Stepping Down, Moving Up Solo Fin.

May 16^th

Nights alongside the Great Lake were never really warm, yet with summer creeping closer, they had certainly lost their frigid bite. It was ideal. Picturesque, even, with the way a lukewarm breeze rattled the branches, sending shallow ripples across black water. It was almost soothing enough to drop one's guard. Pericles found it funny, reflecting on all the nights he had rigidly scoured the shores for late-night curfew breakers. Bullies had a bizarre fixation with throwing their peers into the lake. Many a hopeful had waded out with scraps from dinner, hoping to bait a sighting of the giant squid. Tonight it was quiet. He wasn't troubled, instead darkly amused while remembering those many nights spent on-edge, expecting to cross paths with hags or dark wizards, memories and nightmares melding with his waking hours. These days, he found himself merely going through the motions. Though keen-eyed and sharp-eared, he did not stalk the grounds in a state of tension. Pericles drifted like a sleepwalker, going so far as to remove his boots and haul them in one hand, enjoying the cool grass beneath each step. His empty hand fiddled with the trademark Prefect badge on his chest. Pausing alongside a boulder, the eagle leaned his hip and shoulder, unclasping the accessory.

Three years of prefectdom- but for what? His father's approval, to rattle himself out of his comfort zone, to help his peers? Well, he had recently set aside a childish fixation with paternal praise. Nothing about Hogwarts enabled him to remain too comfortable for too long. He could help his peers just as well without a badge, surely. All the reasons to keep it were behind him now. But oh, how he would miss this; patrolling the night, savoring the silent grounds, passing a comradely nod to the rare prefect in passing. He enjoyed the additional freedoms that badge provided, though that was hardly a proper reason to continue wearing it. Throughout his tenure the warlock-in-progress had executed only the most minute infractions- enough to say he'd broken a handful of rules, without abusing his authority or deserving to have his badge revoked. If there was no badge to be taken away, he would feel less guilty about divulging into that trademark teenage rebellion....

Regardless of where this took him, Pericles knew he needed to clear his head, clear his schedule, create a clean slate. He struggled to help the school solve its problems when his own were looming. Step down from staff, move up in mentality. Shed his obligations to pursue his passions, or... that was the theory. There was always the possibility of fading into the background as one of those strange, implacably familiar faces most have seen but never met. Churning calculations spluttered as nostalgia crept in. He brushed a thumb over the gleaming badge, committing its weight to memory. Maybe he would wear it again, someday in the far-off, utterly ambiguous future. Tonight, he would conclude his patrols per the usual, then leave his badge on the Head of House's desk with a frank message declaring his withdrawal. Three steadfast years as a prefect brought to an abrupt end.
Then again, it may prove to be a different brand of beginning.