Uhh...What Now? PV Finished

Friends were few to be had. The likely fixture of the Medical Wing, Finnley VanCleaf was taken away one night with no notice. Not even rumors surfaced. It was as if a black bag was pulled over the man's head and he disappeared. It would not be until the media announced that he was a co-conspirator in the murder of Dolores Umbridge that the student body would have their answers. The Medical wing always had someone, a dutiful staff member moonlighting as the distributor of bandages and lollypops. The kisser of boo-boos. Their understanding of healing sufficient enough as a lifetime of experience and their own juvenile mistakes culminated in their knowledge base.

'Whatever these kids could dish out, they had seen or done worse.' At least that is what they usually told themselves, but they would be in for a surprise. Not the transfiguration gone wrong, engorgo can be a urological issue but there were many young men that would try the same thing despite the warnings. Not the potion burns, the injuries post brawls or even the damages from a spell gone awry. Such was expected, especially here among child wizards. It was the shared affliction of several students here at Hogwarts. These dark, seemingly localized areas of necrosis on the bodies of the children. It made their blood turn sluggish and black, branching out from the point of injury in a terrible, dangerous way.

It was not one child with this mysterious affliction, but rather several. The how or the why possibly explained by the children, those that could find the words to share but such was repetitive and redundant. It hurt and it was spreading, slowly but consistently. They children sought the same thing daily - thick golden potion. Far from a cure, rather a stasis agent, something that merely put a temporary stop on the spread.

The nurse, or in this case a house elf was standing on a bed so that he might be eye level with a young man whose shirt was removed. "You can't be late," the House Elf scolded him. "The darkness advanced another ten millimeters," he sharply announced as they jotted something down on a sheet of paper. "You and your girlfriend"

"She is not my girlfriend" Vladimir cut the House Elf off.

"Yeah, yeah-- sure," the House Elf did not seem to believe him but was not invested enough in the concept of teenage drama. "New time, dinner time," he reminded Vladimir. "You and your not-girlfriend... Both. Need. To. Be. On. Time," the house elf carefully enunciated the words as if Vladimir had a hard time understanding.

Vladimir would pull his shirt over his head, hiding the strange dark markings on his lower torso. They resembled inky black veins that seemed to stretch and reach upward towards his heart.



"Yeah, I know," he grumbled. An empty bottle in hand he placed it on the bedside table and made a loud noise as it hit the flat surface and then frowned. He was acting obstinate, childish. He could do better. "Sorry," his eyes darted away from the house elf. "Just got a lot of my plate, is not an excuse," he sighed disappointed in himself.

"It's fine kid," the House Elf replied appearing not terribly fussed over the interaction. Seen worse, yeah by miles. Understood to an extent what stress and pain did to a person, that too. "Marion?" The House elf did not appear to care to explain what they already knew. What they had been through a dozen times before.

"Yeah," Vladimir lifted a hand to his face and turned around. "Finish up here, I will pick us up something to eat and meet you by the lake," he announced with his hand still raised. Yes, he was walking away, from the looks of it he was giving her some privacy.

The House Elf was rarely happy, even when he was happy. Being scolded for being late was not a common complaint but it was a complaint among several others she had grown accustomed to hearing. Canbrey was good at what he did, he gave her the potion she needed when the nurse was not there and he seemed to know a lot of stuff.

Vladimir's poison was spreading fast. She looked down at the creeping blackness that had spread to his lowest ribs. She took a quiet breath and frowned. The cancer was spreading quicker in him. Well, not literal cancer but it might as well have been. No cure, just agents to slow the spread. An urge to cut it out. To excise it but being unable. It was too far, with dark grasping hands that held onto the far reaches of their body.

Her face turned red when Canbrey asked her to show him her wounds. It was nothing new, something that she was used to but Vladimir was standing right there. There was some weird pale guy also (presumably) staring at them [@Howard White]. Vladimir would cover his eyes with a cupped hand and look away. "Meet you at the lake in ten [minutes]," she replied. She was starving.

She would glance over at Howard and glower at the broody youth. "No, there is some creepy guy," she pointed at Howard and then crossed her arms over her chest. "Just like say that uh ten millimeters," the same as Vladimir.

"He isn't going to look," Canbrey assured her. He would look over at Howard as if to no-verbally say Right?

Howard would have to make a decision here. Follow the guy with the strange markings. Stay and antagonize the girl. Question the House Elf, maybe he would be willing to divulge personal information about two students.

