madeyed

[madeyed]

LANDON KIRBY Legacies S03E13

[madeyed]

ted  tonks  ,

     ever the nervous rambler, ted can’t help but let the spiel of nonsense ( as per usual ) fall from his lips. “ i’m sure the restrictions will ease up now that things are settling down, ” replies ted with a hopeful smile. “ besides, they can’t keep us from our activities all year… too much pent up energy would undoubtedly cause some issues amongst the students, i think. ” he shoves his hands in his pockets, allowing himself to fall into step with the wix. he pauses for a moment to think, his fingers playing with some muggle candies buried in his robe pockets. “ no— well, yes— well, it’s like you said, duelling needs to be practiced. . . ” ted didn’t really like to think about the reasons of why, but he knew them all the same. ted didn’t like to raise his wand at another person for any reason, but he knew that there might be a time he would have to get comfortable with it. “ i’ve been thinking about it. joining the beginners club, of course. i’m not the best at duelling. ”

          alastor’s lost all the haste with which he was moving, hands tucked into pockets and shoulders a little hunched as the pair of them trace the familiar path towards the common room and kitchens. he watches the floor as he walks, intermittently glancing sideways at ted. “ yeah, i hope you’re right. i mean, i personally don’t give a rat’s arse whether the slug club never has another meeting, ” he begins, his tone making it unambiguously clear what he thinks of the slug club, and what it stands for, “ but they can’t shutter the duelling clubs and quidditch matches and everything else all year. we’ll all lose our bloody minds. ” it’s odd, with how difficult it’s been for him to talk much to anyone these days, how easy it is to talk with ted. odd, but immeasurably welcome. “ well, you should. it can’t hurt, and it’s great practice for your defense exams, ” he says, though that’s certainly not the primary reason alastor thinks it’s important. “ and it never hurts to be prepared. ”

[madeyed]

penelope  avery ​ ,

curfew  does  apply  to  everyone  ,  but  slytherins  have  never  been  so  good  at  being  a  part  of  ‘  everyone  ’  by  hogwarts  standards  .  certainly  not  by  dumbledore’s  .  it’s  a  shame  ,  really  .  but  their  reputations  truly  do  proceed  them  .  

❛  even  so  ,  i  left  something  there  and  i  wasn’t  about  to  wait  until  morning  to  fetch  it  .  it’s  designer  ,  who  knows  what  someone  could  do  with  it  by  then  .  ❜  lashes  bat  and  hand  lifts  to  fluff  her  hair  ,  sweet  tone  matching  near  pout  .  feigns  innocence  -  as  if  witch  does  not  know  just  how  late  it  is  .  her  words  are  true  ,  but  does  not  make  her  motivations  any  less  false  .    ❛  it  won’t  take  long  .  you  can  even  escort  me  if  you’d  like  .  ❜  

♖

          “ oh, it’s designer ? you should’ve said. by all means, don’t let me keep you, ” he says bitingly, rolling his eyes and gesturing down the corridor as if to say be free and on your way. he’s being facetious, mocking in a way he doesn’t like, unsure if he’s just mirroring her callous attitude or merely taking that as an excuse to release some of his own pent-up agitation. 

          “ i can ? ” his brow arches, frustration evident in the tension of his face; leave it to penelope avery to give him permission to do what he’s already intending to, her perfectly manicured nails clinging vice-like to her control. “ then i suppose i will. won’t do to have students out of bed past curfew, now, will it ? ” he says reluctantly, no happier about it than she likely is, taking a starting step down the corridor. 

[madeyed]

starter for ,  hufflepuffs  &  incidental hufflepuff common room dwellers.  setting ,  hufflepuff common room, afternoon.

          “ oh, get back here you stupid bastard ! ” alastor jumps up from the sofa, starting after his cat, who’s just taken the corner of his parchment in her mouth and dashed off. he chases her through the crowded common room, trying to corner her as she jumps over the low table, sneaks under an armchair and then crashes through a game of chess, scattering pieces everywhere to the indignant shouts of the pair of third years playing. just as he thinks he has her cornered, she leaps up to the mantlepiece, and then quickly up onto a ledge between two potted plants, just out of reach. “ merlin’s fuckin’ — you little — ” he points at the cat accusingly as she blinks down at him with big green eyes, drops his half-finished essay on the ledge, and flops down languidly on top of it. “ should’ve gotten a fuckin’ owl, ” he grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a long, deep breath to try and dispel his frustration. “ ah, well, it’s not due till next week anyway. ” resigned, he shoots fry one last dirty look, then drops defeatedly into the nearest empty seat. “ what’re you working on ? ” he cranes his neck, peeking over his neighbor’s shoulder to investigate.

