A Different Approach PV Thomas L. Finished

With the addition of a badge comes a new mindset. It was not something Thomas wanted, but his application was contingent for his return to his castle. It was one of many insisting requests his mother made that Thomas hesitantly agreed to. He was the last person to expect the outcome that left a badge pinned atop his robes. Likely the wrong person for the job, no...most definitely the wrong person. Perhaps Miss Jensen saw something in him he had not yet seen himself.

If a motivational move to unlock the boy’s potential, so far it was working. The summer served as a stern awakening to steer Thomas away from his demons, replacing them with the open arms of his mother. As a strong figure atop the public school board for muggles back home, she had a penchant for motivating troubled youth. Most of all her son, who she insisted make some strides in the right direction this year. For the moment, Thomas was consciously intending to do so. Though as he’s on his own once more without his mother’s guiding voice, how long would it last?

How long before the excitement faded away and Thomas resorted to the questionable habits that took precedence in his past? He expected the target on his back after a series of questionable public decisions. Attaining this position as a house representative may only make the lines of that X long and broader. The boy’s typically elevated guard amplified by these preconceived thoughts that many were out to get him, to expose him. He knew Miss Jensen would be watching to see how he handled his new duties, leading to a handful of alterations in his dealings. To put it simply, no more tossing little girl’s in lakes.

Another insistence from his mother was a stronger focus on his studies, placing his focus on the material he was there to learn as opposed to the dead man who’s fate he could not change. Hence his appearance in the Study Room only a week after classes. It was no surprise to enter a vacant room at a time of year where classes are merely in the introductory stage. Thomas found one of the many empty tables and placed parchment and a quill atop the wooden surface. From his bag, he retrieved The Dark Forces textbook to review his first lesson in DADA, an introduction to dark creatures. Ironically, the boy was already well acquainted.

And this was the dilemma, wasn’t it? It was a relationship he could not reveal to his mother, she would have derailed the train to Hogwarts before letting him return had she known of his relationship with a trio of crones. But Thomas would not allow himself to be the puppet on strings as he was last year, this year would be different, this year he was going to fight back.

The boy’s head slowly rose as he heard a chair skim across the stone floors to occupy a spot across from him. His icy blue eyes traveled up further to see a girl he had not seen in quite some time. Bridget Collins. Sharp mind, decisive, an athlete. The two first intersected in their involvement with a particular trio. At the surface, containing a similar goal to uncover the secrets that surround them. Though Thomas’ motives went past that, and he was not shy to reveal this openly at the night of the ball, or the peculiar fight club over the summer. The certainty is no matter how many chose to oppose Vladimir, he always seemed to outplay them.

Formalities. Thomas hated them, but it was a welcome trial to execute a cordial sentence towards Bridget of all people, he respected her. Though the boy narrowed his eyes at her initial friendly sentiment. She was a Slytherin after all, surely not here to gossip over a cup of tea. Bridget had motives of her own, and Thomas would not hold that against her. But to display a friendly pretense would instantly have the boy attempt to look through her words to see what it is she wanted.

Thomas recalled his intentions the week before the ball. Of course he would never admit it, but he fully intended to invite Bridget to join him at the ball before a conversation in the Slytherin common room deterred him. Opting to find a participant that was not in the loop as she was. “Bridget.” Thomas lowered his head, a short nod that would indicate the two were on even ground. After all, if not for Bridget, the fate of his only real friend could have been far worse the night of the ball.

The girl’s brown eyes located the badge, surely she was surprised but her demeanor indicated her neutral to the development. Just another expert at masking their emotions. Thomas looked down to his parchment, taking his quill in his left hand to begin noting defensive strategies relating to dark creatures. He took his time to react, searching for the tune that would cut through these formalities, the direct route to an honest conversation. “Made it out alive, I see.” He referenced the fight club not long ago. Hogwarts seems to travel well, the students departed from the castle during the summer months, but the dangers followed closely behind.

Internally the boy praised himself for avoiding a statement along the lines of **** off, perhaps he could do this. “Is there something I can do for you?”

@Thomas Lestrange

Her presence was acknowledged by a nod and the statement of her name, further solidifying her impression that they were on even ground. He wasn't threatening to push her out of a window, anyways. She watched him pause to write something on his homework. Not quite the interaction she was going for, but at least he wasn't completely ignoring her.

