"Professor, you cannot be serious."

Under Victoria's intense scrutiny, Professor Flitwick could only shrug uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, Miss Clearwater, but it's simply out of my hands. The Headmaster personally recommended James Stark to be the other prefect this year."

Victoria took a deep breath. A 'recommendation' from the Headmaster might be just that, but coming from the old man himself, one didn't turn him down, not really.

"But he's —!" Victoria cut herself off before she lost her cool. "I'm going to say it right now — this year's boys are all utterly irresponsible and frankly unsuited for the position. Davies doesn't care about anything that doesn't involve a broom or a pretty girl, Oliver is prone to injuring himself doing stupid stunts to impress his mates, and Stark."

The last part came out a little more bitter than intended, making the tiny professor grimace slightly.

"Professor, he's the worst of the lot," she said. "He doesn't care about homework, barely cares about his finals, has no respect for authority —"

"Miss Clearwater," said Professor Flitwick tiredly, "I understand your feelings towards Mister Stark, but I would like you to cooperate with him as best as you can."

"If he's willing to cooperate with me," said Victoria. "But something makes me think that he's not interested in being responsible and providing a good role model."

"I'm sure he'll try his best," Flitwick said, but his tone was uncertain. Stark was notorious for being a 'free spirit', after all. "The Headmaster assured me that he has already spoken to James about his prefectship."

Victoria stood there for a moment, trying not to appear as impatient as she felt.

"Do you think I worked hard to get this position, Professor?" she said.

"Yes," said Flitwick, sounding as if he knew what she was going to say next. "I definitely think you did."

"Do you think, if I continued with my path, I would eventually be Head Girl?"

"I would certainly nominate you for the position, Miss Clearwater."

"In comparison, do you think Stark would be willing to take this as seriously?" Victoria asked. "Would I still be able to be Head Girl if he damaged my reputation by association?"

Flitwick stared at her flatly. "Firstly, while I can understand your reservations about James Stark, that was a needlessly judgmental comment. Secondly, you know us professors aren't as blind as that. And lastly, James Stark was made prefect through a personal recommendation from the Headmaster himself. The Headmaster has been wrong before, of course, but not often. I am willing to give Mr. Stark a chance."

Victoria opened her mouth to argue more, but then closed it.

"Yes, Professor," she said woodenly.

"Off you go, then. You'll have your first patrols this evening — not that I expect anything to happen in the first week," said Flitwick. "But it will be good to familiarize yourself with the routine."

Victoria allowed herself a sigh once she had closed Flitwick's office door and was out of earshot. She walked back towards Ravenclaw tower — their first nighttime patrol wouldn't be long, only the one hour after curfew. It was, however, the most dreaded prefect duty for her. Even if she wanted an early morning, she wouldn't be able to have that. At least she didn't play Quidditch on top of everything else. It would've been unbearable.

She stopped at the entrance to the Ravenclaw tower, looking to the blue-bronze hourglass, a smaller replica of the full-sized one next to the Great Hall. It was sitting at negative fifty points.

Now, she knew, intellectually, that she couldn't immediately blame Stark. But it was highly likely that he was the cause of it. Of course he would be, he was the least responsible person in Ravenclaw. Malfoy was maybe the exception.

Though it was past curfew, plenty of students were still up in the common room, chatting with their friends or, with the occasional Ravenclaw, studying. On the first day. Even Victoria didn't go that far. No, the first day was reserved for picking out the nicest bed before all your roommates did.

Malfoy had taken up two beds and Transfigured them together. Again.

"Do you know where James Stark is?" Victoria asked a small girl with dirty blonde hair who Malfoy and Stark hung out with regularly. Lovegood, she thought.

The girl tilted her head and stared at her with her wide blue eyes, and Victoria had to resist the urge to crush the little girl in a hug. "He's in his room, I think," Lovegood said. "Congratulations on becoming a prefect."

Victoria blinked, and said, "Thank you."

She climbed up the steps into the boys' dorms, stopping and knocking at the door traditionally reserved for Ravenclaw fifth-years.

"Stark?" she called. "I'm coming inside."

She opened the door, and froze. In one of the middle beds, Roger Davies, sans his shirt, was with Larissa Henderson, dressed in an outfit almost entirely made of black lace and sitting on Davies' lap. Victoria raised a single eyebrow, and Larissa turned bright red.

"Where's Stark?" Victoria asked Davies.

Davies silently pointed to the far bed in the room. Victoria walked up to it, only for the curtains to peel back before she could reach it, revealing Stark's tired face.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" he complained, not bothering to keep his voice down; Davies scowled, while Larissa hid her face in her hands.

Victoria cast a cool glance over the two of them. "Hmm. It might be best if you went back to our room, Larissa. It wouldn't do if you were caught in more intimate activities."

