Merlin, Is This An Interrogation?? PV Oliver Thorn Finished

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Oliver scanned the Great Hall, his gaze trickling down the packed Gryffindor Table, in search of the familiar face that had plagued his mind the last couple hours. The Gryffindor's big mouth had toyed with him so easily, he couldn't let it go—he needed to find him, confront him, and make it clear that there was no room for such careless words. As the evening light filtered through the windows, the night sky reflected by enchantment on the arched roof, the chatter of students filled the air, but Oliver's focus remained razor-sharp, blocking all the cheery sounds, sweeping across every corner of the room. He had to find him. Now.

Eonaria was right, Oliver was looking for somebody, a certain Gryffindor with a very big mouth. Edwin Westbridge. The Hufflepuff wasn't done with him just yet. He needed to find him and give him even more of his word. Edwin was not getting the last laugh. Oliver didn't care about a fleeting conversation so much in his life; he was determined. He must find him. He must find him now, tonight, at the Great Hall... If he is even here.

"Yes! Do you know a certain Gryffindor.." He said puzzling towards the young witch, who seemed startled to be approached by Oliver, but his mind was too occupied with the repeated image of Edwin's smug face, and the mocking tone he carried in his every word to Oliver. "Edwin Westbridge. If you're a first year he should also be in your Year."

Oliver spoke with a clear, demanding tone, very alien to his usual quiet, unnoticed behaviour. Besides Quidditch, Oliver never felt so impassioned, not since his condition had drained him of his childish nature back in the 1st Year, yes, he was acting more like the brash kid that he used to be, not that Oliver could even tell, his mind was only on one person, and it wasn't himself.

"He's blond! Has very well-kept hair, cold blue eyes, and... Oh! And a constant smirk to his face that makes you want to punch him!"

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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @Eonaria Kabukimono | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @Edwin Westbridge Another mention of you, this thread is set right after our 'conversation' |
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽Code by Winnie Harper☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

IC Time: 6:43pm, November 8th, 2024

Eonaria blinked in alarm when the Hufflepuff responded aggressively, asking for a certain Gryffindor named Edwin Westbridge. She had absolutely never heard of such a person before, and found herself panicking under the boy's harsh tone and passionate rage as he described this Edwin Westbridge as having a 'constant smirk to his face that makes you want to punch him!'

"Well, I haven't seen or heard of any Edwin Westbridges, but I'll be sure to let you know if I see anyone blond that looks particularly punchable." Eonaria replied solemnly. "Why are you looking for him? Did he do something super terrible? I'll keep on the lookout." She glanced back to the Gryffindor table, wondering vaguely if this Edwin person was even in the Great Hall.

"I mean, he could be in the common room for all I know. It's not like I go around announcing 'Hey! Some angry Hufflepuff is looking for you!' Ahem. Not that you look, uh, angry in a bad way. I mean, you certainly look mad, in, er, okay, maybe it is angry in a bad way- but not angry bad in the sense of your appearance- you know what, I'll just shut up. Bottom line is, I don't know who or where this guy is." Eonaria closed her mouth, keeping a straight face. She wasn't sure if she had offended him somewhere in her ramblings.

Eonaria was beginning to doubt her chances of ever returning to her dinner peacefully tonight. She really should've just said 'Sorry, I don't know who that is' before continuing to eat while the Hufflepuff most likely stormed off to go find Edwin Westbridge.

"Who are you, anyway? And why'd you pick me?" She had likely forgone all proper etiquette and just gone on with her thoughts.

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The girl’s rambunctious rambling threw Oliver off guard, flinching back an inch as the girl spilled out a flood of words, taking some wind out of his passionately inflated sails. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for confronting her so harshly, seeing her discomfort at his tone. Angry? Was I really acting that upset? he thought, lifting his brow in puzzlement, oblivious to how his own actions had come across. But Oliver was more focused about what information he could gather out of the girl's surprisingly long monologue for an answer.

"So, you don’t know him... That’s a pity," Oliver muttered, his fury fading as he accepted the reality: Edwin could very well be somewhere unreachable, as the girl suggested, likely in the Gryffindor Commonroom. The notion of asking the young witch in front of him to let him in, maybe even share the password she was meant to keep secret, crossed his mind. Yet, he knew her answer would be a firm no. For a fleeting moment, he even considered sneaking in, crouching behind a Gryffindor and slipping into the House of Courage unnoticed. But Oliver quickly abandoned the idea, releasing a resigned sigh as it sank in—he would not be seeing Edwin Westbridge again today, maybe not for a while.

"Yes, he did something terrible! Well—he didn’t do something...but he said something, and words can hurt as much as a foul jinx." Oliver huffed as he took a seat next to the Gryffindor, his common sense as a Hufflepuff at the wrong table simply thrown out of the window. If he couldn’t confront Edwin directly, he’d at least let someone else hear him out. "He thinks werewolves shouldn’t be at Hogwarts!" he declared, his voice brimming with frustration.