[madeyed]

ted  tonks  ,

& ALASTOR. @madeyed​

     “ hey, alastor, ” ted says, quickening his pace to catch up with the older hufflepuff strolling down the corridor. there was something different about alastor moody this year, something that left ted tonks both wanting to approach him and keep his distance at the same time. having managed to do the latter for the past week, ted figures it’s time to take a shot with the former. he bites back the automatic ‘how was your summer’ with a flinch and instead racks his brain for a less intrusive approach. “ um, ” he starts, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “ you doing duelling club this year? ”

          if nothing else, the new security measures are keeping alastor busy. there’s barely any time to think, let alone dwell on his thoughts, between escorting students back and forth from classes, attending his own, and trying to keep the peace in an overcrowded common room. so when he has a spare minute, he takes it, keeping an eye on his watch as he ventures down towards the kitchens; it’s past lunchtime, but maybe he can wheedle a sandwich from the house elves before transfiguration. at the sound of his name, he looks up, automatically slowing his pace to fall in step with the younger prefect. “ oh, hey ted, ” he greets evenly, noticing and pointedly deciding to ignore his momentary hesitation. “ uh, yeah. i mean, i hope so, if they start letting us meet again. it’s strange, isn’t it ? i reckon we need to practice dueling now more than ever, and they’re cancelling meetings for ‘student safety’ ... ” he shrugs, as if it’s just a passing thought and not something he’s spent hours brooding over. “ why ? you thinking of joining ? ”

[madeyed]

alice  fortescue  ,

Alice wasn’t the most studious person in the world. She couldn’t help getting distracted by quidditch. It made sense though, because it really was one of things she was best at. But, Alice enjoyed quidditch. She wasn’t going to be doing quidditch for a job though, and that meant that she actually needed to study. Otherwise she might end up falling back on her quidditch skills to earn some money. She had nearly hesitated slipping into the chair beside Moody, she could tell he was doing some studying. But she couldn’t help herself. 

“I’m good….” She murmured with a nod. “Maybe? I missed seeing everyone, but I don’t like being chained up year for another year.” And there were some other nasty stuff going on. But, she did like spending time with her friends, and so, she didn’t mind that much. “Psh. You know you’re better at this than me.” She murmured with a shrug. “Not so bad…. passed everything that I needed to do, so that is good.”

♖

          “ yeah, ‘s not the same as having the run of diagon alley, ” he agrees with a nod, “ but at least there’ll be hogsmeade weekends and all that ? ” he suggests, manufacturing a spun sugar optimism that will dissolve as soon as she’s left — but it just feels wrong to not at least try and be cheerful around alice. “ ah, you know that’s not true, i’m just a year ahead. you remember it took me weeks to manage the reductor curse and you managed it in what, two afternoons ? ” he can’t help the small, proud smile that appears on his lips at the recollection. 

          “ oh, great, excellent ! not that i ever doubted you, ” he adds hastily; he may have had his doubts about history of magic, but that’s beside the point. “ and what’re you taking for N.E.W.T.s, then ? ”

[madeyed]

siena  parkinson ​ ,

who  :  ​​​anyone​​​  !

where :  hogwarts  grounds  !

❛   i  like  care  of  magical  creatures  ,  really  i  do  .   ❜  siena  insists  ,  and  it’s  true  .  of  all  her  classes  ,  care  and  herbology  have  to  be  her  favourites  .  except  for  a  few  simple  facts  .  ❛   but  —  um  ,   ❜  a  pause  ,  the  witch  tugging  at  her  fingers  .   ❛  we’re  studying  thestrals  ,  but  unless  i  plan  to  watch  someone  die  first  -  i’ve  no  hope  of  seeing  them  ,  if  .  .  .  if  they  even  do  exist  .   ❜

♖

          “ —... if they exist ? ” he echoes, incredulous. “ i mean, i understand being annoyed, ” he begins, diplomatic despite the fact that he definitely doesn’t understand, “ but even if you don’t want to take professor kettleburn’s word for it, or the textbook’s, or the countless magizoologists’ who’ve studied them... you know you can still touch them, right ? ” despite his best efforts, there’s an edge of condescension in his voice he can’t quite banish.