Larissa nodded furiously and left, throwing her robes over herself. Still shirtless, Davies glared at Victoria.

"Really?" he said. "Is it really any of your business what the two of us do together?"

"Roger," sighed Stark. "Shut up."

"Piss off, Stark —"

"Davies," said Victoria before Stark inevitably baited Davies into a testosterone-fueled rage. "Please remember I'm a prefect now, and I can dish out detentions however I see fit."

Davies glared at her too, but ultimately threw the curtains closed.

Stark shook his head and turned to Victoria. "Did you need something?"

"We have our patrol," she said, jerking her head toward the door. "Come on."

"That's in" — he glanced at his watch — "twenty-five minutes."

"It's best to get a head start," said Victoria stiffly.

"I don't want to be aimlessly walking around the school for an hour," James whined, " much less an additional twenty-five minutes."

Victoria didn't voice her agreement. "Are you responsible for the negative fifty points that Ravenclaw currently has?" she asked instead, as he grudgingly stood up from his bed and threw on an disturbingly ugly green coat, mumbling something to himself. "What?"

Stark shifted. "…Possibly."

Victoria turned to him, exasperated. "How did you manage to ruin our prospects for the House Cup so early?"

"I was docking points, not losing them," Stark said, passing by her on the way to the door.

Victoria sighed and followed him. "What happened, exactly?"

"Luna was getting teased by her year-mates," he said darkly. "The first day. I don't understand why this keeps happening."

"Oh."

"You should be glad I just docked fifty," said James as they made their way down the stairs. "I considered smacking some sense into them, but then Flitwick would've docked twice that."

When they reached the bottom and made their way out the common room, she glanced at Luna Lovegood. The girl had curled into one of the armchairs and was reading a magazine of some sort. She seemed like a sweet girl, and perfectly polite from the few times Victoria had spoken to her.

Maybe Victoria was wrong about Stark (only a little bit). It was well-known to most that he and the Malfoy bitch had effectively taken Luna under their wing. That wasn't the act of a completely irresponsible pair of idiots. Until now, Victoria had not heard a single report of Luna getting in any sort of trouble.

"I didn't peg you for a Slytherin, unless I missed something," she said once they were out of the tower and on their route.

Stark looked down at his coat. "I made it."

Victoria raised an eyebrow. "You made it?"

"Yeah," he said, looking rather pleased with himself. "Harvested the materials myself and everything. I had to use a hammer and a nail punch to put holes in it."

She stared at him incredulously. "What kind of material needs a hammer and a nail punch to put holes in it?"

"Basilisk leather."

She immediately snorted.

"It's true," Stark said defensively, but she cast him another skeptical look. He looked a little peeved at her disbelief, with no trace of amusement in his eyes.

"You can't be serious," she said, not as resolute in her disbelief now. His coat did look like it was made of some sort of snakeskin, but she'd assumed it was just an aesthetic choice.

Stark pulled it off and handed it to her. It was surprisingly thick and heavy; if it weren't the loose overcoat that it was, Victoria suspected it would be too stiff to move in. The texture of the leather was also definitely snakeskin, with hard and dry nail-like scales, each about the size of her thumb, arranged neatly like lamellar armor.

"It could be something else," Victoria said, not really sure herself. "A boomslang, maybe. Or a runespoor."

Then Stark rolled up his sleeves and showed her his left arm with a flat expression. It bore a large puncture wound, about the size of a sickle in diameter, with a clear exit wound on the other side. Though moving his injured arm didn't seem to trouble him, the flesh around the wound was still slightly blackened and corrupted. Then he pulled something out from under his shirt: a silver chain with a fang attached to it. It was as long as Victoria's index finger, and the tip was carefully blunted.

Victoria leaned closer and glanced from it to the scar. "That's not what went through your arm."

"It's not," said Stark, "this is just one of the teeth. The actual fang was about the length from my elbow to fingertips. Did you know snakes have teeth? Because I didn't."

She glanced again from the tooth to the scar to the tooth again and then finally at his face, her small skeptical smile weakening.

"So you actually fought a basilisk?" she said.

"I did," he said simply.

"And you survived how, exactly?"

"I almost didn't," he said. "According to Pomfrey, my heart actually did stop beating for about thirty seconds before I got resuscitated."

Victoria handed Stark back his coat and blinked down at it for a moment.

"And they let you be prefect?"

He rubbed the back of his head, an awkward smile on his face. "I was told I needed to learn some responsibility."

Well, she thought with a slight grimace, it's hard to argue against that assessment.

They walked quietly for a while, then. It was strange, seeing the corridors deserted like this. Victoria wondered if she should talk to her fellow prefect. Flitwick had told her that she should give him a chance, after all, and he hadn't done anything to irk her for now, and perhaps if he really did learn some responsibility she might learn to be friendly with him.

