~Chapter Sixteen ~ Dead End

                                    

                                          
Gellert had moments to gather himself enough to throw a disillusionment charm on the carriage. Unsure where he was and if the local populace were magical or not. It was only after they merged into a steady flow of traffic that he realised his error, they knew where he was now. 
                          
"Get us out of here, Cara, we need somewhere more... rural, out of the way. I need to think." 
                          
The mare threw her weight into the harness and cantered down a side street. The town zoomed past, in a blur of colour that petered out to the soft green of the countryside.  Her sides darkened from the effort.
                          
"A rest for us both I think, my friend." Gellert stepped down from the carriage and walked her over to a patch of grass at the side of the road. He slipped the harness from her back, releasing her to stretch her weary muscles. "Go and find some food and rest up, I'll call when I need you." 
                          
He laughed at her tired snort, but he had more pressing matters on his mind. The trace, a curse bestowed on all young witches and wizards was not due to be released for another year. Magic was not something he could continue to use without consequence. Everything that he might need to magically conceal with his wand needed to go.
                          
He pulled his bag from the carriage, anything he needed from this point would have to fit in that small leather satchel. The extension charm he had added for school was not his best work, it was considerably smaller than he could have gone, but it was all he had. He flipped open his trunk and started stuffing the chosen contents into his bag. The bag didn't sit right on his shoulder and the added weight made him lopsided as he walked but it was easier and more inconspicuous than dragging around his trunk. 
                          
He journeyed for days, travelling mostly on his own steam by foot or 'borrowed' brooms he found in the small knots of houses he passed. He had stopped a few times to look in parish registries for any hint of the doctor but often left with more questions than answers. His body ached from sleeping rough and his stomach rumbled constantly. He was about to give up hope when he entered the last church of Kopparberg.
                          
The elderly priest set down a goblet of mead beside Gellert as he carefully flicked back the pages of the book. He didn't take his eyes off the boy, something about him had piqued his interest. "Have you travelled far? I can't place your accent."
                          
"You could say that," Gellert didn't take his eyes off the page, he was getting close to the dates that might hold the key to his quest.
                          
"And what could that book hold that has your heart beating so fast?" 
                          
"Answers."
                          
The priest was about to ask, but then answered his own question. "A genealogical quest?"
                          
"Yes."
                          
With an arthritic crack of the man's knees, he stood up and left the boy to his quest. "I'm going to get us both something to eat, you could be here a while, and I want to see you fuelled up for whatever journey lies ahead."
                          
Gellert didn't hear him, or the loud rumble of his stomach. His eyes had found their mark he was here. The doctor had been in Kopparberg. He had stayed long enough to call for his wife and have twins. Gellert's heart hammered faster and louder than it had done in what felt like months. Now he had hope.
                          
"Now I warn you I am no great cook, but it is warm and it should fill a belly that I am sure is currently empty." The priest set down the bowl before Gellert.
                          
Gellert looked at it as though it was an alien concept. He had no need for food, he needed to find the doctor. "Where is Franz the doctor?"
                          
"Ah," The priest sat down, laying his own bowl to rest. "I cannot help you there, he came to this place in search of peace, he confessed his sins."