Finished Me and My Shadow

Avis watched as the boy grabbed a roll and some meat, before looking around nervously and slipping off into the corridors. His hand was (thankfully) reattached, and any damage now seemed to simply be trauma. Or fear. Fear seemed more likely. Avis rose from her table without offering an excuse to her table and trailed him through the halls.

This kid was jumpier than a grasshopper, darting into the halls and into the stairs, constantly looking over his shoulder. He didn't seem to have a plan as to where he was going, the staircase shifting under him, dropping him off at an unknown hallway. Avis slipped behind a tapestry as he once again peered behind him. Her heart raced as she followed him a few more feet before gradually stepping louder onto the concrete blocks. She wanted to corner him, not scare him to death.

In this state, it seemed like a real possibility. In her experience, nervous people were much more closed off and the most likely to have secrets. That was fine. The deeper someone's secrets lay, the more digging she could do. And by the habits of this kid, she could dig for hours.

She caught up and stepped in front of him, spinning around so he had to stop or risk running into her. She had to look up at him, which was quite unfortunate for whatever presence she had hoped to have but may be helpful if he were to underestimate her.

Avis tilted her head and tried to look through him. "Who cut off your hand? What are you hiding?"

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Aamon Athanatos left the Great Hall during
mealtime sometime after his hand injury.

He runs into a terrifying short person
who is demanding answers.
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He was not trying to avoid Avis, in fact he did not even know her name. He was avoiding the general public, had he known he was being followed by the Ravenclaw post their chance encounter he likely would have ran for the safety of the forbidden wood or the dungeons. While he had a sense that he was being followed now and then, this sixth sense pervaded places beyond even the resourceful Ravenclaw's piercing gaze.

Avis moved in front of him, her diminutive form before his much larger, sturdier frame would have suggested that the girl had stupidly bit off more than she could chew. But that was not the case, perhaps Aamon, standing at 5 foot 1, towering over his like-aged peers, did not realize how broad and tall he was since he skipped over that lanky beanpole stage. He could have pushed past her, but the notion did not seem to come to either of them.

Aamon flinched, pulling back instinctively and letting out a yelp as if someone stepped on an imaginary tail as Avis blocked his path. His eyes darted past her, as if gauging the nearest escape route, but after a second of hesitation, he forced a nervous grin.

"I—I don’t know what you’re talking about," he stammered, shifting the food in his hands as if it might offer some sort of shield. "No one cut off my hand. It was, uh… an accident. Just a stupid mistake."

He scratched the back of his neck, his voice barely steady, as though even he didn’t believe his own words. It was a pretty generic statement, one that offered no name to his assailant. The shadows flickered oddly in the dim light of the hallway, casting long, jagged shapes over his figure. His eyes flicked downward, avoiding her gaze entirely now. "And I’m not hiding anything, okay? I just—needed some air. It's… suffocating in there."

That was in part true for the heir. He took a small step back, his posture stiff, every muscle in his body coiled tight as if he was ready to flee at any second. "Can I go now?" The question was casual enough, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

There was something darker behind those wide eyes, something he was desperate to keep locked away.

Something far worse than just a missing hand.

Relevant Information:
Aamon may not be well-known by his first name, but his last name is well-known in the wizarding world. The Athanatos family is a well-known pureblooded family, known to be mainly Seers who have learned to turn a significant profit based on their talents. The media had heavily covered the affairs of this family over the years. Relevant life-events included the alleged death of the family heir Vladimir Athanatos followed by a retraction some weeks later, a bid for the position of Minister of Magic by the family patriarch a few years ago and vocal advocacy for half-breeds and improved conditions in St. Mungos. The printed opinion of the family is 'excellent' but many older wizarding families feel that this family has earned a majority of their wealth and prestige through unsavory dealings. Muggleborns would likely not know the family from a hole in the wall unless they invested IC efforts into consuming wizard media once they learned their magical potential

Avis stared at him. It was an accident? How did one possibly accidentally cut off their hand, and then run off to the medical ward and say "They cut it off." That seemed highly illogical. Although he did seem delirious at the time...Avis hesitated for a moment, falling back unsure, before finding her footing again. No. She took a deep breath. The kid's nerves alone should've tipped her off, no matter what he had or hadn't said back in the medical ward.

