Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
There is nothing suspicious about Gideon Athanatos sitting outside one of the many study rooms on the second floor alongside a box labeled:
Yes, nothing what-so-ever. Gideon was a good boy. A stereotypical Hufflepuff that simply wanted to make Hogwarts a better place and could define his magical journey by the many friendships he had made.
The box appeared to be perfectly ordinary cardboard box positioned beside the equally ordinary blonde Hufflepuff who was sitting cross-legged on the stone floor doing homework. His penmanship was neat and orderly, a fastidious young man.
Occasionally students would stop, peer inside and most would find nothing. Nothing that was theirs at least, although some might lie and claim a found item was their lost treasure. Dishonesty came easy for some. Well, most in fact. But there were "found" items within the confines of the feeble repository.
A Ravenclaw retrieved their scarf.
A Gryffindor found a missing quill.
Another discovered a glove that they have been looking for these last three days.
Gideon barely acknowledged any of them beyond the hint of a smile, a nod, or an "mm-hmm." Very good. Charitable even. But there was a small problem. Hogwarts already had a lost property collection and it was not on the second floor corridor in a random cardboard box next to a teenage boy. And... Gideon had not 'found' any of these things, he had collected them. For weeks.
A button from someone's robes. A handwritten love note misplaced in Charms. A ribbon. A photograph of some old people. A broken necklace. A potions essay with the professor's corrections readily visible. Things forgotten on tables, abandoned in classrooms, dropped in corridors or simply left unattended for precisely long enough.
Nothing valuable. Nothing anyone could reasonably accuse him of stealing. Just little pieces of people. And now Gideon was giving them all back. Well, almost all.
His quill scratched lazily across parchment as another shadow fell over the box. Without looking up, this time Gideon had something to say. "You've lost something," then there was a brief pause. Perhaps he was expecting an immediate response, perhaps he even got one. Regardless, he would go on to add as his pale eyes lifted to her face and a small smile appeared "but it isn't in the box."
LOST AND FOUND: PLEASE TAKE WHAT IS YOURS
Yes, nothing what-so-ever. Gideon was a good boy. A stereotypical Hufflepuff that simply wanted to make Hogwarts a better place and could define his magical journey by the many friendships he had made.
The box appeared to be perfectly ordinary cardboard box positioned beside the equally ordinary blonde Hufflepuff who was sitting cross-legged on the stone floor doing homework. His penmanship was neat and orderly, a fastidious young man.
Occasionally students would stop, peer inside and most would find nothing. Nothing that was theirs at least, although some might lie and claim a found item was their lost treasure. Dishonesty came easy for some. Well, most in fact. But there were "found" items within the confines of the feeble repository.
A Ravenclaw retrieved their scarf.
A Gryffindor found a missing quill.
Another discovered a glove that they have been looking for these last three days.
Gideon barely acknowledged any of them beyond the hint of a smile, a nod, or an "mm-hmm." Very good. Charitable even. But there was a small problem. Hogwarts already had a lost property collection and it was not on the second floor corridor in a random cardboard box next to a teenage boy. And... Gideon had not 'found' any of these things, he had collected them. For weeks.
A button from someone's robes. A handwritten love note misplaced in Charms. A ribbon. A photograph of some old people. A broken necklace. A potions essay with the professor's corrections readily visible. Things forgotten on tables, abandoned in classrooms, dropped in corridors or simply left unattended for precisely long enough.
Nothing valuable. Nothing anyone could reasonably accuse him of stealing. Just little pieces of people. And now Gideon was giving them all back. Well, almost all.
His quill scratched lazily across parchment as another shadow fell over the box. Without looking up, this time Gideon had something to say. "You've lost something," then there was a brief pause. Perhaps he was expecting an immediate response, perhaps he even got one. Regardless, he would go on to add as his pale eyes lifted to her face and a small smile appeared "but it isn't in the box."
Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
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Her right index finger rubbed the spot on her thumb where her owl ring was missing. It was a common ring that she fidgeted with often and had almost left it on a study desk on more than one occasion, but it had been missing now for a little while. Finally, there was a lull in people approaching the boy, and Solène made her way toward him, sapphire eyes glancing into the box to see if there was a little silver owl face with onyx eyes looking back up at her.
What caught her by surprise was the boy himself. A boy who had not interacted with anyone else so far spoke to her. “Not in the box?” A French accent lilted through a soft, dry voice as she questioned what he said. “I haven’t even told you what I am missing yet.” Logic dictated that he should have no idea what she was missing because she hadn’t asked him, unless, of course, he saw her leave something behind and had yet to pick it up.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ENCY ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ | Stamina 4 | Evasion 6 | Strength 2 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 10 | Accuracy 5 |
Abilities| Perfectionist
Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
Gideon finally looked up. Everyone was taller when he sat down. It was one of the few places he could still pretend to be small.
First, he finished the word beneath his quill with painstaking care, added the final stroke, and laid the feather neatly across the parchment. Maledictus, the Latin word that simply meant 'curse.' Only after did those pale eyes settle on her.
"I know," he replied, a small smile continuing to form. "That you have not told me," which was the point.
His gaze drifted briefly toward the box between them. Scarves. Parchment. A cheap bracelet. Two gloves that quite clearly belonged to different pairs. Someone's battered copy of Intermediate Transfiguration. A little stuffed Kneazle missing an eye. Treasures to someone, just not either of them.
