The chains that bind us PV Elaine Pendrast

Did he hear entrail-shriveling curse? He could have sworn he heard her say that. His eyes narrowed briefly as that was a rather ominous punishment for someone they had yet to discover their motives from. Then again, the man was a creep. Pendrast went on to explain she was in fact, not a cursebreaker. It only left Caradoc even more clueless what the woman's previous job had been. "Might I ask then, what exactly it was you did before Hogwarts?" He replied with a question, sating his curiosity. The woman in black had been a mystery. She was by far the most ominous of their little rabble of professors, yet felt a sadness from her. It was noticeable in her meticulous motion and speech pattern. She felt professional, a bit like Nora would at times. There had been flickers of smirks a few times now. Not thinking she was a flirt however, it did open up the possiblity for an alliance at least. Maybe a friend? A smile would spark up on the man's face right up until she smacked him in teh head with her next few words.

"Professor Nag..al?" Caradoc's eyebrows rose up at the mention of Nora and the previous potions professors. The little gossip digging itself into his ears and nestling in the back of his brain. First the nurse now the potions professor. Doc's eyes locked onto Pendrast's face. "They were a... thing?" His head would follow the other professor as she stepped back and presented her wand. A surprised set of eyes would be staring at her as he did not expect her to jump on this wagon immediatley. The badger bit his lip as a wave of nerves seemed to awaken at the invitiation to step forward. "Right. I believe I did say anything. Very well then." Straightening his back, the man took a confident step forward. Drawing his wand from a holster under his armpit, he left the wooden rod by the little table. Not that he needed it too much, he could patch himself up with the snap of his fingers. But it was to prevent him countering anything in the last minute.

Over the years of his career life, Doc had learned how to familiarise himself with the art of healing. It was beautiful and potent in its own regard. He truly loved its design. His spellwork regarding combat however, was a little untrained. A skillset that had worked with his general "good cop" behaviour back in the ministry. With times like this at Hogwarts, he wandered if he wasn't getting too deep under. He was not a soldier, he was a healer. Standing on the front lines was something he respected, but ultimately deemed foolish more than often. He recalled the multitude of brash youths from the auror department that had barely made their grades to enter. It came as no surprise they'd end up in his ward within the first three days. War had a knack fro brining the most stupid ideas forward. Desperate attempts to cling to life. Now here he stood, doing whatever it took to get rid of this... crawling paranoia in the back of his brain. She was coming soon, so he had to get better sooner.

For a moment she looked at Caradoc Browne uncomprehending, then Elaine suddenly realized that yes, of course, she had been a professor here already when he had joined the staff. He was a British wizard; unless somebody who knew about her previous position had gossiped - which, truth be told, she had expected as there wasn't much entertainment to be had for the professors during term - he wouldn't know what she had done with her life before coming to Hogwarts. It was a strange thought, that they had been working together for so long and knew next to nothing about each other.

"Professor Nagal and Ms. Jensen?" she asked when the Head of Hufflepuff alluded to a possible love affair between the to, considering whether or not she should tell the wizards she was about to experiment counter-curses on that the exact thing he wanted to be healed from was the thing she had spent her life studying. "No, not to my knowledge. But you would need to ask her to be sure, I'm afraid."

Where did his interest in her niece come from? He seemed surprised at the notion that the two could have been close. Elena didn't meddle in other's affair as a rule, but still, she was now curious of what nature Mr. Browne's questions about Nora were. Did he want to pursue her? Had she shown interest in him? She would have said more, perhaps, if she hadn't been about to lift her wand to the man.

He placed his wand on the side table and stepped forward, naked in his trousers and white shirt, the sleeves still rolled up, his hair a bit too messsy to be proper. Foolish man, a voice in her head whispered and Elaine, who'd told him earlier she didn't think him a fool, now couldn't make up her mind if she had been wrong or if he was that special kind of brave, the kind of wizard who was afraid of his own shadow but not of others'. Without his wand, without any visible enchantment on him, he was if not defenseless than at least at a disadvantage.

If nothing else he did deserve to have his question answered.

She cleared her throat, hand still extended, the half-eagle still eyeing the stranger across from her curiously.

"I was a Professor at Durmstrang Institute, Mr. Brown," she finally replied. Her facial expression was carefully blank, but there was pride in her voice when she said it that was reflected in the gleam of her dark eyes. There were two things in here life Elena was truly proud of, and her tenure at Durmstrang was one of them. "I taught Dark Arts there for thirteen years. Before that, I spent most of my life on... research."

Slowly, making her intention plainly known, the witch lowered her hand and lifted her wand. It seemed prudent to give him a final warning.

An eyebrow quirked up at the mention of her previous occupation. His bright blue eyes looking into her dark ones. "Dark arts you say?" How curious. He began to reason in his head. As if it was the start of some grand monologue he had been waiting to roll out on a table like some dusty scroll of gifted knowledge. An individual who actually was practised in the dark arts. The branch of magic wasn't exactly in his field of expertise. In fact, one could argue it was almost exactly the opposite of his healing work. Not that he would plan to head into a debate here. The woman seemed far too sinister already and Doc had no clue what else was playing in her head.

