The Truth {Open}

[natalia]

Nat pushed open the gate to the cemetery, the night was bright, with no clouds to block the pale moonlight. The only sounds were the trees in the wind, and Nat's footsteps as she walked through the graveyard. She held her book tight to her chest, as her eyes read the engravings in silence. A few names struck a chord of familiarity somewhere, but they were not what she had been searching for. Some distant relatives of her school companions, or known local legends.

Ariah Lorenzo was the name. Nat stared at the stone for a few moments, before sitting across from the name. She watched it, unsure of how she should be feeling. She lay her grandmother's book between them, as her small thankful gesture. It had been her first Herbology book, which had shown Nat the beauty that this world could produce. The sapphire ring of her grandmother gleamed on her right hand, catching the moonlight. Nat considered it, before returning her gaze back to the name of her grandmother. No inscription. No flowers. It was as if she had been forgotten. No clues.

It had been her grandmother, after all, who had given Nat this doorway to this world. Had given her an escape from her family. Given her faith in life. It was a shame no one seemed to know her, especially Nat. Her parents had always complained of her mad grandmother, who had taken the family name through the dirt. Nat had heard the story countless times, of how the small village had broken into mass hysteria at the sight of a levitating water bucket floating behind Ariah. As Ariah had stood on the gallows, she had insisted she was a witch, and had hung.

Only now did Nat understand why anyone could do that. It was out of pride. Pride of something so beautiful. Nat pulled her knees to her chest, continuing to watch the grave in silence. It was no wonder Ariah's last wish had been to be buried far from that world. It had taken months of searching, before Nat had found the unceremonious grave of her grandmother. She smiled slightly, not sad, as she had expected she would be. Her first year at Hogwarts was over, and there was more to come. She had an entire lifetime of magic paved before her, made by Ariah's sacrifices.

Nat rubbed the sapphire ring, deep in thought, barely consciously aware of the creak of the cemetery gate as someone else took a midnight stroll through the isolated cemetery...

[marvel]

Marvel wasn't sure what brought him to the cemetery that day. It wasn't a personally favorite haunt of his, nor did he have any close relatives that had died. Still, it seemed like a nice place to be alone, and thus his feet had carried him to the destination. He examined the headstones, recognizing a few Muggle last names that his parents had associated with. Marvel assumed that a Snow would enter the cemetery prematurely, thinking of his father.

It was a sad thing really, but Marvel didn't pity him in the slightest. The man was a selfish alcoholic, ignoring the fact that his wife needed his help to help run the flower shop. He only drank because of his two youngest children, because they had inherited magic. Marvel shook his head slightly, kicking at the ground as he walked. George had started drinking when Marvel began showing signs of magic as a way to detach himself from the horror. His drinking continued when Clove showed signs, because he felt as though he had lost his only daughter to the vile witch powers.

Marvel found his way into what he assumed to be the Wizarding section of the cemetery, looking over some of the names. There were a few he recognized from Pureblood families, and some last names that came from the famous authors of books they taught within Hogwarts. One such name struck a chord, the name of Bathilda Bagshot. It was a shame that the old woman had been murdered by the late Dark Lord, even more when he considered the fact that there probably was an empty coffin below him.

[natalia]

Nat was shocked that she felt a sense of longing as she continued to ponder on her grandmother. She had never considered herself close with the woman. Perhaps is was longing to have someone in her life that could have explained it to her. Growing up with these powers had once been a curse for her. The footsteps neared as she glanced up, barely recognizing a fellow Ravenclaw. She didn't know that he had lost anyone, although honestly she didn't know much of any of her fellow Ravenclaws. Houses were supposed to be as families, but Nat had turned away from that family as well. The idea of being close to anyone terrified her to her core. When someone passed the wall of defenses, they were unstoppable.

She watched the older boy move through the cemetery deep in thought. She didn't feel like disturbing him as she turned her gaze back to her Grandmother's grave. She pulled the cross necklace from her throat, kissing it. More than just finding magic this year, she had found God. All of the miracles in her life had shown her the real beauty of this world, and another. " Grazie, Nonna," she whispered to the grave as she held the cross in her hands. She bowed her head for a moment, sending a final prayer to the Heavens to protect the brave woman, before she stood, taking her book, ready to leave the quiet boy in peace.