He commented on her survival of the most recent peril they'd found themselves in, the fight club. In comparison to the spider attack, it perhaps hadn't been quite so dangerous, but she tried to avoid thinking about those of her housemates that had taken the excuse to fight so eagerly. And what had happened to Victor, the shadow stabbing him... "I didn't fight," she said simply. Bridget wanted answers, but even her search for the truth had its limits. Beating up her housemates for the slim chance of asking one question they weren't even guaranteed an answer to overstepped those limits. Besides, Bridget Collins did not pick fights she couldn't win, and she knew she couldn't win a fight against Vladimir.

In her first year, the directness of his question might have caught her off guard, but by now she was used to it. Of course, in her first year she would have been much too shy to initiate a conversation with him at all. It was kind of nice, the dismissal of pointless small talk. They both had their own motives, so why waste each other's time pretending otherwise?

What did Bridget want? To be useful. To be able to keep her friends safe. To have answers. But that wasn't what she wanted from him, specifically, so instead she said, "I wanted to ask you about the ball. You fought with Vladimir. Why?" That was the majority of what she was here to ask about. There was the whole thing from the planning session, but she preferred to deal in hard evidence, not easily misplaced suspicions. It was entirely possible she'd been reading too much in between the lines, so for the time being, it was best to see where her first question lead them.

Note: Post edited slightly with recent developments in the fight club, but nothing that affects Thomas' post.

In their smattering of their interactions, Bridget has proven fighting was in her set of cards to be played. As seen when the brunette girl took decisive action and swiped Marion’s letter at the Owlery. She would not hesitate to act on her beliefs. Furthered at the ball, initially the silent observer before stepping in and assaulting a much more capable Raven by the name of Vladimir. It was a quality that transcended differing ideologies. Anyone could appreciate someone that fights for what they believe is right.

So when Bridget informed Thomas she stood pat during the enigmatic afternoon, it reeled his attention solely to her. His fingers relinquished the quill, letting it fall upon the parchment he studied. Unhurried blue eyes traveled north until they found hers in curiosity. The boy straightened his back with a slight tilt of the head. “No?” Thomas said simply, an open-ended question that could simply be closed if she did not care to elaborate on the matter.[Unfortunately this is a tricky topic to comment on given it’s ongoing. So I will encourage its delay until there’s closure. If this thread goes on long enough, we can circle back.]

A subtle smile played along Thomas’ lips as Bridget bypassed the formalities. A topic that Thomas was undoubtedly prepared to answer for, though the boy’s momentous summer altered the course he was on. Withholding the façade as Vladimir’s ally no longer held any appeal, but he would remain hesitant to offer why it was there to begin with. “Evening the odds.” A facetious utterance, likely only amusing the supplier.

“Sometimes things are not as straightforward as...attack.” Perhaps for a certain Gryffindor boy it was, but it’s not his fault his brain could not provide any alternatives. “I meant to understand him,” Thomas paused, eyes veering away from Bridget to look past her in empty space, fingers lightly tapped the wooden surface next to his books. “what he wants. To validify his accusations before joining the rest to incriminate.” Thomas spoke in half-truths, refusing to reveal his personal agenda. Though he was not wrong. Given the many uncertainties surrounding the school, how could they be so sure this 4th year Ravenclaw was the bad guy?

“Do you know what was in his bag?” Thomas refocused his attention on her in hopes she would not pry further into his reasoning. “Dolls.” He spoke completely deadpan. “He was toying with us. He knew we were coming.” Thomas pressed his lips together, shaking his head softly. “Don’t you find it peculiar? A group of snakes so willing to...band together?” Thomas’ implications were clear. Vladimir had more than Marion and Victor answering to him, perhaps one of the so-called partners was also in on his schemes.

@Thomas Lestrange

He seemed rather surprised to hear she hadn't fought, voicing a question she wasn't going to answer. Could she have gone into detail? Certainly. It wasn't that she'd just watched the fighting happen, doing nothing. She was pretty sure she couldn't have done that if she wanted to. No, she'd tried to get help, but things had not gone according to plan. They'd went horribly wrong, with the shadow and her failed spell and Victor being stabbed. Bridget didn't want to talk about the fight club, so she kept her lips sealed, eyes staring at the quill he'd set down until she managed to push the images of pooling blood and a limp Victor away.

