Back Into The Water Closed

“Leave it, Ivy. I don’t blame you for what happened.”
Ivy let out the breath she had been holding and continued walking. Ever since seeing him in the study room, she had been harboring guilt in her heart for her family's actions toward Thomas. She had wondered whether he held any resentment toward her because of it, and was relieved to hear that he didn't.
"Should I leave you two alone? I can just find Parce, probably. And you can show me whatever later?" Erin's voice sounded from behind them. Ivy jumped. She had almost forgotten about the purple-haired Slytherin in her relief.
"No," said Thomas. He stopped walking and Ivy looked at him questioningly. Thomas gestured toward a path that headed uphill towards the castle and looked at her. "Here’s the trail. When you reach the split, take the passage that veers to the right." Ivy nodded, grateful for this information. He turned back to Erin. "This way, Erin. We'd best stay off the trail."
As they began to walk away, Ivy could hear Thomas whispering to Erin. Of what, she didn't know. She looked up at the castle. The sun had gone down almost completely, meaning that it was only just past curfew. Trying to go back now wouldn't do her any good - she should have just stayed in the Gryffindor common room.
She was obviously already in trouble - she may as well get herself into more of it. Doing detention with others was certainly a lot more fun that doing detention alone. Why not just follow Thomas and see where it lead her?
Ivy bounced on the balls of her feet for her a moment, frustrated with herself and this twisted logic that she couldn't help agreeing with. Looking at the retreating figures Thomas and Erin, she hesitated for a moment before running to catch up.
"Like you said, it wouldn't be smart to travel alone so late," Ivy offered as an explanation, smiling rather sheepishly.

Erin was compliant. As the sun lowered in the sky, the grounds grew darker and colder. The moist wool clung to her, she had become numb to the nocturne chill as she pursued the duo. She was never silent, not for long in any case nor had she made any effort to conceal her presence. Yet she was forgotten all the same, the girl had blinders she refused to doff as she accompanied the boy. The boy who, as it was becoming increasingly apparent, had no interest in her. 

She tried to concentrate, to understand the scene that was unfolding in front of her. Just the screaming noise refused to cease. She brought a hand over her heart, perhaps a protective gesture, no she gripped the cloth over the breastbone and felt something there. Still safe. She quietly soothed her bubbling apprehension. 

Students are free to travel about the grounds until their curfew at 10:00 pm. That was still hours away as it was only dusk, in the warmest months twilight still preceded their curfew by some time. Thomas gave the girl an out, directions back to the castle if she chose to take them. He had no intention of taking the girl wherever they were going she realized. Whatever love-sickness which ailed the girl, Thomas shared no such affliction. Less his mother, the moma's boy which he was, he had shown no capacity for affection. Perhaps his mother even was an excuse. If nothing else, he was not a glutton for human affection.

He was not sending Erin away, not that directions to the giant Scottish castle would have been enough to do so. However, there was something wrong with this situation and it nagged at her but she ignored this intuitive sense as she again complied. He did not react to her test. Interesting. Off the beaten path, so that they were not caught, so that they were not seen, so that they were not interfered with. 

“There’s something different about you.”

Thomas commented. That was true, she had been a work in progress for some time. "No," she denied it. "Not really," she lied and she checked her sweater again. 

“You mentioned they fixed you.”

A cold chill ran through her, this strange sense she could only guess was fear. Not that she fully comprehended it. Her footsteps briefly halted, she stumbled.

“The crones?”

He clarified. "You were paying attention," Erin forced out an awkward laugh as she regained her footing. "Yeah," she admitted going back on the lie she had given only moments earlier. "Nothing to worry about anymore," she dismissed it. "I've always been..." an sociopath? An asshole? "Socially awkward," that was putting it mildly. "Condition I've had ever since I could remember," her lips grew thin into a half smile as she hastened her pace. "Did a few favors for a couple of sometimes-old ladies," a strange way to describe them but accurate "in exchange for the remedy." She admitted honestly even if she was keeping the truth incredibly vague.

He knew of her condition, at least to an extent. He only needed to put the pieces together. Her obsession with cruelty and getting a rise out of even the most mundane of interactions. She was, as he had seen with her interactions with 'Parce' a glutton for affection, interaction and emotional binds. "But no need to worry about that bullshit," she concluded. "I can give all the shits I want," a crude way of putting it but it was accurate. 

Where were they going?

Past the broom shed and across the Quidditch practice pitch. "Have you seen Howie?" Erin abruptly changed the subject. For whatever reason his question reminded her of Howard White. It was of course pertinent, at least to her. An endless spring. "Since you've--" her voice trailed off as she sought the correct word because he was still being followed by his private fan club. "Returned?" Good enough she concluded as the word escaped her mouth. She had not seen Howard since the incident. That evening was the last evening she had seen Howard as well as the crones. The creeping first moments of sentiment, that thrill and this bliss were punctuated by regret and fear. She did not wish to find him, not after that day. Had she, she would have apologized again. Had she, she probably would have vomited from the anxiety and the remorse that ate away at her. It was better than the apathy, the void that existed before - that made life a task rather than an experience. 

