Fire and Light PV - Gryff only Finished

@Victor Moore

The little Italian was trotting around the school casually, having completed his classes for the day and was going back to the Gryffindor common rooms. He had decided to take the scenic route, for as he heard rumors about the Caretaker’s office and the things one could find there, he was both curious and mischievously interested as to what could be found within those doors. Up to that point, he had been trying to find a time in which nobody, faculty or student, were nearby, and this day, of all days, for some reason or another, seemed to be that golden time. Somehow, Piérre had managed to zoom out of his final class and sprint far enough away form the crowds that he found himself alone in the hall, between the Gryff common room and the mysteriously abandoned Caretaker’s office.

Reducio

Rolled a d4 to determine House Color for the Day:

1- Hufflepuff
2- Ravenclaw
3- Gryffindor
4 Slytherin

Number Rolled- 4
Slytherin

It may have been odd for a few straggling students to spot a green-clad first year rocketing up the stairs from class towards the fifth floor corridors, but for those choice few who knew of Piérre’s tendency to break more than a few school uniform regulations, it would be partially understood that it was the spritely Gryffindor with the funny accent and the oddly piqued ears.

Catching his breath after a short sprint and tightening the strap of his satchel again, Piérre would himself coming around the corner, just in time to hear a harsh slam, as if someone had closed a door.

It had come from the Caretaker’s office.

If he had been older and wiser, and a good deal less curious, Piérre would have known to turn around and not look back, especially with the events that he had heard rumors about: The Giant attack during the Masquerade, the sugar-afflicted child that had been sent to St. Mungo’s, and the fleeting tale about a drowning of a young Ravenclaw girl that had taken place in the Great Lake. He had attended the Gryffindor meetings every Saturday like it was his church, though he was quiet for the most part in many of them. Romeo would have been better suited for such mysteries, and the most that the young Britalian could do was offer some comic relief when the tensions got high or when people began to stress.

That was why he now found himself in front of the slightly ominous door of the Caretaker’s office.

He began by peeking into the keyhole, intrigued as to if he could find anything on the other side. He didn’t see anything of interest, other than the blurry outlines of the room, but unless a freak gust of wind had just blown through, Piérre was pretty sure that there was more than what met his inquisitively glittering emerald eye.

”Hellooooo?” Piérre gently called, knocking on the door quietly; Tap-Tap-Taptap-Tap? ”Is there anyone in there? You need help with stealing anything?” He managed to work his light, young, accented voice into a mischievous lilt. Someone had beaten him to the punch, but perhaps they could work together. After all, birds of a feather, right? ”I’m the only one out here... so.... no pressure?”

Piérre glanced back and forth, making sure that nobody was following him. Hopefully they weren’t. He really didn’t want his little expedition to be cut short.

Closed to additional entries.

@Victor Moore & @Xailah Alptraum

The stammer of the boy within somewhat shocked Piérre. He hadn't meant to come off as intimidating or scary, and hearing the quiver in what sounded to be a young boy's voice like his own caused his heart to freeze in his chest. Was the kid okay? Had he been beaten up? Was he running away, thinking that the tiny Slytherin-masquerading Gryffindor was another potential threat? Piérre knew what it was like to be beaten up on or chased after, and he hated to be painted in the image of being the antagonist like he was now. He knew that it was a lie, what the boy had said. He had uttered enough lies meant to save his skin before than he tended to know what was true and what wasn't. This wasn't a devious or malicious lie, it was a protective lie, a green lie.

Piérre ran his hand on the doorframe for a bit longer, looking at the ground and biting his lip in shame. "Oh, well... okay! Maybe another time! I know this castle pretty well considering... I didn't mean to bother you!"

There was a sound of scrambling within, as if someone was knocking over things in a mad dash to get somewhere and then get back. Piérre couldn't help but let a tiny smile form as he excitedly thought that there could be something of interest in there. He only hoped that he could get something as well. No doubt the locked door served a dual purpose, protection, and secrecy.

