A Decent Topic Title

She was very confused. She had just sat down at a table in the library for a nice day of reading and slapping anyone who came near her, and here she was, with a girl who seemed to want to murder everyone in her radius, and a boy who seemed nice, but still quite hostile.

Ariella smiled back at Thomas.

"I don't think she would mind. Don't give her the pleasure."

She laughed.

"Um... sure!"

She stopped smiling as soon as Erin spoke. She's not worth it, She repeated in her head.

"There is no passion... no depth or substance to your 'rage,' your indolent wrath."

"Oh, thanks," She paused to slap Erin across the face, "Okay, that makes me feel a lot better. Sorry for disobeying your 'orders,' Kevin," She added jokingly. If she could make friends with him, she would be able to fight off her.

Yep. I like Kevin, don't like Erin. Jesus, that girl is salty.

"I've only just met Erin and she's already intent on finding me a friend. How thoughtful she is."

"Oh yes, very thoughtful," She added.

Suddenly, Thomas got up and approached Ariella. She stood up as well.

"My advice to you... keep your distance from her."

"Hah, sure," She didn't take Erin seriously. No matter how wordy she was, no matter how intent she seemed to kill Ariella, Ariella wasn't going to leave. She was going to find out what had been happening here. She turned her focus to Thomas again.

"Can I still hang out with you? My only friends are Samna and Annelise and all they do is drawing."

As Thomas left, she sat down again. She heard Thomas speaking to Erin.

"My name is Thomas, Thomas Lestrange."

She grumbled. His name was Thomas? She should've realized earlier. Erin wasn't to be trusted, so why should've she had believed her? She sat there, silent, but boiling with anger, praying neither of them had noticed. This girl had done too much. In the, perhaps five minutes she had known both of them, the girl had been horrible to her.

You dirty, little... @#$**!

She swallowed and looked back to Thomas.

"Oh, one more thing, Thomas! I don't think you heard earlier. My name is Ariella. Ariella Paige."

Howie sulked through the aisles of the Hogwarts library, the words on the never ending bindings a blur as he passed them by. He had no real reason to be here, with no intentions of actually reading anything or studying this curse the others in this community referred to as a gift. They boy hated the magic that coursed through his veins, it had done nothing but disrupt his once happy, ‘normal’ life, but the smell of old books was a good enough reason to be somewhere.

It had been months since he left Hogwarts, returning home to Manchester to try and deal with the nightmares. Always the same one. The hooded dead figure floating towards him, all of his life force being ripped from his body, his worst memories being relived nightly. It was no over imagination or fear of the monsters under the bed that may have kept other twelve year olds up at night, it was a real memory. The dementor. Set upon him by the demon child they called Erin. The experience had taken its toll on the poor Hufflepuff. His once crystal blue eyes now slightly dulled to a grey, all accented by the tint of dark circles under his eyes. To those that may have remembered him, the poofy, wavy hair that once donned his head, now cut down to a crew cut in a desire to change something (imagine the profile pic with a buzzed head) about his existence. 

Howie’s parents had almost refused to let him return. Who could blame them. The once bright child went off to some crazy magic school only to be pulled out a few months into his second year, now on the edge of a full mental breakdown. Surprisingly enough, it was young Howard that insisted on returning. He had no desire to learn, to further develop his magical skills, no, he was here to search for a way to destroy it, to rid himself of this virus. Howie would leave Hogwarts normal again, and return to his Muggle life.

The boy stopped at random, leaning his head forward on one of the shelves. Determined as he was in his mission, he had no idea where to start. A soft buzz of voices met his ear from the other side the shelf, a gathering a students at the table. He was glad to be hidden for the moment, not really wanting to interact with anyone, ignoring what they spoke of.

“Join you? Like Howie did, or those before him?”

Howie’s head snapped out of his daydream. The last thing he expected was for anyone to be talking about him. Sliding his fingers up the books he removed one to peak through. His heart nearly stopped.