In truth, Gideon hadn't known what she was looking for. But he didn't needed to. People generally didn't stop at a lost-and-found because they were satisfied with the current distribution of their possessions. They came because something was missing and they wanted to reclaim what was gone.
"You came over here," Giddy explained patiently, "and immediately started searching through a box labelled Lost & Found." His head tipped slightly, an exaggerated childish pose that resembled a curious bird more than a sociopath. He knew it was not there, but he did not take anything that was hers but he had hoped she would come. "It was either that or you were overcome by an irresistible desire to admire my cardboard."
Even the most mad among the Athnatos had their charm. "I didn't want to flatter myself," he conceded. And then there it was, that harmless little smile again.
For those that did not know better: the older Hufflepuff looked almost comically ordinary sitting there in clothes just a touch too large for him, homework spread across his knees as though this were simply how he'd decided to spend an afternoon.
But he watched her now. Properly. Not because of whatever she'd lost. That part did not matter, even if he could guess what it was - her right index finger rubbed the spot on her thumb. A nervous tick or a memory of an item lost. Or his very best guess. The lost item was not part of the game, it was drawing in the quarry that he had taken nothing from. Seeing who them are and snaring those he knew. And he knew who she was.
Solène. He'd heard the name before, not that they had ever met formally but he knew who she was by association. She was the French professor's niece. Defense Against the Dark Arts, no less. He had done some work for his father now and then, currently even. That made small details like who was a part of his immediate and extended family a matter of interest. A way to keep the reigns in hand so-to-say.
The fact that she came so soon was... well that made the universe seem almost playful.
Gideon's eyes flicked briefly toward the corridor behind her before returning to those sapphire ones.
"You're Solène," he announced. There was no tone of inquiry, Gideon said it with the casual certainty of someone identifying a spell from its wand movement. Then his smile widened by the smallest degree, showing just a few of his many teeth. "I suppose that makes you considerably more interesting than whatever you've misplaced."
He nudged the box toward her with the toe of his leather shoe. "Go on, then. Have a proper look." He feigned allowing his attention dropped toward his parchment again. And for perhaps three seconds, it appeared the conversation was finished. Then, he would finally ask: "what did you lose?" He could have said ring, making this statement his second quiet violation even if it was a guess. But rather he asked the broader question - what did you lose because that answer would be different from the answer he knew. The answer to that would give him something much more useful than the ring: Solène would tell him what matters to her
Still, the probing question came lightly. Almost absent-mindedly, like he was making idle conversation. Giddy's quill hovered above the page. "And more importantly…" he added, his pale eyes lifting again. "how long did it take you to notice it was gone?"
First, he finished the word beneath his quill with painstaking care, added the final stroke, and laid the feather neatly across the parchment. Maledictus, the Latin word that simply meant 'curse.' Only after did those pale eyes settle on her.
"I know," he replied, a small smile continuing to form. "That you have not told me," which was the point.
His gaze drifted briefly toward the box between them. Scarves. Parchment. A cheap bracelet. Two gloves that quite clearly belonged to different pairs. Someone's battered copy of Intermediate Transfiguration. A little stuffed Kneazle missing an eye. Treasures to someone, just not either of them.
In truth, Gideon hadn't known what she was looking for. But he didn't needed to. People generally didn't stop at a lost-and-found because they were satisfied with the current distribution of their possessions. They came because something was missing and they wanted to reclaim what was gone.
"You came over here," Giddy explained patiently, "and immediately started searching through a box labelled Lost & Found." His head tipped slightly, an exaggerated childish pose that resembled a curious bird more than a sociopath. He knew it was not there, but he did not take anything that was hers but he had hoped she would come. "It was either that or you were overcome by an irresistible desire to admire my cardboard."
Even the most mad among the Athnatos had their charm. "I didn't want to flatter myself," he conceded. And then there it was, that harmless little smile again.
For those that did not know better: the older Hufflepuff looked almost comically ordinary sitting there in clothes just a touch too large for him, homework spread across his knees as though this were simply how he'd decided to spend an afternoon.
But he watched her now. Properly. Not because of whatever she'd lost. That part did not matter, even if he could guess what it was - her right index finger rubbed the spot on her thumb. A nervous tick or a memory of an item lost. Or his very best guess. The lost item was not part of the game, it was drawing in the quarry that he had taken nothing from. Seeing who them are and snaring those he knew. And he knew who she was.
Solène. He'd heard the name before, not that they had ever met formally but he knew who she was by association. She was the French professor's niece. Defense Against the Dark Arts, no less. He had done some work for his father now and then, currently even. That made small details like who was a part of his immediate and extended family a matter of interest. A way to keep the reigns in hand so-to-say.
The fact that she came so soon was... well that made the universe seem almost playful.
Gideon's eyes flicked briefly toward the corridor behind her before returning to those sapphire ones.
"You're Solène," he announced. There was no tone of inquiry, Gideon said it with the casual certainty of someone identifying a spell from its wand movement. Then his smile widened by the smallest degree, showing just a few of his many teeth. "I suppose that makes you considerably more interesting than whatever you've misplaced."
