Secrets PV Closed

@Thomas LeStrange was a cocky asshole. Calling it a science experiment, the kind where a girl goes splat. He was going to do the thing we has not going to do for the sake of science. However, he was rather insightful and had a grip on what would still be necessary to glean something from a little girl. On the social burden of his role. She would try and ultimately fail to beat the snark out of her fellow snake with an angry owl. 

“Did you really just try to grab an owl? ...And I’m the mental one.”

He verbally taunted her. The girl would try to pull away from @Thora Larkston, her firm, strong grip had prevented Marion from escaping this confrontation, the risk that Thomas posed and the uncomfortable, prying eyes of the snakes that had gathered. 

Attempt to Escape Thora's Grip.
Roll: 6
Maintain Grip: 17

But Marion was not a strong girl at all, the underclassman had a good grip on the girl. Perhaps she had gotten an incredible hold on the blonde. As she thrashed to try and pull away and to assail LeStrange, her long blond hair swished back and forth. She always wore her hair down. The collar of their school jacket would also have normally hid the mark on the back of her neck, at the very base. Marion was not wearing the school jacket, the white collared shirt that every student wore was loosely buttoned, the first two buttons unfastened and the tie loose and hanging. 

Thora would see it clearly, even if it was only for a few moments. There was something back there. Her lingering gaze, too close for comfort. Not that Marion could see the oddity. 

"Uh, Marion, about the tattoo on your neck. What is it?"

"I'm fourteen" she answered. It was an indirect answer but the insinuation was clear -- she was too young for tattoos. What parent in their right mind would let a girl her age get covered in ink? She let out a sound of frustration, the girl's insistent hold kept Marion in place. She was panicked still of course crying. Angry at Thomas the tyrant. Weapons were limited to swooping, agitated owls and her own diminutive fists, neither particularly effective.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" If she was lying, then she might have been the worst liar in history as she stated that bold-faced lie that could be disproved with a single glance at the back of her neck.

@Arlo Reynolds was rebuking Thomas with all the authority and suggested power of a pygmypuff. Marion babbled a partial confession, she was not particularly clear but some of the girls had their guesses. 

“Oh my goodness. Marion...why haven’t you told anyone?”

She had, that was part of the problem. She was too agitated to explain, to explain something that does not involve any of them. To tell them secrets that they had no right to know but seemed to feel it was their right to demand. They had all but forgotten about the spiders that they had blamed her for or felt that she had possessed some hidden truth regarding. A few moments earlier he was against her like the the rest of them and now he was taking on a sympathetic role. 

“Marion! Marion! Calm down! It’ll be ok!”

"No," not the most verbose debate. It was not going to be OK. It was not ever going to be all right. Someone was dead. Someone else killed them. People were going to be mad because someone was dead. People were going to be mad because someone was in trouble. People were always looking for something, a secret or a motive for a lie. If the answer was not what people wanted... something that the expected or wanted to hear then there had to be something more. 

While Alro might have been trying to reassure her, his hands too large for his abbreviated frame. She had nowhere to back away to, Thora to her rear. If his hands did clasp around hers, he would find two things incredibly troubling. 

First, her hands were ice cold. The owlery was chilly as it often was, open windows that allowed the owls to come and go as they pleased. However, she seemed to be taking heat and producing none of her own.

Second, she seemed feeble. Yes, she was restrained effectively by a first year. She was either the weakest third year in existence or she was incredibly unlucky. She did not seem like she was interested in a tender moment.

"You saw Harry Potter murder Dolores Umbridge, didn't you?"

@Bridget Collins defined the players in this drama. She had not defined them herself but the Slytherin was not wrong. Interest had apparently shifted to this newsworthy incident. She swallowed hard. 

@Tyranni Whitethorn was not helping the situation either.

"Is Bridget right Marion? Did you witness the murder of Dolores Umbridge? If you have information that could be valuable, you should share it. You don't want one of us going to get some Veritaserum to use would you?"