[madeyed]

lucius  malfoy​  ,

   “so just pick something warm when you get back, you sad bastard.” eyes roll, though despite his harsh words, there’s a sense of warmness to it. he wouldn’t say he cared for alastor, wouldn’t even say he respected the other — but he did truly enjoy the times they spent together, comfortable in the other’s presence, drinking until he couldn’t drink no more. who would have thought it would have been easy to put differences aside for a few hours just to enjoy time with someone? not lucius, that’s for sure. there’s a comment on the tip of his tongue, something along the lines of not wanting to keep bellatrix waiting, though he’s blatantly lying. and using her name isn’t something he wants to do, even if it was the only way he could think of getting alastor to talk to him alone. he wasn’t stupid - he had heard the news of what happened to his mother. it’s just lucky for lucius that once he gets alastor outside of the great hall, there’s barely anyone around. “i lied.” he takes his hands out of his robes, clearly showing his wand wasn’t in his hand before he points behind him, clearly wanting to talk in the corner where people shouldn’t be able to see them. “i just want to know how you’re doing.” he can barely look at the other, eyes locked onto the golden trim on the hufflepuff’s clothing. “i heard what happened.. i’m sorry for your loss, mate.” he wasn’t even sure what he was doing. was he genuinely checking up on him? or was he saving his own ass and pretending to not associate with who harmed someone so close to alastor. truth was? he had no idea who was involved. “i have some firewhiskey if you need some.. but judging by the smell, you’re coping fine.” sarcasm is practically dripping from his voice, glancing around once more to make sure no one was listening in. “so seriously.. are you okay?”

          lucius’s response, an uncompromising insult delivered with the warm exasperation of an old friend, draws a snort of laughter from alastor. sad bastard indeed — it is, if anything else, an accurate assessment, though he doubts any of his actual friends would have been able to put it quite so succinctly. at least, malfoy's supercilious attitude offers a welcome change of pace, a sort of careless indifference — if nothing else, it’s a welcome change of pace from the earnestly offered but self-aggrandizing sympathies of other students, half-strangers whose names and faces he hardly knows. it’s not comfortable, per se, but lucius malfoy doesn’t feel threatening. that much can’t be said for bellatrix black, and alastor feels his hackles raising as they slip out of the great hall, tension building in his shoulders — and the fact that she appears nowhere to be found does little to ease this. then lucius admits, i lied, suddenly and strangely on the back foot, and alastor can finally relax a little; an ambush it may be, but of a very different kind. “ thanks, ” he says flatly in response to the condolences, motionless in his discomfort. 

          “ you really asking about my feelings ? ” he asks bemusedly, though he acquiesces and follows lucius’s lead, stepping away from potential prying eyes. at the pointed mention of firewhiskey, his gaze, fixed on the cracked stone of the castle walls, flashes up dangerously, but he doesn’t say anything. he can’t, really — lucius may be a prick, but he’s right. “ oh, yeah, i‘m alright. ups and downs, you know, you win the quidditch cup, your mum gets murdered, that’s life, isn’t it ? ” he scoffs, then shrugs, trying to balance his anger with a sort of defeatist humour. “ i’ll bet you had a better summer, ” he adds, a weak attempt to change the subject.

[madeyed]

alice  fortescue ​ ,

Alice was a pretty social person. There was no denying she liked to talk, and she generally did so with everyone. There were a few people she was close with, like the sixth year gryffindor girl gang, and a few others. Alastor Moody fell into that category. They were pretty good study buddies. Alice really took all the study buddies she could. Knowing he wanted to be an auror had helped too, especially with his family having been aurors too. Alice really had taken advantage of that. The pair had been study buddies for a while now. But it had blossomed into a pretty decent friendship.

“Hey Alastor….” The brunette smiled as she spotted his familiar face in the great hall. She’d spotted him, and left her destination of the Gryffindor table, to sit by him on the Hufflepuff one instead. “How are you? Hope you’re ready to tutor me again this year” She mused with a little smirk.