He nudged the box toward her with the toe of his leather shoe. "Go on, then. Have a proper look." He feigned allowing his attention dropped toward his parchment again. And for perhaps three seconds, it appeared the conversation was finished. Then, he would finally ask: "what did you lose?" He could have said ring, making this statement his second quiet violation even if it was a guess. But rather he asked the broader question - what did you lose because that answer would be different from the answer he knew. The answer to that would give him something much more useful than the ring: Solène would tell him what matters to her
Still, the probing question came lightly. Almost absent-mindedly, like he was making idle conversation. Giddy's quill hovered above the page. "And more importantly…" he added, his pale eyes lifting again. "how long did it take you to notice it was gone?"
Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
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Her eyes narrowed only slightly when he confirmed that she hadn’t told him. That was an obvious statement. Is he being condescending because he is older? She couldn’t tell how much older he was. Observing his form, as best she could, he seemed on the smaller side, which very much hindered her ability to place his age. Older was all she could seem to settle on.
Then he pointed out the logical. She had come over and started looking at the items in the box to see if there was a hint of her missing ring before actually rifling through it. Then he said something that made a small smile form at the corners of her mouth. “Well… I can’t claim to be a connoisseur of cardboard.” The boy was peculiar but in a slightly charming way. She was used to seeing the charms of high society, but it didn’t make her completely immune to something that she found funny. Solène may value academia and logic, but that didn’t mean she was humorless.
She continued to observe him as if he were a puzzle yet to be solved. All people were. He glanced down the corridor before settling his pale eyes back on hers.
Then he said her name.
“How do you know that?” Instinct should have kicked in. Something should have told her to run. Little girl, you are prey, and this is a predator who is more than willing to hunt you for sport alone. But the only reaction she gave was the arch of an eyebrow. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had said her name without her knowing it. She was quickly exceling in her classes and people talked about skilled young witches. “Interesting? Why?” It was said with clear indication that she disagreed with his assessment. She was not interesting, not to her.
The box was nudged, and the invitation was given to go through it. Her eyes moved from him to the box as she lowered herself onto the balls of her feet, and just before she was about to reach in, she stopped and looked back at him. “It was a silver owl ring with onyx for eyes. I wear it every day. I noticed it missing last night when I went to take off the rest of them as usual. I assumed I left it in the study room last night, but it was past curfew so I had to wait to look for it.” Solène could get caught in her obsessions, and it had a tendency to cause a lack in her own special awareness, but because this was a part of a specific routine, she caught it much sooner. “Why did you say it wasn’t in the box?” It was now that she would look away from him and place her hand into the box, gently moving the items within to see if he had been wrong.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ENCY ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ | Stamina 4 | Evasion 6 | Strength 2 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 10 | Accuracy 5 |
Abilities| Perfectionist
Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
Gideon knew Solène because he had known her surname first. He had heard it months before she had ever set foot in Hogwarts, spoken in his father;s house in the particular, peculiar tone adults used when discussing things children were not supposed to understand even if they heard them. Solène's uncle, Orion Lécuyer worked for Thaddeus.
No officially, naturally. Offical employment came with contracts, salaries, inconvenient questions and records someone could eventually subpoena. What the Slytherin's uncle did for his father existed somewhere beyond respectable paperwork. A bounty hunter was useful enough when operating within the law. A hit wizard, one willing to occasionally forget where the law ended was considerably more useful.
Gideon had heard the man's name through half-closed doors for years. He had seen it written more than once among his father's letters and papers. He had heard Thaddeus mention a niece headed for Hogwarts: Solène. So, when the girl herself eventually appeared, attaching the name to the face had been easy. None of which Gideon intended to explain. "Your uncle," the Hufflepuff said casually watching the girl rifle through the box. "He knows my father." A truth. Perfectly, beautifully true. His quill rolled between his fingers. "I've heard your name at home before. That's all." Another truth. Gideon had always liked to tell the truth, lied recalled remembering. The truth merely required timing.
"Adults are terrible boring when they discussion business, but occasionally they mention something worth remembering." That was the right word, business. Such a wonderfully, clean word. It could mean investments. ministry contracts, dinner arrangements. Or a man being given a name, an address and a very specific set of instructions about what ought to happen before sunrise. Solène did not need to know which.
"As for the ring," he added as if in an after-thought rather than a hidden lead. "Nothing in the box seemed to suit you, but now that you have mentioned it... that ring." His hand moved in a small circle as if he was trying to wind back a memory. "It is not there," in the box. That much he already knew. "But I know who might..." his voice trailed off. "I saw someone pick something up."
He did not say what she picked up, because there were rules even he had to abide by. "A girl," his eyes wandered toward the corridor again. "Older than you. Red hair. Very red. Copper really. You'd remember her." Of course she would.
Winnie Harper, his sister in law had the sort of appearance that made anonymity nearly impossible. Bright red copper hair, clear blue eyes, and a fondness for pink that boarded on religious devotion. pink cardigans, pink ribbons, pink soft weird fluffy things. Strawberries and sweet little details that made her look as though she had wandered out of some idyllic countryside paintings and accidentally enrolled in the dark academia setting of Hogwarts.
Pretty. Warm. Harmless. Stupid. Exactly the sort of person people wanted to believe. Which made her perfect. Gideon's mouth twitched. "She wears a lot of pink. Usually something soft, frilly, or fluffly. Bright blue eyes." He shrugged, "pretty." His expression turned thoughtful. "Farmer's muggle daughter sort of pretty. Like she ought to be carrying a basket of strawberries instead of a wand."