Oliver crossed his arm, with an utterly serious expression, clearly disinterested at the food glistening on the table right in front of him, and the aroma of freshly baked pies and slathered gravy roast beef utterly blocked from his own mind.

"I mean—that’s pretty much the same as saying Muggle-borns shouldn’t go to this school!" Oliver exclaimed, his voice taut with conviction. He knew it was a wild, startling stretch, but right now, in the heat of the moment, feeling so passionate for his own kind, it didn't seem so.

IC Time: 6:48pm, November 8th, 2024

When Eonaria had finished her rambling montage, the Hufflepuff actually looked much less irritated, and she thought she almost caught a glimpse of remorse on his face. Interesting. Then he sat down directly beside her, surprising her yet again. The things this boy did were quite mystifying. In response to the inquiry of what terrible thing Edwin Westbridge had done, the boy huffed, exclaiming that he had said something terrible: that werewolves shouldn't be allowed into Hogwarts. Eonaria gasped slightly.

"What? That's barbaric! Werewolf students are children just like the rest of us! We shouldn't discriminate for an incurable ailment!" The boy crossed his arms, seemingly certain that he was not interested in eating dinner that evening. He declared that saying werewolves shouldn't be allowed into Hogwarts was the same as saying Muggle-borns shouldn't be allowed into Hogwarts. Eonaria tilted her head at this, contemplating the statement.

"Well," she began, drawing out the sound as she thought. "Not really. Werewolves can still have magical parents. They started off as perfectly normal wizard-born, pureblood, or halfblood kids, but then changed later on. But Muggle-borns were born different. Soooo...." She waved her hand halfheartedly. "...do you get what I'm saying? That was probably a terrible explanation. And while I don't think Muggle-borns are exactly on the same level as children with magical parents, they should still be let into Hogwarts because they are magical, just like werewolves." Eonaria shrugged. Judging by the Hufflepuff's beliefs, he would probably start arguing with her over blood status now, but such judgement was ingrained into her during her childhood- and besides, she had already adjusted to a more 'socially acceptable' perspective than her family. She grabbed a handful of chips from behind her, beginning to eat with a casual expression like there was no conversation going on at all.

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Oliver awaited a tad impatiently for the girl's response, adrenaline still rushing through his blood from the simple idea of Edwin. The girl begun picking fries from a bowl nearby as she spoke, explaining to Oliver the differences between Werewolves and Muggle-born.

"Well yeah! I know the difference." He scoffed, cutting through Eonaria's speech in a thoughtless way that lacked mannerism, Oliver was usually one to keep his mannerisms in check but his mind was too occupied to notice anything, even if a salad came flying towards him.

"I just think if you're gunna kick functional, magical people out of this school! That's no different than banning Muggle-born!" He stated, throwing his hands out of it's cross, high in the air with an exasperated gesture. "Though... Thank you for having common sense and seeing how cruel it is to say that about werewolves!"

The girl went on with yet another of her ramblings, and Oliver was content to let her talk, only needing the reassurance that he hadn’t completely gone mad for just believing werewolves should be treated nicely. But as she spoke, something she said hit Oliver like a rogue Bludger.

“And while I don’t think Muggle-borns are exactly on the same level as children with magical parents.”

“Hold on. Can you say that again?” Oliver’s hand shot up in a halting gesture, his tired, baggy eyes suddenly narrowing as they fixed on her. “Oliver, by the way. I’m Oliver Thorn,” he added, his voice edged with a curiosity and a hint of confusion. "Oh—I'm only half-blood, don’t worry."

IC Time: 6:53pm, November 8th, 2024

Eonaria paused, taken aback when the boy interrupted her monologue with a scoff and a scathing remark. Though to be fair, it was a bit long winded and he obviously didn't need her to explain the whole thing to him. Eonaria smiled slightly when the boy threw his hands in the air, somewhat relieved that she had enough common sense to know that werewolves could certainly belong in Hogwarts. Eonaria prided herself on her logic.

But further along, the Hufflepuff brought her to a halt, raising his hand and narrowing his eyes. In turn, Eonaria raised her eyebrows at his unexpected interjection. The boy introduced himself as Oliver Thorn before insisting that she repeat what she had just said, accompanied by a "I'm only half-blood, don't worry." This comment confused her slightly, but she repeated her statement obligingly.

"Muggle-borns aren't on the same level as children with magical parents. Children born and raised in magical families have the privilege of a head start on their education, witnessing their parents perform magic and even getting taught a little bit at home. Muggle-borns only know of their true capabilities a few months before they enter Hogwarts. So they're at different levels, ne? Get it now? And by the way, I don't care if you're half blood or not. You're an unfamiliar face to me, which means this is my first impression of you. So maybe relax on the hostile jabs, hm?" Eonaria fixed him with a calm gaze. "So. Got anything to protest about, 'Puff?" She popped another chip into her mouth. Normally she would never be so forward with anything, but something about the way Oliver acted seemed to spark a flame in her.