Avis tried to keep her voice soft but firm. The boy was coiled up tighter than a spring, and he would be sure to avoid her if she let him get away now. This was her only chance. She tried to find his eyes and reassure him, but he had hidden them on the floor as if those concrete slabs were the most interesting thing in the world.

"You're not eating in the great hall, you look over your shoulder every three minutes, and you're skittering about like a frightened mouse. Not to mention your neck seems to be stuck looking at the ground, and you're stuttering. You didn't stutter when you were lying half dead in the hospital, but you stutter when running into a girl half your size in the hallway?" Avis stepped another step towards him following him.

"Aamon, was it? Well, Aamon, I don't know who you are or what you're hiding, but I have another six years to find out. So, sure we can go. Where are we going?" Avis tried to pull herself up and nervously tried to be tall, hoping he wouldn't realize he could just walk past her. If he ran she certainly couldn't catch up. She tapped her fingers against the side of her leg and waited for his next move.

@Aamon Athanatos - @Avis Marlong

Astra slipped between two older years, a tch of annoyance escaping her as her robes caught on one of their satchels. "Watch it," the elder eagle sneered, and Astra fixed him with a glare. She had classes to get to, no time for this rank mess.

She shifted her own bag higher on her shoulder, patting the pocket of her cargo pants to ensure her wand's safety therin. Attentive midnight eyes flicked this way and that over the corridors, a habit once out of curiosity and nosiness, then out of fear and wariness, and now simply residual. It did make for excellent gossip. Like that break-up happening by Armor Suit Seven. Oh he is going to be in shambles, there's no way he's getting lucky enough to pull a gorgeous girl like her again.

On second thought... maybe he needed to get away from that psycho. That's getting violent. Astra pretended like she hadn't seen anything and continued on her merry little way to DADA.

Until she was practically cut off by a small and ferocious girl with a blue streak in her hair and that tall boy from the train to summer camp, right? With his entire house in his trunk? Aamon, wasn't it? The Athanatos boy?

"What the heck?" the older girl exclaimed to herself, stepping back from the explosive youngster with the blue in her hair who had cut Aamon off and was now grilling him for information. Cut off your hand?

"Hey, kid," Astra started, tapping the younger and shorter(? let me know if this is wrong, Astra's 4' 10" for reference) girl on the shoulder. The marginally dangerous aura she tended to exude these days usually left people giving her a wide berth. This one hadn't noticed her yet, but once she did, Astra figured she'd be less inclined to have a verbal throwdown with Aamon. "Do you mind? He's clearly uncomfortable, and there's a non-zero chance it's got something to do with you. Boy's allowed to stutter, and allowed to have his peace. I suggest you get off his case, and quickly."

If Aamon really had chopped his own hand off by some sort of accident, he didn't deserve to be hounded about his insecurities. He didn't deserve that anyway, but especially not if he was clumsy enough to give himself an impromptu amputation.

@Aamon Athanatos - @Avis Marlong - @Astra Norrick

Meiyu aimlessly walked around, making a mental note of where here classes would be this upcoming semester. The feeling of her new robes blowing up against her fast pace, cautioned her to slow down. Eventually halting at the scene in front of her, two girls and a boy. She noticed one of the girls supported a tie in the Slytherin colour, matching the boy in the group. If she didn't know better, it would of appeared as though the two Slytherin's were picking on someone.

Of course, coming from a lineage of Slytherin's, Meiyu knew it wasn't the case. More-so, house mates looking out for one-another.

Meiyu arrived just in time to hear the Slytherin girl's final sentence, in her mind she thought it was actually sweet to look out for someone, especially if the person in question suffered from a stutter. It caused the girl to chime in.

