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Arielle Skye moved to help Verily support Erik. He glanced at Verily and nodded. "Just... the common room... I think... I trashed it..." He sighed. His arm burned badly, the damaged skin healing slowly.

"I don't... I shouldn't... should I go back there? Our housemates are going to hate me." He sighed and closed his eyes. Sleeping right here, that would be nice. He just wanted to sleep now.

"I would hate me," he mumbled as they walked along. He glanced at Verily, then back to the floor. He didn't know what he wanted anymore... He was... A yawn escaped from his mouth. He was tired.

Erik frowned and nodded to Verily. "If... if you say so," he said, unsure that she was right. He hated himself, at least.

Ronyo had walked with Jacob to the Hospital wing, as he had intended to do after being partially responsible for the kids injuries. The hits had come from the plans and tactics for the best outcome of the biggest game of the year, and Ronyo had purposefully left out names of the key targets for the beaters, like Jacob, to take away in familiarity should it prove distracting during the match. Honestly he had not liked the way he went about the planning and follow through of the match but it had gotten results, but it was also clear that there was a cost to those results. Four of the Gryffindor team had been badly injured during the game, most of them from either Dominic or Ronyo himself looking to take them out of the game. The Head Boy was glad to be done with Quidditch even though he had enjoyed it so much he feared the competitive nature of the game might lead him to become something he didn't like.

On that note it seemed the young lion limping with him to the hospital wing was also curious about Ronyo's apparent nature. His question was blunt and straight to the point, a quality often associated with Gryffindors and at times made addressing issues much easier. It was something Ronyo never got tired of hearing, because he truly enjoyed the look on people's faces when they saw a Slytherin, infamous for being bad wizards and witches, being nicer than a Hufflepuff and more respectful than a Gryffindor. With a chuckle Ronyo gave the boy a smile and took a rest against the corridor wall while he answered, his leg glad to have the break for a moment.

"Bad wizards can come from any house in truth. You can have courageous dark wizards, intelligent evil witches, and even zealotry loyal followers of darkness. Slytherin gets more of the bad lot mainly because of the cunning and pride aspect of the house, but those can be good qualities in a person if done right," Ronyo laughed as he realized the humor in what he was about to say, "You likely going to be the hundredth person I have said this too now, but not all Slytherin are snakes."

Down the long, strange corridor the black cat prowled, looking for all the world like a panther that had been shrunk to size. Golden eyes gazed out at the hallway, curious, but cautious. Dracula, pet to Adalaide Blythe, had lost his human-mummy on the way to one of her lessons, he thought. He didn't like being far from her... who would take care of him? As he scanned the area, looking for some sign of her, he spotted another cat, a chubby little thing, sitting near the steps, seemingly waiting for something. Dracula approached slowly, his eyes sharp. He kept to the shadows, sniffing the air and watching... He sat down against a pillar and tilted his head, a gesture he'd picked up from his mother. "Mrow?" A quiet call, a question. Barely audible. He watched, eyes cautious.

Dracula flinched away when the small, chubby kitty sniffed his nose, his eyes going wide. "Mrow?" His tone this time was shocked, and questioning. Who are you? What are you doing? He supposed the kitty might be doing what he was doing and waiting for his own human-mummy... or daddy, he thought, sniffing a boy on the orange cat. He laid his upper body down on the floor, looking up at her questioningly. He was bigger, and stronger, so if she started a fight, he could take her... or run away, he thought. So he wasn't really worried about being hurt or anything. But still... he was always careful. His tail flicked a bit, and he sniffed the air, looking at the other cat with intense eyes. "Mew," he said, watching her. His butt wiggled a bit before he sat it down, his body laying on the floor. After a second, he rolled so he was on his back, looking up at her. "Mrow."