"So," said Victoria slowly. "How did you kill the basilisk? I'm assuming you killed it, anyway."

"I drowned it," said Stark. "Aside from its eyes, there's no part of its body that you can damage from the outside. The scales are magically resistant, and I bet they're stronger than steel, too. The explosive curse did nothing but tickle it."

"Drowned it," Victoria said. "That was inspired of you."

"I was running out of options."

Silence came over them again as they descended another floor, hearing nothing but their footsteps, the flickering of candles, some snoring from the portraits — and then two other voices from around a corner they neared.

Cedric Diggory and Emily Knopfler met them in the next corridor.

"Stark," said Cedric, giving his friend a grin. "Are you enjoying your first prefect duty?"

"Oh, I love it," Stark said tonelessly, making Emily laugh. "Who doesn't enjoy moonlit walks in the literal haunted castle?"

"Do you want to walk together for a bit?" Emily asked, smiling.

"If you want," said Victoria when Stark shrugged.

"Great," said Emily, turning to the corridor neither pair had come from. "We can trade horror stories while we walk."

"Horror stories?" said Cedric as the rest of them followed behind her. "Do you even know any?"

"My brother does," said Emily. "And he's an arse, so he used to tell me plenty when I was, like, six."

Victoria was acquainted with Emily — she was the kind of girl to make friends with anyone she came across, after all. And from what little she knew of Emily Knopfler, she did not believe that Emily would be able to weave a remotely terrifying tale.

Fifteen minutes later, all of them, including Emily herself, were power-walking through the halls in an attempt to finish their patrol as soon as possible.

"Let's stop by Ravenclaw Tower first," James suggested. Victoria nodded furiously.

"Uh, no," Emily said. Neither she nor Cedric seemed to notice they were holding hands. Victoria glanced down to make sure she wasn't holding James' hand. She wasn't, but she took a small step away from him, just in case. Just a small step, though. She didn't want to end up accidentally separated from him and wandering the dark castle all alone after hearing Emily's story. Not that there were goat-things that badly mimicked human voices near or in Hogwarts, of course. Hogwarts: A History would've mentioned something like that. Then again, with people like Hagrid out there...

"We'll stop by the dungeons first," Cedric said.

"Oh, are you scared?" said Emily, as if her voice wasn't an octave higher than usual.

"And you're clearly not, which must mean you'd be fine making the journey alone," said James.

"Nooo," Emily whined lowly.

"I didn't take you for a coward," Cedric said. "Didn't you kill a basilisk?"

"Bloody hell, that's actually true?" said Emily.

"Yeah, and I got badly injured in the process," said James, clutching at his stomach dramatically. "You'd leave a cripple to fend for himself? And Vicky, I guess."

Victoria gave James a puzzled look, while Cedric snorted.

"Fine," said James. "I'll humor you this once, I suppose. Being the kind, courageous friend that I am, and you aren't."

"You'll be fine," said Cedric. "Aren't you supposed to be a knight?"

"Wait," said Emily, "you're a knight?"

James flushed. "I got knighted by Sir Cadogan," he said, leading the way to the dungeons. "I got knighted by a painting. You should know that's not going to amount to much."

"No, no, I recall you demanding you be addressed as Sir James over the holidays," said Cedric, taking a few long steps to catch up and look at James directly. "What happened with that, eh?"

"Shut up, Cedric."

"Is this why you were running around the Quidditch pitch in one of the suits of armor back in third year?" Emily asked, but James seemed to speed up a bit to keep his back to her.

Victoria shook her head. "You've strange hobbies, Stark."

"Can you joust?" asked Emily.

"I've never ridden a horse in my life," said James. "So, no."

"Do you own any land?"

"No."

"Do you have a squire?"

James turned to Victoria with an expression of suffering. She ignored him.

"Sir James the landless, squireless knight," said Cedric. "Doesn't know how to ride a horse or swing a sword."

"I'd like to see you do anything worth being knighted for," said James.

"He's got a point." Emily turned to Cedric. "You haven't done anything particularly noteworthy. You're not even that good a Seeker."

Cedric's expression twisted into genuine indignation and James laughed.

"Speaking of," James said, pouncing on the shift in topic, "Lyra's begging her dad to get her a Firebolt."

"A Firebolt?" asked Emily.

"It's the fastest commercial broom in the world," said Cedric. "Also one of the most expensive."

"She knows her reign is ending," said James, looking terribly smug. "All that practice and experience, but Harry Potter the Prodigy will overtake her soon enough. She thinks she can stay undefeated for the next three years, but he's getting closer and closer every game they play. And now he's got a Firebolt of his own."

"He has one?" Cedric said incredulously. "Because a Nimbus 2000 wasn't good enough?"

