0020 hours, Ground Floor.


Prefect patrols were both a blessing and a curse. They led late into the dead of night (leaving little time for sleep) and Raine was an early-riser in the morrow. But it was a different sort of magic than the one she was used to, when they wandered the corridors of Hogwarts at this late an hour: hollow and quiet and almost otherworldly.

The Gryffindor prefect was descending the stairwell from the first floor at about ten to the appointed patrol time, running both hands through her head of damp curls. She had taken a quick bath after spending the evening straightening out notes from that week's lessons-- prepped for assignments and wandwork. All she had to do now was get through the night without anything bothersome happening.

It was bothersome enough that she'd been paired with Schlagenweit today. Describing him a stuffed shirt bookworm was an understatement; although, to be fair, his presence would not be actively irritating. Raine was having a difficult time displacing her annoyance at going on-duty just before the weekend; it threw off her entire Saturday when she got up late.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and gently nudged these thoughts into the back of her mind as she turned around at a noise, expecting to see her fellow patroller at the landing. Just Maurice. A bell had been affixed to his collar because he'd taken to following her about like a second shadow. The black cat strode down the steps with an indifferent meowl.

"And a good evening to you too," Raine murmured with mock politeness once he'd reached her. Seemed that she would have more than simply the Ravenclaw for company tonight.

Footfalls on the stairs behind him heralded the Gryffindor's arrival.  Sasha had been sitting on the floor along a wall,  taking advantage of the few extra minutes he had to review his History notes from the day.  His extra Latin lessons with Mr. Morgan had run later than usual that evening and he'd only had a half an hour between leaving the library and the start of his rounds.  Nowhere near enough time to justify returning to the Ravenclaw tower.  So, he'd lingered at the library as long as Mr. Morgan would tolerate him before descending to the entrance hall and taking up his current spot along the wall. 

Almsay reached the bottom of the stairs and Sasha pushed himself to his feet and slipped the page of History notes into his pocket.  Still in full school uniform, Sasha brushed a hand over his robes, through his hair, re-tucked his shirt and generally did his best to not appear like he'd been in the same set of clothes for almost eighteen hours.  The Ravenclaw lifted his bag and quickly retrieved the remaining dinner roll from his backpacking mess kit before slinging it over his shoulder.

Thank goodness tomorrow was the weekend. 

"'Allo," he offered, glancing briefly at the cat trailing behind Almsay.  "We should start in the dungeons," he offered.  Given he'd just come from the fourth floor and Almsay had, presumably, just come from Gryffindor tower, that seemed the most logical starting place to the Ravenclaw.  "It has been pretty quiet here.  And, there's no practical Astronomy classes on Fridays, so there shouldn't be any stragglers there." 

He turned and started heading towards the stairs down to the dungeons.  At the base of the stairs he paused, glancing up to check if Almsay was following.

The Ravenclaw prefect came in from the opposite direction that Raine had been expecting him, and she glanced up with a slightly surprised expression when he had addressed her. "Good evening," she replied perfunctorily. Appraising blue eyes took in Sasha's general appearance... he didn't look very well rested, even if it had been the end to a rather exhausting week for most sixth years.

His load of subjects were bordering on legendary in the rumour mills however and she felt a little rueful now, recalling her recent lamenting of assignments. Raine adjusted the prefect pin on her robes as she silently followed her classmate towards the dungeon stairs, Maurice's light bell chiming just behind her. She'd have to do something about that; it served as a warning for anyone lurking just around the corner.

The stairwell led down into stony darkness and Raine took out her wand, flicking its tip once she'd approached the lower landing: "Lumos," she whispered. The light that manifested was a gentle illumination and she raised an eyebrow at Sasha, who was glancing back at her.

"Difficult day, Schlagenweit? You're not looking very shiny tonight," Raine glimpsed fleetingly past him at the dungeon corridor and then smiled dryly at the prefect: "Not that you need to. Looks like a quiet shift."

Sasha's eyebrows rose slightly and then he followed her gaze back to what he assumed she was looking at: his general attire and appearance.  Despite his attempt at a hasty grooming, he definitely wasn't at the height of presentability.  He needed to learn some sort of general, all-in-one steam bath, clothes pressing charm.  If it came with a shot of espresso, even better. 

