The weekend before Moira had been... not herself. That was the best way to put it since she didn't jump into a freezing lake for fun. Saturday she had been rather delusional, or so she'd been told, and Sunday she hadn't been able to do anything. This weekend would make up for it. This weekend she decided to do something... not against the rules exactly but it wasn't likely to be smiled upon either.

Ducking inside the abandoned corridor, and looking around to make sure no one was in the area, she pulled a baby snowy owl out of the nest she had made for it inside her bag. The adults she had studied thoroughly, and now she was going to do the same... with a baby. It was a harmless examination, she had even brought it baby owl food, so gross, and a hot water bottle to make sure it stayed warm. After all, she didn't want to hurt the poor thing. All she wanted to do was study it, make as many notes as she could, and then put it back safe and sound.

Stroking it's feathers soothingly she sat down with her notebook and quill and started making notes. The cute little thing even slept as she worked, making the whole process go that much faster. Now if she could just get her hands on a thestral foal!

Stress!

Stress, stress, stress! John Kingside - despite having his own fair share of talent, with several well-marked OWLs up his sleeve, quite nearly making Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and being an excellent Chaser in his own right - was absolutely worn to the bone. Spending the vast majority of the first term having three shattered limbs remedied by Tulojow, it was questionable whether or not he'd even be ship shape for the first game of the season - he was, of course, but his performance was less than satisfactory (to himself, at least).

Practicing nightly on the Quidditch pitch was both worrisome, due to its rule breaking nature, and a time consumer, due to the disgruntling level of NEWT classes on his schedule and the voluminous amount of homework accrued by such. Add it all up, and you had one peeved and tired Kingside - whose eyes had recently developed sightly bags and whose lack of appetite had left him slightly less substantial than usual.

As such, it was now - during the free period he shared with a handful of other Gryffindors in his year - that Kingside had chosen to sneak off to the Third Floor's abandoned corridor and do a bit of homework he had neglected; the common room was occupied by a series of noisy folk, the dormitory too dim for the Chaser to focus properly. No, this typically uninhabited stretch of hallway was just right. Wait a tic --

"Wotcher," Kingside shot at Moira, with whom he was thoroughly unfamiliar; his eyes roved over the young white owl and notation book in front of her. What was she up to, hrm?

Everything was going smoothly. Moira was learning more about the owl as a baby while interrupted than she would anywhere else. Honestly Paetyn was becoming a bit of a problem by this point, it was very difficult to get any kind of studying done. Gently opening the owl's wing she took a couple measurements and lowered it again and resumed her note taking. By this point she was humming quietly to herself old songs her dad used to sing to her when she was a small child, and sometimes he still did.

"Wotcher."

Jerking a little bit she looked up at the obviously older student and blinked. Unfortunately, her jerking had woken the baby owl up and it started making noises of protest. Quickly she worked at soothing it and sighed when it had quieted down. This one student seemed fairly confused and didn't quite know she was up to something she probably shouldn't be up to, but he did seem a little suspicious. Looking back up at him here was the slightest hint of annoyance in her eyes.