"His godfather bought it for him," said James. "Twelve years' worth of presents, he said."

"Oh," Cedric said, flushing a little with the realization.

"Sirius Black," Emily said. "Poor man. I wouldn't wish his fate on anyone."

"On anyone?" said James.

Emily adopted a thoughtful expression. "All right, maybe except Patrick."

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "And what's his crime, exactly?"

"He talks with food in his mouth. You know he spat bits of pork belly onto my nicest shirt once?"

Cedric turned to the Ravenclaws with an expression as if to say, 'Can you believe her?' and Victoria shook her head, feeling the corners of her mouth tug upward.

"Looks like we're here," Cedric said, standing in front of a stack of barrels. He rapped the centermost barrel with his knuckles. Tap-tap, tap-tap-tap.

"That's your security measure?" said James, unimpressed. "Seriously?"

"At least I'm guaranteed entrance," Cedric said. "You can't even get through your own security measure half the time."

"I maintain that common riddles have nothing to do with the pursuit of knowledge," James said. "Rowena should've used trivia questions instead."

"Have fun out there all alone, in the cold and dark," said Emily, waving at them. "See you!"

The doorway slid shut, leaving the two Ravenclaw prefects in the, indeed, cold and dark dungeons on their lonesome. Victoria saw James shiver slightly as he turned around. They retraced their steps, past the sleeping portraits on the grand staircase as they made their way to Ravenclaw Tower.

Victoria lagged behind him slightly, watching him. He was slightly hunched, which might be because it was cold, but his gait was stiff and faster than usual, implying discomfort. He eventually slowed until Victoria had no choice but to catch up with him.

"Which N.E.W.T.s do you plan on taking?" he asked.

"Every core class except Herbology, Astronomy, and History," Victoria said, "also Runes, and Arithmancy."

"Are you any good at Potions or Herbology?" said James.

"Better than most," Victoria said. "Why?"

"They're some of my weaker subjects. That I care about, anyway."

"I'm surprised you're capable of caring."

"I'm surprised you're capable of snark," said James. "So, won't you tutor me in prep for our O.W.L.s? We can spend some time getting to know each other outside of these soul-crushing duties. I could help you with Charms, Transfiguration, or Arithmancy." He waved a dismissive hand. "I'm only above average at the rest of them."

"Only above average?"

"I need to give you lot a chance," he said. "Wouldn't want to completely shred your egos."

Victoria narrowed her eyes at him. "How do you manage this, Stark? Is there some foolproof cheating method you've discovered? How does someone like you manage to do so well?"

James' lips quirked. "I don't cheat. Not for those subjects, anyway."

"You're a prefect now, Stark. You'd best act like it."

"One more year, and I can stop pretending I care about Binns or Sinistra." James sighed. "What do you want to do in the future?"

Victoria hummed. "I'm not certain. The Ministry, maybe."

"Your lifelong goal is to be a bureaucrat?"

"I said I'm not certain," Victoria said. "Maybe I'll leave the magical world entirely."

"More job opportunities there," James said as they reached the staircase that led to the Ravenclaw tower. "What would you do in the muggle world?"

Victoria didn't answer.

"Come on, spill," said James.

"A vet, maybe," said Victoria.

James grinned. "You like animals then?"

"The ones that can't kill me with their excretory fluids or fire-breathing nature, sure," she said.

"Which is better: cats or ravens?"

Victoria furrowed her brow. "Don't you mean cats or dogs?"

"I know what I said."

"Cats, then."

"Really?" James gave her a skeptical look as they reached the eagle-shaped knocker. "But ravens are smart as human children, you know, with immense puzzle-solving capabilities. They're known to play in snow when they get the opportunity. They're smart enough to learn words."

Victoria frowned and shook her head in bafflement. "Why do you care so much?"

"No, no reason."

Victoria turned to the door-knocker, which spoke without moving its beak.

I shall be found by Moon or Sun

Yet without light will be undone.

"Fucking," James muttered under his breath. He paused for a moment. "A shadow."

The door swung open, revealing the now-quiet Ravenclaw common room. Most of the floating candles had been extinguished and the various fire pits were now mostly reduced to embers. The unshuttered windows provided some illumination from the Moon outside.

"I suppose I'll see you later," said James quietly. He seemed disinclined to break the peaceful silence of the common room.

Victoria hummed softly.

"Goodnight, then," he said.

"Goodnight," Victoria said. James inclined his head, and turned to leave. Victoria paused, before speaking up. "Wait."

James turned to her expectantly. The dying fires illuminated his slight, questioning smile.

"Professor Flitwick said we have to guide the first-years to their classrooms tomorrow. Make sure to wake up by seven."

James' smile fell, as if she had just told him he had to storm Azkaban tomorrow.