Leading Another One to Salvation PV Elijah Cl.

Wasn't every child lectured on the perils of stranger danger? It was a term that most children grew up hearing, and Elijah was no exception. He got chills around the strange girl, the second year with the weird hair and the weirder attitude. Shivering slightly, although he wasn't sure if it was from the sudden dip in temperature or from the girl he was following blindly, he glanced around the part of the castle they were heading to, becoming more and more bemused by the second. They were... was that the Slytherin dorms? What were they doing in the dungeons? The drastic change in scenery from the Blossom Ball outside just minutes earlier was more than befuddling, and Elijah struggled to wrap his head around it all. He remained silent for the duration of their trek back into the castle, wondering just how big of a mistake he had made, and if this would end with his funeral. He certainly hoped not.

Another shiver was sent down his spine as they passed by the common room- apparently, he would not get to bed at a respectable time tonight. The last time that had happened, he had stayed up late with the only girl he had ever truly, wholly respected at this school. He didn't respect Erin, not at all- he was terrified of her. She was an uncontainable whirlwind of power, destruction, and pure malice, he was sure. She didn't care about anyone but herself, really, even if she said otherwise. Her voice piercing through the air shook him out of his stupor, however, and Elijah shuddered once more, glancing at the now unfamiliar walls surrounding him. Slowly, his hand crept to his back pocket, double-checking to make sure that his wand was still there. He had a bad feeling that he would have to use it tonight...

Neither of them was dressed for this. Elijah was in his uniform, better seen sitting at a desk studying, and Erin was still wearing her gothic dress, better seen at a nightclub for vampires. All of his confidence and swagger that had been draped around his shoulders like Roosevelt's cloak had been swept away, revealing his own wheelchair and withered legs underneath. He was twitchy now, his eyes darting everywhere at once as he desperately tried to fill in the gaps in his knowledge by using his senses. He nearly jumped as Erin kept talking, forcing his racing heart to just calm down so he could get out of this alive. 

She spoke of cunning, of charm, of charisma. Of what the Slytherin house was supposed to be- of who he was supposed to be. With a deep breath, the cloak was draped around his shoulders once more, and Elijah straightened up again, his hesitant steps strengthening into confident strides, right on the edge of a saunter. "I should hope so," he muttered under his breath in response, shaking his head slightly as he pushed his sleeves further up his arms. It was comical, actually, to see the first year trying so very hard to measure up to the second year beside him. He was swimming in the deep end when he had barely stuck his toe in the kiddy pool... not that he knew that.

So they were to see someone, to meet someone. A creature, it had to be a creature. He hadn't taken Care of Magical Creatures yet, he hadn't had time to do the proper amount of research and preparation for an endeavor such as this one- but still, he pushed onwards, only hesitating as the torches started to go out. He grumbled something obscene under his breath as Erin grabbed his wrist, dragging him along behind her. Shaking his hand free from his grip, he jogged a little to catch up with her, eventually walking side by side with devil's deviant, his hand going to his wand in his back pocket. "I can't see a thing," he admitted, the strength and volume of his voice surprising him. Squinting in the darkness ahead of them, he sighed, knowing that his efforts would be fruitless without the assistance of light. "Could we...?" He took out his wand, making a vague and noncommittal motion. "At least allow me some light to see my doom that I'm walking towards, will you?"

What an overdramatic child. Shakespeare would've been proud.

Elijah was not what Erin had expected. She prided herself on her ability to read people, to know what was coming not by some divine skill but rather her ability to inquire. She had thought she had found a like creature when she offered what she saw as an opportunity to bring a peer into the fold. On the dance floor she saw an indifferent, curious creature that she had presumed coveted power as his green vestments would have suggested. He casually let that fire burn, he disregarded the needs of those there. She took that not as laziness or cruelty but rather a symptom of mental acquisitiveness. 

She did not see that here. He acquiesced her invitation to amble these passageways, she thought that the uncanny nature of the novel setting beyond the well trod passageways of this Scottish castle would have engaged him but it didn't. She was not even capable of feeling the disappointment that she knew she should experience. She could only feel his fear. It vibrated off of him, this nervous energy that rattled from the bones outward. He did not understand her. He did not know her. He knew of her. She was an infamous figment in the Slytherin House despite her jejunity. Often battered and bruised, with bloodied knuckles or a torn dress. She rarely drew her wand yet she had gained the ire of many during this first and second year. She could handle herself, that much was for certain and she seemed to have a complete and utter lack of fear. Of course that was not true, she was always afraid. It was what compelled her. What pushed her. She did not feel it like Elijah did and she did not fear for her mortality or her pain, not even her nature. She understood these things. No, she feared what she did not understand, what she did not control and what she could lose and there was not much that she had. 