She gave Howard the opportunity and the tools to be what she saw, what she felt in him beneath that sweet schoolboy exterior. She never made him, even if she might one day be credited for doing so. But perhaps without her intervention, he never would have realized what he was or what she saw. "Nevermind," she waved the passing curiosity with a hand as if she was trying to erase the question entirely.

She looked back for Ivy. "Should she be following?" Erin inquired, seemed silly for her to worry but she was as Thomas had noticed a different person. He tried to send her away, either because it was something for her eyes only, because it was dangerous or because he was going to lure her in the woods and try to murder her. She did not put any of them past Thomas, even if she truly believed the lie that they were friends. She remembered the context of their 'friendship' before he disappeared. 

You gave me permission to throw stuff at you. So, your/our funeral.

The grounds were starting to clear of students. The darkness bid them farewell. However the world was still buzzing with sound. The wind howled, while the air was not icy it left a chill that Erin could feel. Lights started to illuminate through distant windows and the grey sky started to blacken. It was not merely nightfall, the darkness was coming too early. Erin looked up, a drop of water hit her in the eye. Rain? 

The rain seemed to have come from nowhere. The sky had this unusual verdant tint. Flashes of lightning that never struck the ground illuminate the celestial spaces. Erin drew her wand from her jacket. "Lumos," she muttered the word of power. The word of intent. The tip of the wand would light and like a turtle she would tuck her neck into the collar of her jacket. Dammit Thomas.

The air was heavy with moisture, but there was this sweet aroma as well. Like as if someone was baking... gingerbread?

“Did a few favors for a couple of sometimes-old ladies, in exchange for the remedy."

Despite the darkness, Thomas picked up on her change in demeanor. A stumble combined with a discomfort clinging to the tone of her voice. Thomas looked over his shoulder with substantial intrigue, attempting to make sense of her vague response. Favors, old ladies, a remedy? If he had not known better, he would think she was describing a horror-themed Hansel and Gretel spin-off.

"But no need to worry about that bullshit, I can give all the shits I want,"

Thomas ignored her attempt to dismiss the topic. “Sometimes? And other times?” He questioned, curious as to what the ladies appeared to be when they weren’t…well, ladies. Despite the genuine confusion associated with his previous question, Thomas had a rough idea of the following one. “The remedy, which is?” The drastic change in the girl was evident, this remedy must have attributed to that.

"Have you seen Howie? Since you've--Returned?"

“Howard.” Thomas corrected, allowing bass to accompany his stern tone. The subject of Howard White was one Erin would have been wise to stray from. The feelings associated with Howard were directly tied to the shared distaste the two had for Erin Ryan in the past. “I plan to seek him out, if he still breathes.” Thomas spoke sourly, as if he just bit into his least favorite skittle flavor. In other words, if you have not killed him yet. The implications of his verbiage may have flown well over Erin’s head, but his demeanor should be enough to express distaste for the shared past between the trio.

"Should she be following?"

Erin motioned with her eyes to a lingering Ivy, approaching from behind the two.

"Like you said, it wouldn't be smart to travel alone so late”

The boy’s offer of inclusion was his undoing, she referenced his earlier words before they departed from the lake. “You seem capable enough.” He retraced his earlier statement. Why did the boy bring up the prospect of inclusion to begin with? Did he simply want Ivy to tag along, but intended to present the opposite to Erin? Was there value to be had in Ivy’s presence? “A young Gryffindor tagging along with two snakes. Surely your fellow lions will shun you in contempt.” Was Thomas simply playing Ivy, or was he playing Erin? Or was he playing both? Himself? Who knows.

The petrichor exuding from the green shards was pleasant, but accumulating moisture halted any progress for the boy’s robes to dry. Thomas didn’t view the rainfall to be a major threat, an impending cold was the last thing on his mind. He glanced up to see the moon fighting for visibility amongst the stratus clouds. Then over to Erin, who wasted no time providing light from the tip of her wand. If Thomas knew the spell, he would have done so himself. Erin’s value as an asset was undeniable. Thomas would consider abandoning the vendetta she triggered for this reason. If not for that alone, the new nature that came with the access to feel.

His view of the girl was challenged to stray from demonic to pity. How could she be responsible for the void of emotion? A concept Thomas did not pursue to understand in the beginning. Was Erin really to blame for her actions pre-emotion? Thomas believed strongly in accountability, and consequences. It fueled his desire for Erin to face some of her own. But what if her very existence was the consequence, Thomas could not fathom being emotionless. It did not seem pleasant. Perhaps Erin deserved a second chance. The proposed friendship could be a reality for the pair.

It was quite a trek across the grounds, the students were reaching their step goals this evening. The boy continued to make a conscious effort to bypass any trails, or any other commonly traveled areas on the grounds. They remained on the outskirts “Nearly there, I think.” Thomas was mostly sure they would reach the destination, but the rain declined what little visibility they had. “Don’t worry, we should be able to escape the rain soon enough.” He looked over to the likely disgruntled girls. “If he lets us in.”

“Sometimes? And other times?”

"They were young, they were tall, they were not--" her voice drifted off. She did not finish the sentence, but the final word was human. It made things sound weird, unbelievable. It wasn't that she appreciated what they had done to, not for her. She felt indebted, a strange sentiment considering the fact that she had paid their price in full. However her excitement regarding their abilities and their skill had ebbed after only a short time. The curiosity was replaced with regret and dread. She knew something was wrong, wrong with  them. With what they were doing. That it was selfish of her to not share, not with Thomas but with someone else. However the girl was also incredibly paranoid, she believed that the Professors were out to get her, out to get everyone. That they posed a greater threat than some ladies that gave her a sense of dis ease.


