always see him as a half blood, just as many of his own students still saw his father as a mudblood. That didn’t mean that they were less than or worthless. It just meant that they came from different places.

It didn’t make the words hurt any less.

“I can’t leave him!” Race hissed again, trying to get back to his dad. He needed to get back to him. But Spot and Albert did not let go of him. And before he could struggle from their grip, he was back outside.