Equality Private Re-Opened

@Marion Davenport | @Nico Shymane | @Maria Dee

While Mary's monosyllabic answers weren't particularly helpful, Dealla's interest was still piqued. Seeking justice? Dealla was no hero, not necessarily willing to throw herself in the way of danger for anyone who wasn't close to her, but writing posters didn't seem particularly dangerous. She wasn't opposed to helping people, either.

She looked up following Mary's gesture, and then stared at the gigantic man in something close to awe. It was hard to believe that he could walk around in the Muggle world without attracting attention, much less teach at a Muggle university.
But what he said, much more than Mary's sparse words about injustice, struck a chord with her.

"Oh," she said slowly, nodding a little. "It's kind of like how some pure-blood families look down on Muggle-borns based on their blood, right?" That was a conflict she knew something about, could relate to. After all, her pure-blood grandparents were the reason her parents had moved across the country, after they had refused to accept her Muggle-born mother. It wasn't the same thing, really, but it was the closest comparison her twelve-year-old mind could muster. "Only..." Only worse, probably. At least, if that was how some wizards treated someone just because they had Muggle parents, how would many people treat someone who didn't have fully human parents? "Only you also stand out. Some people don't like people who are different."
Eyes wide with curiosity, Dealla looked up again at the part-giant. "It's nice to meet you, Professor Mulrain," she said, her voice entirely genuine. "If you don't mind me asking, how tall are you?"

Nico next to her was greeted by a rather hairy man who didn't seem to think much of social conventions, like how you were supposed to sit on chairs, not tables - and not sniff people without their consent. Dealla stayed quiet - a little uncomfortable, for once not wishing to draw attention - but watched their exchange curiously.
No matter what she'd gotten herself into by sneaking off camp today, these people all seemed terribly interesting.

Pulling one of the blank posters over to herself, Dealla picked up a purple marker and wrote in big, slightly messy and off-center lettering:

DIFFERENT
isn't
LESS

Not the most eloquent sign, maybe, nor the most impactful, but it was a start.

Then, Mary's words drew her attention again. Squibs? Oh... She'd never met one - hadn't really met many wizardfolk either before coming to Hogwarts, and of course there were no Squibs there. Her eyes slid over the people around them, noting the ones that seemed fully human and were still here, talking and making picket boards. How many of them were like Mary, here to support although they weren't directly affected, and how many were Squibs?
She knew of them, of course - who didn't? - and she had always felt a little bad for them, in an abstract kind of way. Being born into a world of magic without having any magic yourself must feel terrible. But she'd never thought about any implications beyond that, not about how their life would look like, not about how they neither fully belonged to the Muggle world, nor to the Wizarding world.

It seemed that this day would force her to think about many things she'd never considered.

Little did Nico know, @Quinn Healy was going to likely grow to be about as large as a part giant could ever become. Her death would likely be caused by Quinn rolling over in his sleep one night and crushing her.

"The world is much bigger than just Scotland, London, New York... It was amazing how the entire world revolved around a few, albeit densely populated places. The world is a vast place, hardly limited to one school," the incredibly large man announced. He was well-spoken. He did not look the part of a scholar, but he spoke like a man that was at least well-read. "Appearances can be deceiving. We are never relegated to but one role in the lives we live. I believe it was Shakespeare who once said ...all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages."

"Professor of literature at the University of Edinburgh," Marion interjected.

He explained the dynamics of respect and blood, of perception and birthright. "As far as muggles are concerned, I suffer from giantism. Much like many part-giants," he stifled a laugh. The 'condition' hardly concealed the truth but muggles readily accepted it. "I suppose I can be glad that there are few... I would hate to see a world in which my 'condition' was seen as yet another epidemic."

How tall? @Dealla Prince would ask.

"Eleven feet, eleven inches," he replied. Not quite the tallest among his kind, but he was among the largest. Giants were much larger than he was.

Not that Nico was listening to him any longer. A frizzy-haired, lanky young adult was leaning over her. A curious expression, a flush of embarrassment across his face when she blushed. "Sorry," he sniffed. "We don't get many new comers these days," he admitted. He could smell the wizard on her, not that he cared what she was. People came in all scents and sizes, their health and their interests often carried in their perfume and their hair. No need to sniff twice, crouched on the top of the table in a tripodal stance he passed the girl some ink.