@madeyed​

          the school year’s barely started and already, the homework load is stretching alastor nearly to his breaking point — even without defense against the dark arts. it would almost be manageable, but this year, with everything else going on it’s harder and harder for him to make it a priority. so he works in whatever spare minutes he can find, or else late into the night. this time, he’s poring over a battered copy of a guide to advanced transfiguration at breakfast, trying to ignore the conversations around him, when alice fortescue slides into the seat beside him. 

          “ hey, alice, ” he says, quickly swallowing a bite of toast and moving over slightly to make space for her. “ yeah, m’alright. how’re you ? glad to be back ? ” it’s strange, to be making small talk with alice — but it’s nice, too, and makes him feel almost normal. “ oh, yeah, of course. think you might have to help me with some of this too this year; i need to review just about everything for the N.E.W.T.s. speaking of, how’d your O.W.L.s turn out ? ”

[madeyed]

rose

rose :   how  much  does  your  muse  value  other  people  ?  do  they  wish  to have  many  friends ,  lovers ,  and / or  associates  ?  are  they  an  easy  person  to  love  ?

that’s three different questions, with three different answers. to the first: greatly, perhaps more than is always healthy. it’s a philosophy he’s been instilled with since he was a mere infant, something learned more by example than by being explicitly taught: another’s happiness, safety, and life is almost always more valuable than your own. ( it must be, for his parents, and their parents, to make the sacrifices they did. ) the best person you can be is someone who isn’t better than anyone else. 

but this is a philosophical, rather than practical stance; from a distance, alastor values people as a broad category. up close and personal, the mess of it becomes difficult. he’s never really treasured having many friends, and certainly not aspired to have many lovers; in his interpersonal relationships, he very strongly values quality over quantity. he treasures his friends dearly, but isn’t particularly motivated to make more, especially at the moment.

that is, perhaps, for the best, as he is decidedly not an easy person to love — depending on who you ask, of course, but he is certainly not going to give himself a glowing review. he’s grumpy, pedantic, withdrawn, sanctimonious, condescending, and controlling on his worst days, and even on his best days still struggles with paranoia and anxiety around almost all his relationships; he’s yet to process much of his loss and grief and tends to project that on his other relationships and friendships. that’s not to say that he isn’t still well-loved, only that those nearest to him sure do put in the effort. 

[madeyed]

sunflower

sunflower :   what  brings  your  muse  the  most  joy  in  life  ?

right now,  joy feels like a distant cousin, and old family friend; someone alastor knew in childhood, but who moved away years ago. in his better moments, though, he knows this isn’t true, even if it continues to feel more like a memory than any real possible future. to him, joy has always tasted a little breathless: summers by the seaside and the gasp of air after breaking the ocean’s surface, flying so fast the wind rips the breath from his lungs, or laughing with friends until he’s red in the face. this is the obvious, easy joy, raucous and boyish and within arm’s reach, the kind of thrill he’s been chasing most of his life. 

lately, however, he’s beginning to feel changed; they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and there’s something about seeing your parents murdered, your childhood home all but destroyed, and your whole world crumble that seems to really shift a person’s priorities. the thrills he used to love feel almost cheap, the laughter now rings a little desperate in his ear. instead, by necessity ( and, yeah, by trauma ) he’s finding his joy in smaller things — seeing a friend finally master a challenging spell, sharing cauldron cakes ‘round the common room fire — and it’s always so tempered by fear, anger, and suspicion that it’s hard to call it joy. these days the best alastor tends to feel is relief. 

[madeyed]

penelope  avery ​ ,

❛  does  it  matter  ?  ❜  a  faux  laugh  .  fashionable  ,  what  a  joke  .  penelope  avery  can  show  up  hours  late  and  still  make  it  work  — and  she  has  .  even  her  own  birthday  parties  had  her  arriving  unfashionably  late  ,  she  could  not  be  late  .  everyone  else  is  simply  early  .    

❛  where  on  earth  would  i  be  off  to  at  this  hour  ,  moody  ?  ❜  she  isn’t  stupid  enough  to  head  to  gryffindor  tower  ,  not  at  this  hour  —   nor  ever  .  if  she  is  to  meet  gideon  ,  it  will  be  somewhere  impartial  .  she’s  had  more  than  enough  of  the  tower  to  last  a  life  time  —  a  pity  too  ,  the  beds  are  comfortable  .  ❛  i’m  just  heading  back  to  slughorn’s  .  ❜

♖

          it’s incredibly familiar, the way she speaks in the very same voice as so many of her peers, as if beneath her words is an underlying incantation: all this, from the stones beneath my feet to the towers above, and the whole wide world beyond it, it’s all mine. and however familiar it is, no amount of prolonged exposure will make the sentiment any less noxious. “ right, yeah, ” he says flatly, “ but like i said, party’s over. pretty sure even slughorn’s gone off to bed now. ” he raises an eyebrow at her, hoping she’ll pick up on his meaning, but she’s not stupid. he knows that she knows it’s past curfew; she’s just being deliberately obtuse. 