[marvel]

Marvel's eyes were brought up from the gravestone to the young girl, muttering in Italian. It was rare, to hear such a language from the lips of a young girl, especially around London. She bowed her head in prayer and Marvel watched her for a moment. She kissed the cross upon her neck, gathered the books upon the ground, standing to leave. "Italiano è una lingua bellissima. Strano, di vedere una ragazza così giovane, utilizzando un linguaggio complicato," he said to her, looking at her. She couldn't have been more than ten or eleven.

Marvel recalled seeing the young girl in the common room from time to time, meaning she was a fellow Ravenclaw. "You're grandmother must have been a special figure," he murmured, nodding towards the gravestone slightly. "You were there for a long time," Marvel noted, eyes watching the girl. He turned back towards the grave site, producing his wand to create a bouquet of roses, which he set upon Bathilda Bagshot's grave, feeling it the right way to honor such an intelligent and famous woman, despite the fact her body wasn't even underneath the Earth.

((Translation: Italian is a beautiful language. Odd, to see such a young girl using such a complicated language.))

[natalia]

Nat was taken aback that the quiet boy spoke to her. She straightened, shocked to realize he spoke so...fluently in her mother tongue. "Strano vedere un uomo inglese con una lingua molto diversa dalla sua," she replied. Indeed, it was something she hadn't heard. Raug had been the only other to converse with her in their first language. Nat followed his gaze to her grandmother's grave.

"She is special to me," she agreed, switching to English. She knew it was bad habit for her to flip between the two, interfering with her learning of English. She smiled at the beautiful flowers he placed on the prominent grave. "I felt I owed her...a thank-you," she shrugged, holding her book to her chest. "A family friend, or an honoured idol?" She nodded to the grave of Bathilda Bagshot. Honestly, Nat was proud her Grandmother lay so close to the name of the witch who had left her mark in history.

((Translation:Odd to see an English man using a language very different from his own))

((OOC: Do you speak Italian?!))

[marvel]

Marvel found his lips were pulling into a small smile that rarely graced his usually passive features. He looked towards the girl, slightly amused at her shocked expression. Shrugging slightly, he adjusted the hat atop his head. "I learned the language some years ago, finding I had a lot of free time in my youth. Besides, my mother had wanted me to do something constructive with my time when I was a child. Learning a language is much easier whilst the brain is still developing," he replied, turning back towards Bathilda's grave.

"An idol," Marvel replied, bending down to adjust the bouquet on the ground. Straightening back up, he looked towards the smaller girl. "Well, it's always admirable to see young people to look up to someone as special as a grandparent," he replied, smile pulling up a bit at the corners. He hadn't seen his grandparents on either side before, since they'd shunned his parents for their unorthodox relationship. Marvel didn't mind, in his opinion something that was never there couldn't ever be missed.

((OOC: Only a little xD not enough to be fluent, I know words here and there. Google Translate is helpful ))

[natalia]

Nat smiled. It was very rare she had found anyone that appreciated other cultures and languages, especially as students. She ran a hand through her thick curls, following his idolizing gaze to the grave. Nat nodded as he spoke. Even just listening to him speak, she realized why he must have been a Ravenclaw. There had been a few that had left her wondering why they made it into the house at all, but the boy restored her faith.

"I believe everyone needs someone to look up to," she murmured thoughtfully. "Or else you tend to get lost," she knew the feeling. "You have relatives here?" She nodded to the span of the graveyard.

((OOC: I'm not the only cheater! ))

[marvel]

Marvel nodded in agreement. He was rather surprised how easy conversation was with the younger Ravenclaw. He usually wasn't one to hold long conversations, especially with people his age. Still, perhaps she was more like him than most of the other Ravenclaws. It was rare, to find truly inquisitive beings in the great House founded by the lovely Rowena Ravenclaw, and this young girl seemed to be holding herself to the standards of such greatness that spawned from his wonderful House.