"I miss the smell of wizards," he admitted. "Reminds me of home." Of course to anyone who realized, his surname -- Avery. He was likely a pure-blood. If not, he was an exiled mix. "It is just nice to not have someone run away from me or lock me in a box," he commented as he gave the girl her space.

Marion was satisfied with her very pink signs. There was glitter, way too much glitter also involved. She was a simple sort of girl, no genius mastermind. She liked pretty things. She disliked mean and loud things. She was not well-read but she had a sense of justice. She would point out a few others, a part-house elf; a part goblin. More obvious than the one in Hogwarts, the part house elf had impossibly large eyes and impressively sized bat-like ears. He looked like a circus side-show, the sort of freak you would throw old vegetables at in a cage for something to eat. The part goblin, not much better, there was as much human blood as there was 'other blood' and it was rather obvious. "Like~ Not everyone gets the same opportunities as me," she announced. She lacked the eloquence of the part-giant. "If you totally look different, born wrong and even if you are a like wizard, you might not get to learn magic. Own a pretty wand. Yet we make our wands out of them." Cores made of veela hair and the heart string of a magical creature. Her voice had the inflection of passion, she seemed to believe the words that she said. "People are meanie-poops," she pouted as she laid her arms on the edge of the table and plopped her head down on her arms.
What were they going to be doing? Marching in the streets? Holding some sort of rally? A good question, one she did not have a good answer for. Marion gave the girl a wide-eyed expression. "I dunno," she admitted. "I was just told to show up and to let you in." An odd statement to say the least.

@Marion Davenport | @Nico Shymane | @Maria Dee

Dealla was still staring up at the Professor, her forehead crinkled in thought. He seemed... nice, she thought, despite his rather intimidating exterior, not that that would have scared her off. He was well-spoken, intelligent, quoting Shakespeare at them, and found enough humour in his own situation to laugh at the transparent excuses he and others like him gave Muggles to make co-existence possible.
It seemed strange to her that apparently, Muggles were doing a better job at accepting him than wizards did. Was it despite or because they didn't know about his heritage?

When the part-giant replied to her question about his height, for a second, Dealla just gaped. That made him... what, two and a half times as tall as her? Or something. Then, a dozen other questions immediately filled her mind. "Did you go to Hogwarts?" she asked, curiosity shining from her eyes. Her questions were open, genuine, with the baffling bluntness of a child. "Where did you grow up? How did your parents meet? Is one of them a full giant?"

The young Ravenclaw frowned in thought, playing with the marker in her hands. A few months ago she wouldn't have known what a pandemic was, but, well, recent events had taught her. "But... it's not contagious, it couldn't be a pandemic. If there were more and more really tall people over time, wouldn't Muggles think it was like... evolution?" Wasn't that how it worked? A random mutation that proved to be advantageous and hence spread? Or something. They hadn't really gone into detail with that in Muggle school before she'd left for Hogwarts.


Mary's next words sent an uncomfortable sensation down Dealla's spine. It was true - many wand cores were taken from other magical creatures, although if she recalled her Defense against the Dark Arts lessons correctly, the only one of them identified as Being were Veelas. Most creatures classified as Beasts weren't even capable of speech - except for the ones like Centaurs and Merpeople who had refused the Being status - so they wouldn't have any use from a wand, anyway. But Veelas? Why were they not allowed wands and magical education when even their hair had enough magical power to help wizards control and direct their own magical energies?
Was there a difference between the powers Veelas wielded and the powers wizards had? Would wands even help Veelas at all? Had anyone done research on that? Same applied to house elves and goblins now that she thought about it, to Centaurs and all those other magical Beings. Would they even profit from wands?
Merlin, this was interesting. Not to mention if there hadn't been any discoveries on that, it might be a field worth looking into.

Dealla was drawn away from those thoughts by the half-goblin entering the conversation. There was a lot of that to be thought about, examined later, to figure out how she felt about it.

"If you could choose, what would you want?" she asked without a second thought about whether the question might be offensive. "Would you rather be accepted by Goblins and work at Gringotts, or live among wizards and own a wand?" They'd talked about the Goblin Rebellions in History of Magic during the past year, and Dealla had decided on the spot back then that wizards had been in the wrong for stripping Goblins of the right to carry wands. It didn't even make sense. Why would wizards have the right, the power to decide that? "What is your magic like?" was her next question. "Is it more like Goblin magic or wizard magic? Or both? Is there a difference?"