Threatening her with Truth Serum, a substance that was regulated by the Ministry because of how invasive such a potion was. One where your secrets were no longer yours to have. Marion was vibrating with anxiety. This was not a case of softened hearts or sympathy. This was an exchange, a case of haves and have nots. They wanted to have everything. There is no compromise. It was a demand. "Of course," there was an edge to her voice. "I know something else, you need to know everything there is to know about that. What ever happened to the spiders I did not know anything about!" 

“Marion? Is it true? Did you see this happen?”

The 'good cop' asked. It was hard to feel comfortable with someone breathing on the back of their neck (looking at you Thora), being threatened with regulated potions (looking at you Tyrrani) and with violence for the sake of 'science' (Thomas). Did it really matter if she did? "Has nothing to do with any of you," she insisted. 

@Marion Davenport | @Tyranni Whitethorn | @Thora Larkston

Frankly, Bridget wasn't quite sure what Marion was saying. It was like trying to figure out what a puzzle looked like when most of the pieces were missing. The only thing she gained from the words was confirmation she didn't know anything about the spider attack. It also sounded like Marion had seen Harry Potter murder Dolores Umbridge, although she couldn't be sure. While she was grateful for Tyranni's help in questioning the third year, threatening to use Veritaserum wasn't something Bridget would've done. For one, it didn't seem like a threat one could make good on--how would they get their hands on such a potion?--and besides, it just made Marion freak out more. Tears streaming down her face, Marion was a wreck. Thora was still restraining her and... asking about a tattoo? Strange.

As intrigued as she was about this tattoo Marion denied having, there was something else Bridget needed to address first, still assuming Marion had seen the murder. "How would the murder be you fault? I mean, it was a powerful wizard who did it--how were you supposed to stop him?" She was, of course, referring back to something written in the letter she'd stolen that was still their best piece of evidence. Bridget, being quite familiar with placing guilt on herself for things outside of her control, supposed Marion could just feel like it was her fault when it wasn't, but it was still worth investigating. Marion had more to tell them; she was sure of it.

Marion twisted and turned to no avail, unable to escape the girl’s glue-like grasp on her frame. Either Thora possessed impressive arm strength, or Marion was very frail. Perhaps she did not contain the necessary fuel to resist, her sunken eyes and heightened emotions implied sleep eluded her. Thomas was in no position to place blame, the weight from these allegations would trouble just about anyone.

Thomas has now placed himself firmly in the doghouse. It was a pathetic attempt to sum his threatening comments up to a science experiment. They knew it, and Thomas knew it. Convincing the others was not his goal. It was merely a deflection of intent. Despite his choice of remarks, it was not personal. Thomas had nothing against Marion, as there was no proof of wrongdoing yet.

Thomas’ jaw clenched, fingers curled at his sides into a fist. The half-goblin teetered on the line of his subjective rage. Cruisin’ for a bruisin’. His glare in Arlo’s direction lasted long enough to be uncomfortable for everyone, Thomas has proven unpredictable thus far. Fortunately, he was not prepared to begin a brawl just yet. His hunt for truth overpowered the petty rage building within.

The observation of a “tattoo” piqued collective interest. More interesting than that, was Marion’s denial to knowing about it. “What, you’ve been branded?” Thomas approached hesitantly in attempt to take sight of this dark mark, cautiously aware to remain out of Marion’s reach[he gets close enough for her to swing at him].

Following that, the brunette would mention Dolores and Potter, the alleged murder. The great Harry Potter, murdering someone in cold blood? Thomas detected foul play but did not have nearly enough information to form an opinion. The girl that remained mostly in the shadows would now emerge and suggest the usage of veratiserum. Thomas did not know what the hell verti—whatever was, but would nod in agreement with the girl, it sounded like a threat. Now we’re talking.

And there was little ol’ Arlo, offering emotional support. Thomas offered a scoff “Oh would you pick a bloody side...” And stick to it. His gaze returned to Marion. “Don't you see? Someone is out to get you,” Aside from the surrounding snakes “left that note on the door.” Thomas reiterated a point he made earlier “Word of your involvement will get out, and it’s up to you if you want allies…or more enemies.”