Gideon would then name her, "Winnie Harper." He did not say Athanatos. That was important: Harper sounded softer, less dangerous. "In any case, I saw her the other day" some day at the very least "picked something up." He repeated. From there Solène could make the connections. "Silver, and I remember thinking the little black eyes were rather ugly." Not that he ever saw them, but he imagined it just a moment ago and that did count. Not that he had ever saw the ring, but he now had a description thanks to Solène.
"You should ask her about it." His quill stopped, as if he had just then an after thought. "Don't tell her I said what I saw" his eyes wide and innocently serious.
No officially, naturally. Offical employment came with contracts, salaries, inconvenient questions and records someone could eventually subpoena. What the Slytherin's uncle did for his father existed somewhere beyond respectable paperwork. A bounty hunter was useful enough when operating within the law. A hit wizard, one willing to occasionally forget where the law ended was considerably more useful.
Gideon had heard the man's name through half-closed doors for years. He had seen it written more than once among his father's letters and papers. He had heard Thaddeus mention a niece headed for Hogwarts: Solène. So, when the girl herself eventually appeared, attaching the name to the face had been easy. None of which Gideon intended to explain. "Your uncle," the Hufflepuff said casually watching the girl rifle through the box. "He knows my father." A truth. Perfectly, beautifully true. His quill rolled between his fingers. "I've heard your name at home before. That's all." Another truth. Gideon had always liked to tell the truth, lied recalled remembering. The truth merely required timing.
"Adults are terrible boring when they discussion business, but occasionally they mention something worth remembering." That was the right word, business. Such a wonderfully, clean word. It could mean investments. ministry contracts, dinner arrangements. Or a man being given a name, an address and a very specific set of instructions about what ought to happen before sunrise. Solène did not need to know which.
"As for the ring," he added as if in an after-thought rather than a hidden lead. "Nothing in the box seemed to suit you, but now that you have mentioned it... that ring." His hand moved in a small circle as if he was trying to wind back a memory. "It is not there," in the box. That much he already knew. "But I know who might..." his voice trailed off. "I saw someone pick something up."
He did not say what she picked up, because there were rules even he had to abide by. "A girl," his eyes wandered toward the corridor again. "Older than you. Red hair. Very red. Copper really. You'd remember her." Of course she would.
Winnie Harper, his sister in law had the sort of appearance that made anonymity nearly impossible. Bright red copper hair, clear blue eyes, and a fondness for pink that boarded on religious devotion. pink cardigans, pink ribbons, pink soft weird fluffy things. Strawberries and sweet little details that made her look as though she had wandered out of some idyllic countryside paintings and accidentally enrolled in the dark academia setting of Hogwarts.
Pretty. Warm. Harmless. Stupid. Exactly the sort of person people wanted to believe. Which made her perfect. Gideon's mouth twitched. "She wears a lot of pink. Usually something soft, frilly, or fluffly. Bright blue eyes." He shrugged, "pretty." His expression turned thoughtful. "Farmer's muggle daughter sort of pretty. Like she ought to be carrying a basket of strawberries instead of a wand."
Gideon would then name her, "Winnie Harper." He did not say Athanatos. That was important: Harper sounded softer, less dangerous. "In any case, I saw her the other day" some day at the very least "picked something up." He repeated. From there Solène could make the connections. "Silver, and I remember thinking the little black eyes were rather ugly." Not that he ever saw them, but he imagined it just a moment ago and that did count. Not that he had ever saw the ring, but he now had a description thanks to Solène.
"You should ask her about it." His quill stopped, as if he had just then an after thought. "Don't tell her I said what I saw" his eyes wide and innocently serious.
Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
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The right corner of Solène’s mouth pulled downward at the mention of her uncle as she looked for her ring to no avail. He, of course, had been correct; her ring wasn’t there. She hoped her uncle wasn’t somehow spreading her name around the school. She didn’t need that kind of attention in particular. However, she was quickly put at ease by a more peculiar statement. A declaration that their families knew one another, or at least some of them did.
A slight frown creased her brows as he explained that her name had been brought up in his house, but she eased it away herself. He was probably making small talk. It made sense that in between the long periods of time that she got to see him before school, it would easily be something that wasn’t brought up. A conversation before business between business associates.
She was about to ask him a question, but his bringing up her ring would curtail it for the moment. She withdrew her hand from the box and rested both of them on her knees, remaining on the balls of her feet as she observed him the same way a magizoologist would observe a wild mooncalf. The cadence of his sentences lent accuracy to his recall, allowing her to trust that he was, in fact, doing just that. He described a girl who would indeed be unforgettable had she seen her, but who would also be unmissable when being searched for. When he called Winnie pretty, Solène rolled her eyes. That portion wasn’t necessary. Pretty was subjective.
“Winnie Harper.” There was the name. A walking frosted strawberry shortcake named Winnie Harper. That was who she needed to find her ring. The insult to her particular taste and her “ugly” ring didn’t seem to faze her. Again aesthetics were subjective, and she couldn’t fault him for having poor taste.
