The Divination classroom is clean and brightly lit from the bright sunshine outside the window. The desks are arranged in their usual, neat horseshoe, with two seatings to each. The board is clean from any messes and it appears to have either not been used yet, or have been cleaned since it was last used in a class. Bonnie Kensington sits behind her desk, several books opened in front of her while she waits for the students to arrive for their first Divination class.

Clavicle Gravely comes in flipping some tarot cards about in his hands. he trots on in and looks for a place to sit. He moves to a table and after nodding his head low to Bonnie in greeting, he flops to a seat.

Saphia always looks nervous before a class. Every single one, except for Astronomy and History of Magic, in which she is confident of her ability in all areas. But for Divination, she looks downright terrified. Her posture is stiff, she glances around the room, she hunches over her books (PROTECTIVE BOOKS!) and sits a row back from the teacher, instead of her usual front row position. She seems to be expecting horrible punishment at any moment, and barely squeaks out, “Hi Clavicle.”

Sally Johnston walks in, giggling at some note she is reading. As she notices Bonnie at her desk, she hastily stuffs the note into her pocket and takes a seat at her normal table. Piling her school books on the table infront of her, she watches the professor patiently.

Climbing up into the class and brushing himself off Marcus Winsley doesn’t seem to have grown a single inch over the summer leaving him looking a tad out of place amongst his other third year peers. Waddling to his seat Marcus keeps a suspicious eye out as if looking to avoid somone in particular.

Clavicle Gravely grins at Saphia “Er.. no one is going to lick your books. I don’t think.” he chuckles. “So why are you… slinking and shrinking here? You’re usually at the front up here?”

Dragging her feet along behind her, it seems that even this early in the term, Morgana has been exhibiting some trouble with her sleeping habits. Either that, or she has merely spent the previous night awake until too late an hour with some task or another. She rubs at her eyes with one hand, as though trying to force some liveliness into her appearance, and she stifles a yawn, scoping the classroom for one particular person – and, seeing Marcus, seating herself down next to him uninvited and pulling her Divination things, as well as a piece of chocolate, out of her bag. To Marcus, she nods, her Divination book she opens, the chocolate she eats. Extra sugar boost required for the learning.

Standing as the class filters in and takes their seats in the horseshoe organization of the seats, the teacher pauses behind her desk, as if waiting for them to just realize that they ought to pay attention to her. “Ahem.” A pause. “Hello, third years. My name is Professor Bonnie Kensington. I’m, quite obviously, your Divination professor. Please call me Professor Kensington. Now, if I could have you introduce yourselves, first and last name only, from my left here and then take your seats. I want to go over some basic things in regards to Divination, but first, your names.”

Saphia Bona blurts out her name as soon as she’s called and then doesn’t seem to stop talking, “Saphia Bona, Professor and I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry but I just couldn’t finish the reading,” She seems both utterly apologetic and blithely unaware of the boundaries of the task set to her. “I got through Vablatsky alright and I tried, I really tried to get the Gartner text finished but it was just so long and I couldn’t finish it! I’m so sorry.” She trembles, awaiting punishment.

Cringing when Morgana sits next to him Marcus looks over at her and doesn’t dare say anything to the contrary. Perking his ears as the Professor speaks Marcus waits till it comes to him and stands “Marcus Winsley” He speaks up in that high nasaley voice of his before flopping back down in his seat again while raising an eyebrow at Saphia’s stammering appologie.

Clavicle Gravely smiles a touch at Saphia, “I am Clavicle Gravely, the Third.” he grins at Saphia and shakes his head, “You weren’t supposed to read the entirety of the book Saphia.”

Sally Johnston stands when it is her turn, saying, “Sally Johnston, Professor Kensington.” She then reaktes her seat, crossing her legs at the ankle. She doesn’t say much else. She just looks at the people as they each introduce themselves.

“Morgana DeWitt.” The girl offers in turn, stretching back idly and eying Saphia. Has the Slytherin girl done any Divination reading? Her incredulous expression as she eyes Saphia would indicate not, but perhaps she’s just surprised that anyone would attempt to read the entirety of the textbook. She adds nothing further to her introduction, though she does stretch out lazily, watching Professor Kensington, but also keeping an eye on Marcus out of the corner of her eye. There’s probably some cunning reason for it. Maybe she just likes watching him.

“Alright, well, when I say first and last name only, I mean it. Miss Bona, you are not required to read that entire book this year, let alone before beginning the class; that is meant to last over five years. Mister Gravely, I would appreciate it if you let me run the class from here on out. Now, Divination seems to come with a great deal of stereotypes about what it does and does not include. What have you heard about the subject? What things does it include?” Bonnie turns and pulls out her wand, charming the bit of chalk sitting below the chalk board. It poises itself just away from the chalk board, ready to write down the suggestions. “Discuss amongst yourselves, and I will take what you come up with and clarify it before the end of the class.”

Clavicle says, “Well, my uncle Ulnus taught me to say creepy things to muggles in the carnival. But I don’t think that’s divination, I think it’s bilking.” he shrugs a bit and looks at Saphia. “I don’t know if any Gravelly has ever had the all seeing eye. Is this a subject you can learn or do you have to possess some gift?”"

Sally Johnston shrugs and looks over towards Marcus, saying, “I heard we’d be able to read people’s minds and stuff like that. Didn’t you?” Looking over at Clavicle, Sally winces, asking, “Do we have to touch eyes or something? There’s just weird.”

“Read people’s minds?” Asks Marcus “I don’t think so… you’re thinking of occlumencey… or even the use of a pensieve.” Remarks the large nosed boy looking at Sally as though she had a second head or somthing. “Were going to learn to predict the future though… obviously….”

Having failed to get into trouble (She got in more trouble for apologizing than having failed to read the book! How bizarre!) Saphia seems to calm down an awful lot, and breathes in and out a few times before answering Clavicle, “It can’t be learned, no. It’s a gift, similar to Parseltongue. Either you have it, or you don’t. Well, at least that’s my understanding from the reading. There might be answers in the other half of the textbook that contradicts me. Or in the quarter of the book I read but didn’t even begin to understand. It’s a gift that needs to be developed, however, if it is possessed, you don’t just get it and it’s perfect.”

As is fairly usual for her, Morgana remains entirely silent on the subject for a moment, sitting up a little straighter again and twirling her quill through her fingers. After a moment, she offers, “It is not unlike what we were learning in Astronomy last year – horoscopes, personality predictors, telling the future. Not just horoscopes, of course. Do you not remember Professor Fallon saying that the horoscopes were a part of the Divination course, though?” Clucking her tongue as if her point is the be all and end all of Divination, combined with a tiny bit of derision towards the other students, for not knowing what was so obvious to her, and pride at her own words. A bit too much pride, indeed.

Sally Johnston looks at Marcus, saying, “If you could reach someone’s mind, you’d be able to predict the future pretty well.. Don’t you think so, Morgana?”

“I don’t see how… unless that person can see the future you’re just going to see a lot of useless garbage like gossipe… and the things they do in there every day lives.” Remarks Marcus a bit annoyed. But the boy nearly always looks annoyed so it’s probably nothing.

Clavicle Gravely hmms. “Well I know how to tell people what they want to hear. I doubt that’s what the professor wants.” he sighs. “Bother… I’m good at doing this whole ‘creepy future seeing’ boy thing that makes muggles push money at you.”

Only shrugging in response to Sally’s question, Morgana lapses back into silence. Not so much shy silence, but an almost exasperated silence, as if she believes she is on a mental level higher than the others in the class. Perhaps she does believe such a thing, whether or not it’s true. With a certain adopted lazy superiority (which is really little more than an arrogant carriage and a bored look), she eyes several of her classmates as they speak, shaking her head at a few of them and clucking her tongue again with a certain ‘isn’t it obvious?’ air to others. Her silence is hardly likely to draw compliments, but nonetheless.

“Actually, there is some use in personality predicting and such within Divination,” Saphia nods to Morgana, surprisingly backing her up. “Divination’s all cloudy — It’s not a precise thing straight away. But if you know a person’s personality traits, you can get a better idea of which possibilities make sense and which are spurious. But it’s not just astronomy. You can predict the future by casting runes, reading tea-leaves, looking through dead animal entrails… what?” She looks over to one girl who is looking ill at her words. “It’s true! It’s called Augury!” She sighs and adds, “You can also watch the way mice run around if you want something cuter. That’s called Myomancy.”

Sally Johnston turns pale, and even alittle green at the mention of animal entrails.

Clavicle says, “And the muggles buy anything if it’s gross. you can pay an entire trains refurbishing rate on one village worth of people if you use entrails.” he nods at Saphia. “”We call it, ‘profit’.”"

“It’s not so bad though. It’s just like butchering a hog or some other stupid animal.” Marcus says entirely nonchalant. “You just get the bonus of rooting around through the intestines and heart looking for things like spots and weird tumors. It’s not nearly as disgusting as a plate of steamed broccoli.” Marcus makes a face at the thought of touching the green putrid stuff.

The statement from the Slytherin boy at least attracts Morgana‘s interest, if not her approval; she looks at him, fixing an entirely blank but perhaps somewhat penetrating gaze on him for at least a full thirty seconds, unblinking, before she turns back to the middle of the room without so much as a word. After a further moment, she adds, almost boredly, “I have never understood the concept of reading tealeaves. Who would be daft enough to tell the future to a pile of wet leaves?”

“Then of course, there’s bibliomancy,” Saphia concludes. “I like bibliomancy. I like it a lot. Oh!” Turning to Morgana, she explains, “It’s really more about shapes and signs. Similar to Pyromancy, actually. You look for shapes in the flames. Tea leaves, I suspect, are popular because they also come with a calming drink first. If anyone came up with a technique for divination via the froth on a butterbeer mug, I suspect that would be popular too.”

Sally Johnston looks over at the ravenclaw who talks about are these weird words she’s never heard before. Are they even in the same class?

“What would you call divination via butterbeer froth, I wonder?” Saphia wonders.

“Frothiomancy,” Sally suggests with a giggle.

