1:09 p.m.
Loch Maree, Scotland





With a buzz under her skin that was part excitement, part dread, Shona shoved her hands into her pockets and rocked on her heels, eyes trained onto the vast body of water below. It was as clear and blue as the sky above– which was to say, grey –and bracketed by seemingly endless mountains. It also, coincidentally, contained a series of wildlife not immediately seen; save for the occasional ripple caused by the wind (and the stray scent carried to her nose), it was almost completely undisturbed, as though devoid of life.

Shona, however knew better, which was why she and her new students now stood a few feet away from the invisible security wards that enclosed the loch, shivering from the chill of the air and cold gusts of wind. As the last of them emptied today’s lunch onto the grass, she turned around, cheeks apple red from the cold and her smile broadly curving from ear to ear, tendrils of chestnut-colored hair whipping about her face. “Loch Maree,” she introduced, beaming at the lot of them with a wide, expansive wave of her hand at the lake behind her. “I know this was a bit sudden-” Somewhere in the crowd, there was a soft, scornful snort; grinning even more widely, she continued. “But I thought since it’s so late in the game, you guys might appreciate a chance to get away from the castle.

“Anyway, I know we left in a rush, so. I’m Shona Donovan– Professor Donovan, obviously, but you can just call me professor, or even Professor D if you’d like.” Catching the eye of one student, she winked and moved on, “I sound American, because I am, but I was born in Kent, which was how I got this job in the first place. Now, who wants to tell me what nixies[1] are?” Hands flew up in the air.[2] “Yeah? Great! Okay, one at a time, gimme your name and house first, go.”

1.	Due to the lack of mention in HP canon – and my own preference for these books – I am primarily borrowing from The Spiderwick Chronicles. But since the information given is limited, I’m gathering from other sources as well. So please feel free to do so!
2.	First one to reply got picked, anyone after also got picked, so on and so forth until Shona feels enough people have answered, you know the drill! Also, as soon as everyone gathered at the edge of the castle, she activated the Portkey. (This is only an hour class, so.) Hope that clears things up!

Amara was now of the firm belief that socks were not an accurate enough comparison for how often they seemed to change Creatures professors. She didn't even remember the professor before last's name anymore. Then again, it would be rather counterproductive in keeping her mind free of useless facts. When the Slytherin's feet found land again, it only took her a couple of minutes to find balance again, as opposed to some of her colleagues... whose stomach contents she could now see next to her shoe.

With a crinkle of her nose, she sidestepped widely and raised her eyes to look impassively at the new professor, hands crossed over her chest. The woman's enthusiasm was making her uncomfortable. To say the least. It reminded her of a certain other professor. And that one hadn't ended up all that well in the head as of lately. How... sad. A bit sudden? The Báthory heiress raised an incredulous eyebrow and snorted under her breath, head turning to the side to slightly roll her eyes. Tho she supposed a break from the castle was rather welcome. She didn't really believe in Spring fever, but how could she not when she was seeing the symptoms all over the castle? "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad..." she couldn't help think. Especially herself.

When the blabbering was finally done and a question was addressed, Amara raised her hand lazily in the air with an expression that said she had better things to do with her time than be here. "Amara Ecaterina Báthory, Slytherin" she said tilting her head to look intensely at professor Donovan. "Nympha lymphae, commonly known as freshwater nixies are solitary herbivorous creatures bound to the bodies of fresh water they inhabit. They serve as guardians of the places they dwell in. They are humanoid shaped with skin of a green sheen and can be identified by the stream of continuous liquid which flows from their hair and clothes. Nixies have external gill filaments that take up oxygen from the water around them when they swim and a translucent nictitating membrane that works as a third eyelid and protects the eye while under water" she recited monotonously, hands still crossed over her chest and fingers drumming on her arm.

The great outdoors, it certainly wasn’t. There was a certain charm to nature, sure, but only when viewed from a safe distance, where Bastian’s beautiful hair couldn’t get bugs in it.