Elijah saw her as selfish. In a way she was. She was not concerned about feelings or someone's reputation. In fact she was a bully, sometimes filling her otherwise unused time overpowering those weaker than her. But there were exceptions. Moments that seemed to contradict a simply reckless and cruel child, however they were often shrouded by the chaos of her presence.

Elijah was absolutely armed. Erin was not. She did not see the need, she was confident that she was stronger than whatever magic the first year could muster. It was a foolhardy confidence that came about because she did not fear things the same way as Elijah had. There was no hesitation. There were no second guesses. She was driven by pure instinct like an animal that could assess a situation with the keen insight of a human.

Elijah was certainly going to need his wand tonight.

She was not going to say anything of her disillusionment, of the lie he had perpetuated. It was like thinking you were dating a ten only to find out you were drunk, terribly near-sighted and that girl was just a shaved monkey wearing a blonde wig. She rather prattled on about her fondness for her fellow Slytherins and passive-aggressively mentioned her hope that he might be different. What she wanted him to be. What she had hoped he would be. What she was going to make him become. Erin was a craftswoman of sorts, she had released Howard's passion and made him into something worth her time. She was about to groom LeStrange into the creature she wanted, she saw his passive complaint lies for what they were. She knew he was trying to get into her good graces for a purpose she had yet to conceive and she did not care, she was in control of his lie. They might have seen her as the monster, and they were right, but from her vantage point she was their hero. A little bit of blood, mud and tears would be worth it in the end.

The quivering abated, at least to some extent. A swelling of confidence. She reached for his wrist, not that she was looking to hold hands with a 'cute boy', she just wanted to lead him further into the darkness. He shook her off. "I wasn't --" she let out a sigh, it was not worth debating. Fine, stay in the dark... 

"I can't see a thing." 

"I can't either, but I know the way," she reassured him. Not that she had the means to hearten the Slytherin. He did not trust her. He did not even like her. 

"Could we...?" 

His voice trailed off. In the dark she could not see the motion he made. 

"At least allow me some light to see my doom that I'm walking towards, will you?"

"This is not a kidnapping," Erin frowned. In the darkness she would shrug and make a loose gesture with her right hand. "Go ahead if it inspirits your resolve Elijah, but you might not like what you see," she warned.

Little did Elijah realize that they were not alone. That there were eyes on them. Not hag eyes, but rather smaller eyes. So many of them. If Elijah lit the tip of his wand with the Lumos spell he would see them. There were dozens of them, no hundreds. Many no larger than a thimble but some closer to the size of dinner plates. They wandered along the walls, scurried out of the way from underfoot. Some would stare at Elijah when the light bathed them in its warm glow and they would raise their front legs and bare their fangs. A stance of threat, yes some of these spiders were venomous. Silky white webs lines the point where the wall met the ceiling and the floor met the wall. Lengths of iron chain nailed into the wall, filled with webs. 

Those webs were no threat to them were they? Well, maybe not these webs -- the spiders were too small to make a meal out of them. The rats, on the other hand, it was a different story. Some of the webs did in fact wiggle, violently shake. Rats encased in knots of silky thread. "They bite," she would warn if he saw them. 

She would round a corner, the click of her heels against the cold stone floor would echo. "Almost there," she promised. "They wanted me to bring a confident boy. They will know that I lied," so she would not. "But I think they will like you. See what I see. Not what you are, or what we hoped you would be, but rather what you could be." Yes, Erin was their errand girl it would seem but she seemed to take pleasure, if not pride in what she did. 

The temperature would drop noticeably as they made their way down this hall. Erin's breath would come out in breaths of smoke. This was different. Wrong even. She crossed her arms and her palms would meet her chilled arms. They felt of goose-flesh. She let out a shiver and a 'burr.' "Weird," she admitted befuddled by the change. It was always hot, not cold. "Hello? Old women!" Erin shouted, nescient of the encroaching threat. "I brought a new --" her call was cut short as she heard something from behind. 

She would wheel around, behind Elijah a strange scene would meet them. A withered woman, she stood even shorter than Elijah. Her hair, a tangled mess of white with wild wisps of unruly hair that refused to be famed. Her inky black eyes were deeply set into her head, seemingly a bit too small. A long hook nose and an open sore on her forehead. Her dry, chapped lips would peel back revealing a set of uneven, some missing, some broken, all yellow or green teeth. She wore a floral dress beneath an apron that was splotched with splashes of deep burgundy, like wine but too thick. 

