Lua had been adjusting to wearing the prefect badge: it didn’t have quite the same sunny sheen or invitation as a bright burst of jewelry or a quirky patterned scarf. Most of the trinkets Lua wore were homemade and had lots of love behind them, or else had been fished out of a flea market bin and were whimsically hung on her person. It was a collection of knickknacks that wholly represented her and which accumulated new bits and bobs over time, ever-evolving, like brilliant dust bunnies. Old favorite necklaces she could be plucked from the pile at a moment’s notice, worn warmly because they’d been gifts from her siblings or were beaded with memories. The few pieces that remained steadfast, the ones she wore daily, were so much a part of her that Lua often forgot they were there. Not out of neglect, but comfort.

Now that the badge was one of them, she spent more time than usual pondering its weight on her sweater. (Or not enough, by some people’s estimation.) It was something to live up to as much as it was something that spoke of her character. That bit of it, the expectation, occasionally took the Taylor girl by surprise.

She hadn’t anticipated it, the weariness in the eyes of others when they saw it pinned there— she was still Lua!— but she had quickly learned to give everyone else the benefit of the doubt. (Or, rather, hadn’t learned to do the opposite). Lua, at least, knew what it was like to enjoy a little rule-breaking and suddenly see one of those out of nowhere. The badges could be scary, even if the people they were attached to usually weren’t. Thus, she’d adopted the progressive method of giving people second… and sometimes third… chances.

Which was probably why she’d landed on rounds with Jordyn Dimbleby tonight.

“I think if we give people a break once in a while, they’ll think about how we handled it the next time they go to break rules, and they might try to behave a little more.” Maybe. Not really. Lua knew her friends too well, but she also knew that little white lies were sometimes healthy. A little curfew breaking or playfulness in the corridors wasn’t harmful! Really, they just had to wait for the rules to catch up to modernity. “Giving is always better than taking, isn’t it?” Lua wanted to be a good prefect, but she also wanted to be a good person. The taking in question— of points— was something the Gryffindor had yet to do. “Positive energy goes around. Just give some out and you’ll get twice as much back. I was thinking of bringing it up in the next Prefect meeting, actually. Er, when is that?” She grinned hopefully at the other girl.

It wasn’t that Lua Taylor was a bad prefect, but she was nice.  Jordyn had spent quite a while thinking about it because it would help her with helping Lua, but she knew a couple of things about the young Gryffindor.  She was nice and she was worried about what people thought of her, or at least cared about others, and that generally got in the way of people being exceptionally good at being Prefects.  Sure, there were some who were well liked and managed to maintain balance, but for younger prefects, newly appointed ones, it often lacked balance. 

Jordyn had been keeping track of the prefects for the first couple of weeks of school, she wanted to make sure she got to the new ones.  She decided she would try with Lua first.  She was one of the only prefects (by her estimation) who had yet to take even a single point from her house.  So, it was imperative to start with the cases that might have needed the most guidance.

Besides, it was a distinct part of being Head Girl to monitor others, to step in and teach them how to do things.  Tradition was tradition and the station had existed for nearly as long as the school had, so there were certain things that had to be done.  Patrol, monitoring behavior, and serving as an example were all part of it, in addition to the social aspects (which she suspected Taylor would have extra skills at). 

Walking in the halls, she kept an even pace with practiced steps.  “At the beginning of October,” she answered her question easily, imagining the agenda for that as she walked: updates, recurring infractions they needed to address, Halloween Ball… Her mind could wander because she knew the routes for patrols so well; even half a year without a badge had not been enough to keep her from knowing where she was in the castle.  “I appreciate your positivity,” Jordyn began, knowing you couldn’t just go in on a person to start (she’d learned that the hard way), “but you have to remember something: if a student can get in trouble and get away with it, they’re going to.” 

“I know it seems like you’re thinking the worst in people, but honestly, it’s just who we are.  If we know we can do something without a consequence, we’re going to do it,” Jordyn had done this on more than one occasion.  When there was no risk, there was no (re: very little) guilt about what you were doing.  “I’m not saying you have to completely change,” she soothed, “but setting limits will never hurt you.  People have to know you’re serious, Lua.” 

Lua imagined a massive calendar in Jordyn’s head, all detailed and neatly scrawled. Maybe colorful, too, since Lua liked a nice, bright planner— it was generally the colors that made her think to start one in the first place. There were as many doodles, stickers, and highlighted bits of nonsense in Lua Taylor’s planners as there were appointments. Beyond listing her homework (and generally remembering to cross it out after she completed it), the other to-do’s were recorded optionally. Events like Hogsmeade weekends and parties were the most frequent, in huge fluttery sprawls with plenty exclamation points.

Lua nodded, high speed, appearing to listen to Jordyn. But then...