Clavicle says, “Well some of these forms of divination aren’t so much divination so much as applying a structured order to a chaotic system. These forms are really tools some people use to try to find order in their chaotic lives.”"

Looking over at Saphia, the calm derision easily readable in her expression by even the worst Divination student, Morgana is silent for a moment, just looking at the girl, unblinking, for a period of several seconds. It seems that this, if nothing else, is one of her favourite ways to silence people. Finally, she replies, “I am aware, Bona. My remark is an example of what cultured people call a ‘joke’, so I understand why you may not have been able to comprehend.” She sighs heavily, in exasperation, if perhaps a little bit too dramatically, and leans back in her chair again, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

Clavicle Gravely immediately looks at Morgana, “And what do cultured people call rude, snobbish prats?”

Having stood aside and listened up until now, Bonnie shakes her head. “Alright, alright. That’s enough,” the woman interjects and holds her hands up. “The accepted versions of Divination are reading tea leaves, cartomancy, palmistry, astrology, yes, bird entrails, and crystal balls. Some of these have been leaked to Muggles, either by way of fraud or accidental mention. Muggles have taken it farther and have even invented some versions of their own. Miss Bona, that is not, unfortunately, an accurate method of Divination.” Bonnie does smile as she mentions this. “One point each to all of you for engaging in discussion. “As for taking this class, we will simply have to wait and see whether your gift presents itself. There is no way to know at present whether any of you have the gift of Seeing. It will develop itself over time with hard work and effective training. Alright, are there any specific questions?” Glancing over her shoulder at the board, there is a wealth of information copied there, haphazardly organized from the discussion that has ensued. “A point from each of you for malicious attitudes toward fellow students,” Bonnie retorts, giving pointed looks to those engaging in the more heated discussion.

Glancing over at the Ravenclaw boy at these words, it seems that Morgana cannot resist the obvious retort. With a smirk and a quiet snort, twirling her quill through her fingers, she offers, “‘Clavicle Gravely’?” Before shrugging vaguely and turning an innocent expression towards the Professor. Malicious attitudes? Never.

Glancing at Clavicle Marcus shakes his head. “I suppose your Uncle Soup-bone told you that Gravely?” Comes Marcus‘s less than friendly response. He has no idea what Clavicle’s family member’s names are so if there is a Soup-Bone it’s an incredibly lucky guess indeed. Marcus stays quiet as Clavicle speaks to Morgana though. Is he supposed to defend her? Marcus looks up to the teacher and decides to take down notes.

Sally Johnston giggles a bit as everyone fights. Meanwhile, she is scribbling down the stuff that Bonnie says, including how she got a point for her house.

Clavicle Gravely is about to stand as well, Family is one of his many buttons, Instead he smiles and holds a card up to his head. “Ohhh…am I ever seeing a prediction.”

Saphia Bona jabs Clavicle with her elbow. “Shush!”

Clavicle Gravely oofs but the narrowed eyes shows he’s not through. He puts his cards away.

Looking pointedly at Clavicle, Bonnie‘s face does not look so pleasant anymore. “Mister Gravely, if you are going to make a mockery of this class, you may leave now.” The woman crosses her arms and glances around the classroom. “Three points from Ravenclaw from that, and I’ll have you know I expect much better behavior from those in Ravenlaw house.” The woman shakes her head a moment and looks around the classroom. “Alright, no questions? I’ll have you all read the first three chapters from the Complete and Unabridged Guide to Everything in Divination, and the first two from Unfogging the Future, and I will want a full six inches for each chapter.” Looking harshly at the students one at a time, the woman pauses and lets this sink in. “Perhaps next time I see you all, you will be better behaved toward your peers.”

Sally Johnston can’t believe her ears. Her jaw drops open at having to read 5 chapters and write 2.5 feet! Eyeing the people who were argueing, she huffs loudly and flips open the Guide to Everything Divination, which is tattered and has weird stains on the over and first few pages, and starts to read.

Summing up in her head, Saphia concludes, “Two and a half feet. I can do that!” She packs up her bags, and happily walks past Professor Kensington on her way out to whisper, “Thank you for not being mad at me. I’ll keep reading the Guide, and I’ll get through as much of it as I can. Although I suspect I’ll only really understand a lot of it in time. Oh, oh, and I had a question. But I’ve forgotten it. Sorry. Maybe I’ll remember for next class?”

“All clear on that? Wonderful.” Bonnie comments and waves her wand harshly at the chalk behind her, causing it not only to fall to its catchall but also break cleanly in half while it sits there. “Class dismissed.” She sits down quickly and glances up at Saphia. “Certainly, ask me whenever you remember it. I’m here all the times posted on the board there, or you may leave a note for me in the staff room. Whatever works for you.”

Groaning at the six inch parchment assignment Marcus scribbles down hurriedly in his notes simply rolling his eyes at the entire situation. He takes his books and notes and carefully places them into his bag knowing that he’s going to have to share them with Morgana no matter what he wants. Marcus stands and makes his way out of the class avoiding Clavicle as he does, after all Marcus isn’t nearly so large as his mouth.

Clavicle Gravely stands and waits “I apologize Professor, I wasn’t thinking. ” he hangs his head low and walks to the door.

Sally Johnston packs up quickly and leaves without a word to anyone. It’s their fault, she’s decided. Then, the red head is gone.

Saphia Bona smiles, and walks out after Clavicle.

A bag slung over her shoulder, dragging her steps and massaging her temples as she enters the tower, it seems that Morgana DeWitt is not in the best of moods for class. In fact, she’s not in the best of moods for anything in particular, not that that is anything new. Dumping her bag on the floor by her feet, she leans against the wall, groaning quietly to herself as she continues to massage her temples. “Why am I even here?” She mutters. “I could be asleep. I could be doing just about anything. Why, oh, why, am I heeeeere…”

It’s midnight, but Saphia‘s not even half-way sleepy. Astronomy tonight! As always, she’s one of the first students to bound up to the tallest tower in Hogwarts, carrying only the required textbooks and her standard astronomy equipment, plus her quills, a purple dragonhide notebook, and a plate of chocolate muffins, balanced precariously on her school textbook. “Good evening, Professor Fallon!” she nods to the teacher as she enters shortly after Morgana. “I brought some chocolate muffins for everyone… I hope that’s alright. I think we could each get half a muffin and share evenly.” Saphia carefully puts the muffins down on the teacher’s desk, and then sorts her stuff out at her desk.

Already in the classroom, Avery Fallon is seated behind her desk, bent over an inch-high stack of papers. Circling a number in red on the top sheet, the professor exhales sharply as if in relief. She is only vaguely aware of the class filing in at first, and only looks up as Saphia greets her. “Hello,” she replies. “Wow… thank you,” Avery says, eyes wide at the muffin. Once she has organized the papers into order based on mark, the woman stands up, gathering the sheets in her arms as she surveys her class. “Good evening,” is her quick greeting as she steps forward a little, waiting for silence. “Your papers on outer moons have been graded!” Avery says in something of an astonished tone. “As… well… as usual, Saphia has taken first,” she comments as she hands a paper back to the girl, smiling. “However, I am overall quite pleased with the work from all of you,” she encourages as she continues handing back papers.

If Morgana even registers what the Professor is saying, she doesn’t entirely care, still rubbing at her temples and, as Saphia chirps away happily, glaring at her fellow second-year. At first, it is just a silent glare, but finally, she offers an explanation. “I feel like my brain has swollen up and is trying to force its way out of my head. This is not a chocolate muffin moment.” Surely there must be some method to relieve her headache. Like trepanning, even. A hole in her skull would certainly distract her from her pounding head.

Saphia Bona smiles somewhat dopily at the news that she took first in the class, and blushes embarrassedly. She whispers something to one of her Ravenclaw friends, who appears to be grumbling about his mark, and then turns her attention to Morgana, with a sympathetic frown. “Well, that’s no good, Morgana!” She looks down at her desk, suddenly deep in thought. But no, try as hard as she might, she can’t think of a way to make chocolate muffins cure a headache, at least not without using charms. Not that she knows how to use charms to cure a headache. Finally, she tilts her head back up to pay attention to the professor.

Giving Avery a big grin, Briony skips up to get her paper and then makes her way over to get her paper. “Thank you, Mrs Fallon!” Briony exclaims with some deliberation, for she is not used to calling the woman by ‘Fallon’ rather than Goden. Soon Briony is practically hopping back to her seat, with a grin at Saphia. “Congratulations for the score,” she tells the Ravenclaw and then glances to Morgana, who doesn’t look very pleased at all. “I’m sure Mrs Fallon wouldn’t appreciate you not coming, so you must be doing it to be nice.” She nods decisively as she says this. Briony is perhaps a bit giddy today.

Resisting the urge to pat Briony on the head as she chirps her thanks, Avery‘s face becomes a little emotionless at Morgana’s essay. DeWitt. Rafe’s sister. Fantastic. Now finished with handing out papers, Avery Fallon returns to the front of the room and sighs. “Now, aren’t we sad to be finished studying outer moons?” Avery asks, a hand to her chest as she nods with dramatic sympathy. “Luckily, our next topic is exciting, too,” Avery says, not completely without sarcasm. “I know you all read the introductory pages to astrology in your texts like I told you to last week,” the professor says hopefully. “As you know, astrology goes hand in hand with astronomy. Even though some of you will go on to take Divination next year and learn more details on the subject, it’s implied that you understand the basics here, first.” Scanning the class, Avery attempts to make eye contact with all her students as she continues. “All of you have a star sign based on the day of your birth, and a lot of you probably knew it even before last week’s reading homework.” Bracing herself for the noise, Avery says, “On the count of three, I want everyone to say their star sign out loud so that I know you did your homework.” Possibly the easiest homework-check Avery had ever heard of, that’s for sure.

Saphia Bona calls out in one long breathless word/sentence: “Leo-unless-you-use-the-chinese-methodology-in-which-case-it’s-Tiger!” She is, of course, overpowered by the many other students all yelling out their starsign at the same time.

