Nighttime Wanderings

Bloody Hell. Erika had noticed, of course Erika had noticed. Vivianna just couldn't catch a break could she? No, everything always had to be complicated for her. She blamed her last name, good things never happened to people who shared her last name.

The Ravenclaw had figured it out by the smell. Not only did that make the teen feel a bit stupid for overlooking that possibility, it also made her want to bang her head against the tree again. She didn't though, because the Ravenclaw would surely ask why. Mentally thinking of her potions-related To-Do list, the Slytherin decided that changing her healing paste so it didn't smell obviously different to the classic was definitely a third-place priority. Right under re-stocking the two potions she was getting low on, of course.

Purposely turning to Erika with a slightly confused look on her face, the redhead began to school her features into a frown of thought. After a moment, the teenager widened her eyes in realization. "It's an old family recipe, basically the same as the original, just a few extra ingredients. My nana used to swear by it," Vivianna said with a smile, everything she'd just stated a complete lie. It was hardly an old family recipe, not all that similar to the original, and the female had never even met her nana.

Old family recipe. Right. Rika smiled a little shamefacedly, "Oh. Uh...of course." Expired healing paste. Honestly, how did she even come up with this crap? She really needed to get her head examined.

"It sounds...interesting." Family recipes tended to be much better than the original, commercialised versions, usually made with cheap ingredients. Well, at least it was that way with Muggle food. Surely it would be applicable to Potions too. Rika dabbed a finger in the paste smeared on her wound, checking its consistency. Quite homogeneous...whoever had made this had been efficient at the art. "I'll probably conduct a few tests on this the next time I'm in the lab, it really works wonders for the pain. I'm horrible at practicals anyway, need to hone my skills. I hope you don't mind."

Vivianna spoke on about her nana and Rika nodded politely, absently observing that the homely word sounded rather strange from the smooth Slytherin's lips. "Oh...she's good at potions too, is she? She still living with you?"

"Sure, go ahead," Vivianna said nonchalantly with a wave of her hand, "just don't go spreading it around." Internally, the girl was anything but calm. It would be bad if Erika conducted tests on her paste. It would be very vey bad. If Erika was anywhere near as good at practical applications as she was with theory, the Slytherin might find herself in more than a bit of trouble. After all, definitions of words such as horrible always varied from person to person.

True, it was doubtful that the muggleborn knew enough about Wizarding Law to understand that the redhead was in possession of illegal potions. But that just meant that the Ravenclaw might let some dangerous information slip without thinking.

"My nana's dead," Vivianna stated bluntly, pleased that she didn't have to lie this time. Her grandmother had died long before the teenager had ever been born. "But yes, she was very good at potions, not that you could tell with the way my father brews," the witch continued. This too, was the truth. Her grandmother had been a very capable potions mistress, and her father had not inherited the woman's talent.

"Oh...uh, sorry to hear that-" Rika spoke, somewhat awkwardly. Vivianna herself didn't seem very sorry about the fact, pronouncing it with a typical Slytherin-calm. "My own grandma-"

She couldn't complete her sentence though. A very distinct rustling sound reached her ears, and she froze, motionless. "Di-did you h-hear that..." A crack, like a twig snapping hard. Somewhere to her side, her left hand stumbled, plunging awkwardly into her robes. Her fingers suddenly felt swollen and very, very sweaty. Even as her hand hit the cold air, the long, thin stick of wood slipped through her cold grasp, hitting the floor with a clang. Loud enough to wake the dead.

Rika worked her suddenly dry throat. Every page of Fantastic Beasts And Where to Find Them dawned in her mind with frightening clarity. The Forbidden Forest figured on the "Where To Find Them' part quite often.

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Most animals don't like human meat anyway.

Her reply was a bare croak. "Most?"

Vivianna froze as Erika did, having heard something other than the other girl's voice. The redhead vaguely registered that Erika seemed to be talking to Bren again. That didn't matter though, and she swiftly delved into her pocket to retrieve her wand. Remaining composed, for Erika surely wasn't, the Slytherin pointed her wand towards the direction of the sound.

It probably wasn't anything. In fact, chances were it was just Strike. Her cat always seemed to know when she was on the grounds, and almost always came to pay her a visit. But, it was the full moon, and Vivianna didn't particularly fancy having to brew herself Wolfsbane.

"It's probably my cat," the witch whispered just loud enough that Erika would hear. Strike was larger than most housecats, certainly more intelligent, and wasn't a stranger to hunting. The creature was actually a kneazle, not that the teen knew that.

Breathing in, the Slytherin swiped her tongue over her lips and whispered, "lumos," the spell pouring light over the shadowed foliage.