It was her! Erin, the demon child, slayer of young boys! Howie felt the familiar heat rise in his belly, his hand instinctively falling into his pocket, gripping the handle of his wand. Hate it as he may, his magic could at least help him curse the girl. Why not, he didn’t want to be here anyways, might as well go out with a bang. No. The act would surely see him expelled, sticking him with this curse forever. He watched as Erin did what she did best, the only thing she knew how to do, feed. It disgusted him, not solely because of his hatred towards her and her nature, but also because it reminded him of his draw to her. She invoked a deep anger within him, and with this rage came power. He could feel it coursing through him now. The magic in his blood became stronger, more focused as his anger grew, and he liked it. 

Howie pounded on the shelf out of frustration, the few books in front of his face fell forward to the other side, exposing him. If the others at the table noticed they would most likely see him.

OOC: Feel free to notice Howie or not. Don’t want to interrupt the ongoing conversation, but thought I’d poke my head in.

[OC- Feel free to skip past the first 3 paragraphs if you aren’t concerned with Thomas’ backstory. I just wanted to offer a plausible explanation as to why he’s a half-blood. ]

During his troubled youth Thomas was shielded from his true family history. The name, Lestrange and who it represented meant very little to him. Some assumed he was the offspring of the notorious Bellatrix. This was false. His father’s family shared no relation to the devilish woman. He did, however, interact with Bellatrix in his youth, and many devout followers to boot. Constantly pestered and hounded during his years at Hogwarts. You are destined to join us, you cannot deny it they would tell him.

Alder moved to the countryside after his time at Hogwarts and settled down with a muggle. The group of degenerates assigned to recruit Alder to their ranks felt spited by his decision. When Alder consummated his marriage and Thomas was born, they were ordered to kill Alder for tampering with his pureblood line. Alder fled his family when the news reached him, leaving them with little information about the looming danger.

Alder had a brother, Alfred. Together they devised a plan to fake his death and spare his family. Alfred endangered his own life and joined the death eaters. He convinced the eaters of a shared hatred for his brother, resonating with the idea he resented Alder for having a child with a muggle. They staged a duel in an abandoned building on the outskirts of London. Alfred requested to be alone to finish him off, the accompanying death eaters refused and set the building to flames. Alfred fled with the death eaters to maintain his cover. Alder died from smoke inhalation before he could reach the portkey Alfred planted to help him escape. Alfred went into hiding after the fall of the dark lord several years later, Thomas has yet to meet him. Alder’s role as a death eater is a false story planted by the group that killed him.

Paradise Circus - Massive Attack

Erin’s critique of the young Ravenclaw was harsh, yes, but not misguided. It was the realization of one’s shortcomings that leads to growth. Erin’s game was in a way beneficial to those around her. Challenging them to look inward at their faults, to confront them. Coming to terms with one’s faults was not an easy task. To embrace the suffering was a challenge we must all face at one point or another. The decision to look into the eyes of that beating monster that is yourself, or to turn away and run. A choice that separated the strong from the weak.

Ariella slapped Erin on the cheek, causing a stir from a few others in the corner of the library. Thomas’ sat there expressionless, his jaw subtly dropped. He could not feel bad for Ariella after he had warned her to not engage Erin any further. Erin appeared to desire this reaction, Ariella was only adding to the power within her.

"You’re not a pureblood. Never would have thought I would see the day where a pureblood would submit their heirs to an eternity of mixed heritage,"

Thomas marveled at her ability to sense his origins, unsure of what particularly gave away the fact he was a half-blood. He couldn’t bear to look at her in this moment, his stomach churned with anxiety from her analysis. Her insight has failed to miss its mark thus far. What other revelations would she have about him as he continued to give her access to his mind. His intuition howled to escape this situation before she turned him into a puppet for sport, but the underlying curiosity kept him firmly in his chair. Could she help him to know more about his true past? The truth he was so desperately misguided from.