Before she could pile on another full breath of questions, however, she got distracted mid-thought by Mary's words. "Let in who?" she wanted to know, confused. "Nico?" Or all of them?
Dealla had thought it complete coincidence that they had all met, had thought it her own decision due to boredom (and ice cream) that she had followed Mary here, had never even questioned why the others had done the same. Had it not been as random as that? Had Mary been waiting for Nico?

OOC: Sorry for the flood of Magic Theory questions XD That is Dealla's Ravenclaw coming through.

A Professor of Literature, huh... In Edinburgh. Not really a city that she'd immediately associate magical beings with. But what did she know about 'half-breeds'? Nothing. Not much. To be fair, she didn't know much about her own heritage either. Her father had always been kinda secretive about it and only pushed his ideal view of muggles and dhampirs living in harmony. That she'd maybe one day find a human boy to fall in love with. Then... Then it would all make sense to her. Then she'd understand, he'd say. Just wait until they hear about how she ended up with the, so far, tallest boy of Hogwarts.

The Professor started talking with big words and Nico tried to pay attention, but the invasion of her personal bubble by someone else, had taken her by surprise. 'Y-You're fine. I-I just got surpsised is all..' She smiled sheepishly, tilting her head slightly to the side. The smile soon faded as he talked about being put in a box or people having fled from him. Her expression softened and her eyebrows furrowed. 'I-... That's horrible... Your... family did that? Locking... in a box.' A few small tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. For some time, Nico hadn't felt much remorse for her peers. They just came here to have a good time. She'd feel sorry for them and be there for them... She once really cared for most of them... But the last months have been rough. Being ... called things. People who were different, racially different, different in blood... They suffered from a specific kind of pain that regular blooded people had no idea of. They couldn't possibly know. They could have an idea of what it would be like... But you could never experience it like they did. The outcasts... The odd ones out.

Her eyes stayed on the werewolf a little longer, yet her ears already listened to Marions voice. There was something annoying about the way she talked. Something you couldn't really ignore. It was kinda odd that they used magical creatures 'DNA' to add magic to wands. Yet they were treated like monsters. Of course, not all creatures were capable of living and acting like a human being or something close to that... However, there was truth in Marions words. And she seemed to believe in those herself.

A Part-Goblin, someone way smaller than her would walk up to them and speak up. They must've caught alot of attention of the people around them. At first glance, the part-goblins attire looked rather fancy, but the contrary was true. The patches of clothing barely sticked together. Something about the way he looked was kinda eerie. Maybe it was because she hadn't really seen a Part-Goblin before. Or not many atleast. Seeing his features, she'd remember them, or try to. Maybe she could recognise some special cases at Hogwarts the coming year. Dealla had some good questions that Nico hadn't even thought about. Her iceblue eyes watched the Ravenclaw intently and now the dhampir too wanted to hear the answers to these questions. The Slytherin could only nod softly at the rather touching story he told. What a horrid time he had been through... and still needed to go through...

Nico really wanted to know what would happen next. And... why she got his quill and ink. Was it for the signs? Or something else? 'L-Let me in? Me?' Puzzled and kinda nervous the dhampir pointed at herself. Truth be told, she was the only half-breed that had been among her familiar peers. As far as she could see, Maria and Dealla were humans. Her eyes glanced nervously at the many individuals around her. It felt strange to... possibly be the center of this establishment.

@Marion Davenport | @Maria Dee | @Dealla Prince

The words exchanged between everyone soon became overwhelming for Maria and there were many thoughts that ran through her head. So much so that she almost withdrew from the conversation entirely and stayed silent. Nico and Dealla had started getting into the whole thing, making signs and taking to the people there.

These people… they were half-bloods. Maria herself wasn’t quite sure “what” she was. She knew her mother’s birth parents were “purebloods” back in the mainland, while her the people that raised her were half-bloods. Her father, well at least the man who gave half her DNA was… still a mystery. The young girl wasn’t too sure how her mother would react if she suddenly started talking about Mr. Man in a letter. But she definitely understood what it felt like to look and feel different from everyone else. Early on the girl had noticed that her dark eyes and hair with her tan skin was different from some of her friends. The concept of being singled out for not fitting in to a certain standard seemed to be a common theme even in the Magical world.