“But there’s a difference between trouble and… trouble,” she argued jovially, her voice matching her gesture— which would have been bashful, if Lua was. She bobbed her head to the side and smile as they walked, her own quick pace matching Jordyn’s, but looking none too polished or authoritative. It was more hummingbird. “Can’t you let little things slide sometimes without it causing an avalanche? I just don’t want to suppress anyone’s self expression.” Because some people were just late for things by nature. And understanding could go a long way. The people should trust their government!

The Taylor girl drew in a little breath, her eyes becoming animated. She had to disagree with the part about people’s nature— wise as Jordyn was. “Maybe they’re just misguided, not trying to be dishonest on purpose.” Her belief in good was serious. “My mum says if you let kids flourish, they’ll find the right path eventually. One or two might turn out like the Tim down the street, but that happens when you suppress people, too! He’s nice, really, he just really loves mead a little too much. He’s a great painter, though. He does freelance jobs.” Lua quite liked Tim, but to Jordyn he was probably a stranger. “But there are lots of Tims of the world who had too many limits!”

There had to be balance. “Have you ever tried yoga, Jordyn?” There was earnestness in her sideways look of inquiry.

Lua was so… sweet.  She had such an optimistic view of the school and the differences between types of trouble.  “I can see how you’d think that,” Jordyn was trying not to be patronizing.  She liked Lua, genuinely, but she couldn’t have a weak link in her team.  A good person was not always a good prefect.  She was still struggling to see the balance in herself, let alone other people.  “And sometimes, little trouble leads to big trouble.  You just never know.” 

“It’s why I try to be as even as possible.  You don’t want people to complain about unfair treatment or something like that.  It could lose you your badge.”  Okay, maybe that never happened, but Jordyn figured it might if you were not doing what you were supposed to, and Lua wasn’t doing a bad job-  but the slippery slope was something that went both ways.  “It’s not like you’re telling them what they can and can’t write on a parchment, Lua, but if someone’s breaking the rules, that’s not self expression: it’s just breaking the rules.” 

Jordyn was a little short sighted in that way, she didn’t really know what could be a way around the rules or what you could classify as self expression versus a flagrant disregard for the things that keep the school together.  But, Lua was bringing her mum into it and from the way Lua spoke, it actually seemed like she cared for her mum and her opinion so Jordyn wanted to make sure that she didn’t hurt Lua’s feelings.  “Not that your mum isn’t right – I think that’s true, when you have one or two children in a house, but at a school…” she shrugged, “there’s just hundreds of students and so many of them might change that idea.” 

Tim sounded like quite the character though, and Jordyn wasn’t sure she wanted too many Tims running around the school, particularly with love of mead.  That would be bad.  Raising her eyebrows at Lua’s question, Jordyn pursed her lips.  “I can’t say I have,” she answered honestly, “Do you recommend it?” she smirked, trying to imagine herself breathing and posing and doing all of the weird things she assumed went with yoga. 

“Because I imagine if I gave that a try, then you could give this,” she motioned to the hallway, an abstract way to represent the idea of patrol and the prefect, “a try my way?”

She was right, they didn’t know. But they did have their ears and eyes and magic! And instinct! Lua wasn’t shy about getting to know people, even if she gave most of them the benefit of the doubt. She trusted her intuition— sometimes too much. Read people a little too nosily. But she was sure the team of prefects could stop a domino effect if they did go too softly on people. Which wasn’t bound to happen, since most of them didn’t share Lua’s approach.

Lua nodded and then shook her head. They did want to be even, and they didn’t want their badges taken! “But someone’s intentions have to count. If a person accidentally breaks the rules with good intentions…” Didn’t they deserve a less harsh punishment? A way to make up for it? “You don’t really want to take fifty points from someone who’s trying to help a friend, do you?”

In those cases, she supposed she’d be deferring to others.

Lua tried her hardest not to smile at Jordyn’s endearing assumption about one or two children. She’d grown up with a gaggle of them.

“That makes it sort of fun, though. And gives you way more chances to learn! Every person can teach you something.” Even the sometimes-intimidating Head Boy. He had the badge for a reason! “But obviously right now I need to learn from you.” She grinned, hoping Jordyn knew she meant well. She wasn’t trying to break rules while discussing breaking rules…

Her eyes brightened considerably— a feat— and Lua drew a breath as if she were standing on a ledge. “Oh, yes! It’ll help with your balance and anxiety— not that you have any—” Lua was careful, gentle, though inwardly it was safe to assume Jordyn Dimbleby had plenty. “And your dexterity. That’s actually really important to wandwork.”

It was a compromise she thought she could make. Trying new things was very Lua. “Yeah, I think I could do that.” She held out a wand of good will, always a touchy feely sort.