As if in a frenzy, Otillia scanned the dead-end corridor where the Weasleys had just completely disappeared. She could not believe that the only presences were some currently not burning torches, a carpet, a window, and a knight's armor. Closely, she inspected each corner, touching the cold patterns of stones making up the corridor's walls. She almost expected that, if she made contact with the space's walls, the twins would reappear. But although the cool stony surfaces calmed her heated anger, the stones did not reflect any previous movement. She even knocked on the armor, which gave a hollow resonance, and made her feel incredibly foolish.

An armor, seriously?

Although she could not believe it, the Weasleys were gone. But it was as if their laughs lingered, as if someone was ridiculing her: the air, an invisible, broadly grinning mouth, suffocating her in her embarrassment. She desperately wanted to slam her fist against the wall or smash the window glass with her bare hands. She wanted to throw the armor on the ground and stamp on its helmet. But even though it made her feel as if she had utterly failed her duties – and therewith, her self-respect – she realized she was forced to resign to the fate of not finding the twins. Besides, for now, she had no time to inspect he place any further.

Still angered, Otillia hurried back to the swamped scene to repair the fifth floor before Umbridge would arrive. She knew for certain that Our Lady of Sorrows would torture a handful of innocent students at the expense of the Weasley twins. A shiver traveled over her backbone while considering the chain of causes the twins could set in motion. Knowing that Umbridge would go to great extents to figure out who was responsible, Otillia feared for just about anyone who would cross the toadlike lady's path. To not even speak about just how ill-fated the twins would be if Umbridge either found or found out about them. The villainy practices of Umbridge were something she did not even wish her worst enemy.

Otillia's troat made a grunting sound. She felt stupid and fragile worrying about the Weasleys' lot, especially since they brought it entirely upon themselves. She despised the fact that the two could still evoke feelings of concern in her while they only brought her humiliation, served on a comic platter. Silently she cursed them for causing her to feel this complicated mixture of concern and resentment. Her fragility weighed heavy as a concrete shadow.

When she again arrived at the crime scene, Flitwick received her arrival still outwardly amused by the spectacle. With a big smile, and his fingers folded and held against his chest, he looked almost proud. To her surprise, the swamped area had already been cleared. Most of the students that had gathered to watch the big show had also disappeared. Some still lingered in the area as if expecting another round. Upon seeing Otillia's return without the Weasley twins, their faces turned to disappointment. Although the swamp was evaporated, a prefect scolding the devilish redheads was still an entertaining sight.

"Professor, did you…?" Otillia asked, looking at the sudden sight of carpet instead of marshland.

"I have cleared away the damage. Can't have the proof lingering to be seen by Umbridge, can we?" Otillia shook her head in agreement. She had made it her duty to avoid Umbridge's interference at all costs. Luckily, Flitwick was on the same page.

"But between you and me," Flitwick lowered his voice, eyes twinkling mischievously, "I kept a personal keepsake."

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"You'll see, you'll see. I better be off now. I hope our students will now not be bogged anymore," Flitwick sang while already making his way to the stairs.

"Oh and Burdett?" The playfulness in the Ravenclaw Head was obvious. "Do not secretly get rid of it."

It didn't take Otillia long before she discovered what Flitwick had been talking about. When spotting the tiny patch of swamp her old Charms Professor had left on the fifth floor, a feeling of condemnation expressing itself as a nervous and jealous knot in the witch's body.

A tribute! Flitchwick left them a tribute! Weasley will laugh his ass of when he sees this.

.

After the hectic events that had taken up her afternoon rounds, Otillia looked forward to attending dinner in the Great Hall. Chasing the Weasley twins and her corresponding worries had costed her a lot of energy. She felt drained, and her feet could not carry her that well anymore. Besides, she hoped that the nagging feeling in her stomach was due to a food shortage. Her pervasive indignation with respects to the Weasleys made her doubt this. Although she had counted on some distraction by the food and her Ravenclaw peers, the twins and their portable swamp were the subject of the evening. And as a result, Otillia was plagued by inquisitive questions by those who had been unable to see the spectacle by themselves.