"I'm sorry," he offered, running another hand through his hair though he was certain it wouldn't make much more of a difference than it already had.  It was what it was.  Not bad enough to justify sneaking away to the prefects bath (hopefully, without a crowd) but stale enough for him to be quite conscious of his current state.  "I haven't been up to Ravenclaw since I left for breakfast.  I don't think there's much I can do to be ... well..."  Sasha wasn't going to state any desire to be 'shinier.'  He wasn't sure 'shiny' had been the look he'd every tried to achieve.  "Hopefully, it'll stay quiet." 

Sasha glanced down at the black feline shadow trailing behind Almsay.  He wasn't exactly a huge cat person - he much preferred the workability and general cooperation that dogs and horses demonstrated.  But, he liked all animals; he certainly didn't dislike cats so he felt a certain sense of obligation to extend some sort of greeting to their feline tagalong.  As the Gryffindor and the cat shadowing her reached the bottom of the stairs, Sasha kneeled over, reaching a hand out towards the black cat.  The cat reached out and sniffed his fingers before rubbing his cheek against Sasha's hand. 

Now came the routinely difficult part of prefect rounds: three hours of small talk.  Sasha straightened back up and drew his own wand, adding his own beam of light to the darkness.  "What did you think of that reading for muggle studies today?" he asked.  Of course, talking about classes would be his default activity.  "Muggle psychiatric wards.  The other hospital.  They are kind of mysterious places if you've never been there.  Even to muggles." 

Maurice's general affection for other people, expected as it was, continued to disturb Raine. It was unusual behaviour for a once-abused stray. Some creatures didn't always learn, she supposed.

Another light appeared alongside hers as Sasha withdrew from the cat and they turned to begin their patrol down the dungeon corridors. It didn't surprise the Gryffindor when lessons were brought up. Did he even do anything outside of studies? "Muggle psychiatric wards.  The other hospital.  They are kind of mysterious places if you've never been there.  Even to muggles."

What excellent conversation matter. Crazy people. Raine smiled dryly to herself, remembering their muggle studies lesson with a morbid sort of enjoyment. "No more mysterious than Azkaban, surely." Her gaze shifted to peer indifferently down a turn-off: "I think I may have a cousin in one of those," she added in a thoughtful voice.

It wasn't common knowledge that her mother was a muggleborn-- but the classmates of that particular subject were at least vaguely acquainted with the fact. Raine could think of a few relatives who should have been labelled as certifiably insane. Sometimes she wondered about herself (though who didn't wonder about themselves?). She looked back to the Ravenclaw with a curious expression.

"Any place for the mentally disturbed would be an interesting one to see," her lips twisted into another, more diverted smile: "In a visitor's capacity, of course. Have you ever been?"

Sasha glanced quickly at Almsay, startled by the seemingly casual and forthcoming admission.  "Seriously?" he asked, watching her closely a few moments for any traces the statement had been a joke before turning to shine the light of his wand into the shadows of an alcove.  "We aren't usually so quick to admit such things."  Certainly, not in company of casual acquaintances.  They hardly ever discussed such things about family members in the presence of other family. 

After a few steps, Sasha realized his statement could be easily misconstrued and quickly clarified, "not that I have any cousins in asylums.  I just meant- we don't talk about those kind of things.  I actually don't have any cousins, either."  Well...except, he did.  But, like the topic of insane relatives, it just wasn't something he was about to discuss in present company.  He had no intentions of breathing a word about his connection to the Storms until he knew anything for certain.  "Wait, you were talking about having a cousin in a hospital.  Not Azkaban, right?  We haven't been talking about relatives in prison?" 

"It'd probably be depressing.  Everyone all drugged up and such.  I've never been to one.  Other than an Alzheimer's unit but that's really different.  I assume.  I'm not sure I want to go."  He took a few strides in silence as he considered the scenario.  Then, quietly, he added, "I don't really do well behind locked doors.  I take it, you've never been to one?  To see a cousin or anything?" 

There was little incentive for Raine to keep family secrets; outside of her sister, she did not mind discussing relatives-- sane or insane. They were nothing but names. It hardly surprised her to note that others might not have similar attitudes.

"Wait, you were talking about having a cousin in a hospital.  Not Azkaban, right?  We haven't been talking about relatives in prison?" Sasha amended as the corridor angled right and they turned into a wider one, voices echoing down along the stone walls.

There was a hollow, dripping sound somewhere in the distance. Raine raised her eyebrows marginally, glancing at him with a faint smile. "Not Azkaban. I'm fairly certain that I don't have any relatives there," she murmured: "Not yet anyway."

Psychiatric hospitals made for better homes; better for the insane. Merlin knew what went on within Azkaban; she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know. And yet. The Gryffindor's eyes followed a movement against the wall-- Maurice had treaded ahead of them, a silhouette of black barely within the reach of her illumination.

