A Little Company PV Sylvain Indarys Finished

Hexcode= #507091

It was good to feel a sense of belonging again, but boredom was setting in. Some part of Sylvain was curious if this feeling was just another sign that he was beginning to consider the Hogwarts Library his actual home. He needed to get out more often, but what he found outside the library often brought him right back to the library to seek more answers. Growing up as a muggle made him wary and gave him cause to question everything. Pursuing education relentlessly felt like it was working to alleviate the ignorance caused by his rearing, but admittedly Hogwarts could be overwhelming at times, so he focused on what he enjoyed learning and missed out on some of the less well known facts.

Being home for the summer after the London Quidditch tournament was predictably quiet and filled with the doldrum of picnic days. There were areas of home he had wanted to explore, but he had admittedly missed his chance to gather gillyweed before returning home and as a result hadn’t been able to explore the waters around Inverie as planned. Still, that would have to wait too. Planning for success, he would wait until the last possible moment in order to best preserve the aquatic aid and keep it as fresh as possible so that he might make efficient use of it during winter break.

Still the Dark and Perilous Wood had raised questions that called for answers and answers were often found in the library so he had learned. It was here that he was brushing up on his knowledge of poisons yet again. Admittedly the book in front of him was a boring and opinionated read, but he suffered through the contents in pursuit of any tiny fragment or detail that might help him make his next discovery. Toxins were puzzles to be put together and taken apart, and solving their equations was a far more satisfying experience than “Queasiness, Quibbling and Quicksilver by Milos Otrovnik.” He had no reason to suspect that Vladimir Athanatos had drugged or poisoned the Ravenclaw house, yet that was what the young potion maker knew. A surgeon thought in terms of surgery, a therapist applied their practice in therapy, and a poisons master suspected foulplay by poison. Only Syl hadn’t found any trace or substance yet to prove his concepts.

Having sprawled out comfortably, as had become customary, Sylvain’s collection of data and writing was usually successful at keeping out those nosy enough to sit down without the scholar’s invitation. Sylvain had enjoyed the peaceful afternoon reading, but sorely needed a distraction or something to give him new perspective, only what? Excited that the upcoming lessons would potentially create more possibilities for him to explore, he anxiously pushed to be productive so that he might be more prepared for the opportunity to apply himself or help someone. More than anything, he awaited an opportunity to find more answers.

Padding footsteps revealed to him that someone else had found his hiding place. The Q section was no longer safe. “Oh,” he said as she approached him. “Bridget,” he nodded as she asked how he was doing and without missing a beat he replied calmly, “Well enough, though a bit bored perhaps.” She sounded pleased to see him, and it was her respectful tone that had won his shy heart out from between the pages. He’d spotted her earlier as she pried “Questions About Curses'' off of the shelves. It seemed whatever frustration she felt earlier dissipated once she noticed him, and he wasn’t going to intrude since she’d asked so politely to join him. He couldn’t help but wonder if she knew some of the answers to some of his questions and vice-versa though. “Please do, I could use a little company actually.”

When she got closer, it was clear the blackened veins of her arm and wrist was not some form of make up or tattoo but instead some sort of affliction that caused her veins to turn black. There were a lot of rumors floating around and mountains of misinformation had flooded the corridors of the castle last year. Talk of black veins had come and gone but his understanding of the subject had never improved. Now the friend of a friend, and an acquaintance of his own, exhibited the same symptoms he’d dismissed as nonsense. Sylvain's curiosity was piqued, and he began to fidget in place, his face scrunching into curiosity, as the desire to pry into her business consumed his attention span. He closed his book after marking the place, and sat upright. “Hey your arm looks hurt? Is it?” Admittedly it was a bit awkward and to the point, but he'd been bored for so long that he couldn't quite hold himself back.

Mentions @

@Sylvain Indarys

He was doing well, something Bridget was glad to hear. They'd only met once, so she could hardly consider him a friend, but she still found herself caring about his answer. The question of how someone was doing was basic enough, an absent-minded pleasantry, but Bridget wasn't the type to waste words. She meant what she said, which meant she was interested in his answer. 'Bored' was an odd adjective to use on the second day back at Hogwarts, although she supposed until classes started there really wasn't an awful lot to do.

He accepted her request to sit with him, saying he could use the company. She wondered if Sylvain was a little like her: more on the reclusive side. Perhaps they both found books easier than people and that translated to them having only a few friends. But as much as Bridget enjoyed working alone, sometimes she just wanted someone to talk to.