After a few more moments, the door opened to reveal a pale boy, reedy boy with spiky black hair, trendy, compared to Piérre's own style of unkempt bedhead. Seeing the kid for the first time made the first time make Piérre smile brightly as he associated face with voice. Perhaps he would run into him again! Maybe they could be friends, or study buddies! He looked to be a fellow Slytherin, dressed in black and green uniform I assume?, but house had never mattered to the young Italian. They were all a family in the end, and had to look out for one another, especially in these dark and somewhat turbulent times.

Piérre's excitement and smile quickly faded and in fact, transformed into a concerned frown when he noticed the boy looking back and forth in a frightened way. Piérre didn't understand, he hadn't meant to be intimidating, why, he was only hardly an inch taller than the lad. If anything, he looked less than intimidating, jaunty, even, and with his pointed ears, he certainly looked the fool. With a panicked move, the boy shoved past Piérre by pushing him in the chest and away from the door.

Piérre gave no resistance except a small huff of confusion. The boy ran past him and down the hall a certain way, and Piérre looked behind him to see if he could spot the source of the boy's fear.

Indeed, he did.

It was a girl, a normal girl in all respects, except for glowing golden irises with a diamond pupil like a cat’s. A second pair of eyes, from a genuine cat were also visible, and despite impossibility, Piérre could have sworn he had met the fat, grey ball of fur before...

But he was able to recognize the girl as the newest Gryffindor prefect. What in the world was she doing here? Perhaps she had a mischievous streak as well? Or perhaps she was just here to catch some troublemakers like himself. Either way, it was a cause for curiosity and slight alarm, and Piérre couldn’t help but stumble back a few steps in surprise of just noticing her. In a beat, he smiled cheerfully. ”Oh, hi Miss Prefect! Fancy seeing you here, you just poof! appeared! Really awesome! Whatcha doing here at this time? Classes just got out!”

Piérre knew full well he should not be there at that time, even if it was after class hours, and he knew that it was very likely that he would end up receiving detention, but it would be better to carry on a pleasant conversation and stand a chance of being let off the hook than just accepting that he had been trespassing or in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But the boy who had run off... the one Piérre suspected of being beaten up was his bigger concern. ”Hey, Miss Prefect, I would love to stay and chat, but I think that the other boy’s a little nervous. I think he got beat up or something... Be right back!”

Piérre began to sprint as fast as his little, yet long, legs could carry him, puffing as he followed the receding Slytherin. ”Hey_ Hey! Are you okay? Did you get beat up? Do you need any help? Please! I just want to help!”

Piérre carries on a brief conversation with Xailah, and then proceeds to run after the boy, begging for him to listen and let Piérre offer help

@Victor Moore & @Xailah Alptraum

Long legs, a pair of young, yet effective lungs, and the agility of a gazelle was what propelled young Piérre as he attempted to come face to face with the fleeing Slytherin. Though many things in his mind screamed for him to let the kid go about his own business, to just let the subject drop, something lose in the back of his head told him to pursue. Something was off.

Light tapping on the ground as Piérre’s feet almost flew across the stone halls as if they had wings, honed by years of running... and running... and running... and then hiding, and then staying still. There was something in the eye of the boy that was all too familiar to the young Italian; Fear, Uncertainty, and above all, the desire to run, the desire to not be a part of something that could spell out harm to the individual. Something that Piérre had had to learn the hard way, being tackled in the hallway, pushed up and into lockers, cornered in the boy’s stall that he had hidden in, roughly snatched and then dunked in the toilet in question. Gasping for breath... begging for an end of it, unable to escape the pin he had been captured in. Crying, inadvertently giving them what they had wanted all along, as they mocked him, his accent, his country, and his ears, which they yanked, pinched, and flicked.

That was... until Romeo would come charging in like a bull, shoulder down as he collided with the stall and anyone guarding it, pulling each and every bully off of the elder twin and retaliating with punches and kicks, receiving a few in return before with a final few blows, the cowards would run, in search of less protected prey. Then Romeo would sit with his shivering twin, holding him close as he let Piérre cry all his fears out. Sometimes, Romeo would have a bloody nose, other times, a black eye, in some drastic situations, the younger would have scratches across his face, cuts and signs that he had been in confrontations before and was unafraid of confrontations in question.