“The remedy, which is?”

"A heart," she answered cryptically. "They claimed I lacked one, so..." she felt her sweater with her right hand. Always checking, making sure that it was still there. "They gave me one," she swallowed but her throat was dry. A change of subject -- Howard White. The crones made her think of him, in the months since she had seen him last she had nearly forgotten about him. Life went on, the good and the bad.

"Howard"

Thomas corrected her. Some names more relevant than others. Of course there was a time when Howard called himself Howie, that was how the Hufflepuff presented himself. The infantilization of the name, the face he chose to bear to the world. One that made people trust him. One that made him approachable. One that hid his actual nature. One that perhaps represented the man he wanted to someday become. The name that represented the man he could never be. She had seen it and she regretted it. It was a juvenile notion and it was cruel, the want to see it - the truth rather than the lie. The desire to see it. The hubris.

“I plan to seek him out, if he still breathes.”

Thomas announced and her blood ran cold for just a moment. "He's... He's fine?" There was the inflection of a question in her statement because in truth she could not be sure,. She had not noticed if he had gone missing, they were better enemies than friends. The last time she had seen him was shortly after she got a heart, it thrummed nervously while she completed her final task. One that at the time she was excited for. Foolish. She had seen the nature, the endless stream. What he wanted could not possibly be good. And she was right and from an outsider's perspective while their actions hardly any different less their guise, the darkness in their magic was terribly apparent. "Don't look for him," she cautioned. "You won't..." she breathed "like what you might find."

He might not want to talk to her after finding that sore point between them. At least to her, perhaps it was best that the girl tagged along. So she walked in silence, enduring the chill of the rain. She did not find the same peace in the water that Thomas had. More like a sickly obsession. The ground was getting softer underfoot, the mud stuck to the soles of her feet. The air carried this almost pleasant scent - of spice and sugar. The ground was more curious than the air once the light of her Lumos charm illuminated the ground. A mouse. No, mice scurried out of site. Something skittered also, away from the light. No, it was not just one... but rather many.

Erin stopped in her tracks.

“Nearly there, I think.”

A sick, sour feeling in her gut. She urged her legs to move, to ignore the rising sense of worry and dread. "Nearly where?" Her tone had changed, to one of suspicion. "W-we need to turn around, now," her tone was sharp and demanding as she looked back the way they came. It looked different than she remembered. An issue of perspective perhaps. She was not afraid of the Professors or the Prefects. She did not think she was afraid of a few spiders and mice. It was not for the cold that she shivered.

“Don’t worry, we should be able to escape the rain soon enough.”

"It's not the rain..." her voice trailed off. "This place is wrong." He continued to walk, her feet remained stubbornly in place.

“If he lets us in.”

"He," she repeated. A sense of relief washed over her. The power to move returned to her legs. Not that she felt any better, at least about the creepy setting but wherever they were going came with the implied promise of shelter and safety. 

"You seem capable enough. A young Gryffindor tagging along with two snakes. Surely your fellow lions will shun you in contempt."

Ivy shrugged rather indifferently to Thomas' playful words. "It doesn’t matter what they think of me,” she muttered under her breath. This was true; Ivy was not one to obsess over how her peers saw her. While it made life easier to be liked, being popular was not one of her top priorities. Besides, Ivy would much rather be respected.

As the trio walked, Ivy noticed that the ground, once hard and scattered with leaves, stones and fallen branches, was becoming softer, as if they were walking through mud. She dismissed this as a result of the rain, but then a sugary smell filled the air.

Ivy raised her nose and sniffed, just to make sure she wasn't dreaming. She wasn't - the scent was almost pleasant. It was as if someone was baking gingerbread from a house nearby. It shouldn't have been concerning, apart from the fact that they were in the school grounds and all of Hogwarts' inhabitants lived inside the castle.

Ivy's stomach turned. Something strange was happening, and she didn't know what. The rain, having started as a light drizzle, had turned into a near-storm in only a few minutes. Ivy could hardly see through it. She pulled her coat around her even tighter, her body, which was vulnerable to the cold already, shivering violently. Ivy couldn't exactly remember why she had agreed to come along.

The feeling worsened when the young Gryffindor felt something brush against the edge of her boots. Looking down, the sight nearly made her throw up. Illuminated by the glow emitting from Erin's wand, what seemed like thousands of mice scampered past them. Ivy let out a shriek and danced away, colliding into a tree. She recovered quickly, not wanting the two Slytherins to think she was a coward, although she bloody was when it came to mice and rats.

"Nearly there, I think."

Thomas spoke these words confidently, but Ivy was feeling sick to her stomach. Her legs felt like jelly as they slowed to a stop. Beside her, Erin seemed to share the same sentiment as her usually confident expression changed to one of fear and dread. Ivy swallowed the bile that had suddenly risen in the back of her throat - if the confident third-year was worried, she really didn't stand a chance.

"Nearly where?" Erin demanded, suspiciously. Her tone turned sharp as she looked back at the way they had come from. "W-we need to turn back, now."