"I'm sure she meant no harm." Meiyu chimed in, joining the three in what seemed to almost be an escalated situation. Nevertheless, upon inspecting the Slytherin boy with different coloured eyes, Meiyu mentally agreed. Perhaps he should of been left alone.

It was moments like these that gave Meiyu such headache, her internal debates on what is right and what is wrong, was this why she did not get sorted into Slytherin like her grandparents had hoped for?

"Is he alright, though?" Meiyu began once more, with a tone of concern as she eyed the boy once more. "He does seem slightly anxious, has he been to the Hospital Wing yet?" She questioned, hoping she didn't come across as too nosy or insincere as she genuinely hoped the boy was well.

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Aamon Athanatos left the Great Hall during
mealtime sometime after his hand injury.

He runs into a terrifying short person
who is demanding answers.

Two additional ladies join in the 'conversation' and
Aamon panics. Avis is hit by an unseen force from behind.
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Aamon flinched at Avis' words, his breath catching in his throat. He felt like the walls were closing in, like the air itself was pressing down on him, thick and suffocating. He wanted to run, to just slip past her and vanish into the shadows, he even had this terrible urge to push past her. He could, a small part of him thought. He could and he could get away with it. He was the larger of the two. It was unlikely she had enough esteem or clout to make an issue of it, even if a bone or two was broken. But he was not that sort of man, well boy but he would eventually be a man. Her gaze held him in place—unrelenting, even as she tried to soften it.

"I... I don’t know," he murmured, his voice shaky from the adrenaline rushing through him, his tone barely above a whisper. "I’m not hiding anything." As well practiced as the lie was, the lie felt heavy on his tongue. He was hiding something, though not in the way she thought. How could he even explain it? She wouldn't understand. No one would. He wouldn't if he was not living it. In fact, he was not entirely certain himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a shudder passing through him. “It was a mistake. They... they protect me,” and they epically failed. He said, almost to himself, the words creeping out before he could stop them. He winced immediately after. What was he even saying? It didn’t make sense—not to her, not even to him, not fully. But it was the truth, wasn’t it? At least, that’s what he had thought.

But the accidents… the near-misses. He couldn't ignore them any longer. Every step he took felt like it was shadowed by something just out of sight. They had changed since he first saw them—grown from blank, featureless things to eerie reflections of himself in miniature. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but now they watched him, always there, always waiting. And that... thing at the top of the stairs—he hadn’t seen it clearly, but he’d felt it. It was too close. Too close to her.

His eyes darted nervously toward the staircase behind her, a flicker of something dark catching his peripheral vision. A breath hitched in his throat, his chest tightening. They were watching now. They had to be. Why did he have this dire sense of dread when his mind went back to them? His friends, his protectors, his secret.

where are we going?

“You... you can’t stay near me,” he blurted out suddenly, panic rising in his voice. His wide eyes flicked down to meet hers for a brief second before darting away again. "It’s not safe. Not for you." He took a shaky step backward, his hands trembling. "They—" are quite possessive.

He cut himself off, swallowing hard. Would she even believe him if he said that they—the very things meant to keep him safe—were dangerous? Probably, she had only seen the tragedy of their presence. He did not know them for what they were. For the liberty they offered him, as brief as it was. That perhaps his freedom came too quickly and that his festering paranoia now was his lack of nerve, a deficit in his very being, a basic weakness within the boy - this inability to cope and exist on his own. That logical part of him was whispering these lies, these beliefs being the most dangerous of all. There was another part of him, one that knew better. He knew that they were changing, growing more malicious by the day. He didn’t even know how to explain it. All he knew was that Avis was in danger, and he couldn’t let her be another accident.

He eyed the stairs, the notion hit him with a chilling jolt. “We... we shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, his eyes glued to the ground again. Suddenly with the we's. His pulse pounded in his ears. He could feel something... someone... watching them both from the shadows, just waiting for someone to make the wrong move.

And he was sure it wouldn’t stop at just him.