"I heard something about swamps?" Roger Davies' entertained voice travelled over the Ravenclaw table. He was sitting opposite to Otillia, with Duncan Inglebee on his right and Randolph Burrow on his left, respectively beater and chaser of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. In other words, her teammates.

"Ugh, if only Snape had been a little less generous with the homework," Duncan nagged. The boy absolutely detested Potions.

"Believe me, you spent your time well. Potions is way more interesting than the foolish misconduct I have had to deal with," Otillia replied. "Plus, the craftmanship was only so-so. The swamp vanished as quickly as it was brought into existence."

"You cleared it up already?" Duncan asked, disappointment clear in his intonation. "I sure hoped to still get to see some action!"

"There was nothing to be seen."

"You mean, no swamps?" Randolph asked sincerely confused.

Otillia sighed audibly. "Yes swamps. But nothing to serve your morbid curiosity, looky-loo."

"So… what did it look like? Marshy? Morassy? Brown? Russet? Give us some inside information Otillia!" Roger tried again.

"Something like a wench, evergreen quagmire ground, so 'marshy' and 'morassy' if you like." Otillia spoke softly, as if uttering even a word about the swamp was alike the spilling of a secret, but with disinterest clearly visible on her face.

"Did they truly flood the entire fifth floor?" Another curious question was fired at her by Roger.

"They came a long way." Otillia's indifference was not being observed or acted upon by her fellow Ravenclaws. Still, even though she did not approve of applauding immature behavior, she understood the morbid curiosity human beings had in the face of bizarre happenings. She only wished they left her out of the equation.

"I heard the swamp reached the prefect's bathroom," Cho mingled in.

"Watch out Otillia, might find some mud in your tub," Duncan laughed. "You'll have yourself a nice mud bath."

"I don't think the swamp went through the door."

"It supposedly went all the way to the Clock Tower," Cho went on.

Roger raised his eyebrows at Otillia asking for verification. She sighed and gave in.

"It covered almost the entire fifth floor, taking up the hallway that goes around the Paved Courtyard to the Clock Tower."

"Brilliant," Duncan whispered loud enough for even Otillia to hear.

"Brilliantly immature," she corrected him.

"We should swamp the Slytherin table," Duncan suggested in all seriousness.

"You will not do such a thing."

"Come on, would be fun. It would fit those froglike Crabbe and Goyle," he replied jokingly, tapping the table twice with his fingers.

Otillia reconsidered the thought, a small smile playing on her lips. "It does seem to be their milieu, indeed." Quickly recollecting her stern stance again, she advised her common Ravenclaws, "Still, no swamps."

"What about the dungeon? It would be a great improvement," Duncan tried again to pester her.

"No, none," Otillia spelled out slowly for him.

"Did uh, Umbridge…?" Cho Chang sitting next to her asked pensively concerned. Otillia shook her head in reply and her teammates all sighed from relief.

"Flitwick cleared the area before Umbridge could personally intervene. However, it seems he left a patch of swamp in honorarium. I don't know why though. It's just a stupid–"

"You mean it's still there?!" Duncan exclaimed. "You just said that you already got rid of it."

"And then what? Have everyone thrilled about some patch of swamp that should not even be there in the first place?" Otillia sniffed her nose slightly in disapproval. "That would only encourage those Weasleys of prolonging their performances."

While looking over her teammates' shoulders in an act of dismissal, Otillia's eyes traced the Gryffindor table – second from the right, positioned beside the Ravenclaw table, which was, alike Otillia's back, cornered against the wall. Unconsciously, but almost naturally, her glance curved towards an excited Fred Weasley, who was reciting, in tandem with his twin brother, some entertaining story that captivated all the Gryffindor students sitting near them. She could almost hear him boosting about their portable swamp and their sucess at getting away with it. Watching him sulkily, her frustration ate at her, and she pressed her lips together, teeth hurting the inner flesh while she did so.