She smiled when the tall professor quoted Shakespeare. It interested her how he must have felt living amongst muggles even with his heritage. Sure, they might have thought he was a little of the tall side, but what did he think about it? Beside her, the Ravenclaw amongst them was asking him a barrage of personal questions. All queries she wanted to know herself, though she probably wasn’t as brave as Dee to ask them.

She did however, muster enough courage to ask her own. “What made you want to teach Literature?”.

Her eyes wandered to their other companion, the red head now suddenly in close proximity to another tall however this time, skinny and frizzy haired man. She noticed he’d… sniffed her at some point? Then some of the things he said caught her attention.

“Newcomers? So this is regular thing?” She asked.

Another individual then made an introduction, this time a part-goblin. Maria saw that while he had a suit on it was clearly something he’d had for a while. Small patches and a few frayed ends could be seen sticking out, but only if you were actually paying attention. Hearing her story made her sympathize with him. What a life it must be, to live in between two worlds but never really feeling like
you belong in either.

”That must be lonely.” She told the half-goblin.

Now her attention was on their blonde companion. She seemed to at least have a heart for these people, and to Maria she must’ve really wanted to help. But there was still something off about the whole situation to the Huffle. (And it wasn’t Mary’s fond use of the word ‘like’). Then she said something that made Maria a little more suspicious.

”Yeah Mary, do mean us, or just Nico?” The witch cautiously asked. “And who told you to do that?” Her eyes narrowed at the blonde just the slightest bit almost accusingly.

OOC: Sorry for the delay in replies!

The people were fine, kind.... but a bit odd. They came from all walks of life, many of them partially another magical creature but all of them had one thing in common - they lacked magic in spite of their heritage. Magic still somehow defined them, rather than their possession of it, in their case it was their lack thereof.

“What made you want to teach Literature?”

Maria Dee would inquire of the part giant. Despite his stature and his brutish features, he had a calm, gentle expression. “George R. R. Martain once said a reader lives a thousand lives before he dies . . . The man who never reads lives only one,” he answered simply. "But in truth, I was inspired by history and how literature, particularly fantasy is often inspired by a very real past." It sounded like the start of a story, in fact it was. There was a story that stood out to him, that he held close to his heart.

"I am sure that you heard the tale of Beauty and the Beast," a common children's tale. "Even stories such as that draw parallels in history. There was once a man named Petrus Gonsalvus, he was a man but to some he could have been called a beast. Petrus Gonsalvus was afflicted with the condition of..." his voice trailed off as he tried to recall the word. He was not a medical man, but he was a word-man, where would he be without his precious words. "Hypertrichosis!" He declared victoriously, "also known as Werewolf Syndrome.” He let out a small chuckle that was hardly befitting his size.

"At just ten years old, that young 'werewolf' as muggles referred to him but was obviously untrue was given as a gift," he raised a bushy brow and gave a slight smile. Yes, a gift. "To the King of France, Henry the II. People have little value to others, especially when they are different. Seen as less," the start to a sad, hardly inspirational tale. "Petrus Gonsalvus was not treated as a monster. A civilized beast," something the giant found kinship in. "A member of the King's court, he was educated as a nobleman in topics ranging from military tactics to Latin. He married a beautiful woman, had children, one of which shared his condition. They were not treated as monsters. In the many portraits that remain in their wake, Gonsalvus and his family were depicted as people, albeit those with more hair" he shrugged "were depicted honestly."

He did not wish to hide who or what he was, only be accepted.

"Did you go to Hogwarts?" Dealla would interject. The two of them seemed to share an interest in the literate Goliath.

He let out a rumbling laugh that caused the items adjacent to rattle lightly. The man was a powerhouse of physical might but had the demeanor of a gentle scholar. "My invitation got lost in the mail," he quipped. "Squib I am afraid, like all of us, less M.J. here," he shook his head. "I was schooled in some of the finest private institutions in Europe, private tutors during recesses. But not an ounce of magical potential to be had in me." He did not seem ashamed by this fact, or even angry. It was merely a state of affairs.

"Where did you grow up? How did your parents meet? Is one of them a full giant?"

He laughed, that was a lot of questions. "Here and there, I was boarded as a boy in school. My family home was in South Africa. My mother was a full giant," he blushed. "My father was apparently adventurous," there are some stories parents do not tell their kids. The How I Met Your Mother story behind their union was, unpleasant. "I never met," or at least he did not recall "my mother. But full giant, yes she was." Making him firmly one-half giant.