Action: Get a glance at the "tattoo"

As Arlo’s long fingers wrapped around Marion’s hands he would pull them back with a jolt. A tiny yelp of surprise would escape his lips as if he had touched a hot stove. However, it wasn’t a burn that shocked the poor boy. The exact opposite really. As their flesh touched, it was like Arlo had grabbed hold of an ice statue. Not only was Marion freezing to the touch, but in the short moment that he had held onto her, it felt as if he was holding onto something lifeless. 

The little boy took a step back as his hand rose to stifle the yell that threatened to burst from his tiny body. As his golden eyes locked with Marion’s, all she would see was fear. People weren’t supposed to feel like that. People DIDN’T feel like that. There was something terribly wrong with this girl and it filled his little belly with fright. Not even the snide comments from the dough faced jerk would be enough to break his stare. 

His mouth would open and close like a fish sucking water as he attempted to find his words. A long and shaky index finger would raise towards Marion as the other’s continued their interrogation. Words like murder, tattoo and branding would fill the room. Did they not see what he saw? 

“H-hey!” The boy called out with a shaky voice. “There is something wrong with her. She feels like ice. Marion...what’s happened to you?”

Interactions: @Marion Davenport

Honestly, it didn't seem exactly right to Thora that she was practically monitoring Marion's every motion. It was a good thing her thoughts weren't automatically spoken out, because for Merlin's sake, the easy thing to do would just to release the girl. If Marion really had seen nothing, Thora would have let her go. She had homework to do, places to go, and plenty of things she could do other than making a third year feel awkward and shooting questions at her like fire-tipped arrows, and in short, she didn't have all the time in the world.

Perhaps Thora would've even considered leaving the owlery a long time ago, not just because she didn't feel the need to be there, but also partially because she didn't want to be to blame for something else. It wouldn't be hard to get them in trouble, and Thora had been there much long enough to be at fault. She knew she was part of Marion's problem right now.

But there were more problems with that than things they might gain by her doing so. If there was nothing restraining her, she would just run away from their questioning. Under different circumstances, there was no doubt that Thora would've felt guilty for accusing Marion of things she might not even have done. But this wasn't just for some gossip. Slytherin had been attacked in their own Common Room, and this girl looked like she knew something. They needed answers. They deserved answers. Besides, Thora didn't think for a second that the aggressive boy was joking about throwing people out of the window.

Branded. The word drew the snek out of her reverie as one of the boys mentioned a brand, no doubt the same one that Thora had just asked about and gotten nothing in return. Marion denied anything of the sort, and the second year might've believed the bluff, chalking it up to her seeing things--after all, however cheerful she woke up, lack of sleep always seemed to catch up with her sometime, and as the older girl had said, she was only fourteen. But the boy she'd been trying to make sure didn't hurt anything (or kill someone by way of falling out of a window) appeared to have noticed the mark as well. Clearly, it was there.

But what could it be? Of course, there was a good chance it was simply a meaningless tattoo or something she'd received in remembrance of a certain someone or something, but again based on Marion's adamant insisting that it didn't even exist, it was probably something more. Something important. "I-is that a symbol for something? Or was it forced on you?" The words burst out of Thora's mouth before she could think things through. As she tended to think logically, she didn't like jumping to conclusions or making unfounded claims--at least, she was never keen to speak her speculative thoughts.

Although Thora's own first thought was an incredulous one, almost disagreeing with the words she'd just spoken, it did sound at least a bit plausible, as surely its position at the back of Marion's neck implied an attempt at secrecy. The brunette didn't recognize the mark from anywhere, despite having read up about as much about the wizarding world as her limited time allowed her to, so it had to mean something. Maybe it was a point less important than their current big question--whether she'd seen Potter allegedly murder Umbridge--but now, Thora considered any information useful.