When the redheaded boy caught her eye, he looked back slightly curious. His brown eyes presented her a soft but challenging look, a mischievous smile sparkling in his irises. She made a mental note that their color resembled the mud he had spread over the fifth floor, but she didn't manage to break away from looking in their pools. The combined fixation of their gazes gradually diminished the distance between them. The air grew heavy, but soft like a blanket a child hides under, disconnected from the outside world in a warm, isolated cocoon. In the nearness of their gazes, it was as if they touched; the proximity of their eyesight forging an almost sensually immediate link. For a couple of seconds, sound and time proved absent. In this moment of their interlocked existence, nothing else mattered. Their bodies the only bodies in material reality. But once, slowly, a grin started spreading on Fred's face, Otillia regained her senses. Her stomach twisting nervously due to the sudden realization of her prolonged stare. Holding up his drinking goblet cheeringly at her, Fred amusedly taunted the vexed witch. Angrily she returned his grin with narrowed eyes, scowling at the redhead. Breaking their gazes, she tried refocusing on her teammates sitting opposite to her. But she could feel the boy's grin beaming at her from meters away. She felt muddled.

Sweet Merlin.

Wait. Sweet?

"Their behavior is a ticking timebomb though," Roger remarked.

Timebomb?

Everyone around her agreed with Roger's statement, but Otillia was still at loss with regards to its meaning. Confused, she no longer knew if she tried to make sense of Roger's statement or her mid-air stare contest with the Weasley boy. She could feel her heart pounding.

Ticking.

"At least with you, all they have to fear is the deduction of an excessive number of points." A grin spread on Duncan's face.

Weasley!

Now that Roger's remark had sunken in, her startled feelings ebbed away. Pondering his remark, Otillia realized that the discharge of the twins' explosive behavior was something not even she was looking forward to. Knowing Umbridge, the twins were absolutely in danger. She only hoped that, if they exploded, they'd take Umbridge with them.

"Nothing excessive, the deductions are tantamount to conduct," Otillia replied sternly, regaining her prefect's posture. Although within the system of house points, Otillia would never exceed the prescribed formalities of point deduction, she would always try and reprimand the Weasleys by deducting the highest number of points formally possible. This was a tactic that, according to her, suited theirs. At times, her interpretations of the rules became very… innovative, to the exasperation of the twins.

"They would be if you attended your duties unbiased," Duncan jokingly replied.

"What is that supposed to mean?" With folded arms she looked challengingly at her friend, knowing full well what he was about to say.

"Just that you tend to be more watchful of the Weasleys."

"Something they brought upon themselves. It comes with the reputation." Otillia waved the comment by Duncan away. Sure, she was excessively attentive of the twins, which was obviously only the most logical thing to do given their notoriety.

"So, how many this time? Twenty… each?" Roger asked sincerely interested in the damage done.

"None."

The facial expressions of Ravenclaw boys standing opposite to Otillia all started to resemble a state of confusion. This was not what they had expected.

"Are you serious? You punish them for standing still too long at inappropriate places, but you let them get away with creating a giant swamp out of the fifth floor?" Duncan exclaimed astonished.

"It was not quite a choice from my part," Otillia mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I said: it wasn't optional nor a choice. They escaped."

"Too bad, I bet you McGonagall won't relish at deducing points from her House as much as you do."

"We can't have a Chaser that is unable to catch up with two Beaters," Roger intervened jokingly and Otillia's eyes betrayed she found his comment comically ironic as well. Like many others, she had a sweet spot for her Quidditch Captain, something she would never tell him or anyone else for that matter.

"I suppose they won't be able to evaporate into thin air on a Quidditch field," Otillia defended herself, frowning contemplatively when remembering the twins' odd disappearance.

"What do you mean?" Roger asked.

"They could always apparate," Duncan tried before Otillia could manage to utter an answer.

"Actually, Hogwarts' protection spells would not allow for that," Otillia answered Duncan before turning to Roger's question. "While I was chasing the Weasleys, they ran into a dead-end corridor. When I reached them, however, they had disappeared. So, like I said, thin air."

"Blimey… How did they manage that?" A question Randolph meant to ask himself but had uttered aloud.

"If she knew then the Weasleys probably wouldn't be laughing so loudly as we speak," Duncan joked, while looking over his shoulder to the Gryffindor table.

"I will find out." Otillia responded thoughtfully, watching the twins from the corner of her eyes.

"Sometimes I really do think you have found the perfect prefect nemesis," Cho mused.