"But... it's not contagious, it couldn't be a pandemic. If there were more and more really tall people over time, wouldn't Muggles think it was like... evolution?"

"Take one close look at me and it would be certain I am not 'afflicted'" he replied. "Muggles are not stupid, just misinformed," he conceded. It was hard to make an educated statement or have an informed stance when they knew nothing of the topic they were weighing in on. "But people fear" a recurrent theme for both "what they do not understand," he explained.

____________________________________________________

“Newcomers? So this is regular thing?”\

"No, almost never."

The frizzy-haired man replied simply. He was more interested in Nico, she had an interesting smell. Scent was important, it told a story. More than her hygeine practices. He could smell where she slept, the scent of the tent. He could smell house elves in those fibers, their own scent left behind when they laundered her clothes with care in Hogwarts prior to coming. He could smell candlewax and campfire, oil from lamps. The scent of earth and grass. Of herbs from potions mixed, the scent left in her hair. The salt of her sweat. Pheromones. Aspects of her health she would never even consider. The body metabolizes and excretes everything imbibed, in saliva and sweat, in the air they exhale, this prior to the considerations of more personal and private matters.

"Most of us have been scared off, or hurt," he admitted. He could smell the blood on Nico.

'Y-You're fine. I-I just got surprised is all..'

His invasion of her personal space was a bad habit of his. At least she had not grabbed a rolled up newspaper. He hated the newspaper. He hated a number of things, cages and collars among them. He had taken on the aspects of a beast but he still had the beating heart of a man in his chest, not his ice box. He would tell his story, well a tidbit about himself.

'I-... That's horrible... Your... family did that? Locking... in a box.'

"People become cruel when scared," he conceded. It never excused them. It had partially shaped him into the man he was, for the better and for the worse. "Was already my mother's shame, also the focus of my father's fear," the curious 'wildman' admitted.

________________________________________________

”That must be lonely.”

The the part-goblin, but he never replied. He looked away.

They would turn their attention to Marion who was happily coloring little hearts and frowny faces. There was an egregious amount of glitter. She answered their questions of course, she seemed pretty calm about the whole thing as she admitted that she was told to let them in.

"If you could choose, what would you want?"

This was being addressed to the part goblin. His sour expression was unchanged as a scrutinizing gaze was set on the little girl. Too many questions. Too many words. But there was a ahrd truth he had failed to mention. His father was a wizard, but he was not. His mother was a Goblin, and while they had magic of their own, he had none.

"Would you rather be accepted by Goblins and work at Gringotts, or live among wizards and own a wand?"

He cocked his head to the side, she had not caught on yet. This was a gathering of the have nots, not the haves something but want more group.

"What is your magic like?"

No, she really had not. He looked away, his chattiness dissolved.

"Is it more like Goblin magic or wizard magic? Or both? Is there a difference?"

The Ravenclaw was never at a loss for inquiry it would seem.

"He does not know," Marion interrupted.

"Squib," he muttered. There was a tone of bitterness as well as shame accompanying the admission. He was not even considered a partial wizard, not really. He could not pass for human, just a freak. Someone with some sort of 'anomaly', disease perhaps. There was no place for him, not in either world. Not in all three. It was not a dichotomy of two, but rather three.

"I would be happy with any one..." From a man that has none.

____________________________________________

"Let in who? ...Nico?"

'L-Let me in? Me?'

Nico repeated with a stammer. Marion simply nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah Mary, do mean us, or just Nico?” Maria Dee sought to clarify. Before Marion could answer, the added an additional question on as an addendum. “And who told you to do that?”

"Mister Athanatos" she replied. Not Vladimir. There was no semblance of casual familiarity but there was a tone of respect and a thin smile as she fiddled with the the glue-sticks and found the purple glitter. "Said to let you like follow me, they" with her non-dominant hand would gesture to the others in the room "totally would never let you like hurt me." From Marion's perspective she was in mortal peril, not from dark wizards or dangerous shadow creatures but by her own peers. "And..." she slid a board to the side. "If you ugh... talked to them n' stuff," the people here "then you might see that there is like bigger things to worry about than thinking I am up to something bad."

"Bad?" there was a sound of concern from one of the squibs, the part goblin. His face contorted into an unpleasant expression. His resting face was already a scowl, but the lines deepened as he addressed the blonde.