Sitting down, she opened her book to the table of contents. Maybe finding Sylvain was a good luck charm. Maybe today she'd finally find what she'd been looking for, not that she was entirely sure just what that was. She didn't believe that though, not really. Bridget wasn't sure she'd label herself as pessimistic, but she certainly wasn't an optimist.

Before she could get to her reading, Sylvain closed his book. Did he want to talk, then? That was perfectly fine with her; she'd come to the Library to research, but there was still plenty of day left for her to still accomplish that and have a conversation. Just... maybe not her favorite kind of conversation, not that she had a favorite. He was asking about her arm, about the black ichor in her veins. She'd already explained it multiple times over the past few days to curious first years, but somehow Sylvain was different. Maybe it was because she actually knew him. Still, she wasn't just going to not tell him, and considering he'd been around last year, he probably already had an idea of what it was.

"I'm sure you heard about the spider attack on Slytherin last year. Well, I was bit by one of the spiders. I don't think it was really a spider though, more of some shadow creature. Anyways, those of us bitten were cursed and they don't have a way to get it to go away. There's... there's no cure." She turned her gaze away from him and towards the bookshelves. It wasn't that she was in danger of crying--no, she was much too accustomed to this curse for that--but it still wasn't easy to talk about. It made her feel helpless. Weak. For someone who wanted more than just about anything to be useful and capable of keeping her friends safe, it wasn't a good feeling. Eyes still trained on the spines of the surrounding books, she continued. "I- um, it doesn't hurt, exactly. The potion they have us take every week takes care of that."

That potion was also the only thing keeping them from dying, but she decided not to bring that up. She wanted to be honest with him and didn't intend to sugarcoat things like she'd had to with her parents so they wouldn't pull her from Hogwarts, but she also didn't want sympathy. How was he taking all this? Probably not horribly, since this was certainly not the first time he'd heard something along those lines and Ravenclaw had experienced their own perils. Still, it was probably best to see for herself, so she turned back to him. Besides, there was a chance he knew something about this mystery she didn't, what with being from a different house. And if she gained even the tiniest puzzle piece from this conversation about the topics she tried to avoid, it would be worth it.

So the attack on Slytherin dorm wasn't just a rumor, it was true. The consequences of such an attack sat directly in front of him, in the form of his friend's friend and her disfigured arm. He had been so focused on himself last year that he dismissed the evidence entirely. That and the supernatural was all still very new to him. As Bridget helplessly looked away to avoid her feelings, Sylvain picked up on the difficulty she had recounting the past, but he couldn't discern why she felt the need to hide her feelings. Still, his curiosity demanded that he pry further. She only had his curiosity before, but now Bridget's affliction held his full attention.

His nervous and tightly bound shoulders relaxed as the tension of knowing whether or not Bridget would be okay was replaced by knowledge. Discerningly, he came to the understanding that she was seeking treatment of some kind, his mind became relieved of its worry. It simply wouldn't do to have someone within the walls of Hogwarts sick and without proper magical and medical care. The lad pondered, and then pondered for a longer moment furrowing his brow with reason. What kind of potion was used to treat curses? "That's odd," Sylvain said for a moment, forgetting his responsibility to mind his manners. "Do you know the name of that potion?"

Shaking his head in shame, the wimpish scholar continued on apologetically, "Sorry, I am quite glad you are well and that it does not hurt you to bear these markings. I suppose I'm just very curious as to what kind of potion can treat a curse." After pausing to find the right words, he also expressed the remainder of his curiosity. "And I must confess a more minor but macabre interest as to the caliber of your curse as well." If there was anything Sylvain could attempt to claim mastery of, it was poisons and potions, or rather he could claim that poisons and potions had been made his preferred subject. Subterfuge and intrigue though were still far beyond him. He would focus on what he knew and expand his attempts to understand what he wanted to know.

"I've heard of afflictions, such as Lycanthropy, having their symptoms eased by powerful potions before so that's not new." Placing his thumb to his cheek and his pointer finger to his chin, Sylvain leaned forward on the table with his elbow to think, his eyes becoming lost in a sea of swimming thoughts. Sylvain knew that Lycanthropes couldn't cure their condition with Wolfsbane, so it stood to reason that a curse of similar magnitude could kill if not seriously maim his fellow students. He was immediately interested in dissecting the ingredients list for the potions that the students of Slytherin house were being told to drink. Interesting in the utmost, Syl wondered if he could reveal more about the nature of the affliction just by learning even a single ingredient in that recipe.