But the promise of both a trip and a new professor-forward-slash-possible-vampire-or-other-creature-of-the-night, like Professor Storm (or Snowy, as Bastian referred to him when he was absolutely sure he wouldn’t be caught), was just too good to miss, so here he was, bravely braving the chill winds and muddy wastes of the world beyond the warmth of the castle walls. Surrounded by nature, which might touch him.

Because the professor was new, and therefore could either be evil like Professor Di Luca, or not, like every other professor, Bastian did listen attentively while she introduced herself – well, until she said they could call her Professor D, after which he was too busy catching Connor’s eye to communicate the brilliance of this and how wonderful it was for all students concerned. All students meaning him and Connor. Precision was for losers, which meant most of the other students. Not Esther, of course, because she was perfect.

He was paying attention again when dear Batty began to drone on, and he shifted impatiently, at waiting for the unbearable torture to end, please, God, it would end, wouldn’t it? It had to, and yet – ah! Finished, at last, Bastian’s shoulders slumped in pure and blissful relief. She managed to make everything sound boring. Waving his hand about, he called out quickly, “Yeah, Professor D, I’m called Bastian Desrosiers and I hail from the House Of The Cunning, don’t they have frogspawn babies? And are sort of frog like in their mating rituals. And also, how does water stream off them all the time if they’re in the water? Do they, like, secrete it?”

He beamed at her, hopeful that his first impression would be a good one. He’d answered and asked a question, and he hadn’t even had any incidents yet.

Ambrose breathed in lungfuls of the clean loch air and seemed to grow an inch in doing so, drawing himself up. It might be another professor, but they were out and about and this was a lesson he tended to enjoy.

He slid his hands into his pockets, tie a little loose around his neck and breeze ruffling his brown hair.

Bathory recited like a text book, and the class around her shuffled their feet, used to this. Ambrose, along with others was beginning to get used to pausing after a question for a definition to let the Slytherin do the hard work.

"They call them knuckers[1] down south, Professor. But the Muggles that use the word are thinking of a dragon that got loose in Lyminster, weren't it?" He offered, remembering the story from his mother when he was little. Then remembered, "Ambrose Pepper, Gryffindor."

1.	Knucker, Sussex

Professor D. It nearly killed him, meeting Bastian’s eye.

He knew, then, that he was going to love this class.

As soon as Ambrose had finished Connor’s hand shot up, thin and bony and obnoxious. “Connor Todd, of th’ swag house of Ravenclaw,” he announced, grinning from ear to ear like a loon. Sleepy blue eyes twinkled mischievously (though it was just as likely to be from the wind, argh). “Don’t they eat kids, tho’, sometimes? Obviously not often,” he added hastily, ‘cause he wasn’t dumb, “but like. Jenny Greenteeth an’ the like.”

Shona blinked at Amara, and smiled. It was a slightly fixed smile– there was something off about the girl, even if Shona couldn’t place her finger on it, and… unpleasant, despite the girl’s perfectly civil tone and her display of an impressive memory –but Shona was a professional. And it was only their first class; there was always more to people beyond their first impression.

And if there wasn’t? That was fine, too.

These were all fine answers, and they made Shona grin, slight and pleased. It was always good to see students who knew their stuff. “Very good, Miss Báthory. Three points to Slytherin,” she nodded, approving. Whether she might privately share her new students’ feelings about the girl was hardly a matter; the Slytherin might even provide a balance to her peers. There was more than one kind of good student. “A rudimentary knowledge of the subject is necessary for anyone about to study it,” she said, directing it to the rest of the class. Pale, blue-green eyes scanned the group, moving from face to face. “It helps to know what you’re dealing with. And it can be any body of freshwater, so long as it has the sufficient depth and life to sustain the nixie. Although…

“For clarification, they are bound to their native waters, but recent studies suggest that it is more out of a need for territory– and physiobiological restrictions, such as a constant need for moisture– rather than any magical restriction the term might suggest. Nixies can travel, so long as they remain in or close to freshwater, and usually only during mating season, which is every four years. Even if their homes can sustain a family, they are, as Miss Báthory said, solitary creatures; they might not be as hostile as some other creatures, such as the nundu or chimaera, but they are territorial. Once the spawn are old enough, they find a new place to live, or they fight their mother for the dwelling.”