He remembered her presence in the headmaster's office. How she had moved between them and brushed his sleeve. Now here he was asking her to save him. At her mercy. Awefully convenient for a dark sorceress. Yes, in the back of his mind he could already hear the alarm bells ringing. Was this her? Another scheme? A final step of her plan to get his mind to work with her. It would have been a clever plan. With the spark of betrayal already flickering in his eyes, he took a step back. His eyes widened as he physically struggled with himself.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea..." He spoke softly, looking at the ground as he collected his mind. It was shattered glass inside. His logic only left with pieces to pick up and makes sense from. "...But I have to." He stood up tall, facing the other Head of House. His right hand twitching slightly but his gaze would only show determination. "Right then, silly old fool." He said to himself stretching his shoulders. "Let's go."

He stepped back and a part of Elena was… satisfied, gratified even. Pleased. She did not usually relish the idea that others were afraid of her. It was something that happened rarely nowadays, something that her whole demeanor discouraged, in part intentionally. Fear created doubt in others, made them wary of her person and as such less trustful of her. A person one feared wasn’t a person one confided in, and as her profession was that of a professor it was an essential part of her job to have students and colleagues alike trust her.

There was the other kind of fear, however, that one that was born from a respect for her abilities. That one was the one she saw in people who had enough of an understanding of what she could do to another being to respect her skill and the effort she had put into acquiring the knowledge and mastery of the Dark Arts she had.

Elaine would like to think that what the Head of Hufflepuff saw in her, what made him hesitate, was the latter, but that could just as well have been her imagination.

The way he stood tall, just a moment later made her push the thought aside, to be considered on another way, maybe with a nice book and a glass of red wine. Instead however she watched as he regained his confidence and straightened from his crouch.

"Let's go."

She nodded, slowly, dark brown eyes fixed on the man opposite her.

Then she moved her wand in an intricate curl, a long, flowing movement, like water that curled around a rock in the middle of a river. A variant of the Entrail-Expelling Curse, not made to expel the guts but to twist them up, cramp together and move and change shape into something they were not intended to be. The picture was clear in her head and she adjusted the counter-curse accordingly, moved the tip of her wand into one more sharp twist in the end.

He incantation was low and hard, a slightly accented Russian that might have sounded at odds with the sleek motion of the wand movement. Elaine would never truly master the Russian language, but it was the one she knew the most curse variants in.

On the last syllable she pointed her wand and a purple light hit the Head of Hufflepuff right in the chest.

It wasn’t an outwardly powerful, had no palpable force to it, but counter-curses rarely had. There was enough brute force involved in the casting of most curses, so no need to add more aggression for the counter until one intended to beat force with more force, which would backfire horrible in most scenarios.

“How do you feel,” she asked, lowering her wand, the half-eagle vanishing into the shadows cast on her form by the flickering torches of her Office.

“How do you feel,”

Kind words if anything, but not at all a preparation for what was to come. With a large heaving sound, the Head of Hufflepuff smacked forward, hands on the floor. Body shivering and loud hurling sounds escaping his body as a stream of gal fell to the floor, quickly followed by one large writhing life form that landed in the centre of the puddle along with a dozen of smaller black dots. The black centipede had crawled its way out as the immense pressure on his entrails had forced both the centipede and a dozen leeches out. Now they were skittering and crawling all over the floor. Caradoc's throat was on fire, something way too large had just ripped itself out of his chest. Leaving an immensely hollow sensation within his body. He gasped for air, trying to get his breath back. The man was sweating heavily, his fingernails digging into the wood underneath them. His mind felt clearer somehow, but his chest... hollow. He tore open his shirt and tried to see if the black bite marks were still there. Nothing had changed. They seemed unaffected and still felt dull in pain as he touched them on his upper arm.

The centipede would find its way to his right hand, which he retracted swiftly. The thing was alive and it just came out of his body. So had the leeches. Trying to get back on his feet. The man stopped halfway on one knee, seemingly trying to still get back to a respectful state of being. Stumbling back to his chair, he let out a sigh as his eyes rolled sideways. What had just happened? What was going on with his body. For minutes on end, the professor would breathe heavily until slowly his body began to readjust. Eventually his eyes would find Elaine's. "Well, that did something..." He chuckled as he sighed in exhaustion. "If you can forgive me, I seem to have grown quite tired..." He placed his hand on his bare chest. "It's... empty. Hollow. Something's been ripped out..." The words came slow and heavy. His eyes lingered on his wand. But there was no spell that came to mind.

There was peace though. A sense of calm returning to his mind. As his body came to rest, so did his head. As if he had just been slapped awake from a cold shower. The slight tingling sensation in his hands, likely from scratching in the floor too hard. His fingers found the buttons on his shirt and started closing it again. Getting up, the man seemed to stand just that tad bit taller than he would have appeared to before. Colour returning to his face, his eyes were wide awake. His head turned towards his wand, which he quickly snatched and pointed towards the creatures on the floor. "Immobulus" (Rolled 31) He'd whisper as the tiny skittering lifeforms took halt. and stopped moving for the time being. Slowly he'd divert his attention back to his colleague. "I hate Hags..."