Eying Briony with a raised eyebrow, Morgana has an excellent comeback just for this situation. “Urgh.” She mutters, clasping her hands to her forehead and resisting the urge to bash her head against a wall. That would not help. Then, after a moment, she looks up at the Professor, fixing a somewhat insolent glare on the Professor. “The cusp of Capricorn and Aquarius.” She offers, a certain defiance in her tone, before she slips back into her headachey self-pity.

Briony has to think about this for a moment. What was it again, what was it? Oh, that’s right! “Cancer!” She practically shouts, her hands both thrown up into the air, a motion which would make any true cancer cringe. The girl beams around at everyone, her face falling only a little bit as she looks at Morgana. Right, grumpy girl. She turns her face forward again happily to Avery as she waits for the next question. If only they were all so easy!

“Good,” Avery commends, nodding once. “We also learned in the reading that astrologers have worked to find some common traits of people born under each star sign. It is with this information that they cross reference, based on other signs and alternate happenings in the celestial expanse, and create horoscopes. Used to tell the future,” adds Avery, clasping her hands. “Many people are already far too concerned about the future as it is, if you ask me,” Avery notes, raising one eyebrow, “And that falls completely into Divination, anyway. Today we’ll just be looking at those primary characteristics that I mentioned before. Hands up, then, who can tell me some general characteristics of their star sign? Make sure you tell me which it is, first,” Avery says, looking to her class as a whole.

Saphia Bona raises her hand and answers, “I was born on the 22nd of August, which makes me a Leo. Leo’s are meant to be generous, kind and openhearted, but they’re also meant to be very domineering, emotional and loud,” she declares, in her tiny whisper, “And I don’t think that sounds like me very much at all. I was also born in 1914, which makes me Year of the Tiger in the Chinese zodiac, but that makes even less sense, frankly. Perhaps I’m just meant to like cats? I do like cats.”

Despite the pounding of her head, Morgana sort of half-raises her hand, a grudging acceptance that since she is here, she had better actually do something. “I was born on the 19th of January. Because I am on the cusp of Capricorn and Aquarius, it is hard to tell what I’m supposed to be like.” She begins. “If I am a Capricorn, I am ambitious and disciplined, reserved and practical.” She smiles a somewhat self-assured smile, though one hand still presses against her aching head. “And I am supposed to hate noise and immature behaviour.” This is a rather pointed remark, and she glares sidelong at Briony as she says it. “If I am an Aquarius, I am independent and intellectual, detatched, unemotional, and above all, loyal. And I would hate… sameness. Ridiculous sameness.” Turning her gaze back to Professor Fallon, she offers another insolent glare, before looking back down at her desk.

Raising her hand and waiting her own turn, Briony seems a bit less confident than her classmates. “Cancer people are supposed to be really emotional, and not like attention or people looking at them, and they would rather stay at home than go to Quidditch games or anything like that.” Briony shakes her head as she says that. “But it’s all lies, because I love going to Quidditch games.” Of course, if Briony does not fit the mold, it must be the mold’s problem, right?

Nodding, Avery smiles… even to Morgana, (though it disappears slightly as she looks to Briony), as the students take turns answering. “Good answers, all,” she says truthfully. “Five points to everyone who answered.” The professor does look genuinely impressed with her class’s astute responses, and there’s quite a pause before she looks back to Saphia, and then to Briony. “We have some deviants here, looks like,” she comments, bringing herself mentally back to the topic at hand. “What to think when you have few or no traits of your star sign? Tricky, and not really lies, Briony,” she says with a smile. “It’s a lesser known fact that while we all have star signs, we also have moon signs. Those of you sharing less traits with your moon sign are likely governed more by your moon sign. Thing is, you need to know your time of birth in order to find it out. This wasn’t covered in the introduction so I don’t expect that anyone will know theirs. For part of your homework I’d like you to try and find out what time you were born, even if it’s just a guess on behalf of your parents.”

Saphia Bona raises her hand with a question and, when called upon, asks, “Professor, why would some people be more guided by their moon sign, while others be guided by their star signs? Is there a theory as to why this would be?”

Briony‘s eyes light up as Avery tells them this. Aha, a reason why she doesn’t fit in the mold set by the astrologers! One can imagine that Briony will posthaste be trotting down to see her mother about what time she was born, because after all, Briony wants to know what her Moon sign is! That, and she can’t afford to do badly in the class, lest she be disallowed to do Quidditch next year. The girl might have ulterior motives, but at least they’re for the right end.

Glancing up with a quiet growl – her kingdom for a headache cure – Morgana eyes the Professor for a moment before resting her head in her hands again. “I fit mine.” She mumbles defiantly, probably scarcely loud enough to be heard. “But I am on a cusp. I am allowed not to fit properly.” This is the best comeback she can think up while clutching her head in utmost pain. Do forgive her.

Looking to Saphia, Avery appears quite entertained at the question and crosses her arms. “That’s something we’ll be starting to study in the classes to come, and a topic I’ll hope you’ll all touch on in your term papers. As a simple answer for now, Saphia, it’s hard to know for sure why people are guided so. Your moon sign is designed to regulate your personality and, your star sign, your individual side. The intricacies of people’s personalities emerge at different stages in life. Above all, people change as their environment does. Those guided by their moon signs now may not always be…” trailing off, Avery looks to Morgana with an inquiring look before asking, “D-do you need to see the nurse, Morgana?”

“No..” Morgana moans, looking up at Professor Fallon, scowling angrily. “I need to see an undertaker.” This point made, she claps her hands over her eyes, as if the effort of all these scowls and glares is making her eyes hurt as well as just her head, and she turns her attention back to her self-pity. “My eyes feel like they are about to pop out. My brain feels swollen, as though it’s going to crack out of my skull.” Because obviously, ‘yes, I have a headache’ just wasn’t a good enough response.

Looking around, as if weighing up the wisdom of this action, Saphia slowly rises to her feet and walks over to Morgana, laying one of her hands on Morgana’s back, gently and (she hopes) soothingly. It’s unlikely the two girls have ever said more than five words to each other before today, but Saphia‘s decided to try and help, it would seem.

“Oh, dear!” Briony responds rather loudly. “Someone ought to get her to — Madam Wexler quick, before she dies!” Briony looks genuinely concerned, and she faulters as she manages to say ‘madam wexler’, after all, it isn’t exactly normal for one to call their mother by another name than ‘mum’ after so many years of calling her such. “I’ll escort her if you want, Miss Avery — I mean — oops — I mean Professor Fallon.” Briony‘s face colors very red as she manages to get the name wrong, despite doing it conspicuously often.

“Bona, I understand that you are trying to be nice.” Morgana responds, sitting up a little straighter and trying to shrug Saphia’s hand off her back while not dislodging her hands from her head. “So I will merely give you a warning. Do. Not. Touch. Me.” Then, she moves her hands from her eyes just long enough to glare at Briony. “I am not at any risk of keeling over and dying, Wexler. I just want to be left alone.”

Saphia Bona withdraws her hand hurridly and whispers, “S… sorry, Morgana.” Returning to her seat, she instead just looks over sympathetically while one of her Ravenclaw friends dismissively waves his hand toward her and whispers, possibly informing Saphia that she’s not worth the trouble.

Though touched by Saphia’s kind act, Avery doesn’t show a lot of response in her expression as Briony starts speaking. Avery does smirk faintly at Briony’s ‘Madam Wexler’, and nods, looking back to Morgana, a bit put off at her reaction to little Saphia. “Class is almost over as it is… Briony could take you to the nurses’,” she says kind of forcefully, “or you could just head off to bed if you like, Morgana,” Avery says, her arms still crossed. To the rest of the class, Avery raises her voice a little to say, “Since all the zodiac constellations appear in the sky in different seasons, it’s impossible to see them all at once. Pity,” she shakes her head. “For the rest of the class I want you to use your telescopes and try to see how many zodiac constellations you can locate tonight.”

Peering up at Avery with eyes that don’t quite focus, yet still manage to hold a certain degree of defiant contempt, Morgana stands from her desk and, waving a dismissive hand at Briony, gathers her things together and leaves, massaging her head with one hand. “This class was the biggest waste of time I have ever sat through.” She mutters as she makes her exit, perhaps just loud enough for Avery, if no one else, to hear her.

Hopping up to escape Morgana’s possible glare, the girl digs into her bag and pulls out her small telescope, running to look at the constellations through it. For once, Briony seems to be standing still, even at this late hour of night, and she slowly brings her telescope into clear focus, trying to find the constellations that are visible in tonight’s sky.

Saphia Bona nods to the professor and takes up her position at one of the stations, happily using her telescope and book of constellations to map out the visible zodiac signs, and carefully noting down her co-ordinates shown on the telescope. She is careful and meticulous and cheerful, this being the only subject where her practical skills match her writing.

Avery is not quite sure what it was she heard from Morgana, but she certainly hopes she heard wrong. “Excuse me?” Avery questions in the departing girl’s direction. “Miss DeWitt, I understand you’re not feeling well. It’s really no excuse to be rude,” professor Fallon points out, assuming Morgana did say something rude. Attempting to not show any hurt emotion, Avery glances to the rest of the class, searching for stars. As the class has always gone in the past, they are more or less free to leave when they felt they’ve seen enough. No use forcing the subject, after all.

Spinning around and affecting a look of utter innocence – exacerbated by her pitiful clutching of her head, though there is a hint of something else in her eye, something much less sweet and naive – Morgana offers only a shrug and, “Being rude, Professor Fallon?” Her tone is completely innocent, except perhaps an extra edge in her voice in the last two words, a sort of deliberate, nasty emphasis on the name. “In what way have I been rude?”

Saphia Bona continues to search, and will continue to do so until she is forced out by the Professor (which is fairly typical) or she falls asleep at her telescope (which has so far only happened once). It’s not quite reading for her, but she loves astronomy dearly.

Lest Briony be caught in the middle of the fray of Morgana’s ‘wrath’, the girl closes up her small telescope quickly, putting it back into her bag, Stuffing the essay — on which she got mediocre marks — into her bag as well between two books, the second year hops up, tosses her bag over her shoulder, and quickly makes her way out of the room. Sleep would be a good thing to have, after all.