Without really knowing why he was here or what he was supposed to be looking for, Howard would just continue to stand by and wait for something to happen. It seemed to be a slow day around the office as almost all the beds were empty and he hadn’t encountered any staff so far. Eventually he would hear the peculiar voice of one of the house elves and decided that was a good a place as any to see what’s what. Surely the Hags had not sent him to find one of the odd little creatures, but perhaps there was more to the little buggers than he had previously thought. They did live here full time and had free range of the castle. Like children they were often cast aside, but just as often knew more than they were given credit for.

As Howard got closer to the white privacy curtain he would hear more than one voice from the other side. One might have thought to hide away and listen. Gather clues and evidence to be used later for...something, but Howard was not that kind of guy. He was given simple instructions. Go to the Hospital wing and make friends. Obviously the Hags had no interest in his social life, but if he ever wished to accomplish his goal he had to fulfill his debt to them and accept their guidance. Whether it killed him or not. So, in his typical style, he would barge in and see what happens.

As he stepped to the other side of the curtain, his eyes would widen in surprise at the sight of a shirtless boy. No, it would not be his chiseled abs that made Howard’s head spin, but the fact that his whole lower torso was covered in inky black markings. It was a sight that he had seen before as they matched the ones that Opeila had shown him, but he had never seen such a large outbreak. “The darkness...” Howard whispered to himself. This could not be coincidence. The Hags had directed him here and on the very day he decided to heed their advice he would stumble across another with the marks. Before he knew it, the girl that was there and the house elf were both staring at him. “Uh...no. Course not.” Howard agreed with the elf and turned his back.

It looked like the shirtless boy was moving off to give the girl some privacy, so Howard followed suit. “Hey, man. Gotta sec?” He called after and came to walk beside him. Lowering his voice back to a whisper, Howard leaned in a little. “I’ve seen them markings before. Can ya tell me ‘bout em.”

Howard would feel a thrumming in the back of his head. A feeling as if he was being invaded, intruded upon. As if something intimate within him was being rummaged through. It was this strange little tickle that did not belong, this itch that he could not scratch. Vladimir would slow his loping gait without looking back, he was letting Howard gain ground on him. Howard would catch up to the teen with ease. His left hand making a dismissive gesture to his side. He did not stop however, in fact his carriage straightened slightly and his shoulders squared themselves slightly off-kilter from his pursuer.

Wisdom Howard: 10
Wisdom Vladimir: 7

Vladimir's eyes would scan the corridors of the Third Floor, his options limited, he opted for The Trophy Room. Besides a few unusable classrooms, the Charms Classroom which was likely locked or occupied at this hour, the trophy room was all that remained. It was the perfect place, unlocked, isolated and most importantly, available. It would be there that he would meet the...

Pallid flesh and tired yet hungry gaze of not an anemic or an invalid, but a predator excised of his hunting grounds. The eyes that burned like coals. Vladimir's head bobbed slightly, the tingle in the back of Howard's head was briefly gone. The Raveclaw's own blue eyes would flicker downwards at the dhampir's hands. Yes, he was looking at the nails, the deep nailbeds and the claws that were not quite talons but still formidable weapons. Vladimir was assessing for something of great immediate importance -- clenched, stiff or calm? Indeed, his primary concern was not the capacity of the dhampir but rather the readiness to utilize his full capacity. Non-verbal signs of aggression that might betray his casual tone and choice of words. It was easier to tell a lie than to live one.

A look down and up the dhampir, Vladimir made no effort to hide the fact that the gears in his head were turning. He was afterall a Ravenclaw so perhaps Howard expected their introduction to be like this. A seemingly protracted silence would follow Howard's request for a seconds. Vladimir would extend his hand to shake Howard's claw. "Salutations," he announced with a neutral expression.

"Not many," seconds, he finally answered the hufflepuff's initial inquiry. "Prior engagements," he announced. There was caution in his choices and his words, his decision defer conversation with the stranger even if it only yielded him a few moments. It takes but a second to find a spark of inspiration. "I am sure that you understand," his left hand reaching for his waistband while his right completed what would be a firm shake. His voice was cordial, but his movements were suspicious. [Permission to stop Vladimir, you have his other hand.] Being stopped or not was not what he deigned to know, that would be rather obvious when the dhampir's aggressions were made apparent. Rather, he was looking to know if his hand would be crushed in an assertion of dominance or if the shake would be weak, flaccid, even non-existent. A critical assessment of intentions. Of how Howard sought to be seen.

