Catch The Snitch

December 15, 2005. Per the norm, on the day of the full moon, someone else was covering Bishop's class, though sometimes he'd have to take multiple days just so it wasn't super obvious to the uninitiated that the moon was the cause of his absence. He said to his students he was needed back with the ministry every once in a while to help with potions and the like and he wasn't entirely lying. He was doing things with potions on those days, but ever since his conversation with Nigel, he'd decided that he had to finish his research. Other people needed the chance to live a relatively normal life and not have to bend over backward to get what they needed.

So leading up to this absence, Bishop had been looking for a worthwhile place to do further experimentation, and thanks to the gamekeeper he'd been able to find the perfect spot. It was fairly deep in the forest, a collapsed building with a sturdy stone cellar. He'd already made most of the preparations. Normally, he just needed to get away from where people could see him and wait the night out, but he didn't know how his body would react to this new tincture.

He had managed to lock the iron door that blocked off the space he was in, chains in place to keep him from being able to easily get out. He'd taken the mix at about the same he always took the regular mix and now it was just a matter of waiting. This was easily his least favorite time and if this didn't go right, it would be even worse. Though it'd been a while since he messed up so poorly in his mixes that someone got hurt other than himself.

As he stood there waiting, the darkness outside telling him that it was a matter of minutes, his heart was racing. Something about the way he felt standing there with the moon rising into the sky told him, "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, "It's not going to work," he said, but it was too late to fix it. He'd just have to grit his teeth and bear it, "Please work," he muttered, though he was redirecting that wish to the chains he'd used to semi-bind himself... and then the pain started, but it was even more intense than it usually was. It took all of his effort to not just black out from it. He tried to focus instead on the ingredients he'd used this time, trying to do a mental inventory of the ones he'd used before-...

Anyone who would dare enter the woods that night would likely never make the mistake again hearing the sounds coming from those stone halls, sounds that only ended when the morning came. Bishop had not made any indication that he had planned to be absent longer than a few days around the full moon, the day after being one of them, but some would note that he still had not returned come the 17th...or the 18th..which wasn't much of an issue considering it was the weekend, but when his class still required coverage on the 19th, some voiced either concern or frustration, unsure of the reason for his absence.

After several students had complained not only about the substitute for Alchemy but their concerns for their Professor, Davi had of course done what he did best and dug into his abilities. Not only those that included divination but also talking to his fellow staff around the school and after gathering enough information he'd finally learned that he felt as if he had a good bead on the wayward Professor's location. Wandering into the Forbidden Forest wasn't exactly permitted but it was more for students than the staff, still it wasn't exactly encouraged for them either.

He hadn't worn one of his better suits knowing if Professor Santos had been indisposed for several days he would likely be quite a mess, choosing instead an older long sleeved button down, vest and well worn blue jeans with boots. But he had wisely brought some spare clothes of his own that he thought though he wasn't sure how well they would fit would work for Bishop, surely they would be better that whatever he'd been wearing for the last few days. Listening to his guides as he moved Davi paused, closing his eyes, the pull was stronger now and he focused on it before he heard a faint noise off to his right.

Whether it was the missing Professor or the spirit guides directing him towards where he might be Davi didn't know, he didn't ask; he just opened his eyes and moved towards the ruins which at first didn't look promising before he noticed the cellar door. "Ah… here we are…" When he pushed on it though the iron door didn't give and he sighed, of course he would have secured it. Even if the students weren't aware the staff was and well most of them anyway, if they weren't well they either didn't want to be or simply chose to ignore the information available.

Adjusting the bag over his shoulder that held the clothes and food he'd brought he pulled out his wand and focused on the door, "Alohomora." The door clicked and he pushed it open cringing at the noise it made before he stepped inside and sighed heavily at the musty smell of the cellar before his gaze moved around the space, "Professor Santos?" Despite it being daylight it wouldn't go far past the doorway into the space so he held up his wand, "Lumos." Moving it around him Davi let his eyes adjust to the minimal light as he waited for some sort of response hoping this was the right place and not the spirits just playing a joke on him as they had been known to do.

As he lit up the darkened room, the claw marks covering the walls would become unmistakable, deep gashes cutting through the stone as if Bishop had been more violent than ever before. The chains that had once held him lay snapped, twisted into tools of destruction as chunks of the wall had been battered away, some revealing the earth beneath the stone, others breaking through into locked, abandoned rooms.

The smell of damp earth mixed with coppery blood would hang heavy in the air. Dark splatters of blood smeared along the walls, massive clawed handprints at first, growing smaller and more human the deeper Davi ventured into the cells.

When he finally reached the back of the room, he’d find Bishop—no longer a beast, but broken in more ways than one. He lay on the bed in a crumpled position, his skin slick with sweat and streaked with blood. The door to the cell was shut and locked, though the bars were bent outward, as though in a moment of desperation, Bishop had tried to break out again even after locking himself in.

Hearing someone enter, Bishop lifted his head, "Ah... Thought I'd be stuck here a little longer before I'd have to.... muster the strength to try and apparate out," he murmured, his voice cracking a bit and clearly his throat was still recovering and raw from how he spoke. As he sat up, he grimaced as his body was littered with cuts, likely from his own claws based on the grouping, bruises from the chains before he snapped them, and his right arm seemed to be limp. He looked like he'd been down there months, not days, "Mind giving me a hand...?"