“Thank you, but of course you have me at a severe disadvantage. May I have your name?” She considered adding some form of excuse in the way of being able to find him to repay his kindness, but that wasn’t true. She wanted it for her people observation journal. “I do not have a reason to tell her about you. Truth be told, if she is stupid, as you say, she wouldn’t put it together anyway.” She couldn’t believe that this boy was afraid of her. Not with the description that he gave; however, the need to stay out of drama was something she could understand. She preferred to observe from afar and fly under the radar if she could.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ENCY ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ | Stamina 4 | Evasion 6 | Strength 2 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 10 | Accuracy 5 |
Abilities| Perfectionist
Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
The eye roll nearly got him. Not quite a laugh, but Gideon's mouth betrayed him with the smallest twitch at one corner. Apparently "pretty" had been the objectionable part of his description. Women. Can't live with them, can't have heterosexual relations with them.
He watched Solène withdraw her empty hand from the box and settle back onto her heels. No disappointment beyond what was reasonable. No immediate accusation. No frantic demand that he take her to Winnie. Those were the expected reactions of those with passion, but she seemed to prioritize the collection of information over her pound of flesh.
That was not nearly as fun, but damn respectable. "Gideon." He considered leaving it there. There was always something amusing about giving someone half an answer and watching manners force them to ask for the remainder. But the first year had asked nicely. "Athanatos." Perhaps that surname would mean something to her uncle.
It most certainly would. But that revelation would only come if she shared it. It might remain her little, dangerous secret. Either possibility entertained him. His quill resumed its lazy journey across the parchment.
Then Solène called Winnie "stupid." That did make him laugh. It wasn't loud. Just a soft little sound in the back of his throat before Gideon lowered his quill and regarded her with renewed interest. Was she stupid? Well, that was a manner of perspective. "Oh, I didn't say she was stupid."
There was an important distinction. Winnie wasn't stupid, she was just incredibly gullible. Calling her stupid would imply that she was incapable of understanding the game. Winnie understood considerably more now than Gideon would have preferred six months ago. She simply wasn't clever enough to win it.
"She's actually rather capable when sufficiently motivated." Gideon admitted with a shrug. His eyes dropped briefly to his hand. The fingers worked once against the quill. Perfectly functional now. He remembered them bent backward in Winnie's grip. Remembered the sharp white flare of pain, the ugly little betrayal of bone giving way beneath determined hands. It was a glorious afternoon.
Several months earlier in the Forbidden Forest Winnie had broken Gideon's fingers. Not accidentally. Not in panic. Winnie had looked at Gideon and made the conscious decision that hurting him was acceptable if it got her what she wanted. That had been one of the loveliest things she'd ever done. And afterward she'd healed them. That had also been very Winnie. Gideon smiled faintly at the memory.
"She broke several of my fingers once." The statement was delivered with approximately the same concern one might reserve for mentioning that Winnie had borrowed a book and returned it late even if the timing was intended to serve as a 'warning.'
His gaze returned to Solène. "On purpose," he added. "So perhaps don't underestimate the girl." There was amusement in his eyes now. No fear. No need to push back or down the trauma. Winnie and her husband Mathias both wanted him destroyed. Gideon knew that. Better still, he believed she had finally managed to convince herself she possessed the will to do it.
That was progress. Because only he knew that will had never been Winnie's problem. She was quite willful against Mathias in the early days, ones that she could hardly remember now. She was called his 'darling pterodactyl' for a reason, in fact she reminded them both of their mother, Matilda.
Winnie had spent too much of her life believing goodness was the same thing as wisdom. She acted from the heart, even when the heart was furious. She announced her boundaries before enforcing them. She showed people exactly where they had hurt her and then expected them to possess the decency not to press there again. Gideon had never possessed that particular decency.
"She'll probably offer you tea, or a garish knitted scarf," he explained. "Possibly something pink." He added, but the words seemed more like instructions or a warning. "Almost certainly an unnecessary apology." There was that cherubic smile again. "But eventually she will see you as the enemy, and when she does you'll learn that the sparkles and the pink are a facade."
Then Gideon tilted his head, studying her just as openly as she had been studying him."There," he pointed his quill briefly toward her. "Now you have my name, I have yours, and we've both learned something about the other's family." It was never quite a true lie, "your severe disadvantage is cured."
Not really, but manners were largely the art of pretending everyone at the table had been given the same number of cards.
He watched Solène withdraw her empty hand from the box and settle back onto her heels. No disappointment beyond what was reasonable. No immediate accusation. No frantic demand that he take her to Winnie. Those were the expected reactions of those with passion, but she seemed to prioritize the collection of information over her pound of flesh.
That was not nearly as fun, but damn respectable. "Gideon." He considered leaving it there. There was always something amusing about giving someone half an answer and watching manners force them to ask for the remainder. But the first year had asked nicely. "Athanatos." Perhaps that surname would mean something to her uncle.
It most certainly would. But that revelation would only come if she shared it. It might remain her little, dangerous secret. Either possibility entertained him. His quill resumed its lazy journey across the parchment.
Then Solène called Winnie "stupid." That did make him laugh. It wasn't loud. Just a soft little sound in the back of his throat before Gideon lowered his quill and regarded her with renewed interest. Was she stupid? Well, that was a manner of perspective. "Oh, I didn't say she was stupid."
There was an important distinction. Winnie wasn't stupid, she was just incredibly gullible. Calling her stupid would imply that she was incapable of understanding the game. Winnie understood considerably more now than Gideon would have preferred six months ago. She simply wasn't clever enough to win it.
"She's actually rather capable when sufficiently motivated." Gideon admitted with a shrug. His eyes dropped briefly to his hand. The fingers worked once against the quill. Perfectly functional now. He remembered them bent backward in Winnie's grip. Remembered the sharp white flare of pain, the ugly little betrayal of bone giving way beneath determined hands. It was a glorious afternoon.