Despite his curiosity, her comments upset him. Thomas has already had mixed feelings about his mother for her status as a muggle, but he loved her. Any slight against her caused him pain. Any indication of negativity towards who she is was painful. His temper flared once again as he gripped the arms of his chair. “You don’t know my mother. Muggle or not, she’s all I have.” Just as before, Thomas’ anger may have revealed to Erin more details of his past. The truth of his father’s death was bound to come out sooner or later. And once Erin knew of this, who knows how she would use it to further his mental anguish.

"Your blood suits you. It will bubble and boil in response to their burning gaze as you distance yourself from your contemporaries and peers. It will feed you, your path has already been chosen however... not by your blood, because until now I did not know your blood but I could feel it. It is you independent of your genetics, but your blood will become your why.”

Thomas was speechless, much like before. She held his gaze as he spun in her grin. A metaphorical grin, of course, the girl did not smile unless it was going to further her achievement of what she truly desired. As for what she truly desired to gain, Thomas could only continue to speculate. As he spun around this dark circle with Erin, he continued to contemplate running, or to remain steadfast in his pursuit to understand himself. She wants to help me… “I…I am not defined by my blood.” Despite his core feelings, he was still trying to show any opposition he could to her words. Like a rodent twitching after a snake’s poison began to infiltrate its blood.

"Show me your wand."

Thomas reached to his side, his fingers curling around the end of his wand. When he began to draw it, his attention quickly turned to several books dropping on the floor from a nearby bookcase. He saw another boy through the cracks, surely older than Thomas himself. Despite the age difference, the boy resembled similar emotions he had felt throughout the evening. Thomas took his fingers off his wand, turning back to Erin. “Another one of your subjects?” A hint of sarcasm breeched into his tone, completely unaware that this boy was none other than Howie of Hufflepuff. The same boy Malcom had told Thomas about on the shifting staircases.

OC: Sorry for the wait, I have been on shift the last few days.

IC:

As for Erin, she was a pure-blood. Not that she came from a famed line, just an old line. She was not the daughter of a traitor or a dark lord, but rather a pair of scientists. Well, not a scientist in the conventional, muggle sense but a scientist all the same. Sometimes science can be utterly cruel as it was now. Regardless, she was a pure-blood, a member of a long line of wizards and like most pure-bloods they kept track of one another because there were so very few left. She knew he was not pure because she did not know of him yet he possessed the surname of one of the better known pure-blood lines. It was like saying you are a Kennedy to a politician. They likely know exactly who you are.

A hand swiped at her, it was one could suppose presumed that Auriella's hand would hit Erin. It was presumed that Erin would not try to evade the strike of the girl's hand. It was presumed that Erin would not hit back. A presumed victory and a a verbal proclamation that she 'felt better' immediately thereafter. It was a dog and a pony show really. There was barely anything there and there was no respite to be felt after. "You hardly 'felt' anything at all," Erin accused, her hands resting on the surface of the table that she pushed downward upon as she rose. The table itself groaned slightly in response to the pressure the Slytherin exerted. A red mark on her cheek, because why not. She sat there unflinching. "How violent," she professed. "Actions don't always speak louder than words, especially when you are trying to emulate passion," Erin of all creatures should know. That was all she did, was pretend poorly to be a part of this masquerade. 

She did not care if anyone was fooled, she lacked the passion to want friends. "Shall I return the favor?" It was not a threat or even a question really, she had already come to the conclusion on her own. Erin was stronger than most physically, despite her rather average-appearing frame what passion she lacked she more than made up for in fortitude and physical strength. She was a brute in the body of a thirteen-year old little girl. "After all my words brought you to blows, your blows brought me to blows..." Her movements were casual, there was no sense of urgency with her movements as she lifted a hardcover book from the table. The cover was an old, worn blue stained leather embossed with words written in a tiny, fine silvery script. It read: Broken Blades and Daytime Dreams, it was an interpretive guide that discussed the visions of Seers. She had not read it yet but she had skimmed it. At the moment she had no intention of reading it, the book was merely a weapon to be wielded by the Slytherin youth.