The grin turned sharp and bright. “Losers are thrown out to dry.”

At Bastian, though, it relaxed with amusement. “They are a lot like frogs in that respect yes,” she agreed; it was as accurate a description as any. “Another three points to Slytherin,” and she produced her teacher’s edition of the Monster Book of Monsters, flipping through the pages. “If you turn to page 211, you can see how much, even. Much like frogs, their skin is highly permeable, and therefore vulnerable to dehydration. As a safeguard, they secrete a mucus, which keeps the constant intake-excretion of water at a safe degree. When they’re about to step onto land, they take in more water than usual, and the mucus acts as a sealant before it dries out.”

At Ambrose’s and Connor’s contributions, Shona clasped her hands together. Cheeks dimpled. At this rate she was going to have crow’s feet as bad as her brother, but in this way? She was hardly going to complain. “Which brings us to another point,” she beamed, giving Ambrose a nod as well. “ ‘Nixie’ has been used to refer to a number of species it isn’t, when has led to some misunderstandings among muggles– and us as well. Prior to certain discoveries we thought Jenny Greenteeth had been a nixie. But she was a hag—a river hag, to be precise.” Her gaze found Ambrose again. “Three points for Gryffindor.”

Satisfied with the answers she’d gotten, Shona began making her way towards the clear dirt path that meandered down the cliff. There was fencing, in lieu of the rocky ground and a desire to leave the area as untouched as possible, and she stopped at the foot of the path, a hand resting on a fence post. “Anyone else? Otherwise we’ll continue at the lake.” She smiled brilliantly. “I’d hate for anyone to misstep and break their necks.”

With even more discontentment coming off of her in waves, Esther stared down at her boots, silently mourning their once pristine appearance. She knew it would be a risk, wearing them to this class, but… They had been so cute, with their black suede faces and immaculate kitten heels, and they were starting with an(other), different teacher (again). It was only appropriate to acknowledge the occasion with something as meaningful as a new pair of shoes. With her crisp black skirt, the black, slightly oversized sweater that accentuated her slim frame instead of hiding it, and the careful accents of green and silver her necktie brought, they had made the Perfect Outfit. It was Thursday!

She couldn’t even bring herself to roll her eyes and give her friends an indulgent smile. That was how distraught she was.

With a lifted hand and a heavy heart, she introduced herself, “Esther Morrell, Slytherin,” bravely tearing her gaze away from them to meet that of the professor. Her grief was so much more important, but it warred with the need to shine and outshine, and endear herself to authority figures. And Professor Donovan was very pretty.

What? She had to find a silver lining somewhere.

“Males are really rare,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind a chill-flushed ear, “because they’re fundamentally female, and only a few become male during mating season, after which they, um, go back. Like mermaids.” The pink in her cheeks deepened a little, but she plowed on, “It’s usually hard to tell when they are, because on the outside they look really similar to females, and they’re a lot less friendlier, so it’s harder to get a closer look. The only known, sure way for anyone is with music. They love music.”

Esther paused. Getting into her groove– and forgetting about her ruined shoes, for the moment –she warmed to the topic. “The term ‘nixie’, though, is an umbrella term, like ‘mermaid’—there’s more than one kind, and they’re classified by what kind of body freshwater they’re living in.”

You'd think house elf aided apparition would get one used to portkeys. That was never the case with Casey O'Doherty.

Currently suffering the longest from the trip to whatever backwater country the infamous soggy Hufflepuff had crawled out of, Casey lingered towards the back of the crowd. A splitting headache had combined with nausea typical of such violent motion not helped by the present chill of the countryside. All the while the class was talking about some kind of 'water pixie' they apparently didn't have in the Black Lake right by the castle.

Over the top of his scarf (which was tainted the sour smell of his exhaled breath) he squinted towards the light glinting off the freezing water, wondering just how they were going to find these creatures after the lecture half of the trip was over.

