After breakfast, Severus and Rowan split their day with Severus minding the common room while he studied, and Rowan minding the halls until lunchtime. After lunch, they'd switch duties until dinner. After which they'd remain in the common room and maybe enjoy some free time, before ensuring that all the snakelings were properly tucked into their beds at the end of the night. Even on the weekends, a Prefect's tedious responsibilities never were over.
After docking points from a group of first and second years, Rowan pointedly directed them towards the infirmary. She watched the bruised group limped or cradled their arms and wrists as they headed towards the infirmary. She really hated Zonko's. It was all fun and games until someone slipped on a slippery stone floor covered in frog spawn soap.
In a sudden turn of events, the amateur pranksters discovered that they were now the tragic victims of their own prank. They suddenly couldn't get up anymore because they kept slipping back down onto the painfully hard, but very slippery stone floor. Bruises were the least of their problems as a couple of them had sprained ankles, wrists, and possibly a fractured bone or two. In fact, they were quite relieved when Rowan showed up to rescue them by clearing the floor of the frog spawn soap.
Feeling an impending headache, Rowan closes her eyes for a moment and rubs her temples. She might just have to take a trip down to the infirmary before lunch to ask Madam Pomfrey for a headache solution. It would be awkward, no doubt, but she had never had quite so many headaches until this year.
Deciding to find a quiet place to rest for a moment, Rowan turns further down into the corridors deeper in the castle. The castle is rather dark as the torches flicker from a brisk breeze within the stone hallways as the fierce sleet-like rain pitter-patters against the windows. A storm roars on the grounds tossing anything not pinned to the ground into the sky for flight. Even the Whomping Willow branches are forcibly moved from the torrent of winds. For not even the foolhardiest of Gryffindor's didn't venture onto the grounds and hence why they and other energetic younger students are erroneously channeling their energy into unsuitable ventures!
A soft cry of pain causes Rowan to halt in her musings craning her ears towards the source. The cry sounds further away again as she carefully sneaks closer towards the source of the sound. Soon the sounds of a loud scuffle are heard as she hurriedly rounds the corner with her wand in her hand. A group of second-year transfer students surrounded a tightly curled-up form on the ground.
A wave of furry crashes through Rowan as just for a moment she sees red. Barely controlling herself, she manages to cast the Stunning Spell, "Stupfey!" Red sparks emerge from the tip of her wand and smash into the group of second-year transfer students causing them all to stiffen and fall to the ground thoroughly stunned.
Taking deep breaths, Rowan calms herself as best as she can. It was small things like this that reminded her of the toll the Death Surge within her body. She idly wondered for a moment if this is how Riddle also began his descent into madness, before succumbing, and becoming that which he was today.
Forcibly pinching herself, Rowan reminds herself of her duties and kneels onto the floor. "It's alright, I've got you," she soothingly said as the arms protecting the curled-up figure's head slowly relaxed to allow a pale face with dark hair and soulless black eyes to peek out.
"Lorcan!" Rowan gasped in recognition as she hastily studied the first year Hufflepuff. There were bruises on his face and his lips are badly swollen with a bit of blood from a small cut across his lips.
"Can you stand?" Rowan asked as she rose to her feet and offered him a hand.
"I think so, Prefect Prince," Lorcan quietly replied and with a wince climbed onto his feet cradling his badly bruised side, while his other arm hangs limply at his side.
Rowan's face darkens with outrage, but she forces herself not to dwell on the beating lest that irritational wave of anger takes over again. "Lorcan, I need you, to be honest with me. Is this the first time this has happened?"
Lorcan's soulless black eyes look away as he unconsciously hunches his neck towards his shoulders as if to protect himself. "It's the first time, it's been this bad, honest, Prefect Prince," Lorcan loudly said. "It's been better with the mentorship's in place keeping an eye on the older transfer students. It's just that I got caught unawares without Glenda, Lockhart, or Jacob! I'm usually more careful, but I wanted to grab a book from the library to read."
"You don't have to explain yourself, Lorcan," Rowan firmly replied. "There is no excuse for these older boys to jump you for no reason."
Lorcan shrinks even further to Rowan's concerned expression. "It wasn't their fault, Prefect Prince, it's just their instincts lashing out."
Rowan takes a deep breath to ensure that she does shout at the victim. She understood what Lorcan was trying to say, but that was no excuse. There are simply no excuses for violent acts simply committed out of sheer boredom.
"And why do you say that, Lorcan?" Rowan patiently tried to ask and may not have been entirely successful as there was an edge to her tone of voice.
"I'm still half-vampire, Prefect Prince," Lorcan quietly answered as his head ducked down lower. "Even cured now, they've still got werewolf instincts. And well, I don't need to tell you that Vampires and Werewolves don't get along."
"I don't believe that is the case at all, Lorcan," Rowan steadfastly retorted causing Lorcan to openly stare at her surprise. "I believe your friends prove otherwise, Lorcan. Your housemate, Mr. Clayton, and from Slytherin Miss Grimond, as well as young, Jeremy, and his two sisters in Gryffindor, Lucy, and Martha. These five are former werewolves and yet none of them have attacked you nor much less acted in an unfriendly manner towards you."
Lorcan opens his mouth to protest, but Rowan carries right over him. "Though you might argue otherwise, Lorcan, that is no excuse for these boys to simply take out their anger or insecurities on you. We are not done with this conversation, young man, but we will discuss this topic again. Now can you make it to the infirmary on your own, while I deal with these miscreants or not?"
"Yes, Prefect Prince," Lorcan hastily replied, before carefully stepping over the stunned bodies of his bullies.
"And Lorcan," Rowan's voice called out to the young half-vampire causing him to pause warily. "I will know if you don't visit, Madam Pomfrey to treat your wounds."
"I will, Prefect Prince," Lorcan quickly reiterated before hurrying away to the infirmary. His ribs really hurt. He thinks they might have even cracked a rib.
Rowan would have summoned someone to help Lorcan down to the infirmary, but she understood a victim's pride as well. Lorcan wouldn't want any of his friends to see him in that manner and he'd surely hide his wounds from them. The least she could do is to allow him to lick his wounds in comfort and to ensure that his wounds are tended too.