Stopped or otherwise, if Howard asked the question he would get an answer.

Intentions that Howard would declare on his own without prodding. "The markings," he repeated. Could be worse, he told himself. "Curse caused by the living darkness that plagues the grounds. It will spread, eventually reach my heart and I will die," he answered. Secrets that were not meant to be kept.

If Howard entered the trophy room, Vladimir would kick the door closed with the side of his foot. His movements deliberate. There was an eerie air of confidence despite the fact that from all external appearances the boy was about the same year and was human. "Let's not make Mary see the mess," he announced.

"Colloportus," the locking charm.

As Howard approached the other student an odd sensation would creep its way across the back of his head. A slight tingle like the one that runs down the spine when you get the chills, but that wasn’t the odd part. It was something that Howard had never felt before. He had been charmed, hexed, even turned to a Dhampir, but the feeling that went through his mind was like none other before. It was as if he was trying to remember something except he wasn’t consciously trying to and when he tried to focus, poof, it was gone. The experience was slightly disorienting, but Howard would just chalk it up to an accidental whiff of a potion fume. Anything was possible in this ancient castle.

Shaking his head slightly to try and keep it clear, he would still manage to call after the other boy and it wouldn’t take but a moment to catch up with him. As the pair exited the Hospital Wing they would come to stand before the Trophy Room. Howard’s red eyes would meet the blue of the other and as his head slightly bobbed the sensation would dissipate from Howard’s head. The other boy would get right dow to business as he looked the Dhampir over, not bothering to hide the fact that he was sizing him up. Howard didn’t mind. He preferred getting right the point. His hands would remain at his side, but he would turn them over to expose his palms, fingers slightly curled. It might not seem like much, but it was like pulling back the hammer of a gun that remained holstered. A gesture to show he meant no harm, but was prepared either way.

A handshake would be offered. Just another way for the pair to get a feeling for each other. Howard would accept with a nod of his head, only applying as much pressure as the other boy offered. “I understand. Won’t take but a moment.” Howard’s gaze would follow the others left hand as it shifted towards his waist. A possible sign of threat, but his only reaction would be to fully curl the claw of his free hand. Howard did not want this to dissolve so quickly, but he would defend himself. For once the Dhampir was seeking knowledge instead of a fight and would ask his question.

They would move into the Trophy Room together as the other explained the markings on his body. Howard had seen this living darkness before and the certainty of death should have been the highlight of what this boy said, but surely the staff would find a way to cure them. A common mistake made by magical youths, thinking that their gift could always keep them safe. It would be the fact that he said grounds and not dungeons that would stick out to the Dhampir. It must be the other coven. The very one that Howard had been tasked to steal from, but just as this dawned on him, the door would close quickly behind them.

Howard would turn quickly to see a wand drawn. The locking charm would come next. He would not rush into action as was his instinct, but would deny the urge and try to use his words. His hands would come to his side, palms forward and fingers flexed. The other would know what that meant. “Don’t gotta go down like that.” Howard would offer the chance, but wouldn’t hesitate if need be. “The ones that control that darkness sent me here. Told me there was friends to be had.”

“Don’t gotta go down like that.”

But alas, it did.

"If--" he chose his words carefully as Howard uttered a sort of warning. There was a mild pain in his voice that was reflected in his face. "If," he repeated forcing the word to come out "I am to die, I don't want Mary to find the body this time." She had been through enough, they both had. He could not imagine how she sleeps at night after seeing what happened to Victor and before that Umbridge. Calling for help at this hour, in this isolated position would be a mere exercise in futility. Yet facing ones mortality was difficult, even when the outcome was known for some time.

He let out a sigh, his posture stiff. There was fear, the sort of fear that the dhampir ought to be used to as it rolled off him like a poisoned miasma. Howard had a terrible presence about him, the sort that told others without knowing the boy's intentions that he was dangerous. That yanked at the strings of his primal senses, that instinct that told early men that fire was hot and dangerous, that wolves had claws and dhampirs had teeth that bite and tear.

Still he was proud. He would not start the fight, but he was prepared to defend himself even as doubt and terror overtook his mind. He had been facing death for some time, some might have thought that he should embrace it, finally an ending for his journey. He was simply not the sort to accept such things, neither was Victor.

“The ones that control that darkness sent me here. Told me there was friends to be had.”

