Interrogation PV Vladimir Finished

“I brought you here so that we could speak alone, Vladimir. Safety and confidence having nothing to do with it boy.” Elliot responded coldly as they sat at his desk. It shouldn’t really have bothered him. It was rather typical of a boy like him. An unwarranted sense of confidence that comes with being one the “bad boys.” Oh yes, the tough guy act. One bred of ignorance and stupidity that can drive people to disregard the safety of others for the sake of being cool. Elliot had seen it many times throughout his life. It was just as annoying then as it was now.

His eye twitched ever so lightly as Vladimir chastised him about the art of interrogation. “You think you know quite a bit don’t you? Perhaps someone has been filling your head with this nonsense? So...Vladimir. Who have you the candies?” Elliot would close his eyes for just a moment as his pulse quickened. Perhaps it was the annoyance or maybe the lack of sleep, but a pang of embarrassment would flash through his chest as he misspoke. 

He did nothing to interrupt the boy as he told his tale of selling candies. More bullshit in his attempt to keep up the act, or so he thought. However, it would give Elliot pause as he let out a wicked laugh at the conclusion of his words. The Professor’s eyes would quickly dart around the room as the cabinets seemed to shudder in fear. His hand would slowly make it’s way into the pocket of his robes as his fingers grasped the handle of his wand. Elliot had felt it before. The twisted energies of dark magic that make the fine hairs stand on end. Or perhaps it was just his paranoia.

It was not the way in which the boy spoke that unsettled him, but the content in which he spoke of. The Dominum Mask! One of the key items that had been come up time and again with the ongoing conspiracy that surrounded the castle. There was now no doubt in Elliot’s mind that this boy was under the influence of something sinister, but who was the puppet master. His eyes returned to the cabinets. The vials within held so many powerful concoctions. Just a few drops and he could strip the boy down to his soul. Just a taste and the little puke would spill his deepest and darkest secrets. 

Elliot cleared his throat as he shook away the thought. Never would he stoop so low. Never would he inflict what had happened to him on another. No matter how dire the circumstances were. A dark energy had entered the room with them, but it was still just a boy that sat before him. How deep had the roots of evil burrowed? With a deep breath and a slow exhale, he calmed himself.

“The Dominum Mask?” He repeated the question with a tranquil tone as he blocked his mind from intrusion. “Quite the dark object Vladimir. If the stories are accurate, it comes paired with a glove. Whoever wears the glove...can control the one who wears the mask.” Elliot spoke slowly as he maintained steadfast eye contact. “Now. I would assume whoever told you of such things just might be the one who supplied you with the candies. We both know that this was no simple prank, Vladimir. I’ve seen what effects they have. Tell me, who gave them to you?”

Ability: Occlumency

Perhaps Professor Price was perhaps right, maybe Vladimir was overly confident as he was pulled into the dungeon-like atmosphere that was the Potions classroom. Yet the boy seemed at home. Perhaps the Ravenclaw was not as bright as his house suggested. It would explain the recklessness of his actions, handing out such dangerous candy but it did not explain the why or what Price was more concerned with, the how. 

For whatever reason Vladimir chose to answer a question that was never asked --The Dominum Mask. Bait that nobody, not even Elliot would pass up. 

“The Dominum Mask?” 

The boy looked like nothing more than a punk. Words that he must have simply overheard. Words that had incredible power that he was recklessly wielding. 

The Professor was a trained Occulomens, the banging and the rattling that he heard would cease as he slammed the windows and the doors of his mind closed. Like a locked room, nothing in and nothing out. The room was now quiet less the two of them, he could hear Vladimir's breathing even in the harsh stillness. 

There would be a light of recognition in the boy's eyes as they met Professor Prices. A deviant expression. Finally, a challenge!

“Quite the dark object Vladimir. If the stories are accurate, it comes paired with a glove. Whoever wears the glove...can control the one who wears the mask.” 

Yes, that was the mask. Vladimir folded his hands on his lap. "Truth," the boy confirmed as he watched Elliot's expressions. Looked for minute changes.  

“Now. I would assume whoever told you of such things just might be the one who supplied you with the candies. We both know that this was no simple prank, Vladimir. I’ve seen what effects they have. Tell me, who gave them to you?” 

"Different people I am afraid," he gave the older man a shit-eating grin. "I could tell you who," he shrugged. "But why? Why would I let you know everything that I know?" There was a purpose, however strange for the boy's actions. Either that or Elliot has just encountered the cockiest little shit he has ever seen. The boy looked the part and even Ravenclaw housed its share of deviants. However, antagonizing a Professor appeared to be the antithesis of cleverness in his given situation.