          “ this might sound a bit mad, i know, but the curfew does actually apply to everyone. ” it’s a foolish hope, to imagine she might just acknowledge and accept it; he’d never known penelope to make anything easier. but something about deducting house points, however momentarily satisfying, just feels so incredibly petty, and he’d rather avoid it if he can.

[madeyed]

lucius  malfoy  ,

    ALASTOR  &&  LUCIUS  FOR  @madeyed​

   it was a weird dynamic - even before it was weird. a friendship that bloomed in sixth year with the two being silent 90% of the time and simply drinking their sorrows away. lucius wouldn’t go as far as saying there was a mutual respect back then between them, they both just were broken people who needed company and talked about anything other than blood purity, politics, the war… there wasn’t much conversation, but lucius had appreciated alastor in those little moments. it felt like no one was judging him for a few hours out of his day - even though he knew al was more than likely judging the crap out of him. there’s a comment on the tip of his tongue as he watches alastor walk into the great hall — how’s mummy dearest? though he keeps his mouth shut. it’s too early for drama, not when he’s marked, not when that comment alone could end up in a fight where lucius would surely lose his temper once he got alastor riled up. he didn’t want to be losing his prefect spot, didn’t want to be disappointing his father. instead, he keeps his head down, waiting until he knows the other has sat down at another table before he stands up, not hesitating to move over to the puff’s table to greet him. or well.. try to. “moody.” jaw clenches, keeping his eyes on the man and not any of the people he was sat near. “bellatrix said something about needing to talk to us. prefect duties.” she didn’t. lucius just wanted an excuse to talk to him with no one else around. “she’s outside.”

          despite its size, the massive stone archways and the ceiling that appears to open into the darkening night sky, the great hall tonight feels stiflingly small. noisy, crowded, with students darting back and forth between tables to greet their friends, the air thick with the smells of warm ( if chronically under-spiced ) food and the faint but unmistakable scent of firecrackers drifting over from the far end of the gryffindor table — it’s warm, homey, and should be comforting, but as alastor settles at the hufflepuff table, he only feels unsettled. ( that might also have something to do with the fact that he’s been drinking since he boarded the hogwarts express that morning, but if pressed, he’d sooner insist that the firewhiskey is the only thing keeping him calm right now. ) he’s almost relieved when lucius malfoy appears, interrupting a third year pestering him about quidditch tryouts; it’s a strange sentiment he doesn’t care to further investigate. “ she does ? ” frowning up at lucius, alastor has to fight an uncomfortable urge to laugh at the expression on his face: a uncomfortable, affected sort of resolve, like he’s holding his breath as he nears the hufflepuff table, afraid if he lingers too long or breathes the same air he’ll be infected by their do-gooder aspirations and soft reputation. “ yeah, alright. ” he rises somewhat inelegantly from the bench, casting a quick look at the gryffindor table in hopes of spotting frank — at least if he’s being led into a trap and about to die, someone will know who he went off with — but no such luck. so, with some reluctance, he follows lucius, hands tucked into his pockets, one loosely holding his wand. “ you can tell her, next time she needs somethin’ she can come find me. my food’s gonna get cold. ” not that he had been eating much anyway; it’s just something else he can complain about.

[madeyed]

mary  macdonald  ,

she eyes him as he pulls out the flask, an approving smirk meeting her lips when he offers it and she takes it quickly, dropping some into her own goblet of juice. “a better combo i have never heard of. sit, why don’t you?” she offered the place next to her but didn’t exactly expect him to stick around. “you don’t have to, but the offer is there.” 

          he gives her a small, approving nod, and something hinging close to a smile as she pours a splash of whiskey into her goblet, slipping the flask surreptitiously back in his pocket when she returns it. there’s the barest moment of hesitation as he takes a sip of his own drink, sparing him from answering, before he takes the seat beside mary. “ thanks, ‘preciate it. ” it’s an honest sentiment; he’s somewhat reluctant to mingle much further, and the seat at the ravenclaw table feels like a momentary safe haven. he takes another sip of spiked juice before speaking again. “ you have an alright summer ? ” it seems like small talk, pure and simple, but beneath it is another question: are you okay ? how are you doing ? 