"I might have, when I was too little to recall." Raine replied in a monotone and then looked back towards her classmate. "It can't be that depressing. People say that they don't do well behind locked doors but isn't that what life is, essentially?" Down in the dungeons, there was something rather conducive of philosophical discussion.

"We lock ourselves inside of routines or comfort zones, and we can't leave..."  she grimaced slightly: "We don't want to." Maurice made a sound and Raine turned away from Sasha, gesturing her wand forward to see further down the passageway.

"Oh.  Good, then," Sasha offered, quietly, missing Raine's slight smile as he paused to check a door along the hallway.  The door opened readily enough, revealing a small, empty storage room.  "I don't think I have any living relatives in prison.  Well, I don't have any dead ones, either.  Or, not anymore, obviously.  They don't keep ... dead people in ... nevermind.  I'm sorry." 

He sighed as he started down the corridor, again.  Small talk was definitely not his thing; he'd known that even before he'd managed to, literally, stumble over his own conversation. 

But, if idle chat about convict family members was considered small talk, the shift towards philosophy was definitely not.  Even Sasha could recognize that.  Or, at least, on Raine's end the topic was simply philosophy.  For Sasha, it was anything but.  After all, he hadn't been talking about people in general - he'd been talking about himself.  Though, very few of his classmates knew much at all about the times Sasha had been away from school last year; they just hadn't been topics conducive to casual conversation.

"They aren't the same thing," Sasha said, firmly and resolutely.  "I like my routines and I suppose I have my comfort zones-" in studying and being around that small group of people he trusted.  "But, locking yourself in to your own patterns and being locked into an enclosed space against your will by someone else are two very, very different things."

While conversation wasn't necessarily one of Raine's strongest points, she had to admit that anyone could come across as silver-tongued across from the Ravenclaw prefect. She smiled to herself as he tripped over sentences and meanings, not even bothering to wave away his apology. It was superfluous.

Their combined eloquence was unimpressive but she hadn't expected a serious response to her musings on routines and locked rooms. Most would have dismissed the heavy tone of discussion; Sasha was hardly considered most, however. Academic reaches aside, he hadn't experienced a typical year at Hogwarts in the previous term-- at least from what she could gather.

"I suppose so," Raine conceded and stopped at a junction once they had rounded one passageway. Maurice paused at the lead and then turned back to walk past them into the untaken corridor. She watched this quietly before following. "But then I'd have to ask myself which is more depressing: the prison we build for ourselves or the one we're forced into."

The Gryffindor looked up into the dark just beyond the reach of their wand light. "I don't like patterns," she added abruptly: "It's too easy to become comfortable with one. Especially one you don't realize you've settled into."

It wasn't that Raine recognized this in her classmate. It simply irked her, the complacency that she presumed him to possess. Nobody should feel that at peace with themselves.

"Guess you'd have to experience both to really know the answer to that," Sasha said.  Retrospectively, Sasha realized that response might have come across as curt.  But, it hadn't been intended as such; he'd meant it in full seriousness.  After all, he didn't know if Almsay had only experienced the routine side of the equation.  If so, her response made sense.  "Weren't you ever grounded?  You know, locked in your room for who knew how long?  I don't know - I don't mind routine.  I'd rather eat breakfast at the same time every morning than be locked in a room."

But, Sasha supposed that different people could have very different answers to that question.  And, it probably depended on the specifics of each scenario.  "I mean," Sasha continued, only half aware his internal thoughts were actually being voiced aloud. "If you're comparing being in the habit of eating grapefruit every morning to being trapped in a mining cave in with only a day's worth of oxygen, then the choice is pretty obvious."  Who wouldn't take grapefruit over slow asphyxiation?

"You don't like being comfortable?" Sasha asked.  Initially, that seemed a weird concept to him.  He liked logic and predictability.  Not every day needed to be the same, "I like to have prearranged goals - to know what will mark a successful day.  But, my sister's more like you.  She gets nervous if things get too settled or predictable." 

Sasha shrugged and took a few steps in silence.  Then, quietly, he added: "Still - you really think it's worse to be in control of your own pattern than be locked away when someone else has all the control?"

It took Raine a little longer than she would have liked to discern the fact that, perhaps, she might have very nearly treaded onto her companion's toes in conversation. Figuratively. His initial response shook her from the impression that their discussion might not be objectively philosophical.