He would take her to an empty classroom. That was really the extent of his plan, to stuff this poorly made and a bit too dry sandwich into his mouth and call it a meal. He was not much of a cook, even a sandwich-maker. He was used to 'the help' managing even this basic need. His sandwich was turkey with a dollop of peanut butter and some sort of vegetable (swiss chard) planted in there as the token veg. He was probably better off skipping this meal.

Before he could pull the unfortunate Ravenclaw from the apex of the stair, someone else would join the duo. He did not know the girl, nor had he relegated their brief passing to memory. This was not due to a dislike but rather a reflection of their fleeting interaction not being noteworthy at the time. Aamon’s head snapped as Astra’s voice cut through the tension. His heart was pounding, a mess of fear and confusion twisting in his chest. For a second, he was relieved—someone had stepped in, someone who wasn’t asking questions he couldn’t answer. But then the anxiety hit again.

This solved nothing unless it drove her way. Only, his brief interaction with the pretty girl was memorable even if he was in a state of half-delirium as he lingered on the precipice of death and unconsciousness. Avis was a fighter, she liked to fight and she was good at it. Not necessarily at winning, but at stubbornly standing her ground. And Avis did not know. Neither did Astra. Neither knew what was really going on, Astra didn’t understand that Avis wasn’t just asking the wrong questions or being a bit intrusive—Avis was in real danger. Now they both were, especially now, with those things lurking, waiting. They always did something when he got too much attention, when his nerves were pushed like this, when his panic started to build. At this point it was more a chicken versus egg scenario to wonder if it was his fear or their presence that came first. Was his sense of anxiety simply a primal trigger in response to their proximity or did he call upon those monstrous things. He did not know. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt that they reacted, feeding off his fear. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt, not again.

Aamon took a shaky breath, stealing a glance between Astra and Avis. He could feel the walls of the hallway tightening around him, like the air itself had become distilled dread. His eyes darted again toward the dark hall behind them. A shadow shifted. His stomach dropped.

“Lady," she was older than him even if she was smaller. "You don’t understand,” he stammered, voice shaky, barely louder than a whisper.

They needed to get out of here. They needed to get away. Not gawk at him with those big, strange eyes! “It’s not... I don’t—” He swallowed hard, feeling the words jam up in his throat. He wanted to explain, but how could he? He sounded crazy even to himself. Protecting him? But those shadows—they weren’t just in his head, were they?

"Ladies," he did not know either of their names. "Can we just take this," to a nice, safe padded room? Yet the dread he felt was being magnified beyond reason, due to Astra's terrible presence. He had this urge to run, this impulse, no instinct to push Avis aside as the weaker of the duo so she might be consumed by the monster's in his head.

No, he was not that sort of man.

His hands trembled as he tried to string a coherent thought together. “I didn’t—" He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "It wasn’t an accident.” The admission felt like tearing a weight off his chest, though the terror it left behind was worse. He could see Astra’s raised eyebrow, Avis’s intense stare, both of them looking at him like he was teetering on the edge of sanity. Maybe he was.

Aamon’s chest tightened as yet another voice joined the scene. He barely registered the new girl’s arrival—before his thoughts spiraled back into a mess of tangled panic. Every second felt like a countdown, like something was building up behind him, ready to snap. The more people that gathered, the worse it felt, like the hallway itself twisting into knots so he couldn’t escape. He needed to get away from them, or to make them leave before—

He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breath, but it was impossible with all their eyes on him. Astra, Avis, and now Meiyu—they were all watching, asking questions he couldn’t answer, and the weight of their concern was suffocating. He could feel it in his bones: they wouldn’t wait much longer. He’d already seen the shadows shift; he wasn’t imagining it.

Meiyu’s question hung in the air—Is he alright? The truth was, no, he wasn’t. He didn’t even know what “alright” felt like anymore. The constant feeling of being watched, the creeping dread that followed him everywhere—it had consumed him long before this moment. And now, with all of them here, it was like the walls were closing in, forcing him into a corner.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking to the floor again. “No... I—I haven’t been to the Hospital Wing,” he muttered, his voice unsteady. It was an absolute lie, but one only Avis knew as one. She had seen him there, dismembered hand and all. But he had been avoiding the hospital wing ever since the 'accident' — is that what he tells himself it was these days — with his hand. How could he explain what really happened?