"I didn't do anything," Marion replied. "They scared off my boyfriend," a strong word for Arlo but the girl was a teen and prone to drama. "We've been getting bullied a lot, they... not them, nearly killed my friend Victor at a school dance. I was cornered in the Owlry." There was a blank stare. She self-corrected, "a place where wizards send letters in my school. Sooo much owl poop... So gross," she further defined for them. She was not sure what they knew but she could at the very least be clear. "Some people found out I saw something. Some want me to repeat it. Others treat me like I am a liar. Others just want to hurt me," she sighed.

A cold look came from the part giant as he stood up without a word, it looked as if he wanted to say something. "They haven't done anything yet," her jaw quivered. She trusted this man implicitly it would appear but she was far from fearless and while superficially she made leafy greens look smart was the girl a complete idiot?

It was then without warning that something would break through the pane of glass on the far side of the shop. None of them were standing there. It was a bottle of some sort, a glass bottle with a rag hanging from the spout that was lit on fire. The bottle would crack and shatter. Shards of broken glass would cover the floor as would a fluid. An apparently flammable fluid that would ignite. A swath of flooring, including part of a table and a bookshelf would be ensconced in flames. The flames had a strange color, they were not yellow, rather they were a shade of green.

Marion would let out a scream.

The goblin would cry out for the barista. "There is a fire, we're under attack again! RUN!"

"We have to get out of here," the part giant stated the obvious. The exit was obvious and unblocked, the front door. There was a sigh, this was an unpleasantness that they would not understand until all things came to pass. "Exit behind me."

@Marion Davenport | @Nico Shymane | @Maria Dee

The professor definitely seemed nice, Dee decided and relaxed a bit while she followed his patient answers with interest. She'd never heard about this Hypertrichosis thing, but she knew the story of the Beauty and the Beast, and that it was founded in real events was fascinating, even if it wasn't a happy story.

"You seem happy with your life," she stated thoughtfully. "Or... at least content?"

The same couldn't be said for the half-goblin, although it took Mary's interruption for Dee to stop her musing and actually focus on the person across from her.

"Oh." For a moment, Dealla was given pause in her questions, regretted asking them, almost. What it must be like, having the potential of a kind of magic from two sides, both parents, and getting neither? "I didn't know there were squibs among goblins," she said softly, then repeated Maria's earlier sentiment. "That sounds lonely."

She let her eyes wander through the room, then, over the wide variety of people, working together. All of them squibs, huh? She'd assumed that it was just a gathering of outcasts, of misfits, and part-giants and half-goblins would easily enough fit into that category, even without the added distinction of being squibs - just another thing that set them apart, it seemed.

The Ravenclaw focused back on Mary's explanations, her brows furrowing. So it was mainly Nico she'd meant to bring here - for whatever reason - and Maria and herself were just here by accident. Her frown deepened. "Hurt you?" she asked, confused. "Why would we..." But she trailed off at Mary's next words.

Victor? School dance? Suddenly, a few things clicked into place - the Blossom Ball, a boy in flames. The one she'd escorted back to the castle, although she didn't think she'd done much good there, except for keeping him from getting lost. She'd been told he had survived. And then, another piece, the name that Mary had mentioned: Athanatos. That was Vladimir's last name, wasn't it? And then,

"Some people found out I saw something. Some want me to repeat it. Others treat me like I am a liar. Others just want to hurt me."

Dealla blinked, for a moment stunned as the picture came into focus, bits and pieces of what she'd heard and been told, although not actively investigated, coming together. "You're friends with Vladimir Athanatos," she said, more a statement than a question. "You're one of the people who say they saw Harry Potter kill Dolores Umbridge?" There was no judgement in her voice, only honest curiosity.

More questions were already on her tongue, begging to be asked, and they stumbled out without order, without thought. "What happened then? Do you know what Vladimir does in the forest - do you know about the hags? Why did-"

There would have been more to come, many more, but Dealla didn't get to ask them, as there was suddenly the crash of a window breaking, the shattering of glass on the floor, and then a wave of heat - fire. She supposed she couldn't blame it on Hogwarts this time, seeing as they were nowhere near the school or the majority of its student body.

There was a stunned look on Dee as she turned to watch the green flames, wincing at Mary's scream. It wasn't close enough to elicit a more panicked reaction from her - she'd been in much closer vicinity to fire this past year. Apparently, at some point, one became a little numb to such things.