Glaring down to the girl, Avery decides it is in her best interest not to fight over this one. “Just get to bed,” she says after a moment, exasperation more evident in her voice than contempt. Turning from that scene, Avery takes up her post once more behind her paper-covered desk. Absently trying to organize the mess, Avery looks up from time to time, waving to students who acknowledge her as they pass. Eventually only Saphia remains, and Avery only shakes her head, a lopsided grin on her face.

Classes have just finished for the afternoon and most students are traipsing about the school, filling time between class and dinner. Morgana DeWitt, however, makes her way down to the cellars as quickly as she can, dumping her bookbag on the floor and taking a moment, in the privacy of the empty cellar, to pull out a mirror and quickly reassure herself that her appearance is more or less in order. After a moment, she lowers the mirror and turns her eyes onto the stairs down into the cellar, evidently waiting for someone else to join her. Absentmindedly, she combs her fingers through her hair as she does so.

Not long after Morgana waits a long shadow is cast down the steps and footsteps echo down the dark celler. The shadow is cast by the sizable nose an young Marcus Winsley‘s face and his hair is exceptionally untidy today sticking up in jagged points here and there as if he had stuck his nose in a Muggle lamp. As he comes down the steps he spots Morgana and with her note still in is hand he steps closer to her. “Well what do you wan’t?” Why did he even show up?

Slipping her mirror back into her pocket and smiling – yes, smiling, though it is quite humourless – at Marcus as he approaches, Morgana shrugs her shoulders lightly at his query, eying him appraisingly. “Hello, Winsley,” she offers, after a moment of silence. “So, are you going to give me your class notes or not?” Because obviously, that’s a matter you summon someone to a cellar for.

“Thats what you wanted?” Marcus glares hard at her but after a moment his expresion softends. “Well whats in it for me Dewitt? How are you going to pay?” Ah yes there his shrewd herritage shineing through.

“Pay?” Morgana scoffs in turn, folding her arms and shaking her head. “Of course I’m not going to pay you, Winsley. Which rather brings me to the reason I asked you to meet me here instead of the common room. What’s in it for you? Me not telling everyone… things about you.” Whether this is a threat to reveal known secrets or merely just malicious and untrue gossip is uncertain from her tone, though either way, she delivers the statement with a sort of all-knowing, smug – not to mention, inherently malicious – air.

“Who’s sharing notes?” Satinka asks, turning a corner and putting her hands on her hips. The girl is not that menacing, being in a monster of a periwinkle robe, but she does appear to have a bit of a smug expression on her face. “I should tell my mum that you’re paying for notes.” Nevermind that Satinka‘s never met either of these people before, she wants to know just what’s going on in this corridor.

With a roll of his eyes Marcus sets his things down in a corner and takes a seat in the floor. “There isn’t much you can do to me Morgana. No one likes me remember?” Marcus shrugs and opens his book bag takeing out his notes. “But since you won’t stand a chance of passing without them… and we are in the same house…” Marcus holds the notes out to Morgana.

Turning a rather dark gaze on Satinka, raising an eyebrow in confusion, Morgana only offers a vague, “And who are you when you’re at home, kid?” Then, back to Marcus without another word to Satinka, smiling the same humourless smile and taking the notes in hand. If she sees the insult for what it is, she discards it just as quickly as her interest in Satinka’s identity. “Good, Winsley. Very good. And, well, perhaps no one likes you, but there are worse things than just being disliked.”

A startled jump has Marcus on his feet as he spots Satinka for the first time. “Your Professor Rathe’s daughter aren’t you? What does it matter if I want to sell my notes. There mine aren’t they?” Marcus nods in Morgana’s direction. “And even if she had paied me for them… she’s dumb as a stump and not likley to pass anyway.”

“I am Satinka Rathe, if you must know,” Satinka replies and flips her hair over her shoulder. She strides towards the two. “So are you really selling your notes to her?” she directs to Marcus, pointing her finger out at him and then crossing her arms over one another. “Anyway, I’m no kid, and I’m to be sorted soon, and I plan on being Slytherin, so you’ll be best to get used to me.” She looks at them both with a grin on her face, as if she’s expecting something from the both of them.

Unable to, for the moment, think of a decent comeback, Morgana simply swivels and stares blankly, eyes wide and unblinking, at Satinka for a full half-minute, before just shrugging and turning her attention back to Marcus. “You had better take that back, Winsley, otherwise I might just make a slip of the tongue in the common room later on. There are worse things than just being disliked, like I said.”

Marcus Winsley shrugs silently and sits back down on the cold floor. “Do whatever you want. I gave you my notes. You win DeWitt.” Marcus looks over to Satinka. “So you and um… whats his name…” He pauses for a momment. “That brother of yours… your going to be in Slytherin?”

“Well, I plan on it,” she answers with a wide grin. “I think Seker wants to be in Ravenclaw or something ridiculous, but I know where I’m going to end up.” Satinka speaks as if she’s already had her moment with the Sorting Hat and just biding her time until she can join the ranks. “Slytherin’s the only place worth being.” Satinka is clearly a girl of large opinion. “Mind you, this has nothing to do with my mum, it’s because I want it.” She nods and then looks from Morgana to Marcus again. “What, no sordid deals for notes? What fun is that?”

Slipping the notes into her bookbag, Morgana trains a dark expression on Marcus, remaining silent for a long moment in response. “Winsley, I don’t want to talk to this girl any longer. You’ll walk me back to the common room, won’t you?” This isn’t a question so much as command: Satinka isn’t the only forceful personality in the room, and Morgana‘s sense of entitlement might well remain unmatched. “After all, like you said, I can’t hurt your reputation any more, can I?”

“No I’m not going to walk you anywhere. You got what you wanted so go study.” Marcus‘s tone is a bit more annoyed now. “And anyway she at least seems intelligent Morgana. More than I can say for you.” Ah perhaps Marcus is growing back his spine?

Laughing out loud, Satinka seems quite amused at Marcus’s statement. “What’ve I done to you, then?” she asks the girl, whose first name she still hasn’t managed to catch. “Besides, look who’s talking. You’re acting like a moody child,” Satinka retorts, putting her hands on her hips and affecting a look that she has likely seen her mother or some other parental figure use on her at one time or another. “That is never becoming in a lady.”

“You are walking me back to the commons.” Morgana repeats, glaring at Marcus, pressing her lips together firmly. Slinging her bookbag over her shoulder, she reaches out to grab his arm, almost as if she intends to forcefully drag him back to the commons alongside her – though perhaps a little more dignity than that generally implies. Then, her gaze fixes once again on Satinka, and she rolls her eyes. “Do I look like I care if I appear ladylike to people like you?” She asks after a moment of silence, before she shakes her head and turns her attention back to Marcus.

Looking down at Morgana’s hand on his arm Marcus scoffs. “I am not and if you do anything at all I’m going to tell Professor Rathe you’ve be herassing me!” An empty threat really, everyone knows how Marcus avoids attention from teachers. Marcus pulls away from Morgana and tucks himself into the corner… as if it could protect him.

“Bullying boys, honestly,” Satinka scoffs, though it seems as if the now-eleven-year-old might do the very same thing if the situation suited. “You may not be a Hufflepuff, but you still ought to do your own work.” Satinka pauses and then shrugs after mulling over Morgana’s comment. “If you don’t want to be ladylike, that’s your choice, but for my part, I’d like to at least be a respectable lady. Better to have people on your side than not, after all,” she tells the older girl, and it is only slightly obvious that she’s likely been told that very same thing sometime in her life.

“You will not.” Morgana replies, shaking her head almost pityingly at Marcus. “You will not tell Professor Rathe that I’ve been harassing you at all, because even if you did, what’s she going to do? I haven’t hit you or cursed you or anything, and I certainly haven’t bothered you in front of a professor. Whose word will Professor Rathe take, yours or mine?” The actual answer to this may not actually be in her favour, though she ignores this, brushing her hair over her shoulder with one hand and turning her back on Marcus, climbing the stairs and departing without another word, or so much as a glance to either him or Satinka – or, in fact, any acknowledgement of Satinka’s words, except for a quiet ‘huh’ as she departs, and a vague wave in her direction.

Watching Morgana walk away Marcus sighs just a little. “She’s insaine that one…” He looks over to Satinka. “And she wasn’t bullying me… she was blackmailing me… theres… a difference.” The tone he says this is of course states that he has no idead what said difference is though. “Anyway… the notes I gave her are garbage…”

“Well, she’ll believe mine, and I can tell her if you want, Marcus,” Satinka responds, shrugging in Morgana’s direction as she leaves, and then turns her attention solely to Marcus. “If you want, that is. I don’t want to make you into a snitch if you don’t want to be.” She pauses. “Tell me why you put up with her, though! I don’t think I would. I don’t plan to when I’m in Slytherin.” Hearing Marcus’s statement, Satinka lets out a boisterous laugh. “It serves her right for not doing it on her own. Nobody ever got anywhere without working for it. That’s what my mum always says.” She nods at this.

“Well…” Comes Marcus‘s slow response. “I guess because she is the closest thing I have to a friend…” Marcus shrugs again and stands up picking up his bag. “Well your Mum is weird… you should have seen her last class… She’s in love with that Professor Helit.”

As if the boy has gone mad, Satinka stares at him blankly. “You clearly don’t know my mum very well. I’m relatively certain that she would never like that man that way.” She shakes her head decisively. “Besides, I’ve already got a father, she needn’t bother with him. I’ll have to have words with her about it later.” Satinka speaks as if she’s an adult, and coming from one so young, she likely looks a bit ridiculous to those around her, who in this case, are, well, Marcus. “Besides, she isn’t weird. She’s a perfectly normal person.”

“Thats not what the Dailey Prophet says…” It just creeps out of Marcus‘s lips as a bit of an after thought that had no real thought put behind it at all. “But she’s a great teacher anyway… and I guess we could do worse for a Head of House… I just wish somone would break that stupid cane of hers.” Marcus knows all too well the sting of Astra’s cane.