His eyes darted toward the staircase, anxiety spiking as another flicker of movement caught his attention. He didn’t want to seem rude to Meiyu; she seemed genuinely concerned. But how could he stand here and talk while something wrong was happening right behind them? His heart hammered in his chest.

“Please go..." he begged "They’re watching,” he whispered under his breath, so low that no sound escaped his lips, his wide eyes darting between the group and the shadows behind them. He took a small step back, the panic rising again. He did seem ill, like he needed to see a nurse or better yet someone with a nice warm straight jacket to keep the chill off his bones. “You... you all need to leave. Now. It’s not safe here. Please—” His voice cracked, and he felt his pulse throb in his ears.

He looked over, meeting perhaps Meiyu’s gaze, then quickly glanced at Astra and Avis. They didn’t understand—none of them did. He wasn’t just being anxious or paranoid. The accidents, the strange occurrences—they weren’t random. They were calculated. They weren’t protecting him anymore, and the longer they stayed here, the more dangerous it became.

Aamon’s voice shook as he spoke, his desperation spilling out. “Something’s going to happen. You have to believe me. Please, just go before it’s too late.”

Something did.

Avis would feel something slam into the back of her knees hard. The posterior popliteal space to be precise, that area, that dip behind the knees which would cause her knees to buckle and something grab at her dark hair. It came from behind the girl in the midst of this quarrelsome encounter, skittering on the ground and dipping back into the shadows, the recesses beneath and behind the moulding, the carpet. Spaces too small to search for an assailant.

Avis- something has knocked you down the stairs. You are free to claim you avoided it. Otherwise, this is a long way down and it will hurt.

Important information- this thing came up behind the group, so it was not in the line of vision for either of the unaffected ladies. You did not see as Avis (if Avis) fell a person standing behind her. Just a scattered array of whatever items Avis might have dropped during her descent.

"You can't stay near me...It's not safe, not for you...They protect me."
Protect him from her? It's not as if Avis was threatening him or anything. But Aamon was adamant in every way, it was as if were the end of the world. It seemed a bit excessive. Clearly, Aamon was much too paranoid for his own good.

He closed his eyes and shuddered. "It was a mistake, they protect me." They protect him? They were doing a terrible job in that aspect. His eyes darted around, looking for something, maybe whatever thing "they" were meant to protect him from. "It's not safe for you. They..." Was she unsafe because of them? Avis' finger tapping sped up, and she found herself looking around the same as him, searching for something, anything. But there was nothing, simply an empty hallway with two Slytherins, a Gryffindor, and a Ravenclaw.

Another girl entered the group and tapped Avis on the shoulder. Avis couldn't explain it, but she felt an intense sense of flight. She needed to get away from this girl. She had to run. Avis' heart raced and her muscles tensed, prepared to flee from the girl. But Avis didn't even know why. She wondered if Aamon felt this crazed as well. "It wasn't an accident." Avis sucked in a breath. She had assumed, but to hear it out loud was another thing entirely.

"Is he alright though?" No, he was not. That was clear if the girl had bothered to look at Aamon. He seemed to be getting more nervous by the second. If he got any more paranoid, he might break his neck trying to look around him, trying to hide. "I haven't been to the Hospital Wing."

Why was he hiding this from the other girls? He knew Avis had been there, seen him. And he had the scars to prove it. Did he assume she would share his secret? Avis' eyes searched him, looking for a hint as to what his motives were.

"Something going to happen." Aamon's desperation flooded through his body language, begging for them to leave. Was he protecting them? How did he know? Weren't "They" protecting him? Avis' muscles were screaming to get away from the scary girl, getting louder, but she forced herself to ask one question first.

"Aamon, who are they?"