"Wait, again? Does this happen often?" Her questions apparently never ceased, not even in situations like this, but she got up to follow the half-giant without hesitation. Getting out of here did seem like the only reasonably course of action.

First Year Stats | Sta 4 | Eva 7 | Str 3 | Wis 8 | Arc 6 | Acc 7
Ability | Evasive Maneuvers

@Marion Davenport | @Nico Shymane |@Dealla Prince

The way the tall man spoke of literature and of origin stories reminded Maria of the way her own father spoke. He was eloquent, well-read and chose his words carefully. A pang of homesickness rang through her as she briefly wondered what it might have been like if the two met. Her father would probably enjoy having a person as scholarly as him to talk to. Maybe it was still a little hazy for her young mind to entirely comprehend the situation. Maybe her twelve year old mind was still a little too young to understand what it is to have a part of one’s being dictate so much about themselves. However, she did understand what it felt like to belong to two worlds but feeling like they do not belong in either. She sympathized with the professor, and looked at him with sad brown eyes.

Beside her, Dealla fired off with several questions directed at their hosts, but these were clearly making them, especially the half-goblin, uncomfortable. Right as she was going to tell Dee to possibly calm down for a bit, Marion had beat her to it. The feeling of unease around the blonde still lingered. She seemed non-threatening enough, but the entire ordeal just seemed off. Then Marion answered their questions and Maria was almost sure that there was something wrong.

“Mister Athanatos? Who’s that? Why did he want us to follow you?” Then the blonde started saying weirder things about how the girls might hurt her. Her words were cryptic and confusing. Dee however, seemed to catch on to what she was saying. Maria’s eyes narrowed at the girl even more. What game was she playing at?

“Mary what are you talking about-“ A loud crash caught her mid sentence, the window breaking and a bottle landing inside suddenly burst into flames. The Hufflepuff’s brown eyes widened and the familiar feeling of bile rising up in her throat made itself known. Her fight or flight was on full and she needed to get away from the fire currently starting to spread. Her panicked mind no longer registered that someone said they were being attacked again . Instead, it prompted her to follow the half-giant out the door. She wasn’t sure of where they were going, nor was there any assurance that they would be safe, but at the moment, there was only one thing on her mind: get out.

Stats:
Stamina [7] | Evasion [6] | Strength [5] | Wisdom [4] | Arcane Power [6] | Accuracy [7]
Abilities:
Sixth Sense

As the hairy boy told a small portion of his experiences at home, the dhampir had to resist the urge to pat him on the head or rub his back in a comforting way. She wasn't sure how to tackle this. They only just met yet she wanted to show that she felt for him. No one should be treated that way... Especially not by their own parents.

'Mister Athanatos...' The last name sounded awfully familiar. Nico remembered that they repeatingly metioned him back in the Abandoned Bathrooms. Victor was cornered and apparantly this... Vladimir?... was an old friend of his. Did Marion know him too?
It reminded her of the day that Victor was burned and unconcious on the floor, passed out, barely breathing. He was badly hurt. Together with another girl who resembled Dealla quite well, now that she thought of it. Was she there? Between the smoke and screams of children, the dhampir had been too busy with collecting someones bag to kindly thank the other girls.

Nico remembered how she had taken the bag from Marion, but she thought she did right by doing so. It was Victors bag after all. The blonde mentioned being interrogated in the Owlery. The dhampir blinked a few times trying to take in everything she said so casually. What she actually said was more serious than she wanted to let us think.

Dealla and Maria would not understand what she was referring to, the cornering, that is.
'Marion, I-'
Before she could fully explain herself, something got thrown inside the shop. Nearly jumping out of her skin, she snapped her head towards the noise. What was happening? It explosed and glass flew everywhere. In panic the dhampir threw her hands over her ears, jumping off her chair, away from the window. It brought back memories of when she had locked herself up in the schoolbathroom and some boys threw trash on her from the outside. Not again...

Her eyes rested on the green colour of the flames slowely engulfing the bookshelves and soon... them. They had to run. Maybe it was because her boyfriend was a Half-Giant, but the dhampir immediately sticked close to the Giantlike professor as they fled. Nearly clutching and hand onto a piece of fabric.

OC: Thought I posted here like a month ago. For whatever reason that post never came up. Had to do a rewrite. Sorry about this.