Ivy nodded in agreement, hoping her voice wouldn’t shake. “There’s something weird about this place.” Right now, there was nothing Ivy wanted more than to be back in her warm bed with a book and a mug of hot chocolate. She was always up for some adventure, but there was something about this place that she didn’t like.

“Don’t worry, we should be able to escape the rain soon enough.”

As if that was going to help. Ivy remained rooted to the spot next to Erin as Thomas continued to walk on.

“It’s not the rain... this place is wrong.”

Wrong was an understatement, thought Ivy. This place was sinister. The trees’ branches seemed to grab at her, as if they were arms, and overhead a fluttering of wings could be heard. Ivy looked up. Bats. They seemed to be heading the same way as the mice from earlier on.

“This place is terrifying...” she quivered, wishing she had taken the route back up to the castle. Ivy would rather face a prefect and earn detention than continue on walking, but it was too late now.

“If he lets us in.”

“He,” echoed Erin. This news seemed to console her, as her expression relaxed. Like a puppet on strings, she began to move forwards again.

Ivy gawked at her back, surprised that the girl had relaxed so quickly. She briefly wondered if she had been possessed and ran to catch up with the two Slytherins. “What? Who’s he?” she asked them. The Gryffindor was cold, confused and scared. The rain had completely gone through her clothing, so she was soaked to the skin. Ivy tossed her shawl and coat to the ground. They were no longer of any use to her, so she didn’t hesitate.

“Where are we going?” the girl asked. Not for the first time that evening, Ivy wondered what she was thinking when she decided to follow the Slytherins.

The teenage girl referenced her reception of a heart, an otherwise concerning notion, but Thomas understood the void of emotion that plagued the girl. The choice alone was admirable, and for a moment provided a bright stroke of hope in her dark story.

"Don't look for him, You won't...like what you might find."

The part-veela’s warning garnered a glare of contempt from the boy. Firstly, the disrespect to refer to the boy as Howie. A name Howard parted with from Erin’s spite. The day he stopped being a boy, turned to a man. A man fueled by his rage, a crowning achievement for Erin, her creation. Secondly, to issue a warning, implying she knows his end. Thomas was uncertain of what followed between the two after he disappeared. If Erin amended the damages she inflicted on the Hufflepuff or not. He held a singular power Thomas has not witnessed from any other students, which Erin latched onto. Despite uncertainties, Thomas began to consider the simple fact: Each individual has changed since they were last together, for the worse.

The pressing questions over Howard would have to be put on hold for now. Thomas released a gentle huff, blue eyes removed from the third year and back to the patches of muddy soil that squelched from his black boots. While the rain was not in his plan, Thomas was not concerned for his now mud-caked shoes. There was a soft chilling hiss from the raindrops on exposed parts of his skin. The rain offered comfort for the boy, serving as a stimulating white noise.

Then came a change in tone, first it was the wind. The calm breeze halted, the cusp of the nearing wood line now rigid without movement. A collection of rodents scuttled away from their encroaching footsteps. This prompted concern from the girls, to which they quickly vocalized.

“this place is wrong.”

“This place is terrifying...”

Thomas gave no response, not even a look in their direction. It was not surprising to see the first year Gryffindor express fear, but the Erin Ryan, afraid? It was a sight to behold, and if not for the dwindling resentment perhaps Thomas would have stood there to soak in the moment. Ivy did not have a choice in the matter, she would not dare turn back to the castle now, even if the odds of her reaching the castle safely vastly outweighed her success of survival here. To run or stay hinged on Erin's willingness to follow him.

Thomas supplied an answer that appeared to be enough to keep the girls moving, “if he lets us in”—did the girls presumed he was referring to an ally? Or was this he another version of himself, someone he did not have control over?

Then came a steep decline in elevation made evident from the occasional slides through a patch of mud with stationary feet. If they were not careful, they could have fallen and slid downhill. Thomas navigated the ground like an expert, as if it was a path he has traveled many times. Now visible was the façade of the vacant groundskeeper’s hut. At least Thomas assumed it was vacant, as he has not seen anyone near it since arriving at the castle. Former home to the famous half-giant, Rubeus Hagrid. Not far behind was the dense wood line of the Dark Forest.

There was no turning back now, they were too close within the grasp of what Thomas has wanted to show Erin. The boy led the girls up the porch steps towards the doorway of this hut, standing underneath the eave to escape the rainfall. It was a small circular structure made of stone, a large wooden door served as the only entry or exit. He rapped the door with his knuckles, attempting to press it open. The door remains unmoved. “I don’t suppose you can get that open, Erin?”

After ignoring several questions, Thomas used this moment to break his silence. There was no longer an option to turn back and escape what was coming. No matter how frightening his next words would be, they were stuck in this together. He turned to Erin, though his eyes would stare off in the distance, focused in their surroundings. “You searched for me when no one else did. You deserve to know the truth. I could not have just told you, no. I had to show you…” The boy stopped himself searching for the right words, this speech was not planned. “Do not run, do not scream. And do not speak, unless spoken to.” His blue eyes flickered over to Ivy, visibly afraid but she still stood with them. She was a part of this story now, and Thomas admired her courage. “They will not hurt you.” A lie. Thomas had not control over them, but he would hope his presence would be enough to spare the Gryffindor. She did not deserve to die tonight.