"Oh my dear... dear boy..." she old woman waddled in Elijah's direction. Her eyes encases in creases and wrinkles seemed to brighten as she looked up at the boy's face. "Oh let me take a look at you..." She would reach out for the young man and attempt to clap her hands on either side of his face, squishing the face between her calloused hands. Her nails long and unkempt, if successful he would feel them brush against him as well. "So handsome..." Something would shift, a satchel she carried. If she had hold of his face she would relinquish her hold as she reached for the flap of her bag. "I have just the thing for you my darling boy, just the thing," she declared as she dug about her bag and retrieved a confectionary? It resembled a tart, perhaps raspberry? She would display it before Elijah as an offering. "Sweets for my sweet... take-take-take..."

Elijah scoffed quietly at Erin's words, feeling quite sure that he would never see the light of day again down here. This attitude was real... or, at least, he thought it was. At this point, he really didn't know what was real and what wasn't, anymore. He had so many different faces, different sides to him, that it became hard to discern what was genuine and what was an act. Was everything an act? He wasn't going to act. He was going to say and do what instantly came to mind, he would be true for once in his life. After all, he felt that there was a very real chance that he would never get a chance to be himself if this all went sideways...

Erin wasn't a liar. He could feel it from his very core, this was a girl who did not lie to get her way. Rather, her raison d'être seemed to be some sort of personal mission that she was on a quest to complete. Whether or not it was serving someone else, or a moral high ground she thought she was standing on, or some sort of god complex she was basking in, she did everything with purpose. He recognized that now, the way she had acted on the dance floor- her words, they reflected a driving force behind it. She had sought out someone to take victim, to lead down to the dungeons; Elijah had simply been too stupid, too slow to see that before now. He cursed his own insipience in not realizing why she let him steal her away for a brief dance, why she entertained his words full of hot air.

Of course, right now, everything was merely speculation. He could do nothing but speculate at this moment, because to his dismay, his fate was in Erin's hands. Or, he was just being overdramatic again.

With a swish and flick of his wand, Elijah uttered with quiet confidence, "Lumos," the tip of his wand lighting aglow. With a deeply annoyed scowl, he realized that she was right when she had said that he would not like what he saw. Eyes, so many of them peering down at the pair, making his skin crawl with discomfort. He was not too proud to gasp, to scream, and it was with a small yelp that he stopped in his tracks, staring at the eyes surrounding them with a shaky breath. He wasn't afraid of spiders, but he certainly didn't want to be surrounded by them. Wriggling, writhing webs... something was trapped in there, and he certainly didn't want to let them out. He shuddered at Erin's warning, hurrying after her, although he would not take her hand like some scared five-year-old. He would cling to whatever scraps of dignity he had left with obstinate resolve, even if it cost him his life.

It was with a sinking heart that Elijah listened to her words, guilt and shame washing over his body as he realized just how much of a fake he was. He wanted so desperately to be the blasé and unflappable persona he wore around his fellow students, but he wasn't that person. How did someone find who they truly were? It was a question that Elijah couldn't help but be baffled by, but... for a moment, he allowed himself to fantasize the possibilities of this adventure. What if they, whomever Erin was taking him to, could change him? For the better? Would he be able to become the James Dean of his wildest fantasies? The coolest kid on the block? If they offered him that chance, that option, he knew that deep down, he would certainly take it. He wanted so desperately to be the Prince Charming he was on the dance floor, to be someone that people truly wanted to be around- someone that Rosie would've been proud of.

Rosie. Sweet, innocent Rosie Parker... the Hufflepuff that Elijah held in the highest regard, his role model that he held closest to his heart. Did she like him for him? She had seen the quiet, shy side of him in the library... what if he had acted all high and mighty around her? Would she still have deigned to be friends with him? For a moment, a shadow of doubt was cast over his eyes, and Elijah hesitated, his steps faltering before he shogged to catch up with Erin once more. Rosie would be fine with it, he reasoned. She had always wanted him to be more confident in himself, and this was the way to do it.

He noticed the temperature drop, for sure, but it did not escape his observation that Erin felt the chill, as well. He took that as a sign that indeed, it was okay to express his emotions once more, and he pressed his lips together in distaste and the cold- as if frowning deeply enough would dispel the lowering temperature. He stared at Erin, shocked, as she so blatantly disrespected women who he assumed to be her elders. His mother would've slapped him for such blatant disregard for etiquette, but he knew it would be rude to point it out to Erin. Besides, he wouldn't have the time to complain about manners, not when he turned around with Erin to cast his wand's light upon the women before him.