Were they, these misunderstood, isolated and dejected misfits truly happy? No, of course not. But they were making do. some were handling their lot in life better than others. Some were on the precipice of poverty. But Dealla got one thing wrong, she was not leading Nico there. Not really. There was nothing for her to hide, at least from her perspective. Even if the media saw this movement in a different light.

"Hurt you?" Dealla repeated. "Why would we..."

For the same reason everyone else did. Revenge. Because they felt that they should. They jumped to conclusions. Their might made them right. Their superior numbers made them unassailable.

'Mister Athanatos...' Nico repeated.

“Mister Athanatos? Who’s that? Why did he want us to follow you?”

She did not seem to enjoy the attention on her. There was a pause before she answered Maria Dee. "I assume so someone would like... know this thingie," she admitted with a bit of a frown. She realized that this question was necessary as uncomfortable as it is this very moment. Sadly, she lacked a way with her words,there was no eloquence. Also, she seemed a bit... dumb. "He is totally my friend's dad," she let out a sigh."He sent me a letter a few days ago, he helped take care of my like... bestie," Her smile seemed a bit forced, as if she was remembering something sad.

"You're friends with Vladimir Athanatos," Dealla observed. No use lying, Marion simply nodded.

"You're one of the people who say they saw Harry Potter kill Dolores Umbridge?"

Marion gave the girl a hard look. That was all everyone ever wanted to talk about. The default inquiry. The only thing that seemed to matter. "Sure," her answers and tone shorter. She seemed less friendly, more at dis-ease.

“Mary what are you talking about-“

Maria Dee started to ask. Marion tensed with the question, her heart hastened. She had put an incredible amount of trust into the man who had instructed her. Into the son she also complied with. She had to, not that any of these girls would ever understand the intense sense of loyalty that had ben cultivated between them. Still, the girl was far from fearless.

'Marion, I-' Nico's voice trailed off. Yeah, Marion recognized Nico. She was one of the Slytherins that was there that day. That day Thomas LeStrange threatened her. The day she learned that betraying Vladimir's sensible nature would bring about disaster. She should not have tried to sneak off like she had. She should have stayed hidden. She should have avoided their gaze but she was homesick. She needed a sympathetic ear more than anything and while she adored Victor and Vladimir, sometimes she got greedy. A terrible, selfish trait to have in a friend. If only she could appreciate what she already had.

"What happened then? Do you know what Vladimir does in the forest - do you know about the hags? Why did-"

Marion never answered, she gave Dealla an incredulous look. Her mouth had opened, she was about to say something when an incendiary device broke one of the windows.

"Wait, again? Does this happen often?"

"Often enough to say it is not the first time," Claude Avery, the young man with wild hair would announce as he reached out for Dealla's arm. "We need to leave before we are blamed, or worse!" There was a tone of urgency in his voice as he made this declaration. "Some people have ways of making the unwanted disappear and there are few less wanted than us." If he grabbed hold of the girl's arm, she would feel a powerful tug that seemed almost disproportionate to his wiry frame and pulled her towards him. "We need to run, now," the direction he was pulling her was towards the fire. Towards the broken window and to liberation in the direction of their assailants.

The part giant went another direction, towards the door. The back door. He urged the others to follow. Claude wanted to take another path and he was urging the girl he was nearest also. "Clause no!" Professor Mathias Mulrain cried. "We need to escape unseen." Not that the giant Professor had any hope of maintain a stealthy presence as he towered over everyone else. However, he was also strong, one of the few boons his mixed heritage afforded him. He could endure a lot, they could get away if they stayed near him. Maria was listening at the very least as was part-goblin mortician that followed closely behind.

Marion was frozen in place, her eyes wide. She did not know what to do. She lacked the survival instincts of her peers. She did not follow the part giant. Nico had clutched onto part of the Professor's shirt. She would feel the heavy fabric in her hand. She would follow him as he barged out the door. Cool air would greet her as would the light of day. A crowd had formed outside the bookstore, even the back alleyway. The commotion always garnered a great congregation of gawkers.

The young beast-like boy, with or without Dealla would break what remained of the window. The glass would shatter and he would bound to freedom. There would be witnesses there as well. How many had gathered in time to see these misfits emerge? More than a handful it would seem.

Marion would escape last, but she followed neither. She left through the front door. Her hair slightly singed, her clothes blackened with smoke. She found a stranger and started crying into their shoulder.