The Blossom Ball, however, was much easier to discuss. Was it because it had happened months and months ago? Well, that was probably part of the reason, but for Bridget at least, the Ball hadn't been that bad. There wasn't so much trauma attached. She listened to his answers carefully, aware of the fact she couldn't just believe whatever came out of his mouth. But certainly at least part of what he said was somewhat true, and it was interesting to hear a different perspective at any rate. He was right, things were not as simple as just 'attack'. That didn't mean the spells slung Vladimir's way weren't completely unwarranted; they had reason to believe he was somehow behind the spider attack. Opeila had let him in to their Common Room and soon after a large portion of their house was cursed. In Bridget's case, she'd attacked him because he was attacking Flash and there really was no point in working with other people if you were going to let them get kicked to death. Still, perhaps Thomas was right. Perhaps they'd all jumped to conclusions to quickly. With his recent involvement in the fight club it seemed even less likely he was innocent, but they hadn't known that at the time. "And do you still think that?" she inquired, curious as to if Thomas still considered Vladimir someone they didn't have all the answers to, someone worth understanding.

"Dolls," she repeated. "That was all that was in his bag?" For all the attention and chaos the bags had caused, it would be odd for them to contain nothing more than dolls. Still, perhaps the dolls weren't as much of a taunt as it seemed. "What did the dolls look like? I was talking to one of the Ravenclaw that went into the Forbidden Forest and he said they were attacked by dolls. They could be the same thing."

Still, the question remained that if he was right, she couldn't trust everyone she'd worked with at the Blossom Ball. She'd already known, though. The brunette was not the type to trust someone just because they were helping each other, and 'helping each other' was rather a stretch. She hadn't gotten much out of their plan and several of them, the person across from her included, hadn't followed it at all. The only person she could trust for sure was Thora, who had only earned the title of best friend through earning that trust. Bridget wished she could say she trusted Flash, though at this point when he'd done nothing to definitely prove his loyalty, it would be naive to not suspect him at all. As her ally, though, he certainly wouldn't be the first person she questioned. So, who was it? Where to even start when it could be any of them? Well, considering Thomas had brought it up, perhaps he had an idea. "But I agree, he did seem to know we were coming. If what you're saying is there's a traitor among us... any guesses as to who it might be?"

Bridget retorted with a pointed question that left Thomas shifting in his chair, blue eyes drifting away from hers for several moments. The accusations surrounding Vladimir may have been confirmed the day he towered over house Slytherin in a pre-arranged fighting club. Though Thomas still viewed him as a precarious case. With firsthand experience as a puppet, the boy questioned Vlad's control. Was he truly in the driver's seat, or was another presence lurking above to call the shots?

Examination of his intentions aside, Thomas's chief view of the older Raven as a valuable source of information--in addition to being a capable wizard. His mastery was on display that day when he breached Thomas' mind in a telepathic form of speaking. A skill that led to Thomas circling a date in the library to research this especial ability.

Thomas found the eyes of the brunette girl. "I do not think he is past help." A slight acknowledgement of Vladimir's questionable activity, though underlying the boy was not completely lost. It was still quite peculiar, despite the many students that incriminated him--the Raven has faced no repercussions. Could he merely be a ruse, a distraction that draws attention away from the real threats advancing in the shadows?

"Along with a vial, a black liquid." Thomas could not elaborate further, not well versed in spells or potions. Likely a result of being raised by his widowed muggle mother. "The dolls resembled..." Thomas' features twisted into a distasteful expression, gently shaking his head. "Marion and Victor." Thomas allowed his mind to be preoccupied with this fact, processing Bridget's response several moments after she spoke.

It was the first he has heard of a doll attack in the forest. His features went blank, an atypical reaction to this information. Largely due to a lack of surprise, this news was hardly abnormal in Auntie's jurisdiction. "Possible, but these dolls were not alive." Perhaps not enchanted as the ones in the forest were. There was no way to know.

It was time to shine the spotlight on Bridget. The last step of his evaluation before making his decision to truly let her in, or cast her aside. An evaluation that was mostly positive thus far. Her decisive and unapologetic nature as seen when she obtained Marion's letter as leverage. Her compassion that left her abandoning self-interest to assist Thomas' only real friend safely away from the flame-ridden pitch the night of the ball. Most important of all, how she sat across from Thomas now--non-judgmental of his actions thus far in her fearless approach.