[madeyed]

[madeyed]

penelope  avery ​ ,

her lipstick clearly smudged  ,  penelope lifts up her compact to straighten her makeup  .  she could not  ,  of course  ,  look anything less than perfect  -  even if it is only to stop back at slug club  .  the party had somehow been both the social event she’d been craving and a bore  ,  slughorn’s droning proving more than she could take  .  she’d made excuses to leave early  ,  claiming she’d felt ever so tired  .  but of course it would only be fair that she’d left her purse  .

narcissicm proves a flaw as she stumbles straight into alastor  ,  nearly dropping her compact  .  what a wonderful turn of events  .  ❛  it is  .  you’ve got an excellent memory  .  ❜  rose dusted lips offer a smile  ,  her hand lowering her compact .  it’s late  ,  and she hardly wants to have this conversation  -  but just now she’ll take the excuse to avoid returning to the party  .  ❛  but  ,  that’s not where i’m headed  ,  just now  .  hate to disappoint  .  ❜

♖

          there’s something in that blithe smile, the poised jut of her chin, that says — perhaps intentionally, perhaps not — i’m better than you. it’s hardly unfamiliar, from penelope or anyone else, but it sets his teeth on edge. it feels like bait, and leaves him struggling not to take it. instead, alastor takes a demonstrative look at his watch, sighing as he looks back up at her, as though it is only with the greatest reluctance that he performs his prefect duties. 

          “ where to, then ? ” he asks, brows raised, arms crossed; he’s cautious not to seem too accusatory, but even that caution itself betrays an obvious suspicion. “ seeing as it’s far past curfew, and the party’s just ended. bit too late to still count as ‘fashionable’, isn’t it ? ” he adds with an inquisitive tilt of his head, unable to resist.

[madeyed]

frank  longbottom ​ ,

who: @madeyed​ where: entrance hall when: after the welcome feast

the day had flown by in a blur of hello’s and catch up’s and congratulation’s and, of course, duties. there was no being overwhelmed in frank’s eyes, he could take on the world and it wouldn’t be enough, but it was certainly enough of a fast-paced day that by the end of it, frank was exhausted. but he wasn’t ready to hit the pillow just yet — not just because he was afraid to enter the head dormitories he was inevitably going to have to share with bellatrix black, of all people — but because for the whole day, frank had spent not nearly enough time with his boys. it was after the great feast that frank wove his way through the crowd, towards where the hufflepuff table was making a swift exit to the entrance hall. eyes settling on alastor, frank grinned. coming up behind him, frank put one arm around his mate’s shoulder and used the other to clap the boy on the chest. “ MOODY, my boy, care to escort me to my room? i’ll give you a private tour of the head dormitories — apparently we get our own private fireplace and all! ” loose translation — please don’t make me face bellatrix alone. ​

♖

          the return to hogwarts is strange and unsettling for a multitude of reasons, but this, at least, is familiar: he spends the first day busy, keeping a wary eye on the first years and the new fifth year prefects alike, a task as challenging and persistently unrewarding as herding cats. the only moment of peace he finds is during the sorting, ever so briefly; then he's flanked by curious first years and has to do his very best to answer their questions and reassure them that whatever they might've heard on the train, hufflepuff isn't the ‘ dud house. ’ by the time they're all fed and trudging off to the hufflepuff common room, alastor's longing almost desperately for his bed, for a bit of peace and quiet. then there's an arm slung over his shoulder — he tenses just for a moment, caught off guard, then relaxes to the sound of a familiar voice. “ ah, c’mon, frank, can’t you see i’ve got responsibilities of my own ? ” he says, gesturing vaguely towards the gaggle of first years. he gives frank a reproachful look for a moment before calling up to the head of the column of students, “ vance, tonks ! you two got this ? ” and returning their affirmative nods with a grateful salute. “ right, then. ” he turns back to frank, pleased to be free of his prefect duties for the moment, and suddenly much less tired. “ let’s see these head student dorms. i’m warning you, though, i won’t be impressed unless the bathrooms are at least twice as nice as the prefect ones. ”