The mention of Marion feeling like ice didn't even faze Thora. Well, obviously. It wasn't like one could hang onto someone for so long without feeling an abnormally cold temperature. She'd chosen to keep the fact to herself, because, well, it didn't seem like it would matter all that much. They had more pressing things to get to, including the now-possible witnessing of a murder. Marion had a point about them wanting to figure out everything. It was true, as the students still continued to jump from topic to topic, but there was so much to be done and so much to be learned. Besides, that was what happened when multiple children demanded answers.

It wasn't easy to get anything out of Marion besides thrashing and denials, and with the Slytherins' persistence, they simply had to resort to other questions. Anything to help at least start to understand how the third year was related to the incident that had left the entire house reeling.

The questioning was not going to stop, not until they were satisfied by her answer. It was frustrating, there were things that she did not know so could not share; things that she did know but would not share.

"How would the murder be you fault? I mean, it was a powerful wizard who did it--how were you supposed to stop him?"

She gave @Bridget Collins a hard look, an angry glare for delving into something that was personal to her. She had based her inquiry off of a letter she was never meant to see. A moment of self-depreciation and blame, of self-loathing for her fear, her weakness and her isolationism still resulting in potential tragedy. Even if it was not her fault, she was still going to get the blame. But that was not about Potter. She was afraid that the spider attack was her fault, not that she could explain it but she was a stand out. They even said it. They even blamed her. She was the one hearing things, not them. She was the one that was unhurt because she fled. She was resented and mistrusted because of that. 

"Because I told on them. I did everything right. Everything right and this!" She sounded exasperated because she absolutely was. "--is my reward," she took a deep breath after a long exhale. The universe is fickle and could care less if she was right or wrong, if she ate her vegetables or if she prayed each and every night. There was no right and no wrong, just survivors. It was a childish presumption to think that everything would be fine because she did the 'right' thing. Right and wrong were subjective and defined on the basis of popularity. "Nobody cares if some mean lady dies that nobody likes, but everyone gets twisted when some guy everyone likes gets in trouble for it!" 

She was referencing Potter and Dolores this time. 

@Arlo Reynolds was still holding onto her, as was @Thora Larkson technically. The poor girl who had restrained her might have only started to notice the chill through the girl's clothes, she would feel a growing numbness that had a slight burn. An oxymoron really, but Marion was so cold it burned.

“H-hey!” 

It was overwhelmingly obvious to Arlo. Arlo was calling attention to her. More attention than was already collectively upon her. She cringed, what now?

“There is something wrong with her. She feels like ice. Marion...what’s happened to you?

"Leave it!" She shouted as she shook her head. No denials this time but there were a few tears. "I didn't do anything wrong!" This time nobody said she did do anything wrong. "I can't help it!" That was as good of an explanation as anything else she had given them. "I don't--" she cut herself short.

“What, you’ve been branded?”

The mention of a mark had drawn Thomas' attention back towards her as well. "No." Branded came with the connotation of a hot metal plate leaving a mark on a steer or some sort of smelly livestock. "Get away!" She wrestled to get away from Thora once again as that madman approached. He could likely care less about how the girl carried on about fault or blame being placed as she answered Arlo, the girl a bit unraveled. Everybody was guilty of something and 'poor Marion' was hardly an exception to this. 

Thomas made his curious approach.

Marion attempts to break away from Thora (again)
Strength Check (Marion) 16
Strength Check (Thora) 18

"Ohmygawd! Keep him away from me!" She was terrified of Thomas. She had every right to be, the boy was seriously unhinged. Threatening to kill her and then explaining it away with a casual, obvious lie. He seemed confident and shameless. A bully. Dangerous. It was not some sixth sense, it was incredibly obvious. In fact he was wearing that persona with pride. Had she been able to see through the facade of others, the would not be in this situation, cornered and terrified. Loyal. Incredibly stupid. Perhaps not as ambitious as the hat thought.

She would try to pull her hand away from Arlo.  She needed to get away!

