Tom knows darkness. Part of him is darkness. He is not as prepared as he'd hoped to be. The cold wraps around him and bores into his skin. It takes nearly all his strength to remain standing, although his legs are shaking.

He reaches for Wellard, his hand finding the younger man's shoulder. Bowing his head, he staggers closer to him, his wand before him.

He should try to cast a Patronus. He should at least try to light the tip of the wand with a Lumos spell. He can do nothing, though, at the moment aside from attempting to remain upright.