"I know," he replied, swallowing hard as he said it. Vladimir got that one phrase there are 'friends' to be had. The notion left him unsettled, yet there was no face just a voice he did not know. It echoed in his head. How many young women had he scorned in these four short years? He took a few steps away, his back never to the dhampir. He wanted the advantage of distance, his claws indicated he was a melee fighter rather than a caster.

Vladimir had one question for Howard, but it was not the one he might expect. "Who" Howard would feel that tingle again "is the friend you seek?" Howard did not know the answer, so it would not matter how much Vladimir dug, nor how successful. The Ravenclaw would know and learn nothing.

"I do not know your why," Vladimir would persist. The pounding of his own heart like a loud drum in his ears. "But there are few things worth making a deal with a hag. If they have no hold over you, then run. If you are being made, my condolences." Perhaps this was a termination of their contract. No, that was not possible. His father would have the ladies heads on a pike by dawn if that were the case. Perhaps this was a continuation of their painful relationship. No, if that was the case then he would have been simply told.

An unfamiliar sensation it was indeed - the boy did not have a bloody idea why Howard had sought him out.

"No, we were not intended to meet," he concluded, his words faster, he shook his head side to side. There was no voice telling him such, it was merely frames of logic falling into place. They were associated with two different covens in fact, not that there was any way for Vladimir ro know this. "Who. Really. Sent. You?" Vladimir would ultimately ask, each word said carefully and clearly. The boy had earned more than his share of enemies, what was one more?

“You might be dyin’.” Howard’s eyes would briefly drop to the other boys abdomen. Just beneath the fabric of his clothing the curse set its twisting maze through his veins. A pained expression was evident on the blonde’s face, one that Howard hoped to ease.“But that’s not what I’m ‘ere for.” It was the truth. Howard was many things, a liar was not one of them. His hands were curled and ready to defend himself if need be, but that was not his intention. He would allow them to relax to his side as a sign of good faith.

Howard’s brow would raise slightly as the other boy claimed to know of the crones. They had of course sent him to “make friends” but he hadn’t quite expected the other party to be so aware. “Then they sent ya ‘ere too?” He asked as the other put some distance between them. Then it would happen again. The odd tingle in the back of Howard’s head. The prying sensation that could not be described in words. The Dhampir blinked hard and shook his head as the other question his intentions. “Stop that.” He spoke in a harsh whisper. Stop what? Who was he even speaking to? Himself, the other boy? This was beginning to get weird. Some random images would cross his mind as Howard blinked them away, but nothing that seemed of any importance. “I dunno...just ‘ere cuz they told me to.” Again, the truth.

“Freedom has a cost, yeah?” He responded to the other boys question of why Howard would deal with such creatures. It was a loaded statement, for he spoke not only of his freedom, but also for the one he cared for most. For her there was no sacrifice too big. His lips would form into a frown as the other claimed they were not intended to meet. It did not seem possible considering the circumstances, but anything was possible when dealing with such creatures. As the blonde asked who really sent Howard it would begin to come together. The crones had tasked him with finding an ally, but trickery and manipulation fed their every desire. The other boy had mentioned a darkness that plagued the grounds, but the darkness he had witnessed lived deep within the bowels of the castle. Perhaps this would end in tears after all.

Enough of the chit chat, no more need to beat around the bush. Howard was indebted to the crones of the dungeons, but would not attack this boy based on that fact alone. His intention had been to seek knowledge or partnership, but he would defend himself in need be. Time to see what’s what. “I told ya. The Hags sent me ‘ere. The ones in the dungeons.”

“You might be dyin’.”

Yeah he might be, but that day was not today until Howard had crossed his path.

“But that’s not what I’m ‘ere for.”

"Never presumed you were," Vladimir announced with a cool, even voice as he eyed the door. "People don't address me for good reasons," he announced with candor. Howard did not look like he was there for 'good reasons.' Vladimir was a great many things, but a fool was not among them.

“Then they sent ya ‘ere too?”

"No," he replied. The statement short, he offered nothing. He was listening for something, footfalls. Waiting for a flicker of light to come and go, that little sliver at the bottom of the door.

He would let out a sigh, what was taking that damn woman?

He tried to pry into Howard's head, see his intentions. Know his truth and his lies. To dig, no dive. To twist and to change. To manipulate his intentions and make him inert, to make him simply go away. Go away like Professor Price when he heard too much, when he got too close. It was a benevolent act, the old man would have gotten himself killed like so many others had. Their dangerous curiosity was like a cancer that would cut their lives unduly short had they been allowed to tarry on.

“Stop that.”