"Say," Sylvain queried after putting two and two together. "This curse of yours Bridget." His voice next produced a small whisper while trying not to draw attention from others. Should there be any nosy people eavesdropping, Sylvain would not want Bridget to speak aloud of things that clearly made her uncomfortable. "Is the curse terminal even with the use of potions?" Though after whispering, Sylvain would sit back up from leaning forward and retrieve a book from his satchel. Moste Potente Potions. It had not left his side for nearly three months. He placed it on the table and idly began to search for any mentions of curses being treated by potions.

"Sorry for pushing," Sylvain said apologetically as he thumbed through the pages. He was attempting to backpedal in case his line of questioning made Bridget uncomfortable or put her in distress. "I suppose I could open up more about myself first if that would make you comfortable." Syl certainly didn't want her to become uncomfortable, he was just getting interested. "That is, if you wanted to know anything." Sylvain's expression then relaxed as he focused on the wavy haired brunette in front of him. The turning of pages had stopped, he was listening again.

Mentions @

@Sylvain Indarys

The curse wasn't a topic she particularly liked discussing, but at any rate, it seemed bringing it up with Sylvain was worth it. He immediately brought up something she hadn't even thought about yet: what exactly were they treating them with? Bridget didn't know the potion by anything other than the 'Thick Golden Potion'; perhaps it had a more official name, but it had never been mentioned and she hadn't thought to ask. It was quite an oversight, really, and while she supposed it made sense as her focus had always been on finding a cure, digging deeper into their current knowledge was probably a good place to start.

"It's only ever been referred to as 'Thick Golden Potion'," she supplied. Hearing his apology, she shook her head. "No, you might be on to something, actually. Besides, having a fresh perspective helps. I haven't thought to research what they're treating us with, but that might be useful."

She continued to listen to his voiced thought process. Curiosity was something Bridget could respect; knowledge, after all, was power, and if there was one thing the students of Hogwarts desperately needed when they were up against constantly lurking danger, it was as much power as they could get. Personally, the brunette had never been quite so intrigued by Potions. It was certainly an interesting subject, just not one she'd ever taken the time to dig deeper into as she spent her time refining her spellcasting and broadening her knowledge of Defense Against the Dark Arts instead.

Sylvain lowered his voice, which was an indication of him wanting to keep private whatever was said next. Their aisle seemed to be empty, but she supposed it was better to be safe than sorry. He was asking if the curse, even with the potion they were treated with weekly, would kill them. This was something she admittedly wasn't entirely sure about. The nurse had told her they wouldn't die, although honestly, they were all so distraught at the time it wasn't hard to imagine him lying to her. None of them had died yet, anyways, and considering her housemates with the most severe conditions were still okay, they seemed to be fine for now. "Possibly," she responded in a matching whisper. "The nurse said it wouldn't, but even if he was lying, I'd say it would take a long time. The potion they have us take keeps it from progressing, though it might progress a little bit as the previous week's dosage wears off."

She hoped it wasn't terminal, she hoped she was wrong, but it wasn't for her sake. Bridget has only been bit once, so she would be one of the last to die. But Illowy had suffered, what, eight spider bites? If the adults weren't telling them how severe this really was, they'd better at least be working fast.

Sylvain backtracked yet again, apparently apologetic for asking such questions. She supposed questions like his didn't bother her so much anymore; she was used to them. Besides, it was nice to be able to discuss things in terms of facts and what they could control instead of lamenting everything so far out of their grasps as mere children. "No, it's alright. I can hardly expect to discover anything if I don't face the reality of our situation. Although... if you happen to know anything about the curse, the hags, or Vladimir Athanatos, or really anything weird that's happened, I'm all ears."

Hexcode= #507091

Thick golden potion? "Hmmm," the young potion maker thought hard about such a potion, none coming to mind immediately. "I suppose I shall have to discuss it with the school Nurse then." Being that she considered his perspective fresh, he was glad to at least provide some measure of positive impact on the dark situation. He just hoped they found a cure rather than a stop gap. Curses were dangerous magic.

Bridget was in luck. Sylvain had heard plenty of hags, in fact, he'd read the entirety of Headmaster Lear's works on them. "Here, a book titled Mothers of Darkness" Sylvain said scrawling down the name of a book on a bit of parchment. A bit of parchment he then slid across the table to Bridget in hushed silence.

When it came to the mysterious Vladimir Athanatos, Sylvain didn't know much unfortunately. Ever since their first encounter, a one sided encounter where the boy disappeared without a trace, Sylvain had become enraptured in other avenues of research. "I know Vladimir is a Ravenclaw, but I've little to no knowledge of him. At least nothing useful anyways." Though if Bridget knew something worth sharing, then perhaps she might. "If you do though, I am interested in learning as always."