Kelvin was glad that he very rarely ended up sprawled on the ground after traveling by portkey, and it had been ages since it had left him nauseous enough to vomit.  First impressions that included vomiting were never a good way to start with a new professor.  Granted they generally had enough new Care of Magical Creatures professors that it really didn't matter what first, second, or third impression you made since they didn't seem to stick around much longer than that.

"Kelvin Watkins, Ravenclaw,"  He said after Esther finished, "The ancient Greeks worshipped them as naiads.  Crinaeae lived in wells and fountains, Limnades in lakes, Pegaeae in the springs, Potamides in the streams and rivers, Eleionomae in the marshes.  They were generally the most dangerous, luring young boys with their beauty,"  Kelvin couldn't help the slight blush that turned his cheeks even redder than the cold had, "though how anyone could think a nixie was beautiful."   He shrugged before continuing, "In general they weren't considered dangerous though, unless they were wronged or became obsessed with you"

Ambrose could hardly stop an enormous grin spreading across his face. Most of the professors would have considered his general method of answering questions to not warrant even the odd point, but three, cor blimey, Care of Magical Creatures was re-establishing itself as top of his favourite lessons.

While a few more answers trickled in, Ambrose glanced about the group and down towards the lake that the Professor had hinted they were heading to.

As he glanced about he caught sight of O'Doherty looking green and chuckled to nearby classmates in a low voice.

"Casey's gonna vom' in the lake if he gets there."

Shona leaned against the post. “Rude,” she grinned, cocking a finger at Kelvin. Next to his noisier housemate he’d appeared rather quiet, that she’d thought he’d need prompting. She was glad this wasn’t the case. “But point. Researchers suspect a glamour is involved, or some very strong pheromones, though it could just as be that some find them attractive by their own volition. Those who’ve lived closer to human settlements for a long enough period of time are noticeably more human-looking than those who haven’t. Three points to Slytherin and Ravenclaw each.”

Scanning the group to see if they were paying attention (as well as a silent headcount, to make sure no one had wandered off during her lecture), she stepped back, lowering herself another step down the roughly-hewn stairs. Dark, arching brows briefly furrowed with concern as she noted Casey’s ill expression; it could be lingering nausea, but… She hadn’t gotten to where she was now by leaving things to could’s. And it didn’t help, either, that upon a second glance he was plainly smaller than his classmates. It was like looking at a sprout that didn’t get enough sun.

On the other hand, they needed to get to the lake; class was nearly half over.

“Down to the lake, then,” Shona clapped her hands, pressing close to the railing to let them pass through. “Single file, watch your step and wait for me over there–” With a hand on the railing, she twisted around and gestured at an outcrop of boulders clustered by the water’s edge, a few meters away from the foot of the stairs. Most of them were a little on the large side, but they were so closely gathered that it would be easy to climb onto them using the smaller ones nearby. (Though Merlin knew there’d be a few who probably wouldn’t need such assistance, some of them were tall.)

The students went. When Casey neared, however, Shona clapped a hand on his shoulder. “A moment, O’Doherty, if you would,” she said, and– gently tugging him to the side– pressed a small vial of Anti-Nausea into his hand.

“Can’t have you puking on our friends,” she grinned down at him, clapping his shoulders once more before nudging him along.

"Professor?" Ambrose asked boldly as they traipsed down to the lake. She had just clapped Casey on the shoulder and the two of them looking strangely pally - though he was sure it was just in one direction, the gesture was probably more likely to make Casey puke.

He had to look back to check his step down, though he was at the back of the group.
"Are we gonna be catching nixies today? Or just studying their habitat, like?"

Not that Pepper was anxious to get to do practical work or anything.

Smooth, chill-bitten cheeks reddened further with pleasure. If Esther could hear Ambrose’s thoughts, she would have surely agreed; however flimsy their justification might be, the small infusion of points was enough for the image-conscious Slytherin to feel better about ruined footwear. The world righted itself some, with it.