What a strange sight. Elijah's eyes searched the women before him, flicking up and down as his brain kicked into action- you could practically hear the gears in his head spinning away, purring softly and preening in the familiar action of overanalyzing the sight before him. She did not seem to be human, or at least, fully human- she was too short, unless she had dwarfism. Her teeth... that was several years of disregard for her dental hygiene, eyes that were startlingly black, darker than even his own. The stains on her apron were alarming and frankly, they looked like blood. Were they blood? He really, really hoped that those weren't bloodstains. Her hair suggested an age that must have surpassed that of his grandparents, which begged the question, what on earth was she doing down here? In the dungeons of Hogwarts?

He squirmed uncomfortably, flinching at the touch of the woman- he was reminded quite bitterly of his grandmothers and aunts, rushing up and squishing his cheeks, exclaiming, "哇！你长得这么大了！这么高，这么帅。" Except, it that case, it was family- here, it was a stranger. With a sigh of relief, his eyes narrowed as the hag's hands went to the bag she carried, instantly suspicious of the language she was using. She reminded him of the witch from Hansel and Gretel, and with a sudden realization, he suddenly became all too aware of the fact that she very well could be a witch of some sorts. This was Hogwarts, after all. He stared suspiciously at the tart she offered up to him, glancing at Erin with a silent plea in his eyes- clearly, he was out of his depth, and he didn't know just what to do. Taking the tart hesitantly with his free hand, his stomach turned over as he stared at it. "Thank you," he said reflexively, although he had no idea what he was thanking her for. He wasn't going to eat it. That was stupid. Right?

"Erin," he said somewhat quietly, still staring at the Slytherin girl, "What am I doing here? And ma'am," Elijah added, referring to the hag in front of him. "I didn't quite catch your name? I am a-" He tripped over the next word, looking pale as he uttered it, "-a friend of Erin's."

You are fine. I just try to not force anyone to RP with me if I am not their cup of tea.

She would not have taken Andrew Vance down here. He would have been a momentary plaything to Erin, something to twirl around a few times, become bored of and then promptly discard. Just like everyone else in Hogwarts to date, less perhaps Paracelsus. There was no substance in the wizards here. No interest. She would have been disappointed to know that Elijah's unflappable facade was nothing more than just that -- a facade. She had for a brief moment believed that she had found a peer, not a victim or a plaything. Allies were something that was perpetually in short-supply, at least an ally she could hazard to respect. How disappointing. 

She believed that the crones would love him. Yes, there was more than one but only one was waiting here. Elijah was an ambitious, charismatic youth. He would likely lack for something, something that the Wayward Sisters could provide the Slytherin. And of course the hag did... love him that is. Well, love is a strong word. The crone really really liked him. 

Elijah asked why --

"I want you to meet my makers," Erin announced. Well, her physical maker would have been her parents but they did not -make- her, the crones did. "They can fix you," she claimed. "They can fix anything," she insisted. It was a childish notion, that someone or something had the power to make everything that ails someone go away, but she believed it.   

The crone would cackle. It was not a giggle but rather a loud, high pitched noise that started as a guffaw. "Auntie Ursula," not so bad possibly even endearing, "Middenheap." Perhaps not the surname. "My dearie. You're such a sweet-sweet thing," the crone smiled a half toothless smile with crooked, green teeth. "Such a handsome young man, but where is the fire," she complained as she danced about the boy, her joints cracking and popping as she hovered about him. "I thought you had a type," she was referencing Howard of course. Erin's personal pet project since his violent return. "But he will do. He will do quite nicely," Ursula announced. A spark of pride could be felt in the girl as the obvious malefactor extolled the child. Yes, child. In the end, Erin was as all children were -- impressionable. Impressionable and foolish.

There was a dreadful gleam in the old woman's sallow eyes as her long, thick nails would draw perilously close to the boy. "She wants to know what you want," Erin gave Elijah a hint as to what he needed to do next. "What you lack," everyone lacks something. Everyone yearns for something. Love... Power... Wealth... 

"Oh dearie, that almost sounds crass," she cocked her head to the side. Her thinning, wiry hair swayed to the side. Elijah might see an insect skitter between the strands. "But accurate," she conceded. "But tit for tat, everything has a cost. You know that," the hag announced as if she was giving a brief lecture. "What are you willing to pay?"
  