“Well, everyone knows the Daily Prophet is just absolute rubbish, anyway!” Satinka exlaims rather suddenly. “What if my brother and I got that for her as a present?” She retorts suddenly. “Would you still want to break it then?” Nevermind that the twins would never have gotten Astra such a dangerous gift. The girl crosses her arms before him as she looks at him expectantly. “Well? What do you say to that?”

Chuckling Marcus nods. “Yes I’d still want to break it. I don’t care where she got it… it’s painfull.” Marcus grins just a little looking down his large nose at Satinka. “It’s nothing personal. I just hate that thing.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t do anything to make her use it, then,” Satinka offers with a quirk of her head. Coming out that way, it sounds so simple, and she seems to say it as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Obviously she wouldn’t use it unless she needed to.” She nods at this and looks about the hallway. “Believe me, I know.” And of course, Satinka being who she is, she would.

“I havn’t in a while… and the first time was that Harper’s fault.” Marcus looks up the hallway and back again at Satinka. “And everyone knows Harper is Foster’s lapdog I bet he got out of that hexing in the Great Hall easy last year.” Sour grapes anyone? “But I’ve been keeping a low profile now… ” He dosn’t mention that it’s because his brother graduated last year.

“Well, I don’t know anything about this Martin fellow, nor Louis, but I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that. If it is, well…” She pauses. “Then do something about it.” Satinka shrugs and giggles a bit, flouncing her periwinkle skirt. “Anyway, I’m going to the kitchens for a snack. I’ll see you around!” It’s either a promise or a threat, and it’s clear that Satinka does mean it, but soon she’s tickled the pear on the painting and slips in to get to the kitchens and is gone.

Marcus Winsley watches as the little Rathe tickles a pear and he is about to say somthing untill the painting opens. “Erm right. See you.” With that he turns to make his way to the commons.

No longer followed by his usual pack of snickering Slytherin cronies Marcus walks into class alone today looking a bit morose. He takes a seat at the front of the class for once away from his ‘friends’ while removing his books and notes from his bag. With a quick glance over his shoulder as if looking for somone Marcus turns back in his seat kicking his feet back and forth (easy to do when your feet don’t actually reach the floor) and waits for class to begin.

Bookbag slung carelessly over her shoulder, her steps rather less careful and precise than usual, it is evident to the close observer than Morgana DeWitt has not been getting adequate sleep lately. Her blonde hair is, as always, in pristine condition, and her robes are perfectly in order, though the self-assured mode she affects seems unconvincing – the discolouration under her eyes detracts from her arrogance, to a degree, and there is a certain weariness about her actions, as carefully choreographed as they are. As she sits down – she takes care not to just slump into her seat, but to take it with a certain grace and rest her bookbag daintily by her feet – and directs her gaze to the front of the classroom, there is a sort of vagueness to her expression, as if some part of her mind refuses to accept that she is in DADA.

Christine Keller walks happily in the classroom, coming in from the corridor and walking past a couple of Hufflepuffs who were busy discussing a last-minute trade of Quidditch cards right next to the door (probably not a smart move). “Hello, Professor Rathe.” she says, before sitting at the second row. She takes a couple of parchment sheets out of her bag as well as a quill, greeting some of the other students she is friends with, with a happy smile. Defense is not her best subject, but she is feeling strangely happy today and doesn’t mind this class much… for once. A whole ration of cookies brought by owl can have that effect, sometimes.

As always, Saphia steps into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom tentatively, holding a pile of books as her shield up against the frightening presence of this classroom. Unlike most of her housemates, it’s not the professor that does this. While Professor Rathe can be scary, Saphia knows that she’s not really all that frightening. Despite, well, everything she read in the Daily Prophet recently. But the class itself terrifies her. She’s just never been able to show any command of the spells here… Hesitantly and timidly, she sits down at a front desk, rolls open a scroll of parchment, and writes down “DADA, Term 2…”

Seeming to almost bounce in, Briony enters the classroom with a beaming grin on her face. “And then he dropped it, so he had to fly laps,” she tells her Gryffindor comrade with a stifled giggle. Without much thought or analyzing, the girl skips over to her usual seat, near the front, and puts her things down, haphazardly setting up her things in front of her. It appears as if organization isn’t Briony‘s strong suit.

Drinking from a large mug, Astra watches her second year students arrive to class. Since the trial she has been more reserved and even a little more lenient in class, more tired but still strict enough to maintain enough decorum. Looking around with a bright expression, her eyes dart over each of the children. Finally, when the last student has arrived and the final bell has rung, she sets down her drink. Not even bothering to close the door to keep latecomers away, she grabs up the stack of papers nearest her and begins to hand the essays back. Haphazard, rather than her careful and fastidious way of handling class, some papers wind up in the wrong hands, “You didn’t disappoint me this time and most of these were at least amusing if not accurate. A few of you,” “still manage to continue your excellent work.”

Saphia Bona relaxes. Ahh, the written part of the class. The only thing holding up her grades and giving her a decent chance of passing. She happily receives her essay back and looks it over before her hand FLIES to her mouth to stifle a scream. How!? How did this hap– Wait. “Alexandra, this is YOUR essay,” she grumbles softly, trading it with the young Hufflepuff. She gets her essay back in exchange, with a nice large ‘E’ written on it. Saphia breathes a sigh of relief.

Looking over the paper Marcus blinks a few times to make sure his eyes were working. “How did I get such a low mar…. oh” He spots the name on the paper. “No whonder this one belongs to DeWittless…” Marcus rolls his eyes and reads over the paper slightly amused giving a glance back to Morgana now and again.

“How was yours?” Briony asks the person sitting next to her, glancing to her own paper with a rather absent shrug. The mark is not excellent, nor is it awful, so Briony is not upset at her own achievement in the matter. “Hey, hey Morgana!” Briony whispers down the way, leaning over to see Morgana better.

Wiping her eye with one hand – she is quite half-asleep, it is possible that her eyes simply aren’t working properly – Morgana peers at the mark on what she believes is her paper. “Oh. For a moment, I thought I’d passed…” she murmurs, peering at the mark, and the name at the top of the page, ‘Marcus Winsley’. Rather than actually returning his paper to him, she pulls out a quill and begins to copy out the key points. If he won’t let her see his notes, this is a good substitute. Then, she seems to realise someone is talking to her – she looks up in surprise, then looks back down without so much looking at Briony. “Don’t talk to me, Wexler.”

All the papers seem to be mixed, today. At first shocked by her grade –she knows she’s not that good, but still, a T– Christine only realizes a couple of seconds later that the writing is not hers. She is finally poked in the back by another student, a Hufflepuff boy, who hands her the essay. Relieved that she got an A, Christine puts the parchment in her bag and takes out her quill to write the date, waiting for the lesson to begin.

Usually the nasty comments between students would get at very least a sharp word from the professor, but today Astra either doesn’t pay enough attention or care enough to do something about any snide remarks. Even whispering in class is unheeded as she moves quickly back to her desk and hops to sit on top of it. Grabbing the mug, she takes another drink and then looks around the class. “Today we’re going to work on learning about the charming little demon known as the Ovinnik.” “I even had a live specimen but it kept setting things on fire,” running her words together quickly this is not the typical class at all. “So, I thought that the oh so brave and manly,” but she’s still sarcastic, “Professor Helit could *save* me.” Grinning impishly, she shares the rest, “I dumped the creature into one of his cages. I’m sorry we don’t have a live one. Maybe Helit will come by and share his discovery. If not, we’ll still have a good class.” “Are there any questions or anything? Has anyone read ahead and can share some information with us about the demon-cat-thing?”

Marcus Winsley tucks Morgana’s paper away and sits still while the Professor speaks. Sure he wanted his paper back but not badly enough to actually talk to Morgana. At the mention of a fire spitting cat …. thing Marcus grins widley at the thought of getting to see one but his hopes are quickly dashed as it turns out the CoMC Professor now has it… wether he likes it or not. Marcus sighs a litlte and begins writing down in his notes “Ovinniks apparently spit fire when angry and are apparently feline in nature.”

Saphia Bona raises her hand and whispers, “According to Gauntlet and Barricade, the Ovinnik is one of the most dangerous creatures for an inexperienced wizard to deal with. Ovinnik infestations can rapidly become critical in size because of how they reproduce — When killed, their corpse spawns as many as three more ovinniks. While nobody is sure, because it’s never been seen, it’s believed these ovinniks are spawned fully grown. The effects can be avoided by removing the head of the ovinnik, burning the body and head separately, and then scattering the ash and bone into a river. Or, possibly, by never leaving the corpse unobserved, presumably.”

Christine Keller would have liked to answer and bring some points to Ravenclaw as well, but she just happens not to know anything about Ovinniks. And tentatively leafing through her book in order to find an answer is not helping much, either. Sighing slightly, she does her best to listen and takes some notes out of what has been said so far –which isn’t much.

“Well, fine DeWitt. I dunno what I ever did to you.” Briony frowns hard at the slytherin girl and then turns her attention to Astra. Oh, right, class. Pausing for a moment in thought, Briony seems ready to hazard an answer, but hearing Saphia speak up, the girl leans back in hear seat with a sort of sigh. Usurped again. The girl twiddles her quill between her fingers and looks to see how this long and thorough answer is accepted.

Finishing up copying up Marcus’ notes from his essay, Morgana actually begins paying attention to the lesson for the first time, looking up at the Professor through tired eyes and offering a sort of half-smirk at the mention of Professor Helit. Not that she has had much chance to interact with him, but he seems to have had it coming from her point of view. Briony is completely ignored this time, and not only because the Slytherin girl looks on the brink of falling asleep.

Listening to the young Ravenclaw, Astra grins with a pleased expression. “Very good Saphia, er, I mean Miss Bona.” Not even bothering to correct the girl for speaking without waiting to be called on, she brushes over the incident. “Two points to Ravenclaw for a very good response.” Banging her feet against the front of her desk, she looks quickly around the room. “Okay, time to get to the good stuff.” “How were Ovvinks created? Saphia, err, Miss Bona let someone else try this time before answering. I know you probably know so let’s see if anyone else can tell me something.” “I’m sure some of you have read ahead, yes?”