Maybe that was why Piérre had learned to smile and laugh so much. If he was smiling or laughing, cracking jokes and making others laugh, they wouldn’t question his mood or sense his uncertainty. But above all, above all else, Piérre wanted to make sure others knew that they wouldn’t have to be alone in a fight as big as that. In a fight as widespread of bullying, quiet violence that was often ignored, it could be difficult to be faced head on. Shyness was expected, but more often than not, there was a reason for the shyness or uncertainty.

There was a reason, whether through experiencing something they would rather forget, knowing something they would rather never learned...

Or witnessing something that they wished they could unsee.

There was, of course, the implication of the trial, and the Liberation meetings had still been held once a week, with Piérre having heard rumors that everyone would be able to contribute their information if they had it and wanted to share, but even with Piérre knowing that everyone could be a witness, he pushed it aside, assuming that there was something else at play.

Finally running about a corner at top speed, Piérre screeched to a stop as he saw the young boy nearly shivering with fear, pressed against a wall, hand up in a position of surrender.

Just as Piérre had all those years ago.

But nobody would listen.

"I-I'm fine, I-I don't need any help," The boy stuttered, his cheeks paling even further than his already fair nature. “I-I don't want any trouble man, you can have whatever is in there. Lot's of cool stuff. J-just... leave me alone please."

Up to the last sentence, Piérre had tentatively taken a few steps towards him, meeting him with a similar raising of the hands, palms outwards in similar submission, allowing the kid to see his wand at his belt and know that he was not making any move towards using it. The kid wiped his brow, obviously beyond nervous of the situation, but it was he last sentence that caused Piérre to stop in his tracks.

Just... leave?

There was something in Piérre’s chest that suddenly cracked, something that caused his heart to sink and then shatter into a million pieces. Why was he being thought of as a villain? Why was he being so feared? He never wanted anything more than to help and be the help and light for others to lean on, and now here he was, being the bully to the kid just as he had been bullied long ago. Without realizing it, his eyes began to gloss and water, vision blurring as the words struck him to his core.

Piérre had not been exhausted in the least from time his run, and in fact had been exhilarated because of it, but perhaps it was the high rush of adrenaline that caused the similar raising in emotional awareness as well, the thing which caused the young Gryffindor’s shoulders to slump as he realized when enough was enough.

Shaking his head, he tried to meet the kid’s eyes. ”S_sorry...” Was all he could manage. ”Didn’t mean... I just...” Swallowing a lump in his throat and taking a small breath, Piérre wiped his eyes and smiled weakly. ”I’m sorry, I’ll go... but... if you need anything or if you need to talk to anyone... if you ever feel like you’re in a bad place or need support... You aren’t alone. If you need anyone, if you need help with anything, don’t hesitate to find me.”

He gave a tiny laugh, more of a sob, really. Crying was not an unknown sensation to Piérre, but it was an unpleasant one. A sensation that caused his eyes to go raw, cheeks to flush, and give him a headache that would not fade for at least two hours. But he worst of it was that he would never forget the situation. He wouldn’t and couldn’t forgive himself for any shortcomings of it. In his futile mission to be friends with the world, one failure was equivalent to a million. ”See you ‘round, okay
il commilitone? Italian: Buddy/fellow soldier

With a final nod of affirmation, Piérre put his hands in his pockets and then turned, back to the boy so that he could do what he wished with the situation, and then retreated down the hallway and around the corner, out of sight, a new burden on his mind and in his heart.

Perhaps he could check out the office, though, and see if there really was anything of interest in there. I know you said there was nothing there, but Piérre doesn’t know, so...

What else would he find but the large, grey cat that seemed a little bit familiar to the young Italian Gryffindor. With a smile and his cheeks slowly returning to their normal rosy hue, Piérre sat down, crisscrossed as he observed the grey cat with a new sparkle in his eyes. He liked animals, they always cheered him up.

With a tentative hand, Piérre would tap the ground in front of him with the back of his palm to the feline, a cat’s purr rumbling in the back of his throat, his typical approach to interacting with cats to put them a little more at ease than if he were to plunge right in to touching them. He didn’t really notice the fact that someone was in the office quite yet, but eventually he would consider entering the office and having a gander at the loot within.

Piérre leaves Victor unless stopped and returns to the office, interacting with Schrödinger