He should have known better. As Head Boy he should have been the good example. Upholding the rules and making sure that not too many students crossed the line tonight should have been his top priority, but as he stood at the corner of the hall, he could not care less. An hour ago, at the corner of his eye, he saw a sixth year student spiking the drinks, but the only thing he did was turn his head to the opposite direction. Right beside him, a fifth year openly bewitched one of the seats--a form of prank to set chaos running freely around the castle, but all he did was turn a blind eye and pretend that he noticed nothing before walking away.
It could backfire on him, he knew that. This was blatant negligence of duties, of his responsibilities, but he gave no fucks. Deep within the crevices of his mind, he knew that if the Amos from last year had been standing in front of him, he'd be shaking his head in disappointment by now. But the thing was, again, he did not care. At this point, already in his fourth glass of that blood red 'magic punch', his sense of responsibility was starting to slip further and further away from him. So when he came across another student trying to jinx whatever it was he was trying to magick, the only thing he said was, "If you're gonna set that off, make sure it's not within a hundred metres of me. Or you're dead, you got that?" And then he was walking away from the scene, still clutching his glass, and not even caring when he bumped into someone, a drawl of, "Not my fault, you were in the way, mate," slipping easily from his lips before he drowned it with another gulp from his glass.