Looking back over to Erin, Thomas motioned to the door. “So, can you open it? It’d be best to get inside for now, if we can. They will come on their own terms.”

Relief had washed over her when Thomas said him rather than her or they. The proliferation of vermin was a familiar sight for the Slytherin girl, a sign that they where near. She had sought them out three years ago, her languishing want had drawn them to her. She was but a child, yearning for something more with a natural cruelty cultivated by a callous world and an inability to feel remorse. She had never thought about the consequences, only want she wanted, what she needed. The burden of regret came later, it was in a sick sort of way her reward and in comparison to the void she knew it was utter bliss, this misery and sorry that stuck to her soul.

Ivy was troubled by the rodents and the vile insects that could fly. Their buzzing wings as they seemed to fly at her rather than away. Thin strands of spider's silk that clung to their clothes when they broke as they passed through. They felt like gentle fingers attempting to grip the children, prevent them from going any further but they lacked the power and the will to hold them back. Rats, some as large as small cats would scurry across the muddy floor. 

“What? Who’s he?”

"No idea," Erin answered because Thomas had not. "I just did not want it to be something in particular," she muttered. It was certainly not a 'he', it was a 'she' or a 'they.'

“Where are we going?”

"No clue," she had asked the same question herself. Thomas seemed uninterested in answering their inquiry. He would slide down an embankment and Erin would follow, she was incredibly athletic and agile even if the part-Veela did not look the part. "But," there was a halting to her voice. She had a bad-feeling, not that she was one listen to that little voice in the back of her head. It was just too quiet. "You might not want to find out," she warned her from the bottom of the embankment.

The pelting rain left the girl looking lie a drowned rat, her long dyed hair in her hand she was uselessly trying to wring it out as she followed Thomas against her better judgement. She had no idea where they were headed but a building had come into view. The Groundskeeper's Cabin, once resided in by Darren Hurst until 2019 when he abruptly left his role as groundskeeper for presumably greener pastures. There was never a replacement groundskeeper, not yet or not that she had noticed in any case. When the cabin was set ablaze during the Blossom Ball in the spring, the same day Thomas had disappeared, nobody had even noticed it for weeks. 

The now seemingly abandoned abode seemed disgusted with itself. The building made mostly of blackened, moss-covered stone, with sills made of charred wood. Thomas found refuge from the deluge of rain on the porch. A slouching roof hung heavy over their heads as Erin reached Thomas' side. The walls weakened by fire and the burden of the broken roof. Where the heck are you taking me Tom? As she studied the house's grim countenance, she heard the cabin actually groan. She echoed a groan of her own, it was then that she realized the extent to which this house has come to revile what it has become.

He knocked on the door with his knuckles. The door, despite being marred with a fire that failed to put this edifice out of its misery, remained sturdy and stable beneath his hand. Nobody came to answer him. He would push, but the door would not give way. Erin looked over at Thomas, she did not say anything but she gave him the sort of scolding expression that begged the question -- the hell you doing Thomas?

“I don’t suppose you can get that open, Erin?”

What ever happened to being let in? She looked around her, it did not look like anyone lived here. Like anyone should be here. This building should be nothing short of condemned. "No," Erin answered bluntly even if she wanted inside even if the place looked like hell for a little while to at least dry off. It was getting late, there was no way she would be able to sneak back into the school after nightfall, her reputation as well as her appearance made her a stand out. There was no story she could spin, no matter how true or plausible that a Prefect or a Professor would accept. She was putting her foot down, again. Thomas was acting strange and while she was willing to entertain his madness she was not going to break into a place so he could eat lead chips and get even dumber. "I will take you back to your dorm," well the common room at least, she offered. Why did she even follow him this long? He lacked the sense to keep his head above the surface of the water.

He looked past her, he did not make eye contact with her as he made his reply. Was he looking at Ivy? Cute. 

“You searched for me when no one else did. You deserve to know the truth. I could not have just told you, no. I had to show you…”

Her gut sank. Something was wrong, he was incredibly detached. He was not the sort of person to lack. Was she simply seeing him differently? She felt everything in abundance and what was once an endless spring, had become a trickle into a dried riverbed. She swallowed hard. "Here?" She asked as she looked around again. She had passed by this place dozens of times, had she just walked on past him each of those times? 

“Do not run, do not scream. And do not speak, unless spoken to.”

Thomas warned. Erin tried to grab his upper arm in her hand. It was hardly gentle. "I thought we were trying to get out of the rain," her statement was a rough whisper. "Not..." her voice trailed off. "Your kidnappers," her eyes darted towards the door. Her first instinct was of course to barge in, make them regret the day they saw Thomas. That was her first instinct. Her second was to get Thomas away, he was not right. Something had broken in his head. She was actually worried about him. He was an idiot but he was her idiot. 

“They will not hurt you.”

"They?" She repeated. "You said HE," there was a rising sound of panic in her voice. She had not forgotten the vermin. She looked around yet again at the damaged building. At the gnarled trees that marked the border of the forbidden forest. The mossy stone. The dying grass, the blighted bushes. She would try to pull Thomas away from the door, back into the rain. Pneumonia and detention both would be a fine fate comparatively. 