Several months earlier in the Forbidden Forest Winnie had broken Gideon's fingers. Not accidentally. Not in panic. Winnie had looked at Gideon and made the conscious decision that hurting him was acceptable if it got her what she wanted. That had been one of the loveliest things she'd ever done. And afterward she'd healed them. That had also been very Winnie. Gideon smiled faintly at the memory.
"She broke several of my fingers once." The statement was delivered with approximately the same concern one might reserve for mentioning that Winnie had borrowed a book and returned it late even if the timing was intended to serve as a 'warning.'
His gaze returned to Solène. "On purpose," he added. "So perhaps don't underestimate the girl." There was amusement in his eyes now. No fear. No need to push back or down the trauma. Winnie and her husband Mathias both wanted him destroyed. Gideon knew that. Better still, he believed she had finally managed to convince herself she possessed the will to do it.
That was progress. Because only he knew that will had never been Winnie's problem. She was quite willful against Mathias in the early days, ones that she could hardly remember now. She was called his 'darling pterodactyl' for a reason, in fact she reminded them both of their mother, Matilda.
Winnie had spent too much of her life believing goodness was the same thing as wisdom. She acted from the heart, even when the heart was furious. She announced her boundaries before enforcing them. She showed people exactly where they had hurt her and then expected them to possess the decency not to press there again. Gideon had never possessed that particular decency.
"She'll probably offer you tea, or a garish knitted scarf," he explained. "Possibly something pink." He added, but the words seemed more like instructions or a warning. "Almost certainly an unnecessary apology." There was that cherubic smile again. "But eventually she will see you as the enemy, and when she does you'll learn that the sparkles and the pink are a facade."
Then Gideon tilted his head, studying her just as openly as she had been studying him."There," he pointed his quill briefly toward her. "Now you have my name, I have yours, and we've both learned something about the other's family." It was never quite a true lie, "your severe disadvantage is cured."
Not really, but manners were largely the art of pretending everyone at the table had been given the same number of cards.
Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
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Her eyes followed to his hand before finding their way back to his face as he stated that she had broken his fingers. It seemed like he didn’t particularly care that Winnie had broken his fingers, but there was also the chance that he reacted to things much like she did, and given everything she had to go on from this conversation so far, that would be her current conclusion.
“On purpose. Interesting and duly noted.” He was amused, and she became thoughtful as if calculating. She would need to approach this Winnie carefully. Not that she had planned an emotionally charged onslaught, because that was not currently a part of her nature, but if this young woman ever showed intent to harm, Sol would need to plan an escape route. Better to retreat and live to fight another day if necessary.
Her undivided attention returned to him once more as he continued, and she absorbed his words, making a mental checklist of things to know. “I’m well acquainted with the wrath of pink frills.” Her younger sister was, of course, no match for a much older student, but the wrath of those who wore pink seemed to be an emerging pattern.
“Yes, you have cured that much. Thank you for the time you didn’t have to give me.” He had gotten much less out of their conversation, but with the way he worded things, she did wonder what he got out of helping her. It felt transactional with no perceived transaction, or so she thought. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
If he did not say anything else that would stop her from walking away, Solène would start heading down the corridor in search of a walking strawberry shortcake.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ENCY ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ | Stamina 4 | Evasion 6 | Strength 2 | Wisdom 8 | ArcPower 10 | Accuracy 5 |
Abilities| Perfectionist
Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
‿︵‿୨✿୧‿︵‿
Interacting: @Solène d'Estienne
Mentioning: @Gideon Athanatos
Winnie Harper Athanatos' heels could be heard clicking against the castle's stone steps before anyone could catch a flash of her long copper hair. She wore platform heels that strapped at the ankle (pink, naturally) instead of the stilettos she sported during the summer months at her estate. Despite adding several inches to her height, she was still shorter than most of her junior classmates. Her dress was a combination of powder blue and blush pink: a corseted top with ribbons, a layered sleeve, and an airy tulle skirt. She had pulled her hair back into a half ponytail, securing it with a pink ribbon. The ensemble made her look like she had stepped out of the pages of a fairytale, but with the unlimited funds she now had access to, why would she dress any other way?
She paused when she reached the top of the stairs, her bright blue eyes scanning the corridor. Several advanced NEWT study books rested beneath her arms. She had been planning on trying to study again. She was already feeling... Off. Her test anxiety was getting the best of her lately, and nausea had accompanied it. So, upon seeing Gideon holding some sort of box, her face fell.
Of course he's here. I'm feeling miserable, so the universe sent him to make it worse. The Ravenclaw thought to herself. She was just about to turn on her heel and head back up towards the Ravenclaw common room when something caught her eye. A girl with dark hair and bright sapphire eyes, wearing Slytherin robes. She froze, her breath catching.
"Santario?" She whispered, taking a step closer to her before reality came crashing back. No, it was not her friend. She was far too young, and now that she was a bit closer, she could see her facial features were different. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, she quickly shook her head, "oh... Sorry, I thought you were someone else."
ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ |  ABILITIES: Healing Sage | Muggle Condition | Paragon of Health Poison Resistance | Animagus | Wandmaker | Lovely Creature STATS: Sta: 15 | Eva: 18 | Str: 8 | Wis: 11 | Arc: 7 | Acc: 17 PARAGON OF HEALTH: Winnie is boosting Nabi and Aamon. | ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ ꕤ |
│ │ | │ │ | STA: 15 • EVA: 18 • STR: 8 WIS: 11 • ARC: 7 • ACC: 17 | │ │ | • Healing Sage • Muggle Condition • Paragon of Health • • Poison Resistance • Animagus • Wandmaker • Lovely Creature • | │ │ | │ │ |
Take What is Yours Leave What Is Yours Also
"You’re welcome." Gideon replied politely. The sort of thing that might be automatic for some, this unconscious reaction. But not for Gideon, his actions always had cruel intent.
Gideon would have let Solène go. Really. She was not his prisoner, he was her tool. There was no need to keep the young Ravenclaw there. In fact, letting her walk away was rather the point. The Hufflepuff had supplied a name, a description, and just enough information to encourage caution without telling the first year with Professor-connections what she ought to think. People were much more committed to conclusions when they believed they'd reached them alone.
His attention had already fallen back to his parchment, not that he was particularly invested in the actual content when...
Click.
Gideon's quill stopped.
Click. Click. Click.
Oh. That was funny. Giddy didn't need to look.
There were sounds one learned to recognize at Hogwarts: the shifting staircases, a ghost approaching through a wall, a professor's particular stride when one was somewhere one shouldn't be... He knew the sounds of this space well and he knew that sound as well. That was the clicky-clack of a one Winnie Athanatos and she was announcing her arrival one ridiculous, likely bedazzled shoe at a time.
A thin smile eclipsed the boy's face, but Gideon's eyes remained on his parchment. The universe occasionally possessed exquisite comedic timing. Solène had barely begun her search for the walking strawberry shortcake before one had wandered directly toward her.
It was easy to recognize her, although she must have gotten dressed in the dark. When had powder blue entered her wardrobe? But there was still ribbons and tulle and things that glittered like new money. Apparently subtlety had finally died and Winnie had attended its funeral dressed as a confection.
Gideon slowly lifted his eyes. His gaze traveled from Winnie to Solène and then back to Winnie. He was absolutely delighted. "Oh, that's marvelous." He leaned back slightly. "I was just talking about you." No guilt, shame or apprehension. And certainly no fear.
It would have been normal to fear his sister in law Winnie Harper. Fear was a perfectly natural, human emotion. An instinct designed for preservation, meant to warn fragile things away from whatever might break them.
Gideon only feigned fragility; he did not need protection from pain. Pain was information. Nothing more. Wizards who truly understood what it meant to possess magic knew that pain held only as much authority as one permitted it. Muggles had reason to fear broken bones. They were prisoners of healing measured in weeks and months, of bodies that could be permanently diminished by a single unfortunate moment. Whereas a wizard's bones could be mended before supper.
Winnie had broken his fingers. Gideon remembered every one. He remembered the pressure first, then the hot, vicious bloom of pain as bone surrendered beneath her grip. He remembered his own hand becoming something wrong beneath hers. Winnie had wanted answers badly enough to hurt him for them. More importantly, she had known she was hurting him and continued. That was the part Gideon treasured.
The bones had been repaired. They always could have been. That was the boon of having magic at one's fingertips. However, what Winnie had revealed about herself could not be so easily undone. He'd been proud of her.
It had proved something Gideon had spent considerable effort trying to prove: there was violence inside Winnie Harper. There were circumstances under which all that sweetness and morality could be negotiated away.
How darling. She was dangerous in the manner of a chandelier dropped from a ceiling: certainly capable of killing someone, but only if correctly positioned and preferably with someone else cutting the rope. Gideon wasn't frightened of chandeliers. He simply didn't stand underneath them.
Winnie's attention, however, wasn't on him. It was on Solène. And something was off... Gideon noticed because Gideon noticed everything when someone's face did something it hadn't been instructed to do. And who the hell is Santario?
His expression didn't change, but the name was tucked neatly away. That was new. Solène resembled someone, not that he ever knew the name. But it was someone Winnie had known well enough that the resemblance had reached into her chest and stopped her breathing before reason could correct it. That was useful.
Time to look casual. Gideon's quill touched the parchment and made one tiny mark. There was nothing actually being written, it was more the pose. The motion. "No, definitely Solène," Gideon supplied pleasantly from his place on the floor. As though Winnie required assistance.
Giddy gestured between them with his quill. "Solène, this is Winnie Harper." That girl he was just talking about, how cosmically coincidental. His pale eyes found Winnie's and his smile with a few too many teeth sharpened by half a degree. “Athanatos now, technically. Congratulations again, by the way. I've been meaning to send you a silver tea service. Apparently that's what respectable pureblood families give newlyweds when they're trying not to say my condolences."
He hadn't, the problem with silver was "Mother always said one should never give newlyweds tableware that couldn't warn them about the relatives." He said as casual as one might mention a wives tale about fertility rites.
Ah back on topic. "Winnie, this is Solène." No surname, that was information and it was best when others had less than he had.
Then he looked Solène up and down as though checking his earlier description against the specimen which had obligingly appeared for inspection. "See?" Gideon pointed the quill toward Winnie. "Pink." His gaze moved to the ribbon, "very pink."