Yet a moment of luck or powerful mental fortitude prevented Vladimir from digging deeper. His eyes would widen as Howard verbalized this demand. Vladimir would never verbally confirm, he was not nearly that foolish. He would see a flicker, a bit of darkness pass the bottom of the door. Retreating footfalls.

“I dunno...just ‘ere cuz they told me to.”

Vladimir would try to warn him. He could not risk another delve, he could not manipulate his mind... his memories without knowing what they were. Without being let inside. Without knowing everything because nothing could be out of place and even when all the blocks are known, fitting them into the wrong places is never a seamless process. There is something broken, well maybe not 'broken' but there are these cracks. Like a mirror that has been dropped once but somehow the parts all stay in the frame.

Elliot would know it. This strange disconnect, this derealization he experienced. Yes, he knew he was a Professor at Hogwarts. He knew all the people and the places he had been. He knew everything, everything except his last day in Hogwarts. That was simply lost time. He would remember laying in his bed the night before but when he rose the 'next morning' he was in London, settled into an apartment and working at St. Mungos. A rational person would have left and took a broom to Hogwarts, rejecting the reality presented before him but Elliot had not. That was because, it was like a dream. Like how we accept that we are in a coffee shop or that we can fly. When a life is presented before you that you knew what to do in, be it by instruction, experience, knowledge or intuition, you generally accept it.

In truth, it was more than a day Elliot had lost. It was a week.

“Freedom has a cost, yeah?”

"Not if you never give it away," Vladimir cautioned. "And there is no freedom from their corruption, please," a tone of pleading not that he expected his pleas to be heeded. Howard was a dark creature himself, undead. They were like creatures in many ways, attracted to the putrescence of the other. It should not astound him that Howard, a dhampir, as it was obvious by his pallor, his hands with those elongated nailbeds and those coal-like eyes. "Just because you're similar, you are not the same." An assertion not of just value but also nature.

“I told ya. The Hags sent me ‘ere. The ones in the dungeons.”

...Dungeons. The revelation hit him like a truck, the color left his face and for a moment Vladimir and Howard would share the same ashen completion. "You were sent to be killed by me, they betray you," Vladimir announced. "But I am not terribly interested in being anyone's puppet," he claimed. "This is a planned murder, not a playdate." Either Howard onto him or him onto Howard. Initially he had presumed Howard was an assassin intended for him, sent by the coven that pulled at his strings and made him dance to their tune when they found it fitting. "Either way, Mary is gone. So win or lose, she won't be finding the body."

His body trembled slightly, Howard's terrible presence affected him. Certainly he was not fearless, but he was capable. He was intelligent. He was strong.

Howard shook his head and blinked away that funny sensation that crawled its way up the back of his head. He would also verbally command it to go without realizing he had even said anything out loud. It just felt like an odd occurrence as he fished around with this other boy. Howard would have no way of knowing what was happening or how he even defended himself. Perhaps it was just his subconscious pushing out a would be intruder, but it would not be a conscious decision on Howard’s part. He was never one to question much, especially after living four years surrounded by magic. Plus there were more pressing matters at hand. Like why the hell he was even here!

The Hags had sent him here for a reason, but had offered no guidance besides a bullshit motive of making friends. At this point he expected to by tricked and manipulated by the vile creatures. It was their way as the sowed their seeds of chaos and destruction. However, even though their meeting seemed anything but coincidence the other boy would deny it. The frustration was beginning to build as the only thing the blonde did offer was a warning. Frustrating because a part of Howard knew that his words were true. That until either he or the Hags were destroyed there would be no freedom from this evil bond. He had hoped this chance encounter would have at least offered him a step forward, but it just seemed to be going no where.

It wouldn’t be until the word dungeon escaped his lips that anything meaningful would happen. As the color drained from Vladimir’s face he would speak of murder. When threatened most people naturally take a step back from the danger, but in this crazy world Howard had learned to close the distance when dealing with casters. Space only meant more freedom to sling spells around. Best to keep them within reach of claws. Howard’s red eyes would search the blue of Vladimir’s. Was his talk of murder just a flare of the drama? A means to scare the Dhampir into minding his own business? There was something within Vladimir’s gaze that told him no and what would follow was anger.

“Why the fuck would I try to kill ya!?” Howard was surely capable of violence, but what would he gain by killing Vladimir? Assuming he was even capable. “And why would ya kill me? This is fuckin’ stupid. All they want is for me to steal from ‘em. What would they gain from us knockin’ each other off?”