Why hurt her hand when there was a perfectly boring book that could be used in its stead she reasoned. Her hand gripped the spine of the book and without further warning she could attempt (saying she succeeded would be godmodding) to strike the girl square in the face. She was not the sort that could be satisfied with a dramatic clap of her fingertips against the cheek of an opposed person or the sting that would be felt on her fingertips. No, not Erin. She aimed for the girl's nose with the intentions of breaking it.

[Note to Thomas: if you wish to intervene, you may godmod successfully stopping me from striking her.]

She had rallied Thomas' passions. A momma's boy it would seem. The same sob story heard a hundred times over about the only love they knew was that of their mothers' or so they presumed. She wondered if he ever considered the fact that he started his life off as a parasite, something that fed off of her for nearly ten months. By her mercy, indifference or failure to abort him, he survived until term. Then he came into this world, tearing the woman that carried him from the inside out. From there he would be a burden for the next decade, in need of food and clothing and comfort. And that is only to talk about the biology of LeStrange's existence. There was also the fact that Thomas born to a muggle that could never understand him, never love him. Even if she thought she did. Even if he knew she did. She did not love Thomas, in spite of the fact that he took more than he gave, but rather the boy she presumed he was.

All of this was true and she knew it. A kinder person would never have said such things, but Erin was far from the benevolent the Slytherin first year would have preferred. If being assailed by Thomas, she would hit back with knee and hand. If somehow restrained or pinned, she would stiffen and follow the path of least resistance. If he stood there with the same angry aura that she would now consider a trademark of the young man, it did not matter. She would say the truths as she saw them. "Your mother does not even know you, she cannot love you and if that is all you have then that is so very sad." Erin was digging her own grave and she knew it but she did not care. She did not know how to care. She was a creature of instinct driven more by hunger than intent, she was feeding off his Thomas' rage and she was making it into her own.

It was unlikely that Thomas took her words well, her prodding and her curiosity caused her words to go deep. This was something Howard knew well, he had dealt with her before on more than one occasion. The first time she was studying dementors during school break at a mental institution near Howard's home. It was a mere coincidence that the Hufflepuff and Slytherin made contact. It was his intensity and labile nature of his emotions that attracted the girl to the student It was what made him outstanding. When she found him a second time on that train... Let's simply say she wanted him in a way no person should ever want another. His abrupt disappearance on its own was unconcerning but he was not alone, she had noticed dozens of others simply fade away just like him or so she thought. The losses exceeded probability.

But then she felt him.

Well, she did not notice him before he made a commotion but she was already engaged in a situation of her own so the ruckus heard was of almost no consequence. It was that spark. Not the same spark she felt in Thomas of course, they were very difference. Thomas was like a fire and Howard was like a gale. 

That would make three people that did not very much care for her. That should have made her uncomfortable, not only was Lestrange likely larger than her, but there was the useless girl and now Howard who likely exceeded her in magical skill even if she matched or exceeded him in physical strength. The odds were suddenly against her enough to concede. The space was occupied enough but the bystander effect was strong with those in this space it would seem. 

"Fuck," she muttered as she considered her odds.

"The hell with it," she concluded as she gritted her teeth. "Howard White!" She called out, jarring what little peace there might have been in the library at this point. "Been making friends without you."

Shit!

Howie was spotted. He locked eyes with the other boy at the table, what he saw was familiar to him. The fear and fury that Erin had cultivated with such expertise, a look he too must have expressed during their brief times together. She fed off of it like candy. The other young girl must have thought herself brave, slapping Erin’s cheek in an attempt to gain dominance. Kudos for having balls, but she must not have been able to sense what she was truly dealing with. Howie had spent enough time with Erin to learn her true nature. She was a natural born predator, and before her, two new victims.

"Howard White!"  "Been making friends without you."