Saphia Bona ‘s hand is halfway up when Astra’s admonishment comes. With a quietly whispered, “Oh…” and a tremendous pink blush, Saphia retracts into her chair.

Thunk. Yes, that’s Morgana‘s head hitting her desk. Forget grace and maturity, she’s tired and would really, really like to go to sleep around about now. She hasn’t done the reading, and she doesn’t care about the silly demon things at all. She would just like to sleep, and is taking this moment to do so. Right up until such times as Astra notices, of course.

Raiseing his hand Marcus begins to speak up in class, somthing that he hasn’t done in quite a while. “Professor the Ovinnicks were created in the 800′s or about by feuding Wizards. They were used back then to annoy your rival by setting them loose on there farms and land and sometimes they are even set onto muggle farms to give nearby wizards a bad name.” Looking around a bit Marcus clears his throat a little and continues. “Since they are lazy freeloaders they will steal food and… well they can eat pretty much anything we can. They might even steal the food off your plate…” Marcus gets quiet and sits back in his seat again hoping that his answer had been good enough.

“PROFESSOR RATHE!” The booming voice of an angry CoMC professor reverberates through the castle before Quintus even enters – when he does, it is plainly evident that he has had some kind of fiery mishap, his eyebrows still smouldering and his robes burnt. “Would you happen to know why a fire-breathing feline managed to find its way into my cages? I’d be very interested in finding out.” He must be angry – he’s voluntarily talking to another person, a woman, even. How horrifying. And, apparently, somewhere in his anger someone forgot to remind him who he was talking to, for he cannot resist the muttered, “Foolish woman.”

Briony is about to make some giggly comment to her Gryffindor friend again, when the door seems to burst apart — or that is her perception anyway — upon the entrance of Professor Helit. Briony has heard rumors about the teacher, but nothing like what she is seeing at present. The girl’s mouth drops open and she just stares for a moment, before sharing a bit of a giggle with her friend again. “Hey, Winsley, can you get Morgana’s attention for me? I wan’a ask her something.” This is whispered quietly, taking advantage of the distraction which has just entered their midst.

With an audible “EEP!” Saphia ducks behind the pile of books on her desk, away from the crazy burning professor who she knows is named Professor Rathe but otherwise doesn’t even really know anything about. Peeking out from over the top of her books, she desperately tries not to be seen.

As she tries to find out a sensible answer, Christine is interrupted first by Marcus, then by Professor Helit, who she doesn’t know, being only a second year. “What… oh…” she says, her mouth gaping from surprise. “I wonder what is going to happen, now…” she says with a little grin to the girl next to her. “He really seems to be furious…”

Going about her business Astra just looks more amused than annoyed when Morgana falls asleep. “Oh, we lost someone to naptime. I can’t blame her really; afternoon classes are always terribly mind-numbing.” Wide-eyed and chattering, she takes another drink of whatever is inside that mug of hers and springs off her desk. “Oh very good Mister Marcus or whatever your last name is.” No, this is certainly not a usual class. “Two points to er,” squinting she then beams, “Slytherin. Oh good, my House is finally trying to do right. Thank you!” And then, the explosion of anger from the CoMC as he arrives. Falling into a fit of laughter, she really can’t help herself. Doubling over she points at Quintus. “Oh by the white hairs of my grandfather’s beard, you should see yourself.” Sniffling back tears of merriment, she actually *skips* over to Quintus and stares up at him with a manic grin. “Thank you *so* much for taking care of that scary demon cat for me!” Gesturing with her hand, she urges him to come closer. “Stoop down so I can talk to you better. You’re too damn tall, just like a man.”

Marcus Winsley is looking a bit pleased with himself and is all smiles untill Professor Helit bursts into the class looking singed. He watches quietly as Proefssor Rathe begins acting strange and even gets a bit of a scared look on his face. He is sure to write down in his notes. “Professor Rathe has gone nutters. Steer clear.”

“I’M ON FIRE!” Quintus bellows in response, gesturing to his robes. “Because of your stupid demon cat!” For a moment, he looks almost tempted to stoop down as per her instructions, though he instead stands tall. Beware, students. Next year, this might be your teacher. “What were you thinking, Professor Rathe?” Even when enraged, he must use this honorific. “You’d think even a woman – ARGH!” He pats at his eyebrows, trying to put out the remainder of the fire. He probably looks quite comical, but he is trying to be scary.

Jolting into alertness again at the booming sound of Professor Helit’s voice, Morgana almost jumps out of her seat before slinking back under her desk almost guiltily, fixing a glare on the CoMC professor. Really. Getting so angry just because Professor Rathe set him on fire. After a moment, she waves a regal hand at Marcus, beckoning him over. “Collect your paper from my desk,” she tells him waspishly, apparently feeling free to speak out of turn while the Professors are distracted. “And whoever has mine, please feel free to return it.”

Glareing back at Morgana Marcus grabs her paper and hops down from his seat to waddle over to her and hold out her paper. “Here…. Mine please?” He obviously isn’t happy about having to actually talk to her.

“Awww poor widdle Care of Magical Cweatures Professor can’t stand the heat.” “Does he need a kiss to make it all better?” Astra can’t help herself as she goads her co-worker and she winks. “I thought you could stand to prove your manliness, after all I’m just a ‘weak and foolish woman’ how could I possibly handle a demon? Surely someone like you could.” Fluttering her lashes, she imitates those females that normally make her ill even to think about as she raises a hand to her forehead. “You are *my hero* Professor Helit. You’re so tall, so strong, so brave. Kiss me!”

Saphia‘s eyes widen. At this point she really DOES duck under the table, curls up, and waits for the explosion.

Christine Keller rolls her eyes at what Professor Astra is saying. “Has she suddenly gone mad, or what?” she whispers, really wondering about how the Care of Magical Creatures is going to react in front of this.

Stare. Stare. Quintus stares at Astra for a full minute. Does she really expect him to…? Well, this is how women act, isn’t it? But… even Professor Rathe? Well, they’re all women, it’s fairly a given that they’ll all act like this once in a while. But… Professor Rathe? In front of a room full of students…? Well, he is certainly not going to comply to her requests. Finally, he offers the gruff response, “Calm down, Professor Rathe. I will speak with you on the matter late.”

Barely suppressing a chuckle as she watches the saga unfold – like it or not, Professor Rathe can be particularly amusing from time to time – Morgana seems to barely comprehend what Marcus is saying for a moment, waving his paper at him vaguely. Finally, she offers the quiet, “You did fairly well, Winsley. You’ll share your notes with me sometime.” It isn’t a request, not my any stretch. It is unmistakably a command.

Feigning sorrow at the man’s response, Astra sighs. “Ah well, it’s always the way. The men come in and break my heart and then run away to hide. I’m never meant to find love.” Mocking him, she blows him a kiss, “Until later my love. I’ll be waiting.” Turning back to her class, she grins brightly. “Now then. Let’s seewhere were we?” “Does anyone have anything else to add? If not, I suppose I should dismiss class. There are some essay questions for you to take on your way out.”

Stareing terrified up at the front of the class as Professor Rathe begins baby talking to Professor Helit Marcus begins to look as though he may turn green. He turns to Morgana snatching his paper angrily. “Are you an Professor Rathe related or somthing?” With a shake of hos head he storms away back to his seat stareing at Professor Rathe and Morgana in turn as if trying to find some family resemblance.

Ignored again, Briony seems to be getting into a rather sour mood. The girl turns her attention to the parchment in front of her, for while the scene at hand is entertaining, the girl is annoyed at having been ignored. Granted, the two were Slytherins, but this does not occur to Briony who now begins doodling on the margins of her essay. Ah, well. The girl perks up as Astra mentions a dismissal of class and starts to gather her things together and pack them all up.

Blink. Blink. Stare. Blink. Completely unsure of what to say or do next, Quintus just stands there, rooted to the spot, staring at Astra. Then, he turns and storms out, being especially sure to slam his fist down on a desk nearest to the door as he passes it. He completely ignores whether there is a student there. There might be, there might not be. Either way, he is gone before anyone can distract his attention from the insane women within this school.

Saphia Bona tentatively picks herself up off the floor and, moving to collect an essay topic, asks Astra as politely as possible, “Pr… professor Rathe, are you all right?”

Raising an eyebrow at Marcus, Morgana simply shakes her head slowly. The goading baby talk is for private moments – and that in itself says everything that will ever need to be said about their relationship – and certainly not for a classroom full of people. A smirk flickers on the edge of her lips as she seems tempted to break her own rule just to torment the boy a little further, but she eventually concedes to, “If I was related to Professor Rathe… that would not bode well, needless to say.”

“All right? Never better. At least until I crash.” Hopping over to her desk, she picks up the mug “See this? Cocoa. Sugar is very bad for me, but it’s oh so lovely one in awhile.” “Next class will be better I’m sure and don’t worry about Professor Helit. As you see, the best way to face danger is to not be intimidated. I know he what he thinks of women and used that against him, even in my rather slappy state.” The smile Astra beams at the class is quite pleased and very happy.

Turning to look at Briony Marcus whispers low hopeing she can still hear him. “You don’t want to talk to her Wexler, trust me. She isn’t worth the effort.” Marcus turns to look over his shoulder stareing cruely at Morgana. He turns and begins writing down in his notes.

Finally having packed her things up, Briony stands up and begins her chatter again to her comrade, who seems to be mysteriously silent, as if she were used to listening to Briony‘s chatter. “So, did I tell you I got asked to the Governor’s ball?” she begins as she picks up her essay questions and laughs a bit as she exits the room, chattering about the ball at an animated pace.

Apparently only now registering that class is over, Morgana packs up her things and rubs at her eyes again with her hand. “Mm. Winsley?” She adds, picking up her bookbag and turning to face him. “You will walk me to our next class. We have things to discuss.” Again, it is far more a command than a request – one would think, from her manner, that she thinks herself to be several years older than him rather than a mere six months.

Grumbling Marcus hops down from his chair and follows after Morgana. “Wait up!” He yells after her. Wait a minute…. doesn’t Marcus hate Morgana? Strange relationship.

