When Professor Snape warned him that using a Time Turner could have unforeseen consequences, Theo didn’t think physical dismemberment would be on the list.
The skin around the white-hot chain puckered and blistered before he could let go, leaving links imprinted into his wrist and palm. His teeth gritted against the pain hard enough to make his jaw pop from the force. His shaking fingers slowly unfurled to release the shattered remains of the Time Turner. Each melted chunk of glass and metal hit the tiled floor with a dull ring.
At least it wasn't his wand hand.
He tried to get his bearings. He was kneeling on a floor he recognized, but knew he shouldn’t be where he was. He wasn’t at Hogwarts. He was home, at Nott Manor, at least two hundred kilometers away from the school. Only apparition could take him that far and he knew it was impossible for anyone to do so on school grounds. He’d read Hogwarts: A History, after all. Besides, if he had Apparated, then the shitehead that pushed him down the stands on the Quidditch pitch would likely have been dragged along with him.
“What shite did you pull this time, Potter?” he hisses to himself.
The equally familiar walls of the Manor blurring around the edges made him realize that he needed to stay focused through the excruciating pain in his hand. He took his wand out of his pocket, having only realized it had been jabbing into his side when the irritant was removed. He knew plenty of healing spells, but the very real threat of the Trace made him hesitate. Did he dare to cast a spell in a place he knew he should not be? No. He would suffer in silence. That, too, was familiar to him.
He’d been so overwhelmed by the burn on his hand that Theo only noticed the cuts on his temples after he stood. A trickle of blood had traced a bold crimson line down his cheek, running along his lips as he moved. He tried to focus, tried to listen for signs that his father might be home, but wasn’t sure if the quiet around him could be trusted.
The mirror that was usually propped against the wall of this side of the library had been reduced to nothing but an empty frame and garden of glass on the floor. Pieces crunch under his feet with every movement.
On his first step, he tumbled. On his second, he ended up shoulder first into a shelf, causing a figurine above his head to rattle. Swearing under his breath, cursing Potter with everything he can think of with his pain-addled thoughts, Theo fought to stand upright again. If he had to face his father in his current state, he would do it with dignity on his own two feet. Father would know what to do, who to send a letter to. Maybe this stunt would finally get Potter expelled. Merlin knows that pompous arsehole had done enough in the last five years to warrant more punishment than he’d gotten.