Marion attempts to pull away from Arlo
strength check (Marion) 11
strength check (Arlo) 4

Marion would successfully pull her hand away but there was something notable even in her success. She was weak. Arlo was not trying to restrain her, not really yet she struggled to pull herself loose. Was it that Thora was a secret brawny powerhouse or was it that Marion was abnormally weak, even by the standards of a first year?

With her free-hand, she would attempt to smack @Thomas LeStrange across the face as he drew closer. 



It would feel like he was slapped with a stuffed plushie that was left in the freezer. It did not hurt, but that was not for lack of effort on Marion's part. If anything, the next time he had a shiner he might ask her to try to hit him repeatedly for a bit of relief. He would draw close enough to see the mark, had a strange symmetry to it and might have in some strange way reminded him of something he had seen before. He did not have that mark on his body, but he had seen it on others. Well, on one person but he was not much of a talker. He kept it hidden for the most part, but it was on his upper arm near his deltoid. He only saw it when the man changed for the evening.

"I-is that a symbol for something? Or was it forced on you?"

"I-I," she would swat at Thomas a second time if he was lurking like a creep, leering at the back of her neck still. "Go away," she complained. "I seriously don't know what you are looking at back there, I have a scar," that was not a scar. "I almost bit by something when I snuck off grounds during my first year. A friend of mine killed it, apparently it messed me up. Blood was caustic or something. Stop looking at it!" She was shrill. It was too symmetrical to be a scar. "They got me a potion from the nurse to get it fixed, but it was magic... so it wont go away and I keep my hair down to hide it." How convenient. The question now was how honest was she being. The girl was naturally rather pretty, she was perhaps vain. It was at the base of her neck, it was a mark she had never seen, not back there without the clever use of mirrors and some relative difficulty. Even still, she did not look like the type of girl that read a lot of books, maybe magazines.

“Oh would you pick a bloody side...”

Thomas was rebuking Arlo, probably the only cute boy in Slytherin. [OC: Arlo, will you be opposed to being my date to the ball before I waste the typing?] She twisted and writhed in Thora's grip. Increasingly uncomfortable with Thomas' continued attention and proximity.

“Don't you see? Someone is out to get you.”

Yeah, got that buddy. Whole room of people are out to get me.

“Left that note on the door.”

A point Thomas had made previously, but one that went over her head. Marion, unlike Victor had no idea who would know that she was up here. How they could possible know. She had not told anyone, she snuck off on her own without telling a soul. Indeed, both Victor and Marion knew different things and were effected by different threats.

“Word of your involvement will get out, and it’s up to you if you want allies…or more enemies.”

"My involvement?" She scoffed. There was no way that they were going to keep quiet. That she was going to have another day of peace. That was why she needed to leave the school. Convince her parents that another school, one that accepted foreign students, was the 'best way' to go. It was astonishing that her parents let her stay, no insisted that she stay. She had such wonderful friends here, all 2 of them. This school was such a wonderful opportunity. They did not seem to care at all about the murder she witnessed, the trauma and the fear that she was living with. It was as if neither Harry or Dolores ever even existed as far as they were concerned. A part of her knew it was an exercise in futility to try to convince them that she should go home but she had to try. "Allies like you," her voice was lower than usual, a tone of disgust. "I am no safer in a den of vipers than I am being left to the wolves," she observed. People who took. People who threatened. Things that ripped and tore. The only difference with wolves is, they howled.

"Hold up guys. You (Arlo)" She pointed at the small boy. "You said Marion felt like ice when you touched her. Someone else that night in the common rooms noted the same thing." Looking to Thora, she questioned the girl. "Does Marion feel cold you you as well? Abnormally so?"

Glancing around to the others, she was unsure how this conversation would continue to go. There was no doubt that Marion was present in some way to the Potter/Umbridge case. She did almost all but tell them the event in details. However, what was really interesting was the mark, combined with the fact that she was ice cold.

