Victoire was not a particularly forgiving woman. It was a rather nasty character flaw, she knew, but she'd never been good at letting go of grudges. People were often so quick to judge her--she didn't see the point in doing anything else unto them.
This Barius had not done anything in the past five minutes to endear him towards her.
Barius. The name snagged in her thoughts, cleared by the oxygen flooding her veins. That name was strangely familiar to her. For the first time since her would-be strangler had ruined her morning, Victoire took stock of his features. She was rather disturbed to find just how familiar he looked.
He was taller than her, but not by much. The dark coiff of his hair was tousled from their scuffle. A fire burned in his gaze, hate coiled and ready to strike. The realisation made her frown, wand lowering slightly.
His explanation made little sense to her. Necromancers? That was...an odd choice in word. It belonged more in fable than in reality, the sort of bogey man that haunted legend and ancient propaganda. Victoire knew dark magic better than most, but necromancer brought to mind Beedle the Bard's tales, not historical fact.
"Barius," Victoire repeated, an edge of curiosity entering her suspicious voice. She cocked her head to one side, appraising her prey for a long moment. Then, "You were in my year, weren't you?"
Her lips pressed into a frown. After a long moment, she flicked her wand. The ropes retreated, disintegrating into nothingness--although she had raised her wand once more, readied to fire a jinx at a moment's notice.
"You need to leave. I'll escort you to the surface. If you're lucky, you won't be charged." Nodding her head towards the massive doorway, Victoire tutted. "Go."