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Eonaria, for somebody who liked to ramble, knew how to explain and fill her words with information and content that left no questions. Oliver felt embarrassed having so quickly picked up on the small flying sentence, grabbing it and floundering it around like some big-deal, when it wasn't, her suggestion that Purebloods are more adept at magic had complete reasoning with no trickle of prejudice to her every word.

"Oh. Well- Sorry." Oliver muttered, his voice now much calmer and composed, his heated emotions and animated actions wore down, the flame tethered to his heart had begun to die down, nothing to fuel with Edwin missing, and this girl seemingly possessing a pure heart. "For a second there I thought.... Nevermind."

Oliver's senses finally catched up to him, the enchanting aroma of the food beneath his nose beckoning to be consumed, Oliver picked up a roast chicken and moved chunks of it onto a plate. Oliver didn't even want to look at the witch anymore, he seemed to be no better then Edwin was, making rabid assumptions towards a stranger who did not ask for any of it.

"First impression... Yeah that's bad isn't it?" He chuckled, heartily, trying to make some cheeriness out of the verbal daggers and sharp glares they had thrown around at each other, just spare moments ago. "That Edwin guy just really got on my nerves!" He exclaimed, biting into his roast chicken. Still utterly forgetting what table he was sitting at as some noticeable Gryffindors also stared at him taking part in their food from farther down the table.

IC Time: 6:58pm, November 8th, 2024

............................................................................................................................................ After finishing her monologue and taking a calming breath, Oliver looked a bit embarrassed at insinuating an accusation off of a fleeting comment, mumbling a small apology. Eonaria beamed slightly. "Don't worry! I'll probably forget all about it within the next ten minutes." She gave him a head pat before resuming her dinner, picking up a slice of cantaloupe.

............................................................................................................................................ Oliver took a portion of roast chicken, his fiery behavior dying down. Eonaria watched in mild confusion as Oliver began eating like nothing had happened, much calmer than before. He still looked a bit sickly, though.

............................................................................................................................................ "Er, you do remember this is the Gryffindor table, right?" He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, which puzzled her even more. Perhaps he was too embarrassed to look at her?

............................................................................................................................................ Oliver attempted to laugh off the awkward moment, exclaiming that Edwin had really gotten on his nerves. Eonaria supposed that was what made him so suspicious of her statement earlier. "You know what? After hearing about this guy, I agree with your earlier description. I would also love to punch him for you." She giggled.

............................................................................................................................................ "Maybe they should prioritize the creatures in the school in DADA. It would be a lot more advanced than hags, but it might help clear up some misconceptions about werewolves. And maybe if some ignorant people protested in class, they could get detention and learn a thing or two about keeping their thoughts to themselves." Eonaria speared a sausage on her fork and regarded it thoughtfully before sighing.

............................................................................................................................................ "Dang it. I miss my chopsticks. And this needs some spice. ...Anyways! How did that argument with Edwin even happen? You just heard the guy talking about it randomly and decided to yell at him?" Eonaria turned her head to look at him.

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Oliver munched on his own food, articulating several thoughts through his mind. Stressing the witch beside him would now hate him for a personality he didn't really have, he drowned in his own thoughts, barely tasting the roast chicken. Suddenly, her words pierced into Oliver's mind sharply, 'You know what? After hearing about this guy, I agree with your earlier description. I would also love to punch him for you.' she ended her comforting words with a light giggle, Oliver now making soft eye-contact with her again and a cheery smile lighting his otherwise pale face.

She suggested to Oliver that the school could 'Prioritise teaching student about the creatures in Defence Against the Dark Arts.' which only made Oliver cough up some of his own food, forcing down with a hearty swallow, Oliver wanted nothing to be taught of werewolves, every word spoken of them was only a clue for other students to figure Oliver out. The thought wriggled up Oliver's spine.

"No! No, they shouldn't have to resort to that at all. It should be common sense to treat werewolves they way you do." Oliver retorted defensively, a spike of adrenaline coursing through his body.

Though, Oliver smirked at the idea of students like Edwin standing up in class as they're taught how to properly treat Lycanthrope, only to be served a detention and some exhaustive punishment like cleaning the restrooms, or polishing the trophies. Eonaria's next words caught onto Oliver's ear like a net as-well. An enthusiastic 'Anyways!' followed with 'How did that argument with Edwin even happen? You just heard the guy talking about it randomly and decided to yell at him?"

Oliver's smirk drowned as he recalled it.

"That bloody Wesbridge... He was studying the potion they take a week before the full moon, you know: to keep control while transformed?" Oliver said, resting his head on his hand in a static, fatigued manner, he let out a weary sigh as he continued "That prat thinks it's still too risky! And that Wolfsbane isn't a solve at all! That it isn't worth keeping them in the school!"