"But I would be more than glad to share, if..." there was always a catch. a tit for tat one could say. What would a boy like Vladimir want? Apparently something rather elementary, but concerning still. "A few potion ingredients from your fabled storeroom?" The classroom had a number of components, all readily accessible in any wizarding shop. However, there were a few potion ingredients that were harder to come by, restricted in trade for their potentially volatile effects, their rarity or due to Ministry restrictions. 



"A Sopophorous plant and I tell you who, for what little good that will do you, who gave me the candies," he was coercing something it would appear. However the plant in and of itself, while rare, was not particularly threatening. He did not expect a yes, but if he got one... well, that would be something hilarious.

With steady breath, Elliot focused on closing the pathways of his mind. Locking one’s brain was similar to the studies of meditation. Through years of practice it could almost be done in a instant. As his pulse slowed and the doorways to his thoughts slammed shut, the rattling of the room ceased. It was hard to tell if the dark energies that twisted around them had actually shook anything at all. Or perhaps it was just how his mind perceived the intrusion into his subconscious. Either way, the room became still. The only sounds audible were the slight creaks of furniture and the breath of the two who occupied it.

Elliot’s eyes wouldn’t stray from the boy’s as they continued their conversation. Vladimir seemed quite confident in his knowledge of the Dominum Mask. Another morsel of information that Elliot was sure had been fed to him. He was also sure it explained why the boy was so damn cocky. Dark magic can have funny effects on the mind. Some will crumble under its influence, while others will thirst for the sense of power they feel as they feed off of it. Over time, it can slowly strip you of what you once were. Elliot hoped there was some shred of innocence left in the boy. 

The older man did his best to keep a straight face as Vladimir continued to spin his web of deceit. He attempted to answer vaguely and demand a trade for information. “We are not here to barter Vladimir.” Elliot shut down the boy’s ridiculous proposal. “Although I do find your request rather interesting. I would assume your interest in the Sopophorous plant would be to collect it’s beans. A rather useful ingredient. Tell me Vladimir, you wouldn’t be gathering the items necessary for the Draught of Living Death by chance? Seems to be quite a popular potion these days. Quite advanced for someone of your age and...knowledge. Let me ask you something else. Do you hear whispers in you mind? Little hints or suggestions on what you should do next? Perhaps an overwhelming urge to do something that was not of your own thought?”

Elliot paused to see how he would answer. If his hunch was right, the boy was experiencing something he too had suffered through. As he leaned forward, the dim light of the room would briefly catch the scars upon his face. Just a moment, where the light reflects off the shiny scar tissue. 

Professor Elliot Price's mind, like a fortress. Nothing was getting in, not anymore. Who would have thought that the old man was more than a potioneer. An Occlumens, a man so practiced in the ways of the mind that he could close his mind off to psychic attacks. Elliot was more formidable than he looked. Hardly the near crippled, deficient old man that he anticipated.

Vladimir did seem like a confident, pompous pure-blood that thought he knew more than he actually did. And indeed it would seem that Elliot was getting more out of this conversation than Vladimir was. The aged Professor could outwit a teenage boy. 

Tit for tat. 

All Vladimir wanted was the Sopophorous Plant - a plant that would be tiresome to grow, it required mooncalf dung. It was not a particularly rare plant, indigenous to gloomy marshlands that might not be readily accessible to the youth but the sopophorous plant is also cultivated by wizards in their estates. 

“We are not here to barter Vladimir.”

Professor Price shut him down. "All take, no give. How cruel..." Vladimir complained as he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. The burden of the boy left to the back legs of the chair as they tipped back.

“Although I do find your request rather interesting. I would assume your interest in the Sopophorous plant would be to collect it’s beans. A rather useful ingredient. Tell me Vladimir, you wouldn’t be gathering the items necessary for the Draught of Living Death by chance? Seems to be quite a popular potion these days. Quite advanced for someone of your age and...knowledge. Let me ask you something else. Do you hear whispers in you mind? Little hints or suggestions on what you should do next? Perhaps an overwhelming urge to do something that was not of your own thought?”

Vladimir would open one eye and his face would drop, his demeanor would change. "Yeah," he looked to the left and let out a sigh. "But I am not allowed to talk about it," he claimed as if he was admitting to some sort of secret. He pointed to his own mouth and then to his ear before he shook his head no. "What about..." his voice trailed off, something small. Something useless. Something mundane. Or not. He would lean forward and snatch the quill off the Professor's desk. The Ravenclaw would scribble a phrase onto the sheet of paper. A gram of philosophic mercury. Not a potion known to wizarding kind that required that substance. What possible use would a boy like him have for a gram of philosophic mercury. "A sprig of Royal Staff?" He asked out-loud. Royal Staff, also known as Asphodel, another component to the very same brew that the good Professor had mentioned before: Draught of Living Death. There was something off about his question this time, a bit of misinformation. Even smart boys make mistakes. Even smart boys forget the intended narrative. Perhaps Professor Price would notice and give the boy the stonewall. Perhaps he would play along and see where this takes him. 

