Scamander Child | Harry Potter x Male!Oc | HP Fanfic | Male!Oc insert | BxB

Date

Tristan dropped to the floor with a thud. He'd seen what he saw. He saw Barty Crouch, looking someone dead in the eye and saying, “You're not my son.” He saw the walls of Azkaban, the Dementors, Lucius Malfoy and-

Shockwave thought his veins.

Moody had let go off his hand and he fell to the floor. His head pounding and dizzy. He was rendered deaf with the blood pumping into his ears and he barely registered the worried face of his boyfriend. Harry was knelt beside him, trying to understand what just transpired.

“Tris? Are you alright?”

Tristan mumbled something, trying to raise himself on his elbows and failing.

“Are you hurt?” Harry asked again, but no response came. Tristan held his own head, face scrunched up in pain.

Moody stated at the two of them for a long moment before speaking, he looked conflicted.

“Potter, help me get him to the hospital wing.”

Harry nodded, carefully wrapping an arm around Tristan, who was still holding his own head. His eyes were tightly shut. Moody grabbed his other arm pulled him up on his feet. Moody's grip on his upper arms was tight and harsh but Tristan could barely register it.

Somehow moody and Harry managed to get him to the hospital wing. Madam Pompfrey had the expression of understanding mixed with exhaustion. She had, along with several others, had asked Tristan to take his potions but he'd refused. He'd have an easier time with Snape's potions.

She placed a damp cloth on his forehead to ease the heat. And moved the side table to write a small note. She owled it out of the window and came back to the bedside.

“Is he okay?” Harry asked, looking up from his boyfriend's frail form.

“He will be after some rest. Don't worry Mr. Potter.” the nurse smiled then sighed and added, looking back at Tristan “although, he should be taking it easy.

Harry stayed by Tristan's side. The Scamander boy's eyes fluttered open. He tried to rise in his elbows.

“No, no, no. Take it easy. You need to lie down.” Harry moved closer, sitting in the edge of the bed.

“Where's professor Moody?” Tristan. Asked, ignoring Harry's request to lie down and sitting up.

“He left after getting you here. Why?” Harry asked., trying to read Tristan's face.

Tristan hesitated. What would he even tell Harry? He barely understood it himself. Why would Mad-eye Moody of all people have memories of Barty Crouch?

“Nothing. Just...when he caught my arm... I saw something.”
Tristan took a deep breath.

“Never mind. It's probably nothing, just my mind playing tricks on me.” He added with a tight smile.

Harry returned the smile but the worry lingered in his eyes. If Tristan didn't want to tell him something there was no way he was getting it out of him.

“You should lie down.” Harry suggested, as he placed a hand behind Tristan's head to help him lie down.

Tristan settled back on bed, mind racing with questions and no answer to even one of them. His only anchor being Harry's fingers delicately threading through his hair. He let himself be comforted but made a promise to himself that when he got back on his feet, he was going to get answers. All of them.

........

Memories can either be from the near past or further. Whichever memory the person holds the dearest can appear at your touch or the one that haunts them the most. Neither the legere nor the person can choose these memories.