Only then did Gideon appear to remember why the two girls had been brought together in the first place. "Oh. Right." He looked at Winnie. "She's lost a ring." Gideon could have invented some elaborate accusation. He could have insisted he'd watched Winnie pocket it. Could have produced witnesses, constructed motives, made the lie enormous enough to demand attention. That would have been crude and also physically impossible for him. Instead, he simply smiled. "I told her you might know where it is." Another carefully trimmed little truth.
"You two should talk."
Gideon would have let Solène go. Really. She was not his prisoner, he was her tool. There was no need to keep the young Ravenclaw there. In fact, letting her walk away was rather the point. The Hufflepuff had supplied a name, a description, and just enough information to encourage caution without telling the first year with Professor-connections what she ought to think. People were much more committed to conclusions when they believed they'd reached them alone.
His attention had already fallen back to his parchment, not that he was particularly invested in the actual content when...
Click.
Gideon's quill stopped.
Click. Click. Click.
Oh. That was funny. Giddy didn't need to look.
There were sounds one learned to recognize at Hogwarts: the shifting staircases, a ghost approaching through a wall, a professor's particular stride when one was somewhere one shouldn't be... He knew the sounds of this space well and he knew that sound as well. That was the clicky-clack of a one Winnie Athanatos and she was announcing her arrival one ridiculous, likely bedazzled shoe at a time.
A thin smile eclipsed the boy's face, but Gideon's eyes remained on his parchment. The universe occasionally possessed exquisite comedic timing. Solène had barely begun her search for the walking strawberry shortcake before one had wandered directly toward her.
It was easy to recognize her, although she must have gotten dressed in the dark. When had powder blue entered her wardrobe? But there was still ribbons and tulle and things that glittered like new money. Apparently subtlety had finally died and Winnie had attended its funeral dressed as a confection.
Gideon slowly lifted his eyes. His gaze traveled from Winnie to Solène and then back to Winnie. He was absolutely delighted. "Oh, that's marvelous." He leaned back slightly. "I was just talking about you." No guilt, shame or apprehension. And certainly no fear.
It would have been normal to fear his sister in law Winnie Harper. Fear was a perfectly natural, human emotion. An instinct designed for preservation, meant to warn fragile things away from whatever might break them.
Gideon only feigned fragility; he did not need protection from pain. Pain was information. Nothing more. Wizards who truly understood what it meant to possess magic knew that pain held only as much authority as one permitted it. Muggles had reason to fear broken bones. They were prisoners of healing measured in weeks and months, of bodies that could be permanently diminished by a single unfortunate moment. Whereas a wizard's bones could be mended before supper.
Winnie had broken his fingers. Gideon remembered every one. He remembered the pressure first, then the hot, vicious bloom of pain as bone surrendered beneath her grip. He remembered his own hand becoming something wrong beneath hers. Winnie had wanted answers badly enough to hurt him for them. More importantly, she had known she was hurting him and continued. That was the part Gideon treasured.
The bones had been repaired. They always could have been. That was the boon of having magic at one's fingertips. However, what Winnie had revealed about herself could not be so easily undone. He'd been proud of her.
It had proved something Gideon had spent considerable effort trying to prove: there was violence inside Winnie Harper. There were circumstances under which all that sweetness and morality could be negotiated away.
How darling. She was dangerous in the manner of a chandelier dropped from a ceiling: certainly capable of killing someone, but only if correctly positioned and preferably with someone else cutting the rope. Gideon wasn't frightened of chandeliers. He simply didn't stand underneath them.
Winnie's attention, however, wasn't on him. It was on Solène. And something was off... Gideon noticed because Gideon noticed everything when someone's face did something it hadn't been instructed to do. And who the hell is Santario?
His expression didn't change, but the name was tucked neatly away. That was new. Solène resembled someone, not that he ever knew the name. But it was someone Winnie had known well enough that the resemblance had reached into her chest and stopped her breathing before reason could correct it. That was useful.
Time to look casual. Gideon's quill touched the parchment and made one tiny mark. There was nothing actually being written, it was more the pose. The motion. "No, definitely Solène," Gideon supplied pleasantly from his place on the floor. As though Winnie required assistance.
Giddy gestured between them with his quill. "Solène, this is Winnie Harper." That girl he was just talking about, how cosmically coincidental. His pale eyes found Winnie's and his smile with a few too many teeth sharpened by half a degree. “Athanatos now, technically. Congratulations again, by the way. I've been meaning to send you a silver tea service. Apparently that's what respectable pureblood families give newlyweds when they're trying not to say my condolences."
He hadn't, the problem with silver was "Mother always said one should never give newlyweds tableware that couldn't warn them about the relatives." He said as casual as one might mention a wives tale about fertility rites.
Ah back on topic. "Winnie, this is Solène." No surname, that was information and it was best when others had less than he had.
Then he looked Solène up and down as though checking his earlier description against the specimen which had obligingly appeared for inspection. "See?" Gideon pointed the quill toward Winnie. "Pink." His gaze moved to the ribbon, "very pink."
Only then did Gideon appear to remember why the two girls had been brought together in the first place. "Oh. Right." He looked at Winnie. "She's lost a ring." Gideon could have invented some elaborate accusation. He could have insisted he'd watched Winnie pocket it. Could have produced witnesses, constructed motives, made the lie enormous enough to demand attention. That would have been crude and also physically impossible for him. Instead, he simply smiled. "I told her you might know where it is." Another carefully trimmed little truth.
"You two should talk."