The arrow pointed up, initiating to Thomas' decision to confide in the girl. Though her reaction would make or break The boy would start by addressing the possible traitors. "No use guessing. Could be you, could be me." Thomas shrugged in indifference. The boy would pause to allow her response if she had one. He would then transition to focus on her, leaning forward with a stern glare. Almost as if he was attempting to look through her. Which he was.

"Do you remember Marion that day? She was running from someone. Months later, Victor is gone." Thomas tapped his hand against the wooden table in sync with the following words. "She is not safe." Ironic for the boy to care for her well being after the words they shared that day at the owlery. Though Thomas has realized her life is not her own after what she saw. Any false move or cry for help could be fatal.

"You want to make a difference?" To help?" Thomas huffed, belittling the potential impact they could have on the grand scale. "Start with her." A fallible suggestion given where the pair stood with Marion. Though a distraction goes a long way...a potion, a spell, a masque.

@Thomas Lestrange

His statement that he didn't think Vladimir was past help was fair, an acknowledgment of the fact he was clearly not innocent but not necessarily a lost cause either. The Ravenclaw was only a 4th year; it would be ridiculous to say he was already utterly devoted to a darker path.

Thomas went into more detail about the contents of the bag. A black liquid? Considering he'd offered no other descriptor, perhaps that was the extent of his understanding of whatever it was. There were plenty of things it could be, but not necessarily anything she could prove. "And you have no clue what the liquid is? Or if you have access to it, you could give it to someone who might know what it is." Her brows knit as he said the dolls looked like Marion and Victor but weren't moving. She knew they didn't necessarily have to be moving from what Sylvain had shared, but the Slytherin was far from an expert. While she could keep track of the names and basic details, she couldn't recall everything he'd shared. At least at the moment, though, it didn't particularly matter. She could research dolls that resembled people and black liquids all she wanted later.

He didn't offer up any suspicions of who the traitor could be, probably for the best. Unfounded suspicions were hardly beneficial, and besides, it wasn't even necessarily one of them. If the ease they and Thora had with jumping into the conversation was any indication, it was highly possible there were other eavesdroppers. Not to mention she thought it likely Vladimir was working with the hags, so who knew what other ways of getting information that provided him with. She shifted in her seat as Thomas leaned forward, his expression something like a glare. Bridget got the impression she was being scrutinized, which was likely not far from the truth. It was uncomfortable, but she had nothing to be afraid of. It wasn't as if she was hiding anything; if anyone was hiding something, it was him.

She nodded; she did remember that day in the Owlery. The details were a little hazy now, the effect of time passing, but he was right. She'd been running, hiding. Someone had broadcasted her location with a slip of paper placed on their Common Room door. And after what had happened to Victor, first at the Blossom Ball and later at the fight club, it was clear they weren't safe. Despite the fact their supposed friend was fairly powerful, they were at risk. Was that partly because everyone kept attacking them? Yes. But certainly if Vladimir wanted to he could've protected them. And why would he have put an already half-dead Victor with all them at the fight club while he hid somewhere else?

His scoff and statement, while clearly not coming from an optimistic perspective, were far from pessimistic either. They were, after all, just kids, and in all reality, what difference could they actually make? But despite the fact she knew she couldn't make much of a difference, she did want to help. She wanted to fix everything. It was an interesting suggestion. Marion probably hated her and was unlikely to ever accept her help, but it was something to keep in mind. Regardless of if the blonde trusted her, she could probably still help. At any rate, she wasn't about to let Marion die too.

"Okay." It was a simple answer, not exactly a commitment but not a refusal either. Because it really depended, didn't it? It depended where Marion was standing and what defending her would mean. Bridget had more important people to protect, but Hogwarts really didn't need another dead student. "Do you have any idea who she was running from or who put that message on our Common Room door? And do you think her not being safe is related to the murder?" It was possible someone wanted to eliminate the witnesses to what did or didn't happen. She doubted Thomas knew and was well aware she was asking him for more guesses, but she wasn't sure what to do other then poke around until she found something.

It was the way Thomas viewed Vladimir Anathanos. Merely a public scapegoat with trivial ways to occupy his time. The mantle this boy was granted as a sinister presence, a mastermind that embodies "winter's discontent." It was all quite overblown, a fourth year with such imposition. Thomas viewed him as just another toy, whether for hags or a presence that lurks behind the shadows. Vladimir was just a face that danced on the strings held by others. Thomas believed this to be true, because he wasn't so different. Yet one of them was running, and the other was embracing.