Was Vladimir playing Price or was Price stringing the boy along?

There appeared to be some association, the potion ingredients were too specific and the potion was not commonly used. Moreover, it was easy to counter with the Wiggenweld Potion which was a potion taught at Hogwarts, it was hardly the terrifying concoction it used to be. Was this a red herring? Something intended to grip someone's attention. Terrify them. Throw them off so that they don't comprehend what he was really after. 

Elliot focused to keep his mind shut, his eyes remaining locked on Vladimir’s. It was always helpful to have a focal point when applying his skill. One of the first exercises he learned when studying the art of Occlumency. The next would be to control his breathing. Remaining clam was essential. Any rush of emotion could be enough to break his concentration. 

Vladimir would go on to confirm Elliot’s suspicion. He was now positive that the poor boy was under the influence of a powerful Legilimens. Strong enough that whoever pulled the strings had tried to pry into his mind as well. His warm brown eyes would squint as the boy pointed to his mouth and then to his ear before shaking his head no. Was this his attempt to try and silently communicate what Elliot already feared?

“Not allowed to talk about it...no bother. You shouldn’t let your peers pressure you into doing something stupid Vladimir.” Elliot attempted to play it off. 

His fingers would tighten on the handle of his wand as the boy made a sudden movement towards him, however no attack would come. Vladimir would snatch the quill and parchment that layer atop his desk. After a quick scribble he would present the words. Elliot took a deep breath to remain focused as he quickly broke eye contact.

A gram of philosophic mercury.

The Professor blinked in confusion. What on earth was that?! He racked his mind. Surely it was no potion ingredient. Vladimir would then ask for a sprig of Royal Staff. Now this was something the older man was familiar with. A common name for the Asphodel. Before he spoke, Elliot would write a message of his own. 

Do you know who’s voice it is that whispers in your mind? 

“Royal Staff, eh? Tell me Vladimir. You say that it is all give and no take, but I have answered your questions. I understand you want ingredients in return for information. You don’t need me to procure these items. All available at any apothecary. Why not let us trade information instead.” Elliot would lightly tap the parchment before him. “What do you want with them? Planning more pranks with your friends?”

Elliot was so... incredibly close to the truth. A mistake was made, one that Elliot might realize later that would have given him even greater perspective. After all Vladimir was only a teenager, hardly a mastermind. However, there were so many moving pieces in this dangerous game, it was so incredibly easy to get just one... thing... lost.

He asked for a component used in the Draught of Living Death, a potion whose ingredients were listed in a letter with unbelievable statements that was poorly written and semi nonsensical but demanded those very components. Was this boy or perhaps another making this demand recklessly for their personal ends? Perhaps. It was incredibly coincidental, unlikely a mistake. 

Then he asked for something that was not a potion ingredient, a gram of philosophic mercury. That was a terrifying component, one that if Elliot were to familiar with legends and rumors, he would feel a true sense of terror. Something to research a later day perhaps. 

Starkey's "sophic mercury" was an amalgam of antimony, silver, and mercury, which was supposed to dissolve gold into a mixture that when heated, would produce the mythical philosopher's stone, an agent for transmuting base metals into noble ones. Or, as wizards were well aware, was the secret to immortality.

Of course, if it was that simple, then a number of blood red stones would already exist. Life required a greater sacrifice than a handful of mundane metals. [Permission to know the above considering your IC vocation.] Vladimir looked calm despite the gravity of the situation and the fact that he has just asked a potions expert for an alchemist's component. Was he attempting to get a rise from the old man? Was he attempting to get the man's attention? How clever was this little boy?

Verbally he would ask for another material. A component used in the same potion. A hint. A clue. An attempt to divert attention from his actual attempts. It was impossible to say. This was a dangerous game he was a player in. He had asked for something mundane, something that the Professor would never agree to even if it was merely the component for the Pepperup Potion. What is that adage? Never make deals with terrorists... or something like that. Then he asked for something else on paper, something even more dangerous in secret. 

Do you know who’s voice it is that whispers in your mind?

Vladimir would make a motion with his hand that he needed the quill. Presumably when offered the writing device he would write down a name. A name that Professor Price would know well.

Finlay VanCleaf

Would it be that simple? A name, a name that every Professor in this school would know.