Vivianna seemed to think that it was her cat. Rika wasn't very religious, but found herself praying desperately all the same. She half-swallowed, throat bobbing, and bent down shakily to retrieve her wand. Her mind was being masochistic as usual, with extracts from the CoMC book playing repeatedly in her head like a mantra: Runespoor. Three-headed snake, venom extremely poisonous.....Werewolf. Transfigures into a mauling, jaw-ripping beast on the full moon....Acromantula. Giant spider native to the Forbidden Forest....

When Vivianna cast the Lumos, what came out from the trees was much more fearsome than any of her imaginations.

A dark, winged shape shot out from the nearest branches, snapping another one with an ominous creak. Feathered wings hit her face, razor-sharp claws digging into her shoulder. Rika stood frozen for a few seconds, and turned her head sideways, to see soulless, gleaming eyes staring back at her.

"Nostradamus." She said tonelessly.

The black-as-night raven dropped something into her palm, a torn scrap of parchment. Goosebumps rising on her neck, and more than aware of beady eyes boring into her, Rika raised the scrap to the light. Two words, in a stylish, familiar scrawl: Hello dickhead.

Rika closed her eyes. "Sorry Vivianna. I need to leave now."

"I- hang tight okay?" Vivianna found herself saying. What on Earth scared Erika so much about the note she'd received? The Slytherin had noticed the recognition and fear displayed on her features as the bird entered their line of sight. Whatever was written on the parchment, however, had only strengthened those emotions.

Vivianna was certain that the raven didn't belong to anyone in Hogwarts, but someone that Erika knew. Being a muggleborn, whom would Erika know with a messenger bird? Such questions swirled around the redhead's mind, yet she was still unable to come up with any possible solution.

Nostradamus. Was that the name of the bird? The name of the person who owned the bird? Or, was it perhaps the name of a place, a building? The teenager cursed her curiosity, knowing that her mind would be unable of letting this go.

"Erika, just, be careful. Hogwarts is great, but it isn't always the nicest place," Vivianna admitted, left hand running through her hair. She wasn't exactly sure why she cared, but the Slytherin figured that it was probably something to do with the pure uniqueness of the other girl. The world was never kind to those who were different.

The young witch had no idea how much her words would ring true for the Ravenclaw in the following weeks. If she had, the girl probably wouldn't have let the Dixon leave.

The Slytherin was trying, in her own messed-up way, to be helpful. Rika resisted the urge to tilt back her head and laugh. Oh she couldn't help. No one really could.

Her eyes flitted back to the parchment again. Why, exactly, was she so afraid? It was only her ass of a brother, after all. He couldn't do anything to her. He was fifteen, her own twin. A fifteen year old who's already killed. Thrice. Rika wasn't a fool. She knew that those plain, unmarked bodies who would never breathe again, never traumatise and kill and ruin someone else's life again, were not dead because of three very convenient strokes. They were dead because of Avada Kedavra. The Killing Curse. A curse fueled not by anger, or hate, or even sadism. A curse born of the feeling of cold-blooded murder.

Rika dripped, dripped water and paint all over the carpet. Her mouth hung open, eyes fixed like daggers on the ten-year old boy who giggled uncontrollably on the couch opposite her. He smiled innocently, but his eyes gleamed mischievously. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, sis."

She shivered.

The more she avoided him, the more he tried to confront her. He was enraged with her, she knew. Enraged at her cowardice, at her awkwardness, at a sister who had once shielded him from bullies. He was disgusted by her Utopian outlook, her obsessive desire of pretending that everything was alright when it was not. And she didn't want to talk to him. To know if her once-innocent brother was really the one to......so she remained silent. Never retaliated to his harsh words, which grew harsher in the absence of her response. She could deal with it.

But now he was here.

"I know it isn't safe. I know." Rika watched as claws un-dug from her shoulder, and Nostradamus flew off, shrouded in darkness once again. She turned to Vivianna and smiled faintly. "Thanks. Just......don't tell anyone about anything that happened here. Okay?"

Brenda's voice was oddly muted. Maybe she isn't so bad after all.

Vivianna watched as the raven that had terrified Erika flew away into the darkness. In those few silent moments, the girl felt completely incapable. She'd never known so much, yet so little all at the same time. There was so much mystery surrounding the brunette girl, but for one of the first moments in her life, the teenager wondered if this was a mystery that shouldn't be cracked. The thought scared her.

"I won't say a word," the Slytherin promised solemnly, for once not looking for loopholes in the words she'd just sworn. It could've been the darkness, the cold, or the heart wrenching look on Erika's face; but Vivianna felt a chill run down her spine. Licking her lips slowly, the female suddenly wished she was snuggled into the green comforter on her dorm's bed.

"Look, Erika, I know you hardly know me. But if you ever need something, ask," the redhead stated, tugging on a strand of hidden blue-dyed hair as she did so. There was something about the Ravenclaw that just screamed lonely, and Vivianna found herself thinking oddly protective thoughts about the other girl.

Nodding to herself, knowing that her piece had been said, the OWL student tromped deeper into the forest. After all, she still needed some knotgrass.