Bridget continued to provide a healthy amount of logic. The liquid, had Thomas still possessed it, would have been better served in the hands of a professional analyst. It could have been just another missing piece, but the boy was foolish. Capitalizing on his own selfish agendas, and neglecting the big picture. He returned these dolls along with the vial of black liquid to Vladimir himself this summer, but he would be hesitant to share this embarrassing developing with Miss Collins.

"I-.." Thomas stammered, shifting in his chair in discomfort. Bridget has yet to reveal signs of judgement, but who knew what those gears behind her veil thought of him. Her decision to approach and discuss with him was a curious choice after the way he has carried himself. It could be manipulation of her own, like that day she snatched Marion's letter and used it as leverage. Or the night of the ball she patiently waited in the shadows before appearing to attack Vlad.

"It disappeared over the summer." A lie, but Thomas was able to say it with sincerity. Dishonesty was not favored, but habitual. He was always lying, most of all to himself. "Likely a potion of some kind." The boy would throw a shot in the dark, it really could have been a number of things. Perhaps a trip to the library was in order, to identify the potion and why the trio felt it was necessary to bring to the ball.

The topic shifted to Marion Davenport, a fearful blonde that always seemed to be underneath a cloud of dread. "I don't know." This time the boy was honest, his intentions that day aligned with Bridget's, his knowledge of Marion's situation did not extend past what was shared that day. It seems connected, doesn't it? But how often are things...what they appear to be?" With a soft sigh, the boy's blue hues found the books in front of him. "I should get back to it."

After announcing he'd rather return to his studies than carry this conversation, Thomas picked up his quill and scanned the text before him. Though after a few moments passed, he'd look back up to the girl across him(if she was still there). "Bridget." He paused again, mulling over the offer to follow carefully before presenting it. "I'd like to talk again, but not here. I have something to show you." Thomas tore a piece of parchment and scribbled a note:



The boy slid it her way, a written reminder for the time and day for their next meeting. If she chose to accept, the boy would simply issue a nod and return to his studies.

@Bridget Collins

@Thomas Lestrange

Disappeared? Bridget hadn't known for a fact Thomas had actually had the bag in his possession at any point, since it was entirely possible he'd only gotten a look at its contents. But it sounded like he'd had it for a while. There was no way of knowing how long that while was, but it was something. Certainly enough time to do more than just note what was inside. But the idea of it just disappearing... well, if he was being truthful, it was a lapse of responsibility. Maybe it had been stolen back, but having something that could be valuable, that could have answers, and then just losing it... well, she couldn't quite stop the brief flicker of disappointment from crossing her features.

Of course, she hadn't known what was in the bag at all before and hadn't been expecting information about it going into the conversation with Thomas, so if anything she'd made some progress. It was still frustrating to watch possible answers slip away, though. His mention of it being some sort of potion was more of a throwaway comment than anything since it didn't sound like he had any proof of that. Then again, he was a wizard who'd had a year of Potions classes, so maybe he was able to tell, more or less.

More dead ends, things they didn't know the answer to. It did seem connected. The hags, the curse, the murder, all of it. They just didn't have enough to go off of, whoever bothered to try finding it necessary to jump to conclusions to get anywhere at all.

Just like that, he directed his attention to his books. She had interrupted his studying, so she supposed that was fair, especially with having to devote time to his Prefect responsibilities. It was pretty clear he was done with the conversation, but she hesitated to leave right away. She had to make sure there was nothing else that needed addressing, no other questions to ask. And this wasn't his way of getting out of any further questioning, was it? Bridget wasn't interrogating him, but she did get the sense he wasn't telling her everything. Then again, she doubted he'd be too keen on sharing and she too had work to do.

Somewhat surprisingly, he said her name, stopping her just before she stood up to go elsewhere. Even more unexpected was that he wanted to talk again. Perhaps he wasn't keeping something from her, at least not out of an unwillingness to share. Something to show her. Her curiosity was peaked, to say the least. Taking the slip of paper, she noted the time and location before tucking the paper into her pocket. Leaving her seat, she paused before heading out the door. There wasn't really enough time to think it all the way through now, but she didn't see reason why she wouldn't go. "I suppose I'll see you then."

Bridget Collins has ended the thread