"Being grounded doesn't count," she replied with a dry smile to herself: "All it takes is slipping out when nobody is looking. And they have to look away at some point." If there was a way into a box, why then there was always a way out. Her gaze shifted as the pair turned with the passageway, cat leading the way-- his collar bell curiously noiseless.

Sasha made sense. He was right, to an extent. She didn't like the idea of being forced into a prison and the very idea made her feel claustrophobic, trapped. But it seemed like a distant fear. "People like being comfortable. That's the problem; it makes us lazy," the Gryffindor murmured and then twisted her wand slightly, causing the glow of her wand to extend further down the corridor before Maurice was swallowed by the dark.

"Still - you really think it's worse to be in control of your own pattern than be locked away when someone else has all the control?" Schlagenweit asked. Raine felt her expression tense at the question, ruminative.

It was the phrasing that bothered her. "No, that isn't my meaning. I think it is worse to be responsible for trapping yourself in a pattern than it is to be trapped in a prison by someone else," she glanced at the Ravenclaw fleetingly: "If someone else traps you, then you can say that you did your best, which is all any of us can hope to do. But if it's your own fault..."

Raine trailed off and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm probably getting ahead of myself. At any rate, I don't think that anyone can have complete control of a prisoner. There are no extremes in reality." They reached another stairwell leading deeper down into the dungeon and she paused at the landing.

"Why don't you think you would do well behind locked doors?" she posed the question without looking at Sasha, eyes fixed on the barely lit steps. "I suppose nobody ultimately does. That's why people fear Azkaban and psychiatric hospitals."

"I suppose."  The Ravenclaw's delivery in no way matched the quasi-agreeable content of his words.  Again, he supposed, everything was a matter of perspective but, on the few occasions he'd been grounded, thoughts of sneaking out were the furthest thing from his mind.  He'd seen his sister sneak out and get caught enough times to know it wasn't worth it. 

But, perhaps her parents were more lenient about subversiveness.  "Sneaking out only works if they're also looking the other way when you return.  And, the whole time you were gone.  If you can't be assured of that then it all kind of comes down to weighing the risks with the benefits.  But, even then, aren't they still technically in control?  You're just deciding whether to chose what's behind door number 1 or door number 2.  They've still decided what to place behind each of the doors." 

"It's not a causal relationship.  Being comfortable doesn't make us lazy."  Being comfortable had never made him more lazy.  And, he suspected, those that really wanted to be lazy would find a way, whether they were comfortable or not.  People chose their personal levels of ambition and constructed a life around them to allow for it.  "What you're outlining is a perpetually unachievable goal.  If being uncomfortable is necessary for productivity but people strive for comfort, either they're destined to achieve their goals but become lazy or live in perpetual discomfort.  That seems a very ... bleak outlook.  Then, in that thought process, haven't you already trapped yourself in your own unachievable quest?" 

Perhaps, sometime in the past, Sasha might have agreed with Raine.  There was probably a time when Sasha believed it was worse to be one's own captor.  But, that was before he'd known the flip side.  Of being trapped by someone you'd never met and not knowing why you were there.  Of having no way to get out and no way of knowing what would happen to you. 

"If it's your fault, you usually know your own motives.  And-"  He really had no way of replying to the concept of being someone else's complete prisoner without sounding ... well, without revealing more than Raine probably wanted to know. 

And, yet, she was asking for details.  He shrugged, awkwardly.  "Because, I've been there.  Locked behind doors you didn't chose to be behind.  By people you don't know.  And, knowing with certainty that the only way out was probably-"  Sasha shook his head, unable to say 'death.'  "I guess, self-preservation is our ultimate captor." 

Arguing, in Raine's opinion, was an entertaining pastime. A good way to get to know people and an excellent method to pass the time, which was essentially a rendition of their late night prefect patrols. It was easy to become weary of silence and footsteps. Even so, she found that Schlagenweit's tone was getting on her nerves.

"Ah, but it's not simply a matter of door number one and door number two," she explained with a perturbed expression: "At least not for me. With parents, it is more like a negotiation. They have more control but we have some measure of influence." Her wand switched hands, the left one now tired of holding up the light.

"Though you are right about comfort. It is a bleak outlook, if I put it that way. And even if that doesn't bother me, I suppose I don't really think it makes as lazy," the Gryffindor glanced at Sasha, realizing for once that that her weakness with words did not help in such conversations."But I do think there is such a thing as becoming too comfortable."