No point in trying to hide now. Howie stepped out from behind the shelf, taking one stride in her direction. He had no desire to hide his intentions,  drawing his wand and holding it by his side for her to see. The boy had grown some in his absence, he would stand a full head taller than her as he glowered down at her. 

“Now..now..Erin. We both know you’re incapable of such things.” Howie would let out a cold, empty laugh as he spoke to her, his blue eyes locking with her black. The dark haired Slytherin’s presence was taking it’s effect on him. He could feel it coursing through him as his words left his lips. The power. The burning in his belly would pulsate outwards, spreading through his chest, down his arms, into his fingers. His mind became crystal clear, the dullness of sleep deprivation vanished. The young Hufflepuff’s vision would hone in on Erin, watching for any slight movement. He could almost see the wording of the spell he would cast before him, F-L-I-P-E-N-D-O. All Howie needed to do was open his mouth and his power would burst forth. The sensation was intoxicating.

Howie could see the cold calculation in Erin’s eyes. She must have known she was outnumbered as she stood there, book in hand, ready to smash the blonde haired girl’s face in. His gaze would not break from hers, a wicked smile spread across his face. For the first time since he had met the demon before him, she was the one at a disadvantage. There was no need to speak to her, his eyes said it all. Try it, bitch!

Thomas watched eagerly to see how Erin would retort to Ariella’s bold strike. Whether it was to be physical or verbal, he knew the impact would leave Ariella far worse than when she made the decision to strike the slytherin girl. I warned you goddammit.

“You hardly 'felt' anything at all, Actions don't always speak louder than words, especially when you are trying to emulate passion.”

In the muggle world Thomas never was a hero. It was not something that appealed to him, to help others. He struggled in every avenue to make friends with others. Even Malcom gives him the impression he doesn’t want the displeasure of his association. When they reach any area populated with several young wizards, Malcom always found a way to leave his side. Thomas did not have many encounters with kindness aside from his mother. Ariella had shown him that same kindness. Despite her refusal of his request to distance herself from Erin, he had to help the young blonde.

"Shall I return the favor? After all my words brought you to blows, your blows brought me to blows..."

Thomas froze in his chair as Erin wandered in the direction of the blonde. She won’t… While Erin has revealed her cold and calculating mental assault, she had shown no signs of physical aggression other than throwing a book. She will… The inevitable choice that was approaching him this evening. Except this time, he understood this Slytherin never would have been his ally. He gathered his strength and stood from his chair. Thomas rushed behind Erin and smacked the book out of her hand before she could use it to harm Ariella. “STOP,” He shouted, standing toe to toe with the girl. His odds of escaping this library intact decreased significantly.

The current situation reminded him of his days as a hockey player. The anger between him and the opposing Slytherin mirrored several scenarios on the ice. Whether it was Thomas or the other boys’ that ended up with a bloody nose, he began to look forward to the physical battles. He didn’t plan on hitting Erin, but he couldn’t presume she wouldn’t strike him in place of Ariella.

"Your mother does not even know you, she cannot love you and if that is all you have then that is so very sad."

Her attack reignited the rage within Thomas. His desire to harm the girl grew while his mind wrapped around the point of attack, the only thing that kept him from true despair…his mother. Ironically, the principles his mother instilled within Thomas kept his hands at his side. Never to strike a girl, no matter the circumstances. Thomas would argue with his mother if she were there that the brunette across from him was no ordinary girl, she was a monster. Still, his heart would not waver from the consequences to follow from hitting Erin until he couldn’t feel anymore. Until he was just another boy that was ready to disappear. He finally gathered the courage to look away from his internal feelings, and instead search the truth of hers. “You don’t know what love is.” Thomas narrowed his eyes, clinching his fists tightly, thumbs pushed his fingernails into his palm. If they were any sharper, his hands would be dripping with blood. “It’s clear to me now, your parents’ don’t love you…” He knew the words would likely have little impact on the girl, he didn’t care. After all the digging she has done, it was time for some of his own. “You’re empty. You want everyone to feel your misery.”
Thomas’ palms were sweaty, his face beat read, and his eyes fierce. As he searched for more to say, Erin’s eyes were drawn to the new boy.