Although snow falls outdoors, the greenhouses and part of the surrounding gardens are kept warm, largely by magic. In any case, though winter is swiftly arriving at Hogwarts and the holidays are merely a few weeks away, the greenhouses are still full of life and warmth, the air near the ceiling condensing. As students filter to their after-lunch classes, second years head toward the greenhouses. Today, the desks are clear, even Keelan‘s, and the diagram on the board labeled ‘Tubey Sponge’ looks nothing like the toothy or tentacle-bearing plants the students have been studying. There is, however, an aquariam full of them set up in the front of the class.

Walking into class with his usual cadre of snickering Slytherin second years (My word that is a lot of S’s) Marcus Winsley seems to be his usual self today as he takes his seat. Unlike the other boy’s in his group though Marcus seems rather pleased with himself and the thick roll of parchment he is carrying as if it were a brick of pure gold. Some of his friends can be heard whispering “Who did you get to do the work for you?” To which Marcus scoffs and plays dumb. It’s a little known fact that Marcus indeed does his own schoolwork…. just when no one else is awake.

Keelan Walsh reclines at her desk languidly, everything prepared for today’s lesson. The woman is, instead of last minute preperations, involved in writing something on a very lengthy roll of parchment (the top end of which is already somewhat rolled, referencing what looks like an ancient book as she does so. As students come in from the cold, Keelan looks up and pushes her glasses up her nose. Now what’s the use of spare moments if students are just going to be on time to class? With a sigh she sets her reference book down, waits a moment for the ink to dry, and taps the scroll with her wand (it rolls completely up). “Good afternoon. Please place your essays on my desk as you go to your seats. I trust you’ve all completed them to satisfacation.”

Shivering under her heavy winter robes, the tiny Saphia looks like winter has hit her hard early. She rubs her nose and has somewhat red, tired eyes, and sniffles, looking like she’s managed to hit an early cold just before the winter holidays. Despite this, she continues to carry in her three standard textbooks, two extra books she felt might be helpful, and a final book that she wasn’t sure might be helpful but that she brought on a hunch. She also clutches her herbology knife kit, her dragon-skin gloves (made of very pretty purple hide) and most importantly, a four foot long scroll on carnivorous plants. Once she made the mistake of doing a too-long essay for Professor Walsh. Now she just writes in tiny script. (Other professors, however, still get her regularly massive essays.) She wanders over to her seat, easing herself into it and blowing her nose once on a small blue handkerchief.

“And then he fell off,” Briony finishes a story to a chum as she comes in from the snowy exterior into the warmth of the greenhouses. Keelan’s announcement has Briony pausing just soon after she is in the door to fish out a rather crumpled, though quite complete essay before she strides over and bounces into a seat. “He wasn’t happy about it, let me tell you,” she confides with a bit of a giggle to the person who she walked in with, glancing around rather absently as their giggles die down.

Saphia Bona hearing the Professor’s announcement, Saphia eases herself off her chair, places her essay on the professor’s desk and does her best to marshal a happy smile for her, failing as she coughs quietly in the middle of it, her clenched fist rushing to cover her mouth as she walks back to her chair.

Actually lowering herself to such levels as walking with her housemates, though she does keep a certain distance, Morgana glances over at Marcus and raises an eyebrow at his communications with the others. Whether she chooses to admit it or not, she is among few that does know all about Marcus’ early morning study sessions, and a certain calculating expression that darts fleetingly across her features suggests that perhaps she is just waiting for a chance to put this knowledge to some kind of beneficial use. In the meantime, however, she dumps her essay on the pile, and makes her way over to a desk, quite alone except for her bookbag and heavy winter gear. After a moment, though, she waves a hand at Marcus waving him over to her. “You can sit with me, today, Winsley.” It is not an invitation, but a statement of fact.

Quickly stepping up to Professor Walsh’s desck Marcus depposits his essay neatly with the rest before reaturning to his seat. He chances a look over at Morgana as she enters only to look down his overlarge nose at his books when she does. Though …. he does go over to sit with her much to the amusement of his friends.

Keelan Walsh smiles a grim sort of smile at Saphia, somewhat softer on the girl than most of the rest of the Ravenclaws, and thanks everyone in turn as they set their essays on her desk. “Mr. Riventree, if you could please get the essay to me by tomorrow-” she notes as a student who perpetually fails to turn in his work heads straight for his desk, shoulders hunched, “I will still consider grading it.” So and and so forth–eyeing a few students who plop down essays that couldn’t possibly even measure two feet–”I hope you have written in very small print.” A soft sigh and she stands once everyone seems to have arrived and gotten settled. “As I’m sure you’re all very aware, this is the last practical lesson of the term. Next week you shall have your unit exam, and then I won’t see any of you until after Christmas, as I will be returning to my family for the break.” She pauses, and then moves toward the aquarium. “Today’s lesson is on an underwater carnivorous plant–yes, those spongy looking bits of stuff in there are in fact plants and rather dangerous ones at that, at least to fish and small underwater creatures. The Tubey Sponge, named by Sir Heffensty in 1304, who I’m afraid is responsible for a lot of similarly uninspired plant names–ah, anyway,” she smirks, “may look like an eggplant shaped sponge with a mop of fringe on the top in rest and like, well… a blob when seeking food, but it can deliver quite a jolt to it’s prey, shocking them and… here, I’ll demonstrate.” She doesn’t, however, drop anything into the tank. Instead, she taps the board. The image seems to melt, petals actually spreading out of the tube-shape until it is nearly flat. A chalk-fish swims across the board, takes a nibble at one of the bits of fringe, and then falls prone. Immediately, the plant wraps up around it– “Thus the prey is trapped. It was actually assumed that this creature was a sort of animal until 1687, when Gwendolyn Gerbantish cultivated some and discovered they required soil in which to plant roots, and reproduced via spores.”

Though he joins her at her instruction, Morgana inches away from Marcus as he seats himself at her table, though does not move her bookbag from where she has plunked it in the centre of the table, nor does she offer him even a token greeting now that he is there. As far as she is concerned, he’s sitting there now and everyone is aware of this, so there is no point offering any sort of verbal acknowledgement. She does, however, pluck her quill and parchment from her bag – which she then shoves closer to Marcus, presumably because it is taking up her desk space – and begins to take a few notes on what Professor Walsh is saying. ’1304′. ‘Stupid name’. ‘Spores’. Such good notes.

Saphia Bona looks at the board, diligently taking notes, and then raises her hand to ask the professor, “If dhere relusing electruc shocks in the water, why urn’t the udder ones affected?” She blows her nose again and picks up her quill once more to note down the answer.

Marcus Winsley arches an eyebrow as he spies Morgana’s notes. He leans in to whisper to her. “And you had the nerve to call _me_ dumb…. honestly.” Marcus shakes his head and dips his quill in it’s inkwell with his stubby fat fingers and begins taking down his own notes…. pretty much word for word as the Professor says them though he’s careful to keep his notes on his side of the desk. Oddly enough now that he isn’t sitting with his “friends” or anyone he even likes very well in particular…. he seems to be very quiet.

Briony has gotten out some parchment, quill and ink, and is feverishly writing, trying to keep up with all the information that Keelan is stating aloud. Sure, Briony could’ve learned about this if she had read ahead in the book, but alas, Briony is not that academically ambitious. Well, not in Herbology, anyway. The speed at which she is writing slows as she starts to catch up, and she glances at Saphia absently as she asks a question.

Shoving the bag across the table again, this time with a little bit more force, Morgana offers in a low hiss, “Winsley, I didn’t tell you to sit here because I like you. I take notes like this because I can actually keep track of things in my head.” A pause, and she narrows her eyes at him. “Stay on your side of the desk.” And yes, her things are taking up much more of the desk than his things are. On the other hand, she probably also believes that utilizing any more than about two inches on the far side of the desk, Marcus is infringing on her table territory.

Keelan Walsh calls on Saphia, naturally, and then listens to the question with her lips slightly pursed. “Well Miss Bona–and you might want to see the nurse, I’m sure she has a potion that will help with your cold–the shocks are very small and localized–Mr. Winsley, Miss DeWitt I can see you talking, catch you again and you’ll lose points.” This is par for the course, and she leans back, “Now, I know this plant is a bit different from what we’ve been studying–rather than prattle on about it, I’d like us all to discuss the benefits of it’s method of prey capture versus others we’ve studied–or that you’ve read about on your own. Feel free to talk without raising your hand, but let’s be civilized and give everyone who wants it a say.” In other words: Today is a lazier day for Keelan.

Saphia Bona nods at the answer, noting that down, and waits for the class to start. As nobody seems willing to begin a conversation, Saphia finally raises her hand… immediately drops it, silently biting her tongue for being silly… and suggests, “It certunly poses luss of a threat to utself this way than the tentahulp plant. Sunce its not thrashing around so much, it doesn’t attract attenshun.” She sniffles and wipes her nose.

Hearing the Professor warn them Marcus slouches down in his seat attempting to make himself small. Being quite small already the effect is quite comical… especially to his so called group of friends who seem to be having quite a good time laughing at his exspense. Instead of speaking up Marcus burries his nose in his book … not really reading but sort of stareing at the page avoiding eye contact.

Nodding slightly in response to the reprimand, Morgana returns to diligently taking notes – perhaps making note of what her classmates are saying? Just as long as no one except Marcus can see that what she actually wrote was ‘Way to go, Winsley. Anyway, why do I need to take notes when I could just copy yours later, which I know you’ll let me do.’ She makes no effort to actually draw his attention to it, except to draw a box around it so next time he looks over at her notes he is far more likely to actually notice it in particular. Nothing is contributed to the discussion at hand, however.

“Well…” Briony starts, and seeing several sets of eyes on her, she realizes that she must actually go through with this beginning. “Er, well, at least it’s unlikely to attack things out… out of its environs? That is to say, only smaller things?” She pauses. “Though I wonder what would happen if someone were to put his finger on it.” Yes, Briony should have read ahead. Her face colors red and she looks down at her notes, scribbling out something that ends up becoming quite illegible with her haste to look busy doing something else.