Time seemed to both slow and speed up as something slammed into the back of her knees and she shrieked as she felt a yank on her hair and realized where she was. Tipped over looking down at the stairwell, toppling downwards until she fell forward down the stairs. Concrete, as it turns out, does not make for good cushions, and each limb felt the jarring hits as she tumbled down the long staircase, coming to a tangled heap on the bottom, barely holding on to consciousness. Something had to be broken, she knew, but pain rocketed through every nerve in her body, twisting and curling her brain until all she could think was pain.

Hell, he's panicking. Astra knew the drowning feeling well, and she listened as he stammered. "Aamon," she said quietly, "you need to-" breathe, she was going to say breathe, but his new words were more alarming than the lack of volume of his inhales. I don't understand?

I don't understand. It was likely her tenure here in the school of horrors that caused this simple sentence to make the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Aamon may have been having a panic attack, sure, but was it for his immediate safety, or even vitality, he was worried?

"Can we just take this-" he began again, shaking in every molecule making up his body.

They were by the stairs. Astra didn't know what Aamon was expecting, nor how he was expecting it to happen as he was practically sandwiched by herself and the smaller one and the banister. Then again, she was two inches shorter than him and that didn't give one a sense of protection at all. The stairs were a dangerous place in many circumstances.

"Away from the stairs, good idea," Astra agreed, stepping back both to give him space and encourage all parties to move away from the danger. She heard the other small girl, Gryffindor, ask if the boy was alright. Astra looked at her and held out a hand. "He'll be okay, just give him some space." With the way some of the pieces were falling into place, Astra wasn't sure if Aamon was ever okay, but it was a placating remark simply meant to give Aamon space so he didn't feel like he was fighting to breathe.

He insisted time and time again, it wasn't safe, the girls weren't safe. "Aamon, why is it not-" Astra began in a gentle tone at the same time as Avis asked "Aamon, who are they?", when suddenly



Instinctually, Astra drew her wand, stepping between the first years and where Avis had once been standing. The aforementioned child was now tumbling down the stairs, whatever had caused her fall seemed to escape Astra's searching gaze. Astra swore.

"You-" she pointed at Meiyu- "get out of here. Get Nurse Sabo, get Professor Lécuyer, whoever's closest. You-" she pointed at Aamon- "stay with me or get the hell out of here with her." Then she leapt down the stairs two at a time. Avis was out of sight, she couldn't cast anything to slow her fall, she could only try to help until she could transport the girl to the hospital wing.

Bruised and battered was the first year. Merlin. "Ferula," Astra cast at whatever area seemed the most afflicted.

Astra has Terrible Presence. It is in effect.
Don't know if you want to roll, Aamon, if I need to roll for it then just let me know.

The pain yanked at every muscle in Avis' body. It tried to pry her apart piece by piece, every nerve burning a thousand flames. Almost involuntarily, she curled up into a fetal position. Trying to keep herself safe, away, from whomever had shoved her down the stairs. She had been near the wall hadn't she? Who could've fit behind her? Between the fire shooting through her and the ringing of her heart in her eardrums, she could barely make out the panicked sounds coming from above her.

"Get Nurse Sabo." No no no no no. That that couldn't happen. Nurse Sabo would connect Avis, the hospital, and Aamon. That wouldn't get her any answers. Plus, detention could still be on the table. No, no Nurse. Avis would deal with this pain without the nurse.

"No nurse no nur no." She mumbled, trying to will her roaming eyes to focus on Aamon, willing him to understand, needing him to understand. She didn't want a nurse. All she wanted was the pain to go away, and then some answer. But first the pain. Definitely first the pain. He wouldn't want the Nurse either, and the nurse wouldn't do any good.

The scary girl practically flew down the stairs. Now the pain ripping through Avis' body was heightened by that same sense of dread, the sense she needed to get away from this scary girl. The scary girl said something. Avis didn't hear it, she didn't care. All she knew was the pain and the scary girl. Maybe if she got away from the scary girl the pain would stop. She forced herself to roll sideways, lighting up more bruises and pains but thankfully alleviating herself from that impending sense of dread the girl was giving her, trying to avoid anything the scary girl might be doing.