"Howard White!"

He looked over to the older boy he noticed moments ago behind the bookshelf. Howie? Thomas may have not known the boy, but his presence gave him undeniable relief. The boy that disappeared.

“Now..now..Erin. We both know you’re incapable of such things.”

Thomas gushed at the thought of drawing his wand and pointing it at Erin. Unfortunately for him he hardly knew any spells. It would be the equivalent of threatening her with a twig. To him, it was just a twig. He smiled, looking to Howie and then back to Erin. “A liar as well?” Howard’s demeanor signaled to Thomas that they were on the same side. His thoughts of sinister nature, he wanted to see Erin experience pain. Howie appeared his best option to inflict it, if channeled properly. Despite his prior actions to save the young Ravenclaw, the fact remains the same. Thomas was not a hero.

She was going to break that flatulent girl, not because she was angry but because it would make the white knight angry. He was a hero. Most men were, they were raised that way. Lied to. Told it was their duty to what - protect the fairer gender because they were incapable? That they were in need of saving. It always summoned a reaction, a passion in men when she threatened some little girl. It was a weakness she had learned to exploit. Howie would remember the train ride when she threatened to enjoy her time with the girl. How he immediately felt the need to protect her.

Thomas Lestrange was no different. He would knock the book from her hand and it would fall harmlessly onto the floor. Then came the confrontation. 

“STOP!”

"A hero," she commented. "how admirable." He was too close, his wand was not drawn and he had just busied himself with this dramatic confrontation. Something about love and mothers and how he still went home to her uterus every school vacation. It was all very sweet.

“You don’t know what love is.” 

"Neither do you," she claimed boldly.

“It’s clear to me now, your parents’ don’t love you…” 

"You're right," she confirmed without thought or hesitation. They couldn't even if they tried.

“You’re empty. You want everyone to feel your misery.”

"Close," she commented as she attempted to clap her hands on his shoulders. Both of his shoulders. It was not a friendly gesture. If she succeeded, her knee would immediately shoot up and her hands would clamp down hard as she attempted to perform what one would call an uncalled for shot. [You determine success obviously.]

He was so full of fire that she was no longer hungry. Greedy, she would attempt to take more than her fill. He was such a rare creature in a world where there was nothing inside most. Bereft of passion and that spark, it was like eating milled oats soaked in water. She simply could not stop herself, even if she knew that she should have ended it while she was ahead. The moment that book was knocked out of her hand she could have stormed off, been remembered as that Slytherin bitch. It was not good enough for her, she wanted what Thomas had -- his anger, his passion, his fire. If she could not have it, she would bathe in its radiance.

Then there was Howard White. A former... what is the right word for what they had. Friend? Absolutely not. Rival? No, that was not really the case either. Victim? Close, but not really. She was helping him and benefiting in the process. Saving him from becoming like the rest. That was it, a symbiotic relation. 

Never before was there so much.

A long breath of air escaped through her nose as she saw Howard, yes 'Howard'. 'Howie' just did not seem fitting any longer as he strode with purpose, wand in hand. "He no longer hesitates," Erin commented. These months had changed him physically, he was taller than she remembered him and his hair was shorter, true but that was not the physical change she noticed. No, it was his expression and how he held his wand, his carriage and the storm that was finally in those eyes. The storm she saw but he hid so well. He was real. She had to look up at him by the time he drew close "...neat."

She was not backing down but she did feel something of her own. Something that she had not felt in a very long time, excitement and envy and fear. It was exhilarating to the pure-blood, with such muted senses and a world of shadows and muted tones, the ability to feel anything even pain was a blessing. "You're..." she let out a laugh "really - really dangerous." Erin was a brilliant manipulator but she was also more than a little cracked if she found humor or excitement in this truth but she did. 
  
“A liar as well?”