They were still on the landing, about to descend into the lower dungeon when he'd answered her question about being trapped behind locked doors. Raine found herself looking up from the steps, eyebrows raised marginally in surprise and blue eyes trained to her companion's face. Any irritation she'd felt for him suddenly evaporated, replaced by a pinprick of culpability.

"Oh..." she trailed off, blinking at him. Raine was accustomed to thinking that she was a rather sad, miserable looking creature-- but looking at Sasha right now, she thought that he seemed much sadder than most. Not pitiable, however... and not quite what she had expected from the king of stuffed shirts. "I'm sorry," she murmured in monotone and then, in a much stronger voice added: "Really."

"I shouldn't have dragged that out of you," her lips pulled into an apologetic half-smile. If anything, Raine could sympathize with not wanting to talk about disagreeable pasts. Maurice yowled abruptly from somewhere at the bottom of the stairwell and she glanced away, shining a light down. The cat was urging them on. "We'd better keep going if we want to get out of the dungeons soon."

Giving Sasha another quick look, Raine started down the stairs. "Abby was right. There is something underneath all that Schlawkward," she commented: "You do an excellent job of hiding it."

A glance towards Almasy revealed the irritation in the Gryffindor's expression.  Sasha sighed and turned to face forward, scowling slightly, as he grew quiet.  He suddenly became very aware of the page of notes folded conveniently in his pocket.  He tucked his thumb underneath his bag strap in a conscientious effort to avoid dragging them out and burying himself in them. 

He'd expected this and it had been the biggest source of hesitation for returning to Hogwarts.  It had been there at Figaro's party and had been a large part of why he'd left.  He'd always had difficulty connecting with his classmates.  He was a bookworm-y Ravenclaw through and through and small talk had never been his forte.  Some people - mostly other Ravenclaws got that.  Some, like Fergie and Neely and Abby, found it amusing and tolerable.  Now - after everything last year and all the missed weeks of school - that feeling of disconnect was exacerbated. 

"I suppose," Sasha said, vaguely, unsure whether he could pursue the conversation in any given direction without adding to the irritation.  He followed her in silence, still actively resisting the temptation to pull his notes from his pocket when Almasy pulled up at the top of the stairs. 

Color flooded Sasha's cheeks and he shuffled uncomfortably as she regarded him.  After a few breaths, she ... well, she apologized.  The color in his cheeks deepened and he shrugged.  "It's okay." Sasha shook his head.  "I ... they say I should be talking about it more, anyway.  It just...I know people don't want to hear me complain.  It isn't exactly something that just fits into casual conversation."  He shrugged, again.  "I'm not really good at casual conversation, anyway."  Which was probably obvious enough by now it was superfluous to point it out. 

Almasy started down the stairs and Sasha followed but hesitated, again, halfway down.  "Schlawkward?"  He repeated and then offered a slight grin.  "That sounds like Abby.  Did she say that?"  He grinned, again, then hurried down the stairs after Almasy.  "We went horseback riding over the summer.  She said I'm supposed to say that.  It's good casual conversation starter or something."

The lower dungeon was colder, damper than the one above them. It was not very pleasant and the sound of dripping water was a little louder here, though still in the distance. Raine could imagine caretakers and professors trying uselessly to find the leaky faucet that, she supposed, must have persisted for centuries. Quirks of an ancient castle.

Sasha reacted far more favourably than expected to the play of words on his name. Schlawkward was correct but she wondered if he realized than it didn't always apply. The Ravenclaw seemed almost talkative at the mention of Abby's name and as they reached the foot of the stairs, she caught a glimpse of a grin that made him seem relatively normal. Less like a bookworm, more like a fellow who'd gotten a very rare Chocolate Frog card.

Raine smirked at his reaction. "Yes, Schlawkward was mentioned in one of her letters. I've also been asked to keep you from... communing with the giant squid, or something of the sort. It escapes me." Most of Abby's letters tumbled through her mind in a mess of colours and peculiar humour. She liked it. "She also told me about the horse riding."

As far as casual conversation went, Raine wasn't certain how well horse riding rated on the scale of interesting subjects. Most wizards probably preferred brooms or, Merlin forbid, Hippogriffs. Abby could talk casually about anything, however. "I must congratulate you on helping her to overcome her fear of horses." The Gryffindor smiled slightly: "Flying is more to my taste but Sanya and I used to go horse riding when we were younger, with the muggle children. I suppose it is a good conversation starter."

"Hobbies in general are," she added musingly. "You ride professionally, don't you? That... must be a lot on your plate." If work was a buffet table, Sasha probably heaped his servings and went for seconds. And thirds, and fourths.