Verbally Elliot would address the boy. Ask about the Asphodel. A prank? "Yes sir," Vladimir would reply politely but his head would shake side to side as if to say 'no.' Don't listen to the words I say. Maybe listen to what I do. "Always liked going out with a bang," there was an emphasis on that word bang. It felt disconcerting as Vladimir shifted himself in his seat. "But I should warn you Professor, good times will be had for all." His words did not seem to reflect his mannerisms. He seemed calm and confident, there was that air still of a cocky youth yet there was this clandestine exchange between them. 

Then there was a change, a sudden lack of interest that came over his face after he made that second comment. "You know, I don't need the..." his voice trailed off, "Asphodel and Sopophorous Plant." He would try to stand up, grinning as he did so. "I was caught. I am guessing detention? No treats or plants. I've been outwitted," he seems to be hamming it up just a tad. Was it for Price's sake or for an unseen observer.

Philosophic Mercury. Elliot had done his best to feign ignorance at the boy’s request. One couldn’t be too careful when attempting to hide from whoever pulled the strings on the other side. Anyone growing up on this world would know the tales of the Philosopher’s Stone and the famed alchemist Nicholas Flamel. Well, anyone who cares for their education anyways. The stone held a power that no wand or potion could produce. It was the ticket to immortality. If the stories were true, the last one had been destroyed by Flamel before his death. Surely the boy wouldn’t even begin to have the understanding necessary to make one. However, it was far to risky to question him on. 

So, Elliot spun his own web of lies. Hopefully it was not too late to dupe whoever had intruded into Vladimir’s mind. Only time would tell. As he spoke, the boy would motion for the quill and scribble down two words before spinning the parchment back for Elliot to see. Two words that would freeze the older man to his core.


It wasn’t that Vladimir was accusing a fellow staff member of performing one of the three forbidden curses that sent the chill down his spine. It was the name itself. She was murdered by Finlay. The name had been nothing but an obscure warning written by the hands of a mysterious man, but now it clicked. Could it be possible that this man had been hiding under their noses this whole time? Elliot shivered as the memories flashed through his mind. How many times had he allowed the nurse into the storerooms?! What had he taken! 

Elliot barely listened to Vladimir as he continued to speak. Something about a bang, detention. Yes! The Professor locked eyes with the boy once more and took a breath to steady his nerves. “Yes, I’m afraid so Vladimir. You’re deeds cannot go unpunished. Perhaps will start with some manual labor. The trophies could always use a fresh coat of polish.” With that, Elliot would rise from his seat. He had no intention of taking the boy to the Trophy Room, but it was rather close to the Hospital Wing. The time had come to put his investigation to the side. Enough of the questions,  it was time for action. 

“Your detention starts now Vladimir. Follow me please.” Elliot gestured towards the door. 

Attempts to leave the thread with. Lad if he cooperates.

Vladimir was a strange teen, usually the facade crumbles when cornered. This appearance of confidence, this ability to control and steer a conversation. However, Elliot had done everything right. Vladimir never controlled the narrative, not really despite his efforts. He had tried to throw him off with the Dominum Mask. To demand a component, no matter how mundane in an effort to demonstrate an upper hand. However, Elliot had but the pieces together, that the potion ingredient he had requested was far from random and was among the ingredients listed in a letter found in the Headmaster's office.

The pieces were slowly coming together on this three dimensional puzzle. 

Vladimir tried to throw him off again with Philosophic Mercury, a component a teen would have no reason to casually reference or even be familiar with. He never bit, not really. He would have to take what small victories he had earned here. It was frustrating, this old man had one step in the grave or a nursing home. He watched the man's wrinkled countenance for something, a weakness or an opening. 

Finlay VanCleaf

He should have have said that, should he? No, he should not have but it was too late now. The time was not right, they did not have enough control over-- They could adapt. They were malleable. It was a mantra he had told himself hundreds of times before. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so Vladimir. You’re deeds cannot go unpunished. Perhaps will start with some manual labor. The trophies could always use a fresh coat of polish.”

He paled. "The trophy room?" He froze and shook his head. "I--" his voice trailed off as he sought an excuse. Elliot would feel a pounding in his head, but nothing would enter. No insidious presence, no disembodied voice. A flash of resolve came over his eyes. "Yes, of course. Be glad" he coughed "to." He could handle this, no problem. He would take a step away from the Professor, towards the door. 

“Your detention starts now Vladimir. Follow me please.”

"Now?" His voice quavered. He swallowed hard, his mouth was dry and there was a tickle in the back. He coughed again. His eyes darted to the left and then the right. "N-yes sir," he stiffened up a bit and clenched his jaw. "The trophy room," he repeated. The temperature of the room would seem to creep downward, as if someone had opened a window on a cold wintry day. He would push the seat away slowly. "Right away." He coughed again. "After you sir."