Thomas accused. Erin turned to look at him, if Howard struck her down so be it. However her heart hastened as she did so, there was this sense of dread and panic. The room a bit brighter, the people seemed to move just a bit slower and in her ears she could hear this drum. Was this fear? It was beautiful and terrible, still her hand shook as instinct dictated that she needed to ignore the First Year Boy but she couldn't. He was real too. she could feel it festering inside of him. He was holding his truth back, killing it in the process. "I am a liar, proud of the fact. But what I said was true, as far as I was aware he was gone." It had been months and she searched for him, expecting to find him curled up in a ball reading a book House Elves or donating his blood to unicorns, something over the top benevolent to disprove his nature as he hoped his truth would die. "But I rather he be here, so lovely and dark. Less like a brooding woman and more like a man with a purpose," she shook her head. "No, not a man. That would be a lie... A wizard with a purpose."

Her voice shook a bit, "join him." She demanded, she took a glance back towards Howard. There was this throbbing anxiety that was swelling inside of her. "Should give a cliche line a-about how you both should grab a few of your friends to face me as to make it a fair fight," Merlin this is glorious. "D-draw your wand, such forbearance does not suit you." 

If you do decide to use Flipendo -- it will be successful but I will end up knocking over one of the bookshelves which might knock over another and so on...  If Thomas or Ariella are struck by the books, the shelves or my airborne body, that is totally up to them.

Thomas, if you want to deck me (I know I deserve it), have at it but I want at least a bruise!

Howie stood in silence, watching the events unfold before him. Although the anger fueled his magical potency and sharpened his mind, the sensation flowing through his body threatened to overwhelm him. He had tried for months to hide it, to run away from it, but as it coursed through him now it was undeniable that these energies were an integral part of his being. With a deep breath, he calmed it. No, controlled it. 

Howie had felt this power once before and it had left him afraid. Terrified of his true self. That the kind and gentle boy that would be sorted into House Hufflepuff was in fact capable of intense hatred and violence. All of mankind has it within them, the powers of good and evil flow through everyone, however it is those that enjoy the darkness that are the true dangers. This power was corrupting him like narcotics, just a taste is all it takes. What would the Sorting Hat think of him now? 

The old Howie would be standing there before them ready to protect the blonde, to stop Erin because it was the right thing to do. This part of him was not completely dead, but was surely being suffocated by what he may be becoming. No, Howard was there because his hatred drove him to be. He watched as Erin and the other boy struggled, a book fell to the floor as she fueled his fury. They spoke of his mother and the meaning of love. 

Mothers. Howard thought of his own, a true Hufflepuff if he had ever met one. Always kind, always caring, always willing to sacrifice her own wants and needs for her husband and only child. Her eyes, the same color as his, always looked upon him with true love, that of a mother loving her child. Howard stared into black ones now as Erin addressed him. 

“You're..."  "really - really dangerous." "I am a liar, proud of the fact. But what I said was true, as far as I was aware he was gone." "But I rather he be here, so lovely and dark. Less like a brooding woman and more like a man with a purpose," "No, not a man. That would be a lie... A wizard with a purpose."

He would not hear the rest of what she said. His mother’s eyes came back into his thoughts as Erin’s last statement tore through his mind. A Wizard. She was right. It was this truth that had changed the expression in his mother’s eyes. The same that always looked at him with love, now with a hint of something different. Fear. Howard had seen it it when he returned home. His magic had changed him, was molding him into something Howie would never have been without it, and he was helpless to stop it.

Tears filled his eyes as the rage burned white hot. The brief control Howard had obtained was shattered as this truth dawned on him. He looked deep into Erin’s black, soulless eyes. This was her fault. She had set forth these chain of events. Had it not been for her, that dementor would never have unlocked what he had successfully repressed! His wand had raised, the incantation shouted before he was even truly aware he had cast it. “FLIPENDO!!”

The needle plunges into the vein. The release was ecstasy.