There was one bit that Sylvain didn't want to forget to mention. His experience in the Forbidden Forest. "We followed him, me and some of the other Ravenclaws." Wincing as he recalled the violent events of that night within the Dark and Perilous Wood. Sylvain told Bridget as much as he could remember. Which was admittedly a lot at this point.

"I'd be remiss if I didn't warn you about a few key terms." Sylvain looked up at Bridget. She was older than he was, so she must've been around for at least a little while longer. She must have some clue of what to do next. "I know it's not much," Sylvain said knowing the answers he provided only brought more questions, "but at least its a good start. Right?"

@Bridget Collins

@Sylvain Indarys

Not only did Sylvain offer useful insight, but he had information too. She supposed it was only natural that he knew a few things; anyone who was remotely active in social settings and possessed some amount of curiosity was pulled into the complex puzzle of danger that had befallen the castle. Bridget sat rapt at attention while he shared what he knew. She set the slip of paper he handed to her on top of her pushed-aside book; she would definitely be checking that title out later. While Bridget knew a thing or two about hags, it would be prudent to have a closer look at them with a reliable resource.

Vladimir Athanatos really was... well, an enigma, at least so far. No one really seemed to know all that much about him and admittedly the basis of Bridget's opinion of him was rooted in suspicions. He was a 4th year Ravenclaw. Tall, strong, smart. Scary. She stayed silent as he recounted what had happened to him and several other Ravenclaws. Bridget had heard a few things about it but this was more than just a passing mention. No, this was first-hand experience and that meant it was invaluable. It was clear his recount of that night wasn't easy to get out. She understood; all these disasters left lasting trauma. Nightmares, fears, regrets. Maybe it wasn't spiders and curses, but what had happened to Ravenclaw was awful. It occurred to her that they probably wouldn't have made it out alive if the Professors hadn't found them.

She didn't press for more details; he'd given an excellent summary and she hadn't come up with any additional questions yet, so there was really no need to force Sylvain to continue to relive that night. He also shared what he knew about... hag dolls? Interesting. Bridget thought maybe she'd heard mention of them before, but was admittedly in the dark. It looked like she was definitely going to have to delve further into hags.

He'd shared what he knew, so now it was her turn. Where to even start? Somehow it simultaneously felt like she knew a lot and next to nothing at all. Well, she might as well tell him what little she knew about Vladimir Athanatos. "I suppose I don't really know much more than you. We do have reason to believe he was somehow behind the spider attack, though. Opeila Seil- Winters, I mean, unwittingly gave him access to our Common Room and a short time after we were attacked. Somehow he knew about the Secret Blossom Ball before the planners announced it. He invited Opeila and we tried to corner him for questioning but things didn't exactly work out. It seemed like he was onto us from the start. He was also behind a fight club Slytherin got stuck in over the summer. We all woke up with invitations in our hands, checked it out, got branded, and were told to fight each other." And naturally, things went downhill from there. Some people had fought, some, Bridget included, hadn't. If only the worst thing that had resulted were bloody knuckles and bruises.

"He also has two friends, Marion and Victor. Well, had. Um..." she swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in her throat. "Victor's dead." Bridget found herself desperate to keep talking, to steer the conversation away from the fact Victor Moore was gone forever. Maybe it was inconsiderate, but she couldn't handle more than a brief mention of him. "Anyways, we're pretty sure they witnessed whatever happened when Harry Potter murdered Dolores Umbridge. Or didn't. They're both weirdly cold and light and Marion had a mark like this on the back of her neck." Reaching for the slip of paper he'd handed her earlier, she flipped it over and did her best to remake the sketch Thora had made of it for her several months prior. It wasn't perfect, but it at least gave him the right idea.

"We're pretty sure it's a Binding Mark. Kind of like the Dark Mark. As for the one who gave them the mark... I'm thinking either Vladimir or the hags. I admittedly don't know a ton about the hags and will definitely be reading up on them, but it sounds like they've been making deals. A Seer in my House actually had a vision in Victor's presence that seemed to be hags making a deal with someone. I don't have the exact wording, but the basic gist was bargains with I believe three different voices, hags presumably, offering someone something at a price. And Vladimir working with hags would make sense because if he was a part of the spider attack, there's no way he could've cursed the majority of Slytherin House with something the Professors haven't been able to fix in 6 months and counting."

There was more, of course. The Masquerade Ball of last year, other tidbits of information, but she supposed that was a large portion of it. Like Sylvain said, it was a start. Besides, if Vladimir was in fact working with hags and the curse had been their doing, that narrowed down her search for a cure quite a bit. Jumping to conclusions too quickly was probably a bad idea, but at this point, maybe it was worth making conjectures and seeing where they led.