“So, can you open it? It’d be best to get inside for now, if we can. They will come on their own terms.”

Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened. "Are you cracked?" Her voice cracked as she made that accusing inquiry. He used they again. "We are getting you away from here!" Was he trying to get himself killed by some murder hobo hag? She was prepared to kick his ass and drag his motionless body back to the Slytherin common area. She did not even consider the fact that he might have brought her here to be killed. That this was not an explanation. A bonding exercise. 

However, she should not have dallied. From the Forbidden Forest, something was approaching. Whoever, or rather whatever was coming was feminine. Their form, hunched over. The back twisted and deformed. The neck too short considering the 'woman's' relative size. Short, dark hair that was unevenly hewn. Misshapen eyes, yellowed where the whites should have been and the iris' clouded over. She was not nude, but what she wore was tattered and filthy, festooned with thorny sticks and bones. Her sagging bosom swayed like a pair of unfortunate pendulums side to side as she shambled in their direction. Her hands were large, too large for her already massive form. Long dagger-like, thick nails that curved like talons.


That was no man. That looked nothing like the crones she had encountered before. Erin would rummage through her pockets, not for her wand but for an item she knew how to use more. A lockpick knife. She plunged her knife into the lock and jiggled the blade thrice before the lock gave way. The door moved inward and she pushed her way in. If she had a hold on Thomas she would attempt to force him into the cabin. If Ivy was near, if she followed and had not yet fled she would beckon her inside but she would not be foolish enough as to give her long. 

The strange creature would not pursue them with haste, she carried an eerie confidence. She was singing.

London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair Lady.

Build it up with wood and clay,
Wood and clay, wood and clay,
Build it up with wood and clay,
My fair Lady.

Wood and clay will wash away,

Wash away, wash away,
Wood and clay will wash away,
My fair Lady...

Words have power, they carry with them not only intent but something fearsome. Words give stories. Words give life and meaning. Words...

The building would creak and groan upon the third verse. Wood and clay will wash away... The walls themselves appeared to shift.

Interacting with @Erin Ryan and @Thomas Lestrange

Erin did not seem to know who 'he' was, nor did she know where they were headed. Ivy's stomach clenched with uneasiness at the last part of her statement, and she looked over at Thomas pleadingly, but there was no response from him either. The two Slytherins slid down an embankment with ease and Ivy hesitated only a little before following, stumbling a little as she landed. It was here that she realised that she would not be able to turn back now by herself; she was unfamiliar with this part of the school, unlike Thomas, who navigated through the place as though he had walked this path a hundred times. Erin seemed quite steady on her feet as well despite the heavy rain, and only Ivy slipped and slid through the mud. So much for ballet lessons, she thought sourly.

As they turned the corner, a small hut came into view. Ivy let out a shaky sigh of relief. Finally, somewhere to hide from the rain. She followed them up onto the porch and for a moment, she was too busy trying to wring the water out of her hair and clothes (to no avail, sadly). Then she looked around and realised that something was off about this place. With charred windowsills, a broken roof and blackened moss on the stones that made up the hut, it looked as though it had been set on fire once. Ivy swallowed and stared at Thomas. Why...?

The Slytherin knocked on the door, and when no one answered, he attempted to push it open. It stayed, much to Ivy's surprise. Despite the house's crumbling foundation, the door seemed sturdy and rather unmoveable - which was rather unfortunate for the trio, as they needed to get inside.

“I don’t suppose you can get that open, Erin?” Thomas asked, turning to Erin.

Ivy's brow furrowed. She thought he had said that they'd be let in, but perhaps she was wrong. Casting another glance at the place, she swallowed. The more she looked, the scarier it seemed.

"No. I will take you back to your dorm," Erin stated, frowning. Her tone was even, but Ivy thought she saw fear flash through the purple-haired girl's eyes for a fraction of a second. Perhaps she was imagining things.

Thomas' gaze shifted - not to Ivy, but Erin's shoulder, as if he were scared or embarrassed of his next words. “You searched for me when no one else did. You deserve to know the truth. I could not have just told you, no. I had to show you..."

"Here?"

"Show her what?" Ivy asked him. Her stomach clenched again. Thomas was acting very, very strange, and she didn't like it. "Thomas!"

“Do not run, do not scream. And do not speak, unless spoken to.”

"I thought we were trying to get out of the rain," Erin whispered harshly. Ivy suspected that it was meant only for Thomas, but she could not help but listen. "Not your kidnappers."

Wait. Kidnappers?

Ivy's heart began to thump loudly. What had she gotten herself into? By the serious way Thomas instructed her and Erin, it sounded like lives were at stake. Ivy wanted to think that the Slytherin boy was messing with them, but one look at his grim expression confirmed that this was not a prank.

“They will not hurt you.”

If Thomas was trying to reassure the terrified girl, it certainly was not working. Something about the way he said it made Ivy think that they would hurt her, whoever "they" were. "Thomas, you're scaring me." Ivy's voice was shaking.

"They? You said HE." There was no mistaking the panic in Erin's voice now.

Thomas appeared to ignore Erin and continued to speak in the same indifferent tone. It was as though he had been possessed. “So, can you open it? It’d be best to get inside for now, if we can. They will come on their own terms.”

"Are you cracked?" Erin demanded loudly. "We are getting you away from here!"