It was instantly realized, Thomas had swapped himself with Ariella to become the primary focus of the now malicious Syltherin opposition. He resented Ariella for her utter disregard of his advice. Not only to avoid Erin prying any further, but also to engage her physically. She was older, she had an unusually robust frame for a girl so young. Thomas was well-built himself, his dedication to athletics during his youth insured it. He may do well on a quidditch field one day, though his lack of general knowledge about magic and the power within him made him a very susceptible target.

"Neither do you,"

She was ready for each attack; each claim Thomas could toss her way.

"You're right,"

Her effortless acknowledgement of her parents’ absent love inspired dread within Thomas. She’s accepted the thought. Was this the source of her pain, or was it so buried so deep beneath the surface it no longer affected the girl.

"Close,"

Finally, I’m on the right track. Enthused to know he was close to source of her anguish. His refusal to believe she was simply born to be this way stirred Thomas. What stone tipped her into such a dreadful state. Thomas had to discover the source of her pain. Before he could venture any deeper into her mentality, her hands forcibly grasped his shoulders. Too wrapped up in his wishes to keep digging, he failed to sense her intention to send a knee to his jaw. Her knee rose quickly, Thomas twisted himself out of her grip to partially lessen the blow. She still made decent contact, rows of teeth clunked together, he stumbled to his knees. To avoid any further blows, he attempted to force Erin away from close range. Locking his fingers together, he tried to lay the weight of his upper body into her stomach, pushing her back into a bookcase several feet away.

He regained his feet, tasting blood in his gums. A small chipped corner of his top left front tooth lay on his tongue. Thomas reached into his mouth to retrieve the chipped piece, examining it carefully before he looked back up at Erin. An ordinary first year may have been impacted to the point of retreat, but Thomas was no stranger to physical blows to his head. In fact, he viewed his ability to take a hit as one of his best attributes. He tasted his own blood on many occasions during his days in the ice rink. Except in the rink, he knew how to use the stick. The stick or wand currently near his hip served little purpose in his defense.

Erin’s physical response signified a victory of sorts for Thomas. After she circled him in her earlier analysis, he felt the playing field was even. Especially with the looming 2nd year from Hufflepuff not far away. Thomas viewed many scenarios of what could happen next. He could give in to his anger, attempt to charge the girl, tackling her into the bookcase. Throwing his hands helplessly until she was broken. He could pull out his wand and pretend to know a harmful spell. Or, he could stand there and continue to dig into her past.

Thomas tossed the piece of his chipped tooth at Erin’s feet. His curiosity overpowered his anger. Before he could speak, Howie approached with his wand in hand. The confrontation was coming to an end.

"join him."

Don’t give her what she wants. Sure, Thomas could join Howie and most likely find a way to best Erin. Would this decision bring Thomas any closer to what he truly wanted? Of course, after a bloody mouth, chipped pride and tooth to boot, he wanted to see Erin in pain. Everything within him told him that so did she. Understanding this unquestionable desire to be backed into a corner with little chance of defending herself was now his primary motive. Her suffering could come after.

"Should give a cliche line a-about how you both should grab a few of your friends to face me as to make it a fair fight, D-draw your wand, such forbearance does not suit you."

For the first time all evening, she appeared fearful. Still, she persisted to ask for it. Thomas looked to Howie to see how he would respond. The fire in his eyes told him everything, he had no intention to respond. Not verbally anyway. Thomas could only assume that ship has sailed. Howie was done speaking with the Slytherin girl. Perhaps he had tried to understand her as Thomas wants to. Could that be what led to his lengthy disappearance? With little time to consider his reasoning, Thomas wanted to warn Howie. Similar to his warning to Ariella. Don’t give her what she wants. “Howi---”

“FLIPENDO!!”

Thomas was cut off by Howie’s spell. Erin flew back into the bookshelf and began a chain reaction, one shelf into another, the books scattering in all directions of the library. Thomas took quick steps to rally behind Howie. “I would have preferred to meet the headmaster under better circumstances.”