"Think about it. She has a marking that now a few of you have seen. That she won't tell us about, AND she is cold to the touch. Then she claims that the mark was a result of a bit she received in her first year at Hogwarts, and that we are to believe that this symmetrical, uniform marking is simply a scar resulting from caustic, magical side effects." There were too many 'truths' that appeared half-arsed, stumbling out of her mouth. She spoke too quickly. Too defensively. Assuredly, she was still hiding something. "Can anyone think of anything that would combine a strange marking with being freezing cold to touch? Has anyone here ever seen a marking similar to this before?" The girl glanced over at the aggressive boy (Thomas), not because she knew anything about this boy, but because she suspected amidst this ball of fury was someone who had likely gotten himself involved in some questionable events. He was the most likely student here to have any additional information if her assumptions were correct.

Mentioning @Arlo Reynolds | @Thora Larkston | @Thomas Lestrange

Mentioning: @Tyranni Whitethorn
Interacting With: @Marion Davenport, @Arlo Reynolds, & @Thomas Lestrange

Arriving late to the scene of an interrogation was unprofessional; common courtesy was to be on time to your appointments, as consistency is key to well-performed interrogation. It was fortunate then, perhaps, that Persephone didn’t give her fellow inquirers the satisfaction of a relevant stature in the only pertinent social pyramid, her own; in the case of many of them, a question was a question, similar to its synonyms and opposite to its antonyms. But, in a scenario where true distrust swirled among the small population of Slytherins that gathered in the cursed Owlery, impeccable wording was a highly relevant factor to every question. For example, would one rather be invited to an abandoned house, or an unoccupied residence? The answer was, in honesty, dependent on the interests of your subject, but the lesson remained the same: know your suspect, and know your vocabulary.

The only issue with that code, of course, was that Persy had no clue who Marion was, or any of her interests for that matter. Disturbing the peace (if there ever was any), the apparent third year Slytherin had seemingly evolved from molecules in the air, materializing out of nothing to terrorize the house, bringing paralysis, flashing lights, and perhaps worst of all, venomous arachnids to reign among the destruction. A possibility lingered, one it seemed not many initially pondered, that Marion was an innocent in league with the guilty, doing the unwilling bidding of an entity above her. Whatever the statistics said of probability, the blonde still doubted this cosmic theory; from what she had heard swirling among her male counterparts, her experience was remarkably similar to Victor’s. Similarity means planning. Planning means, well, thought out. Elaborate.

Such a stance, however, also brought about another question; why did Persy, a first year with little to no empathy towards the pain and agony of others, care about some irrelevant girl’s involvement in an attack that didn’t directly affect her? No one would question this, attention too designated on the villain that stood before them with such disgusting innocence, but the blonde would continuously ask this of herself. Even in the moments that followed the attack, she was too enthralled in causing more emotional damage to consider the situation at hand. Or, this was what most presumed, but they had the fortune to not be imprisoned in such contradicting, hypocritical, beautiful thoughts.

With these different bullets still under analysis behind the window of those pained eyes, Persephone marched up the stairs to the first landing of the Owlery, mild wind from the vacant apertures barely grazing her hair. Immediately upon reaching that floor, she was greeted with a sight worthy of the sun; countless Slytherins surrounded the familiar Marion, the majority distinctly recognizable from a vague recalling of the dim night before. A few detectives of this unprofessional interrogation however, were blatant outliers from the recollection, namely two boys that were either not present, or not significantly paramount to catch an exploring eye. Or, perhaps, both, that was not for her to interpret just yet. Upon viewing them in closer proximity, edging toward the scene in a hopefully undetectable manner, one stabbed an alarm, sending a deafening ringing to her ears. Not now, she thought, trying and failing to suppress the fresh pain that sprouted behind opaque fortress walls. Not ever.

At last, Persephone made her presence clear with a quiet cough, vision lingering on who she’d come to recognize as Thomas, shifting to a vaguely memorable brunette [Tyranni], whose was clearly in the midst of some rational argument to that which was void of logic, then to a midget that struck her as a rejected muppet, finally coming to a long-awaited rest on Marion. Now, in a room illuminated by more than an inflamed fellow student, Persy came to realize that the instigator appeared conventionally attractive, but more importantly, completely unfamiliar to the observer. Both being Slytherins, though not in the same year, Persephone had presumed that the two had, at the very least, seen one another (maybe in a manner unreciprocated) in passing. However, digging in a clogged brain and staring at the other girl with a sense of studying, that seemed to have not occurred as believed. This could’ve, very well, been an irrelevant fact, though it felt anything but.