"Thomas, Erin's right." Ivy hoped she sounded braver than she felt. "We should go back to the castle. Let's go. Please." The Gryffindor already had a firm grip on Thomas' sleeve, eager to leave. She nodded at Erin, ready to drag him back to the castle.

But Erin did not move. Ivy looked back at her in surprise to see the Slytherin looking at something ahead of them, and naturally looked forward to see what she was looking at. Immediately, she wished she hadn't.

Ivy did not know how to describe the monster in front of her. It was extremely tall and lumbered slowly toward them, with a small head and greyish skin covered in boils, and nails as long and thick as Ivy's arm. Ivy fought the urge to scream, remembering what Thomas had said, and turned to Erin. The purple-haired girl was already fumbling with a lockpick, and when the door sprang open, Ivy didn't hesitate to drag Thomas and Erin inside. She slammed the door behind them before realising that a door wasn't much help if the monster decided to smash through it.

Outside, the creature was... singing? Its voice, although eerie, was surprisingly pleasant and high-pitched for a such a gigantic thing. The tune itself was soft and lilting, like a gentle lullaby, but Ivy was not familiar with it. Perhaps it was a Muggle song? But why would a magical creature be singing a Muggle song...? Ivy caught some of the lyrics. London Bridge is falling down... my fair lady... build it up... wood and clay... my fair lady... will wash away...

Ivy turned to ask the Slytherins if they recognized the tune. She had never been this scared in her entire life. She clenched her shaking, sweaty hands and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Detention did not seem so bad after all.

"…I scream, you scream, we ALL FALL DOWN!"

Somewhere through the wind and rain, another voice was singing a nursery rhyme at the top of its lungs, only this set of pipes belonged to a young boy.

"There, see? I know some old children's songs, too."

A robed figure glanced back over their shoulder as if to speak to a companion, their hood up to shield their face from the stinging drops of pelting rain. From the direction they were facing, they appeared to have come from the castle and taken the same route the other students had on their way to the Groundskeeper's Cabin.

However, upon spotting the misshapen creature encumbered by swaying chesticles, the figure stopped and stared. Then, holding out their arms theatrically, they began to recite a new set of rhymes while slowly taking step by dramatic step toward the feminine-featured humanoid.

"If thou be'st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear,
No where
Lives a woman true, and fair."

Now, how did this mad, song-spouting straggler come to pursue our main trio of this tale?

Well, a while back, a certain red-headed Slytherin had noticed a purple-haired one looking through a window as she appeared to seek someone out. When Erin had left said window, Jack had gone up to it, curious as to what she had seen that had caused her to leave the Common Room so close to nightfall when curfew would soon be upon them. While Jack was not a regular curfew contravener, witnessing both Erin and Thomas heading out across the grounds proved to be too much for the first-year's curiosity. He simply had to find out what the pair were up to.

Along the way, he had been in such a hurry to make it outside before the doors were locked that he run smack dab into another first year who looked vaguely familiar. In order to keep his hold up as short as possible, Jack had explained that he had witnessed some suspicious activity on the part of his housemates and was headed outside to investigate in the hopes he could recall them inside before their house got into trouble and lost points.

Though the vaguely-familiar young man was most certainly not a Slytherin, he seemed intent on following Jack anyway; perhaps in hopes of validating his claims. The redhead was in no mood to argue. In fact, he figured company might have been welcome if things ended as badly as they were starting to seem like they would.

Thus, Jack and his new companion hurried after Thomas, Erin, and a new addition of their own that they must have picked up when Jack had experienced his delay. Eager to keep up with the group, the redhead had then focused on them instead of his follower, only glancing back once he realized only the woman-ish being and himself were visible out in the open. Erin, Thomas, and that other girl must have gotten inside the sad little structure of a building and Jack had no idea if his tagalong had fallen behind or chosen to turn back or what, so he decided to improvise.

To him, that situation was quite simple. In Disney movies, there was often a lovely maiden like Snow White or Briar Rose or even Giselle who sang so sweetly her voice attracted to her the handsome prince with whom she was destined to live happily ever after with forever. Well, right here before Jack was an indisputable maiden, and while her looks might have been debatable, the Slytherin boy had never been the sort to get hung up on mere appearances. Besides, beauty was in the eye of the beholder.

What was more important was that she was singing, and (regardless of her ability to sing on pitch or in tune) it was a familiar song (if the words were anything to judge by) that Jack was happy to say he knew only too well. All that seemed left for him to do in order to complete the perfect story was to join his fair princess in a destined duet.

And yet…what creativity, originality, or fun would there have been in simply singing the same verses as she? So the young Slytherin decided to sing a few new lines of his own.

"London Bridge is not around,
Not around, not around,
London bridge is not around,
My fair Lady.

I think you have gone astray,
gone astray, gone astray,
I think you have gone astray,
My fair Lady.

I will help you, don't dismay,
Don't dismay, don't dismay
I will help you, don't dismay,
My fair Lady."

Would he woo his fair lady with his sweet heart song? Alas, only time and the almighty Lear game master would tell.

@Thomas Lestrange, @Erin Ryan, @Ivy Bellamy, & @Jack Warren

Lear at your service. however too confusing to go between accounts, you will be seeing the moderation done on my student for the sake of ease. 