At her next question, Marvel shook his head. "Not yet," he replied, tone taking on a bitter quality. It was an odd thing that the person who was supposed to be his role model was the only person Marvel ever judged. Being a forgiving and compassionate soul helped him to see things from others' points of view. However, it was almost impossible for Marvel to step into his alcoholic father's shoes, no matter how many times he had tried.

[natalia]

Nat nodded as she didn't dare question the mysterious and short answers. Those made up the majority of her vocabulary. She resented people digging deeper and deeper into her personal life, and she wasn't about to turn around and irritate the boy who was obviously so much like herself. She smiled at him. She hadn't expected to have held such a long conversation with a stranger, let alone someone who seemed as introverted as herself.

"I'm Nat," she said quietly. She didn't enjoy labeling the boy as a stranger. She felt someone who managed to keep the name of Ravenclaw proud deserved a name for the face.

[marvel]

Marvel looked down at the girl, smiling softly. His face was normally passive, an empty palette that rarely gave any insight into his innermost emotions. Still, something about the younger Ravenclaw brought out the compassionate side of him. He nodded pleasantly in her direction, brown eyes studying her gently. She looked like a Nat, something that had always bothered Marvel. People should look as though their names belonged with their faces, and Nat was one of those few people who matched, in his opinion. For being such a quiet boy, he was very keen on his opinions, though he rarely ever shared them.

"Marvel. Pleased to meet you," Marvel replied, examining the large books in Nat's hands before turning back towards Bathilda's grave. Without necessarily thinking, he turned back towards Nat. "I'm quite bored here, would you care to accompany me to examine some more gravestones, pay some more respects to some brilliant witches and wizards?" he asked, brown eyes inquisitively studying the girl.

[natalia]

Marvel. She liked the name. It wasn't a name she had heard before. Repetitive names lacked creativity, and originality. She believed in living up to the legacy of a name, and the etymology behind it. Marvel was fitting. It was original, and gave him his own legacy to fill up to. If he was anything like Nat, that was perfect for him. "Likewise," she smiled.

She listened to the sudden invitation. Most would have found it rather silly, but Nat appreciated it. "I'd enjoy that," she walked beside him in silence, honouring those beneath their feet. It was saddening, the lack of flowers upon many of the noteworthy graves. Nat hoped her grave would never be that bare.

[marvel]

Marvel had been expecting her to say no, to need to leave at that very moment. So, when Nat accepted the invitation, Marvel had been a little more than surprised. Truthfully, though she was much younger than him, the two Ravenclaws were not very different from each other. He examined the bare headstones, not recognizing any names at first. There were a few, lesser authors of books at Hogwarts that were buried in the cemetery, but none that he would say he'd looked up to.

[natalia]

Nat held the cross in her hand, silently blessing each grave they passed. She knew it would have been against school rules to conjure the flowers she was dying to conjure outside of the school year. No matter how respectful it would be, she wasn't going to risk expulsion over tradition. She reminded herself to come back once again with a bought bouquet and pay her respects.

[marvel]

Marvel watched as his small companion silently blessed the graves, another rare smile pulling at his lips. Nat was a truly interesting creature, and seemed to be very similar to him. It was people like her who redeemed Ravenclaw's almost tainted name, what with the Sorting Hat becoming a bit more lenient to certain students who couldn't belong anywhere, randomly sticking them into the House that would almost immediately accept them. Of course, Marvel disapproved, though he'd never admit to that aloud.

[natalia]

Nat knew that perhaps the most feared thing on earth, besides fear, was death. The fear of the unknown. The end. To walk one day, and not the other. It left her with an empty feeling that struck terror down her spine. Often, sitting out in the alley behind the Dublin apartment, she had spent countless hours struggling to figure out what lay beyond the threshold of life. It was something impossible to know. That drove her insane. "Do you fear death?" She asked her companion. He seemed as if he could give her an insightful answer, some point of direction in the topic that left her lost in the dark. She hoped it was just one of those things that adults really meant it when they said "you'll understand when you're older."

She wanted to understand now.