A wheeze escaped the hunched over woman's sagging breast. "I already know what you want, I can see it in your eyes." How ironic. Well, not really, it is what everyone wants in one form or another. Most are specific in their request, giving a name or a place. Their prize almost always has a face, but what men want is rarely as simple as the love of the companionship of another, the wisdom of a sage, the wealth of a king or the power of a ruler. In the end, what people want is power. Power over themselves, over the environment. over others. They want people to react in a certain way, feel a certain way. In the end, people wanted to own themselves and to mold the world and their experiences. There was always a gap, a short-coming that people wanted to fulfill but temptation can be traced back to this very same concept and divine knowledge can be feigned with a clever choice of words.

"Give me your hand boy" [warning: if you do this there will be graphically non-sexual content. If you have a weak constitution, decline] the withered creature commanded as she extended her own. Her calloused palms and long, hook-like nails that resembled talons more than fingernails extended expectantly. "And pay the cost..." she paused as if she was calculating a 'fair' market price. "Of an introduction," she determined. A seemingly harmless request, introduce her to someone -- but who? When? And Why? "For that I need your finger's horn."

Elijah couldn't help but feel like this whole... adventure was something straight out of a video game. 'Meet my makers', really, who even said that type of stuff? Erin did, apparently, and it unnerved him. She seemed to be perfectly flawed in some way, carrying a type of steady self-confidence that he couldn't even begin to comprehend. She knew exactly who she was, and wasn't afraid of herself. He loathed to think it, but maybe some of her confidence would rub off on him, some of her intensity and her... well, charisma might've been a stretch, but she certainly had the aura he so desperately wanted. She even insisted that he needed to be fixed, and he totally agreed. 

His nose crinkled, however, as the woman introduced herself, fighting the urge to laugh. Ursula? Like the Little Mermaid movie? He wasn't a completely ignorant pureblood, and the name nearly made him laugh out loud. His glee faded as she took her time examining him, feeling uncomfortably squirmish under her scrutiny. Elijah resisted the urge to pout or snap back as the crone asked where his 'fire' was; he had fire! He had plenty of fire! What was she talking about? He realized, however, that as he bit his tongue, he was proving her point- sure, he had fire, but it was suppressed and buried down beneath eight layers of fake smiles, forced laughter, and faux rambunctious schoolkid energy.

The Slytherin boy swallowed nervously as Erin and Auntie Ursula continued with their... well, demands may have been too strong of a word, but that's what it felt like. What did he lack, anyway? A lot of things, in his mind. He lacked a spine, a backbone; he lacked a distinctive personality; he lacked a defining trait; he lacked true friends. He didn't know who he was, and he didn't know how to be a functioning member of society. "I..." Elijah swallowed again, his eyes darting from Erin, to the crone, and back to Erin once more. "What do I lack? Well, Erin can vouch for me- I lack self-identity." Sure, it sounded cheesy and rather stupid, but it was the truth. Elijah really had no idea who he was, and thus, it was what he lacked. "But I'm guessing you have other things in mind."

The crone's words about 'tit for tat', however, filled him with dread. This sounded an awful lot like Rumpelstiltskin, which was a situation he had never thought he'd find himself in. What would he pay, what would he give to this crone? What would he surrender in exchange for an identity? Could he give her his first born child? Because that would be easy- he despised children with every bone in his body, and certainly, he would never marry anyone; girls were icky. His train of thought was cut short, however, as the crone insisted that she already knew what he wanted, and at that, he raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Had she? Had she really? Because he figured that most 11-year-olds had no idea was they 'lacked'- Elijah had always been told that he was a little ahead of the times for someone his age, a little too profound. He shrugged, however, because Erin seemed to have seen what he wanted, what he lacked. If this strange old crone would be able to fix him, well... it was just like plastic surgery, right? Or a facial? Fixing the flaws and blemishes of his personality; to him, that sounded quite appealing.
 
Elijah glanced warily at Auntie Ursula's hand extended out towards him, his eyes flickering up towards Erin with panic in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? His blood ran cold as she named her price, his gaze lowering to his hands, both of which were trembling and shaking. His- did she mean his fingernail? He tried to weigh the pros and cons of this, his hands clenching and un-clenching anxiously. Would he give up his fingers, his 'finger's horns' for this? Would he surrender his passion of model-making in order to be someone that people loved? He swallowed nervously, before taking a deep breath.

"Okay," he said quietly, his voice shaking. "Okay, I'll do it." Hesitating, he glanced at Erin one last time before cautiously placing his left hand in the crone's outstretched, clawed hand.

What on earth had he done?