“Wow, in the light, you almost look like someone incapable of endangering several lives at once.” With each word, dripping in kind aggression, Persy drew closer to the girl. “Appearances can be deceiving though.” She drawled, turning to look at the goblin-thing. “Like you, I could easily assume you are the eighth and forsaken dwarf from Snow White, but that wouldn’t be very reasonable.” A menacing smile adorned her face.

Moving to glance at her witness [Thomas], hoping (and somewhere within, ignorantly knowing) he was too focused on extracting information from Marion to acknowledge aloud their last encounter, one buried beneath the soil for the blonde girl, yet forever taunting. Perhaps she chose him to speak to because Persy was thoroughly aware of his own verbally abusive habits, confident they would share some kind of tactic in regards to interrogation. How about a game of bad cop, worse cop? Though, it was also possible he was chosen out of some subdued desire to assert how unaffected she was by their previous contact, a way of communicating that his antics could not faze her. “Is she being cooperative? If not, I assume it would be easy to convince her to. I hope she’s not, actually, I find that one is their most honest in the face of danger.”

Where vocabulary failed, threats would prevail.

Action: Being rude and threatening Marion

Reducio

I apologize sincerely if anything is incorrect or inconsistent, as well as for my late arrival. Please do tell if there's anything that needs to change. Thank you!

@Tyranni Whitethorn | @Marion Davenport | @Persephone Barret

Bridget wasn't sure what else to ask. Marion had seen the murder, had told people--the authorities maybe--what had happened, but that was all she was getting. Perhaps it was time to pursue a new topic. Everyone else was discussing a tattoo Marion had, and while she hadn't seen it, they might have more luck getting information if they all pushed the same questions.

Besides, Marion claimed to have gotten the tattoo (or scar, as she was calling it) in her first year. If Bridget had her years right, that was also the year Harry Potter committed murder. Could they be so lucky the two things were connected? That this all somehow fit together? It seemed far-fetched--life just didn't work like that--but it was worth considering.

A new girl entered, some first year she'd seen around but didn't know the name of. From her words, it seemed she supported utilizing threats to get Marion to talk. Honestly, maybe it was an approach they needed to use more. The second year was wary--if the taller boy was any indication, things could easily be taken too far. Her late arrival also meant she knew next to nothing of what was going on, but Tyranni had showed up late, had she not, and it sounded like she was asking the right questions.

She had no idea what sort of marking would make someone freezing cold, but there was something else she was curious about. Marion had heard noises no one else could hear the night of the attack--could that be because of the tattoo? It would be helpful about now to have Victor; that way they could see if he had the tattoo. Still, from the extensive reading she'd done in her first year, she recognized the concept of a mark that could communicate with the people who had it. That was what Voldemort had used to summon his followers, wasn't it? She still hadn't seen the tattoo, but from what the others were saying, it was no scar. No random mark. She couldn't really picture Marion with a tattoo, so could she be right?

"I haven't seen anything like that before, or heard of something that could do just that, but I guess... Well, she could hear noises none of us could hear, right? Could a binding mark do that? Like the tattoos on the Dark Lord's followers?" She turned to Marion, expecting the outburst that would cause. "I'm not saying you were marked by some dark wizard or anything. But, also... you got the tattoo... thing... in your first year, and that was the year of the murder. Are those things connected?"

Action | Questioning Marion about the tattoo

"Hold up guys. You (Arlo)" 

@Tyranni Whitethorn's attention was now on @Arlo Reynolds. The small boy had announced the deathly cold chill the girl seemed to emanate. 

"You said Marion felt like ice when you touched her. Someone else that night in the common rooms noted the same thing." 