Inside:

The interior appeared weary. The furnishings filthy, thread bare and torn. It would appear that only some of the furnishings were here before the fire, that there has been life in this place since. A love-seat, once a plaid now for the most part a singular dark brown color of a stain. The sagging seat squat behind a broken, three legged coffee table that was being held straight by a stack of book. They were Hogwarts text books, the ones a first year would use. On the coffee table there was a mason jar that was overflowing with what would appear to be human teeth. 

The floor was covered with an area rug, a weaving of some strange eldritch abomination devouring what appeared to be an infant but the carpet was sticky and stained. There was a small mirror hanging over the love seat, in which the students could see their own reflection. Well, the reflection of a trio that looked just like them, only they were not moving as the trio did. They were banging and screaming, they looked as if they were trying to get out of the mirror. There was no sound. The frame, this black gnarled wood that was lightly charred. Something from before the fire it would seem.

There was a broom closet near the door, it was chained shut with thick, corded chains and a padlock. The padlock had no keyhole but appeared to be covered in blood. The door rattled and banged as if there was something large and angry inside that wanted out. 

If they looked up, they would see a candle lit iron chandelier. It was not large or grand, but rather a humble. The flames emitted a green glow rather than a warm yellow or brown and they were lit by some sort of magic. Hanging from one of the iron arms, a dead bird that was apparently impaled by the limb of the candelabra.  

On the floor, one on the north side of the room and the other on the west, a bedroll. It would appear that two people lived in this place. While the former residence of a crone, his room had been occupied by two other men these past few months. One, Thomas LeStrange. The other, a man of ill repute who wanted to be called Dennis. He kept to himself for the most part and spoke to himself. He was not here, in fact he often went several days at a time traveling to places undisclosed only to return and mutter a generic greeting before he read a book in a corner or pulled out his bed roll to turn in for the night.

The next room, well none of them got that far. It was a small kitchen and there was a bath. It was for the best that none of them went there. 

The Group

Erin slammed her shoulder against the door and fumbled to lock the door that the 'woman' likely had the key for. A futile effort that was nothing more than  instinct. "Someone drag me something heavy," she ordered. Like the love seat if either had the brawn. The coffee table was another option. The scanned the immediate vicinity for something, anything else. There was a bookshelf, it looked heavy despite the fact that there were no books but rather grotesque curiosities:

• A dismembered foot -- growing from the grey foot was two different types of moss as well as a strange spotted mushroom. 
• Eyes of various creatures in jars. 
• Fingers in candlestick holders, with thin wicks coming out of the tips - all of which are lit. 
• Animal parts, some in jars and some in bloody bundles. While obviously inedible, if any time was spent looking at them the looker would feel extremely hungry while examining it.

That would have been enough, but it of course was not. There were several... dolls strewn about the room. Each had different features, were filled with straw and wore various garments all filthy and tattered. Some were fancy, others plain. Not that whoever occupied this house looked like the type to play with dolls. 

If she was assisted or not, she would notice Jack Burnett slide down the same embankment she and Thomas had slid down a few minutes earlier. The rain was still pouring, his glorious hair slicked down. Somehow a good look on him. His clothes clung to him and she caught herself staring despite the dangerous situation they were in. Dammit Parce, you're so distracting!

It was then that sense would seep into her hormonal adolescent brain too overcome with lust to consider the dangerous truth. "Merlin Parce!" She realized as it clicked that he was very much in mortal peril. Yes, Erin made a deal with a coven of crones, crones that she realized too late that they were dangerous. That there was something wrong. This was not the crone she had made a deal with. Crones, or rather hags are dangerous creatures with a 'rudimentary' magic according to their textbooks, likened to trolls but she knew first hand that they were underrepresented. In fact if they carefully reviewed the history of well-known hags, they were powerful casters, potionieers and were known for the cruel intentions. 

She needed to get out of there. The walls were writhing, if one were to describe the motions she would have described it as beating. "Get out of there!" Erin shouted, her voice might have been muffled by the barrier that was the cabin, she sounded panicked because she was. If someone had helped her barricade the door, Erin would attempt to undo their efforts and rip the love-seat, table or bookshelf away from the door to try to run outside and call 'Parce' in.

Action: Unless stopped, Erin attempts to open the door and either leave the cabin to get Jack-Parce or call him inside.

It was an act of passion rather than logic. She would not be able to save the Disney Princess from the hag if the hag was hungry. She would not be able to defeat one either, not as a third year. She was not thinking about probability or chance, she was just doing. 

The Hag

"Thomas!" The hag called out. She was looking for the prodigal student. "Thomas!" She rasped a second time after the verse ended. Indeed, they were not strangers, a deal was made between Thomas and the hag nearly a year ago. This cabin, where she used to house her playthings - things she wanted to enjoy but she could live with if they were broken or taken away. "I smell you and I smell something sweet," she was talking about the girls that Thomas had brought with her. Yes, in this twisted world, Erin was considered sweet as that locket demonstrated the difference a heart can make in even a monster. "What have you brought for me," to eat.

She would shamble, her 'chesticles' would sway as she waddled closer to the cabin when a sweet melody would draw her notice. A long, thin stream of saliva would be washed away by the rain. 

Did Jack Burnett want this?