SPLAT!

[Idris Oakby]

Exercise, Idris thought, could not possibly be ladylike. At the very least, exercise outdoors in late November could not be. It was only a walk, but it was quite cold, and left Idris looking quite red in the cheeks by the time they would return home. It would pass, but it seemed unnecessary in the extreme.

Her protests fell on deaf ears, unfortunately, which was why Idris was presently trailing behind her governess, thinking it was too cold for civilized people to be outside. They were turning to cross the street when it all happened. Idris would have said something, but she'd assumed her governess was paying proper attention--she was meant to be looking out for the girl's well-being after all--but this seemed to not be the case as the older woman chose the precise moment a carriage was speeding past them to step out into the road. There was not even time for Idris' shriek of warning, which seemed to come a few seconds too late.

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   Ophelia Dippet

[Shaymon Ross]

Shaymon was on a mission to buy new shoes. After a nasty run in on the job the other night, he had a very large hole through his. His foot had also had a rather large hole in it, until he'd made it to St.Mungo's and gotten himself patched up. His shoes could have been patched up as well, but he'd decided that it was a good excuse to purchase new ones as his were on their last legs (ha!) anyway.

He was walking behind a young girl and a woman he assumed was either a relative or a governess. He was just wondering why the girl wasn't in school -- maybe a squib -- when incident occurred. He'd noticed the woman step into the street just as he was suddenly aware of the speeding carriage.
He was only able to reach out and grab the girl, standing closer to him, from making the same mistake as the woman, though the action had been useless as it was all over very quickly. His arm still gripping the young girl he dropped his shoes on the ground and bent down next to her. "Are you alright?" He asked, rushed, before standing straight and looking around for anyone that could help, and looking to see if the carriage had bothered to stop once the harm had been done.

  

[Idris Oakby]

Idris nearly jumped out of her skin as someone grabbed her--she'd been momentarily too focused on the scene to remember that there were other people about. She cried out before realizing what was happening.

She turned to the man--mostly to avoid looking in the street at her poor governess, She couldn't look, so instead she stared up at the man who'd come upon them. Idris nodded jerkily at his question. "Yes. But, is she..." She motioned weakly behind her, not able to articulate what she wanted to ask.

  

[Magnus Lockhart]

As a former beater, Lock's first instinct in any dire, dangerous, or fast-paced situation was to react physically, not magically. This made him, at best, a mediocre referee, when often times the game required him to intervene magically in order to allow play to continue or, in some cases, to prevent injury to the players or fans. He was slowly getting better at that--when he'd first started he'd been absolutely abysmal as far as referee reflexes went--but he still wasn't the best at figuring out what spell he ought to use in any given situation, or how best to react.

He was walking down High Street when he spotted the impending disaster--a woman walking out right in front of a fast-moving carriage. The yell of warning getting caught in his throat, Lock reached for his wand, but could only think to cast the bubble-bounce charm. It came to mind quickly because it was a favorite on the Quidditch Pitch, used to prevent someone who had fallen from their broomstick from injuring themselves too terribly. A successful casting made the recipient bounce off the ground as many times as necessary to expel the impact of their fall, and usually only left them with one or two broken bones and a plethora of bruises, instead of leaving them dead. It was not, however, a spell designed to save a woman from a stampede of horses' hooves.

The carriage rolled by, and Lock approached the scene of the accident with a pale face, wondering if his attempt to help the poor woman mightn't have done more harm than good. She was alive, and breathing, but--she looked very poorly. She'd have to be taken to a hospital, that much was clear, and Lock had no idea, just looking at her condition, whether she would make it through under a healer's eye or not. He'd never had much of a mind for that sort of thing.

It wasn't until he was nearly at the... body... that he noticed the little girl, and the man who had apparently pulled her away from the carriage. "She's alive," he pointed out--they could probably see that, from the way her chest was heaving for breath--but he didn't feel qualified to say anything more than that. Hopefully this girl wasn't her daughter! How traumatic!

  

[Idris Oakby]

Idris chanced a peek over her shoulder at the newcomer's words, half-hopeful and half-afraid he was mistaken. Sure enough, though, the governess' chest was moving. She still looked frighteningly awful,

"What do we do?" Idris asked tremulously. She looked from one man to the other. "Can... can we get her to a healer?" Or was it better to bring a healer there? She didn't know if moving the poor woman would make things worse.

  

[Shaymon Ross]

Is she dead? He'd finished the sentence for her, keeping himself from saying it allowed, as it was certainly very possible. And the carriage had just kept going as well. He'd automatically made a mental note of the details of the carriage, hoping he could file a report, or even go looking for it again after all of this mess was sorted. The poor girl certainly seemed shaken. 

It looked like the woman was breathing, and he moved to her side, only then noticing the arrival of another man who was also at her side now. The woman should have been dead, really. It looked as if most of the bones in her body were crushed. He wondered if it wouldn't be better if she had died...she was certainly in a lot of pain.

Shay turned to the girl. "Is this your mother? Or your governess? What's her name?" He pulled out his wand, looking at the other man, whom he'd met before on a few occasions. "Lockhart is it? Do you know any healing charms?" He knew what they were taught to them in training, but he'd definitely have to get her to a professional. He knew Mr. Lockhart was a quidditch player, however, and if he didn't know any spells to help, he certainly wouldn't hold it against him.

(I'm sooooo sorry!! I lost track of some of my posts!)

  

[Magnus Lockhart]

Getting her to a healer seemed like a reasonable enough thing, though Lock was hesitant to actually touch the thing that had once been a woman in the puddle on the floor. He was probably the most logical choice to carry her, and he wasn't squeamish about blood or anything, but he sort of wanted someone else to tell him to pick her up, so that he was absolved of any responsibility of having dislodged her from the pavement. Someone who wasn't a child.

The other man, who looked vaguely but unplaceably familiar (though he seemed to recognize Lock), had an air of authority around him. Lock was sure that he was about to be told to get her to a hospital--but instead he was asked if he knew any healing magic. He immediately paled. "M-me?" he stammered, going a little tense at the very idea. He was certainly not a healer. They had mediwizards for any injuries that arose from the Quidditch Pitch, so he'd never had to deal with anyone being hurt except himself, and honestly Ruth mostly dealt with that. He'd also never been this badly hurt.

"Ah, n-no," he finally managed.

  

[Idris Oakby]

"My governess," Idris answered. She was wringing her hands now. "Miss Averill." It occurred to Idris that she couldn't remember the woman's first name. Not that she had opportunity to use it, of course, but she was suddenly struck with the thought that the poor woman might die there with no one who even knew her given name. That seemed impossibly sad.