Tyrrani recalled and reiterated the point. Something was either happening during those moments that changed her basal temperature to sub-human levels or the girl always felt like a block of ice.

"Does Marion feel cold you you as well? Abnormally so?"

She asked Thora Larkson, whose grip on the girl was unrelenting as of yet despite the girl's efforts to break away. 

Marion attempts to break away.
Marion: 1 (critical failure)
Thora: 3

She actually hurt herself trying, she could feel a sudden pop of her shoulder and a shooting pain extend to her fingers like a rocket that exploded in a burst of sharp tingles at her fingertips. She let out a high-pitched sound of pain. Her shoulder slackened but the throbbing pain persisted. 



"Think about it. She has a marking that now a few of you have seen. That she won't tell us about, AND she is cold to the touch. Then she claims that the mark was a result of a bit she received in her first year at Hogwarts, and that we are to believe that this symmetrical, uniform marking is simply a scar resulting from caustic, magical side effects."

Tyranni did not appear to believe Marion in the least. Perhaps @Thora Larkson had something to add.

"Can anyone think of anything that would combine a strange marking with being freezing cold to touch? Has anyone here ever seen a marking similar to this before?"

Anyone like @Thomas LeStrange, the troubled Slytherin who perhaps knew more than he was saying. How his interest was piqued, it would seem as if he knew or t the very least suspected something. However, he was not the most forth-coming or civil. what were her chances to get anything out of him? 

Had @Persephone Barret seen Marion before. Briefly. The girl's presence was ephemeral at best. She existed, but just barely and with a pretty face such as that, indeed she should have been noticed. However, she had to of existed, at least in some capacity because she was able to enter the common room. She was recognized by the Ministry if she was indeed the nameless witness that saw Harry Potter kill Dolores Umbridge.

“Wow, in the light, you almost look like someone incapable of endangering several lives at once.”

A teeny blonde girl would announce with an unsettling gaze. She would wince as a shudder, not from cold but rather fear ran through her as the girl approached.

"Because I like... am harmless," she answered almost incredulously but she seemed to be on the verge of tears once again. Her voice was wavering, she did not seem like a 'strong' girl. 

“Appearances can be deceiving though.”

She observed. Perhaps Marion was the harbinger of the apocalypse. That soon enough this sniveling girl would bring the end to civilized mankind. "If I was a threat, why would I still be here," in this place cornered and uncomfortable. Grappled by a first year in this embarrassing display.

“Like you, I could easily assume you are the eighth and forsaken dwarf from Snow White, but that wouldn’t be very reasonable.”

Arlo was plenty tall for a dwarf.

Attention would not remain off Marion for long. 

“Is she being cooperative? If not, I assume it would be easy to convince her to. I hope she’s not, actually, I find that one is their most honest in the face of danger.”

She did not like the sound of that. "Like seriously, I can't give you answers I do not know," Marion protested. 

"I haven't seen anything like that before, or heard of something that could do just that, but I guess... Well, she could hear noises none of us could hear, right? Could a binding mark do that? Like the tattoos on the Dark Lord's followers?"

Marion's face was flat, it was not devoid of emotion, it simply did not change. "I don't know. It's not..." She did not sound completely certain, she wanted to reach back there and feel this 'mark' that everyone else was staring at. However she could not, one arm had a dislocated shoulder and the other was limited by Thora's vice-like grip.

"I'm not saying you were marked by some dark wizard or anything. But, also... you got the tattoo... thing... in your first year, and that was the year of the murder. Are those things connected?"

"Seriously, I have had that scar for two years," she was not calling it a mark at least. "I got hurt, the injury was magical. I was lucky we were helped so quickly, I have no idea what would have happened otherwise." Her eyes lacked the same resolve at this point. She did not seem so sure. Was the construct of what she had come to believe started to crumble? Yes. 

"I was treated by nurse VanCleaf," as if that would help. "Before all this Potter stuff," she recalled and her gaze darted to the side. "Before everything," she muttered.