Hexcode= #507091

That what Bridget had to say was a plentiful and overwhelmingly so would be an understatement for Sylvain. Marion and Victor were new names to him, and that a student had died was a terrifying thing for him to hear. A fight club sounded far fetched, but then again so had magic only two years ago so how could he be skeptical now? His normally bouncy legs would be forced to rest as he put his hands between his knees to keep them from knocking nervously. Sylvain stared back at the mark, lest he forget it. He wanted to make full certain that if he saw it again there was no mistaking it for something else, so his gaze lingered on it.

Sylvain nodded in acknowledgment as Bridget mentioned the dark mark. He'd read about such utilitarian types of magical tools. The benefits were that it allowed one to quickly communicate with their peers, and in this particular instance, perhaps even discretely with their minions. His own thoughts sent cold chills down his spine. To think of a voice inside his head telling him what to do, and to consider what it'd be like to have your every move known, was surely what it felt like to be haunted. Soon enough, he was skittish at even the sound of other students putting books down some tables further away from theirs. To say that he was paranoid would be accurate, his hair stood on end and goosebumps ran down his arms.

"You're right," Sylvain said in affirmation as he brought his gaze back to Bridget, having done a double-take on a particularly loud library assistant. "Though it's probably not safe to continue talking about this subject so brazenly in a public space." The lad put his hand to his chin as he considered for a moment where they might go. It was certainly safer to send letters, even more safe to keep their messages encrypted or encoded in the event that someone was intercepting owls. They would have to come up with some kind of secret communication to share this kind of private information. Book cipher it is.

"Let's agree on something then," Sylvain moved his chair closer to the table to get a better angle to write with. "The library has a sorting system, and the school has an owlery." Taking the note with an odd symbol scrawled on the back, he flipped it back over to the front where his suggestion was written. "Use the first number to indicate page, the second to indicate paragraph, and the last two to indicate line and word. This way it only looks as though we're trading passages in a book and not..." He waited for Bridget to catchon to the coded language he was attempting to use.

Mentions @Bridget Collins

@Sylvain Indarys

The Q Section, which had previously only been occupied by the two of them, had gotten busier while they'd been talking. Bridget hadn't really noticed, too busy recounting what she knew, but as soon as he said something she was looking around, assessing who was within earshot, if anyone looked like they were listening in. They appeared to have gotten lucky; the few people were still minding their own business.

Sylvain was entirely right in saying this wasn't the best place to discuss such things and she was quite disappointed in her own lack of care. It would be nice to think all the students had the common goal of eradicating the threats they faced, but frankly, she couldn't just trust all of them. She hadn't really thought about the consequences of the wrong person overhearing, but it was best to be extra careful.

He scooted his chair closer to the table, reaching for the slip of paper that was seeing a lot of use. She nodded slowly once his explanation had finished. What he'd said about the owlery, paired with his earlier recommendation to not discuss things in a public place, made it clear he intended to communicate over owl. As for the rest of it, it reminded her of something she'd read about before. Passages in a book... The only way they'd be able to determine what was being referenced from numbers for page, paragraph, line, and word was if they had the same book. A book cipher?

"We'd need a book for the key..." She looked up at him for confirmation that they were on the same page. From what she could tell, he wanted to send encrypted messages, which would hardly work if they were thinking different things. If she was right, though, it was definitely smart. Safer than talking in person, efficient, not necessarily immediately identifiable as a secret message if someone else got their hands on it. The things that were happening probably wouldn't be stopping any time soon, so there would always be new information to exchange, and this was a better way of doing just that.

Hexcode= #507091

He was certain that they were both on the same page when Bridget said she needed a book for the cipher's key. "For the first one we can use Magical Drafts and Potions," Syl said, his voice still a gentle whisper. "And we can change it anytime you want, just make sure to leave it in the post script if you do." Since their secret language had been established, Sylvain elected to lean back in his chair and relax a little before returning to reading. All this talk of letters, hags, curses and potions no doubt had made him tense up, but the small smirk that spread across his face was evidence that he was going to be just fine.

"If I find anything new at all, you'll be one of the first to know," he said hoping to reassure her that he would be no slouch in keeping her informed. He smiled once more, a bigger and brighter grin directed at Bridget before disappearing once more into his thoughts and stack of books. Their agreement to trade information back and forth over the school year would typically require some sort of handshake to seal the deal but Sylvain just went back to reading the book he had to put away when she arrived instead. After all, he still had much to figure out for himself and handshaking wasn't going to get anything done.

Mentions @Bridget Collins