As per instruction, Esther headed towards the beaten path, falling into line as the stairs proved narrow (and as rustic as they had looked from afar). With Professor Donovan in the lead, the Slytherin followed them to a cluster of boulders near the shore, shooting the barebones stairs a look of distaste as they went. Ugh. Nature.

All thoughts of disgust, however, wandered away as Ambrose voiced his question. Curiously she, too, looked to the professor, although hers was more of a glance; with so little by way of a proper path, she had her work cut out for her simply walking without stumbling. As tempting as it was to take advantage of a foot turned wrongly (-which, even without one she was sure Bastian would accede to carrying her regardless), the hill was… hilly, to say the least, that an accidental tumble with him would be even more undignified.

But fun, a treacherous part of her whispered. But she ignored it.

“Catch them!” Connor whooped, a bony fist punching the air. Of course, catching them would be more work than simply studying the creatures, but hindsight was something that happened to other people; planning ahead was what you did for important stuff– like pranks, he believed, or other kinds of awesomeness. Anyway, jus’ sitting around and studying them sounded boring. He looked to his classmates– his male classmates –in particular with a goober’s encouraging look. “Yeah? Yeah?”

A few of the sufficiently less intelligent ones[1] shook similar fists at him, expressions contorted into an uproarious, open-mouthed snarl. “Yeah!” they bleated.

Esther rolled her eyes.

1.	Which was to say, they were still promising young men, of course, and you’d be cruel to say otherwise, but it was very apparent they were a bit more... susceptible to Connor, than others.

Leaving Casey to straggle at the back, Shona offered Ambrose a wolfishshark-like grin, something broad and toothy and very nearly wicked; at Connor & Company’s antics, however, it quickly gave way to a sharp huff of laughter, one that left lingering traces of a grin. Lightly– effortlessly– the werewolf jauntily climbed down the stairs, only a brief glance spared for the steps as she looked back on her adorable bunch of fourthies. Sheep, they reminded her of, even with their un-sheeplike qualities, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

(She did, after all, keep her very own flock of sheep. And they weren’t even nice sheep.)

“A bit of both, Mister Pepper,” she merrily replied, as another gust of wind tossed up dark, reddish strands. Her eyes seemed to gleam extra brightly, as though with an unholy light, but the constant excess of wind was, perhaps, a likelier cause. “But that’s up to you all.” And with that, Shona led them to a cluster of boulders by the shore.

They weren’t too far from the shore, the boulders, but they weren’t all that close, either; maybe ten feet or so, with moss clinging to their faces more predominantly where there was shade (although there were sparse growths of it just about all over, on many of them, given the usual Scottish weather). Here, grass was sparse, too, thinning as it grew closer to shore. The more stubborn of them stood tall (or as tall as they could, anyway, which apparently wasn’t very tall at all). Bringing them here, Shona gestured at the lot of them, inviting them to sit, if they could.

“As much as I would like to have you all study where they live, where they really live,” she began, leaning against one of the rocks with her back to the lake, “that, I’m afraid, may have to wait another time. Instead, we’ll be drawing them out.” She’d asked ahead, of course, to better their chances that even one might appear (and indeed, they had very good hearing), but nixies, while generally pleasant or at least harmless, were, like so many fey, a bit on the fickle side. It could be anything– the weather, a disturbance of some kind, perhaps even a gathering of some sort –but it could just as well be a simple change of mind.

And even if they did appear… Well, they were all about to see how musically inclined some of them —hopefully— were.

Pushing off from the rock, Shona drew out from the depths of her scarf a mokeskin pouch, and pulled it off from her neck. “In here,” she held it out for them to see, and gave it a shake, “I have a flute, a lute, a zither, a guitar, a set of pan pipes, annnnnd-” Pausing, she took a moment to peek inside. “Yeah, that’s about it. So!” Looking up– at them again– Shona looked around, casting the lot of them an encouraging grin. “Would someone like to show us how it’s done? You could sing, if you’d prefer.”

And just like that, Mister Todd’s voice seemed to give out even before his mouth clamped shut, and he seemed to try very hard to appear as unobtrusive and meek and close-lipped as possible. Curious.