Thinking a bit more, Saphia ventures another point, blowing her nose first so her voice is a little better. “It’s ulso likely to work well in pods,” she observes. “If a school of fish nibble on one, it could feed the whole pud. POD.” She forces herself to ennunciate.

Marcus Winsley glances up at Morgana’s notes mostly because his eyes just happend to atch the movement of her hands. He glares as he reads it and gives her the strangest look before he quickly scribbles down on the side of his own notes. “What makes you think I’ll let you use my notes DeWitt?” Under which he draws a picture of a choking hag.

‘If you’re going to be up all night studying, you might as well put it to good use.’ Morgana pauses in her writing, then adds, in very careful handwriting, ‘And since you’re so careful not to let anyone else know…’ She then draws a little stick figure boy with his head on fire. How sweet. Then, oh, right, class discussion. “You’re all missing a key point. How would it get food if the fish wised up? No, really, if the fish began to realise that fish that nibbled on it quickly became dead, there’s no alternative food source – or if another predator moved in. It’s very limited, really.”

Keelan Walsh nods as some students talk, and raises an eyebrow at others (Particularly a boy who says, “Obviously looking like an eggplant makes it seem docile–who ever heard of an eggplant eating things?”), but lets them discuss before chiming in. “Three points to Ravenclaw for Miss Bona’s brave start of the discussion, even though she’s quite obviously ill.” What’s this? Nice to a Ravenclaw? “And two to Slytherin because Miss DeWitt has a valid point there. Fortunatly the vast majority of fish aren’t quite intelligent enough to decide that since other fish disappear in the vicinity of the Tubey Sponges. Still, it’s obvious in some areas that the food supply has either been exterminated or wised up–certain regions which used to be noted for their colonies of the plant now have none.” She pauses for long enough that it becomes obvious she’s waiting for more talking.

Saphia Bona blinks at that, as well. She’s earned points from Professor Walsh before, but they’ve always seemed grudging. Is she actually… actually being approved of? By Professor Walsh, no less? She notes down Morgana’s point, and then suggests again, “Are there uther plants that look like a Tubey Sponge? And do they shock on every bite? Either strategy might help it survive more rudily.” As she blows her nose one more time, she looks to Professor Walsh and asks, “Professor? Cun I have permission to scourgify my handkerchief?”

Reading again of Morgana’s notes Marcus turns a bit red. She was blackmailing him! In the middle of a class! Turns to look down in his book and begins taking real notes again though his hand is shakeing so bad that his usually neat scrawl is coming out very untidy and un-readable.

Ah, no points for Briony. Well, the girl appears to be a bit out of her league today in Herbology anyway, so the mere assertion is quite enough for her. She busily scribbles things out onto her paper and trying to make sense of the plant in the tank. “If it kills off all its food source, or dies out, how has so much of it survived? Is there any way for it to survive without killing things like that?” The girl asks, her voice perhaps a bit quiet for it being a group discussion.

“Ew.” Morgana observes of Saphia’s request, though she does sit back in her chair, smiling in a self-satisfied sort of way as she gets granted house points. Tapping her fingers on the desk, she stares off into space a little bit – blackmail, done. Token helpful comment in class, done. Notes, done. Now there’s nothing for her to do except stare off vaguely.

Keelan Walsh wrinkles her nose, “No, Miss Bona, you may not.” She stoops, though, and scoops up a trash bin, walking it toward the girl. “Throw it out, please. Or if you’re very attached, I’ll… send it to be cleaned.” With her other hand (it’s a small bin), she wrestles a very clean kerchief from her pocket, and dangles it toward the Ravenclaw, “This one should ah… elminate the need, it’s self-cleaning.” A cringe, and she continues, either hovering near Saphia with the bin and the kerchief, or returning if the girl does as advised. Or told, whichever. “Well, Miss Wexler, not all do so–it’s just like the population of rabbits in some areas with fewer natural predators–they tend to overeat and then consequently there are less rabbits.” An over generalization, to be sure. “As for surviving without killing things–not any more than you or I. We kill plants, at the very least, to feed ourselves, and many of us kill animals. Not personally, but the fact of the matter is that to survive, we need to eat. Carnivorous plants do not use photosynthesis well, or in some cases at all.” She pauses, now back in the front of the class. “As for Miss Bona’s previous question, some types of sea anemone look very much like the Tubey Sponge, and actually function similarily, and, well, as many Herbologists who care for the Tubey Sponge can attest, it does in fact sting every time it is in the ‘feeding’ position. The fringe is harmless when up in the ‘tube’ position, however, and as they do not require much food, they can be mistaken for shelter until feeding time.”

Saphia Bona snuffles, but places the handkerchief in the receptacle mentioned and asks, “Please have it cleaned. I quite like it.” She does offer, however, a thankful smile for the self-cleaning handkerchief, simply noting down the lesson diligently.

“Why does it matter if they kill things, anyway?” Morgana asks after a moment, though it seems largely because staring off into space is very dull rather than out of any urge to actually contribute. “I mean, killing’s just a part of nature. You eat fish, too, right?” The girl turns to look at Briony with a raised eyebrow, though she soon turns back to her desk, rearranging her things and shoving her bookbag into Marcus again.

Saphia Bona nods to Morgana and chips in, “I eat fish at least once a week.” She looks a little surprised at her own voice, and isn’t convinced the self-cleaning hanky doesn’t have a little curative charms woven into it as well.

Glancing to Morgana with a bit of a harsh look, Briony frowns. “I just wanted to know whether they could learn to survive without killing things if they had to.” Briony doesn’t say anything else to the girl and instead finishes writing out what Professor Walsh has answered in return to her query.

Keeping very quiet until Morgana speaks up again then Marcus clears his throat a little and begins speaking softly. “Well the Tubey Sponge isn’t exactly as intelligent as the things it’s eating is it? It works on reflexes…. and..” Marcus looks up and stops talking as his friends are just stareing at him a bit shocked.

Keelan Walsh shakes her head, “Miss Wexler, these are plants. If you care to continue in the study of Herbology, my NEWT seventh years do learn experimental Herbology-they may be able to be altered, but that doesn’t change the current plants, it would just make a new plant. In this case, a primarily useless one.” She rolls her shoulders back and peers momentarily into the tank of plants, “Since, unlike many plants, the only use outside of being carnivorous that has been discovered of the Tubey Sponge is, when dried and ground, a thickening agent–and there are so many easier to harvest ones, well, they’re not useful for Potions or in dinners–taste something like the sole of a particular old shoe, I think someone once described it to me as.” She raises her eyebrows, and addresses Marcus’s statement-”Quite right, Mr. Winsley. There is no trace of intelligence in the Tubey Sponge.” A lengthy pause, then: “However, they are useful for something as a species. Would anyone care to guess what?”

“Attracting fish?” Morgana suggests, though once again, it seems largely because she can’t think of anything better to do apart from contribute to the discussion. After a moment, though, she glances at Marcus again and offers an addendum in written form, ‘Well done, Winsley. For that, you can do my homework for next time as well.’

Saphia Bona ponders the question, and blows her nose again before answering, “What about as a way of generating power, since they can put out electric shocks?” She ventures her guess.

Marcus Winsley begins again scribbling in his notes as the questions go on. He is still quite pink in the face and he dosn’t dare look over at his friends. Instead he glances again at Morgana’s notes and while distracted he accidently knocks his ink well over onto her parchments. Miraculously (or unsurprising depending on your point of veiw) none of his notes get inked in his blunder. “Oops! Sorry Morgana!”

Keelan Walsh sort of half shakes half nods her head as if to say ‘Well, at least you’re thinking’ at Morgana and Saphia. “Well, no, they don’t particularly attract fish and the electricity, besides being largely useless to magical folk and unaccessable to Muggles, is not strong enough to actually be of use. However, some people put them in to protect underwater gardens from fish who may come in and nibble holes in all their plants. Sort of the way the Five-Toothed Shrub we studied a few weeks back was useful for keeping out moles and gnomes?” She smiles, grimly. “In any case, the Tubey Sponge is not a threat to humans–at most fingers will get mildly stung, not even as badly as a bee-sting and much less than a jellyfish or a backfire from some spells or Muggle electricity. The fish they eat are truly the small ones.”

“Ah – ah – WINSLEY!” Morgana shoves her chair away from the table, jumping to her feet and trying to avoid getting any of the spattered ink on herself. “Ugh – all over my notes and everything. And my bag. Y-you –” She sputters a bit more, before finally just stopping, taking a deep breath, and sitting back down, still at the same desk, but pulling her chair further away from Marcus.

Marcus Winsley is quick to mop up what he can of the ink and turns to Morgana putting on his best act. “Oh! Im so sorry Morgana! I didn’t mean to spill my ink all over your notes. I know how hard you worked on them!” Marcus stuffs his own notes and inkwell back into his bag. “Im sure the stains will come right off though.”

Keelan Walsh is forced, or rather compelled, to help deal with the burgeoning problem over with Morgana and Marcus. “Come now, you don’t know how to clean spilled ink yet?” Her wand is pulled out as she strides toward them, and one cleaning spell later the excess, at least, is taken care of. “Of course your notes are ruined at this point, I’ve yet to find a spell that will clean a spill and leave the words that were there before. At least your things aren’t forever doomed to be stained. Magic is lovely that way, I’m not sure laundry soap gets all that off.” Well, it is magic, why shouldn’t it clean up ink? A look around as she seems to have abandoned the class. “Right! So, no essay or reading left, but study for your exams. That’s the end of class.”

Saphia Bona nods, and begins packing up her things, but is still looking to professor Walsh as she does so, as if still wanting a last word with her.

Pointedly ignoring Marcus, whether his fawning apologies are genuine or an act, Morgana pays little attention to anyone except Professor Walsh – and even that is only a silent nod as the excess ink is cleaned up before she shoves her things back into her bag with unnecessary venom and fierceness in her actions. Then, she storms out of the Greenhouse, without so much as a look to anyone else. Poor sulky, angry Morgana.

Having been abandoned already by his group of usual cronies Marcus walks out of the greenhouse looking almost downtrodden… that is till he sees Morgana storm out angrily. Surprising what whonders a little revenge can work!