1:03 p.m.





On the twenty-sixth of April, first day of Career Week, Shona stood at the gate of the Care of Magical Creatures class pen (which had been expanded to accommodate today’s lesson) with an elbow on the post and a faint grin of satisfaction irrepressibly tugging at the corners of her mouth. There was neither rain nor wind (-or, at least, nothing worth fussing about), and... okay, maybe they could all do with a little sun, sure, but—that wasn’t important. Actually, considering the sight she was enjoying right now, it was quite unimportant.

For lo and behold– milling about in pairs, or all by their beautiful, magnificent lonesome –were hippogriffs. Great, beautiful, magnificent hippogriffs.

A herd of seven in total, they graced the pasture with their lush, gorgeous wings and rippling flanks, which ranged from shades of bay, chestnut, gray and cream (–even black, in the case of one). Tall, at roughly six feet and a half or so, with broad, sturdy chests and brisk, elegant limbs, they were enormous, and only seemed more so with those piercing eyes, which shone brightly with intelligence even under the overcast sky. Getting the permissions to ship them in had been one thing; getting their permission? Had been another thing entirely.

But that she had, and now the fruits of her labors were here, idling in pastoral bliss. Occasionally one of them flicked an ear or a glance at the restless group of teenagers pressed up against the gate, but for the most part they ignored them, completely unruffled by the attention.

Breathing out a long, happy sigh, Shona took another moment to soak up the sight before twisting around, pinning the lot of those cute cute faces with a blindingly cheerful grin.

“Hippogriffs,” she beamed, airily waving a hand behind her without turning around. “I’m sure you guys’ve seen ‘em before–” Not these ones in particular, of course, but in general, “–and if you haven’t, then shame on your professor–” Whoever that was. “But in all honesty, they’re something you want a refresher course in.” She paused, just long enough to shoot them all a meaningful brow (although amusement still clung to her lips), “even if you’re planning on being nowhere near them ever. So! If you read the reading at all (and made your notes, which I will be looking over today, don’t think I won’t), you would know what they are, how they are, and how to treat them. Which means–”

Quick as a flash she swung away from the post—still clinging to it, blocking the way—and leaned towards them, friendly grin freezing into a rictus of a smile—the twinkle in her eyes going still and dead serious. “You’re all going to impress me with what you’ve learned.” Her tone, while warm, still carried a deadly lilt of threat.

Her eyes – normally a sparkling pale green – may or may not have flashed a deep, warning red.

And then just like that, it was gone, pushed away by warmth and cheer. “Now–” She moved away from the post to push open the gate, “As you can see, there are six lords ‘n ladies for you to meet—seven if you count Stormwing over there–” As the students filed in, Shona gestured at the largest hippogriff of the herd, the stately-looking black male reclining beneath the single tree of the pen. He watched them all attentively, with eyes so orange they were practically red. “But I wouldn’t, because he’s very nice but busy,” her voice rose. Lowering, “I’ll do a demonstration with him, to cover all bases. The scratches of these guys can be pretty serious, I can’t stress that enough.”

She led them towards the tree, stopping them when they were a little less than a dozen feet away. “Eye contact,” she murmured, without turning. The male had yet to acknowledge her, but she wasn’t about to look away. “Hippogriffs are some of the proudest creatures you’ll ever meet, and eye contact is a way of determining fellow predator from prey, friends from hostiles. Too aggressive, and they’ll attack. Too timid, and they’ll attack.” Rule of the kingdom, really. “If you encounter one… approach them, bow, and wait. You wait for them to make the first move, always.”

She approached him then, footsteps confident but measured, until she was three feet away, two feet, one, and bowed, the movement graceful and deep—all while staring at him, unblinking.

Seconds passed, and passed, and passed. Then–

Stormwing got to his feet… and stretched out his head, venturing a step closer when she still proved to far. Suppressing a smile, Shona followed suit, until a black, vicious beak proved cool to the touch before giving way to soft, black feathers.

“Like this,” she said, stroking down his neck. Finally she looked to her students again. “Got it?” She looked at them all, expectant. “Now, shoo.” One hand buried in Stormwing’s ruff, Shona waved them off.

---

Firstly: please assume your character is present and on time; if they have a reason not to be, please notify me via PM! (If they don’t, please assume they get the stink-eye! Especially if they’re unprepared. Unprepareds get to watch from outside the pen, like squares.) Or, if they aren’t on the roster, just post and I’ll add you to the roster.

Secondly: these are hippogriffs! So please portray them as such.

Amara hadn't expected much of today's class, but Care was indeed her favorite subject, so she was at least a little better disposed when walking in the class pen, throwing Donovan a terse, but polite nod. But upon being greeted by the sight of hippogriffs, her eyes sparkled with awe and her mouth parted open to let out a shuddering breath. There were few creatures quite as majestic as hippogriffs save dragons and perhaps centaurs.

She'd had some dealings with hippogriffs before, as a matter of fact one of her uncles had a sanctuary near Ocna Sibiului, back in Romania. She even rode one as much as she disliked flying. But it was an entirely different thing to meet one now, at school. Amara's day had just gotten better. Tuning out Donovan and whatever she might've been saying or showing, the Slytherin eyed a younger hippogriff, with silver plumage and particularly haughty air, feeling drawn to it. She noticed his movements carefully, eyes drawn back to Donovan as she exemplified how to approach them. As if they shouldn't already know this.

When the professor had given them the go, Amara walked surely, but slowly towards the silver hippogriff, eyes intent, but not piercing, on the creature. When the hippogriff noticed her, a few feet away, she paused, bowing slowly and gracefully without interrupting eye contact for a second. Fear was something Amara wasn't quite familiar with at this point in her life, and while proud, her utmost respect for creatures of any kind - except human - could be felt in her stance and approach. She was a bit too excited, however, and the hippogriff seemed wary and reluctant for a few moments. After what felt like an eternity, the bird-like creature inclined its head but moved no closer to her.

Tentatively, she straightened her back and took another step forward. "You're quite majestic, aren't you" she noted, not a compliment, but merely stating a fact. The hippogriff perked its head towards her, and she could almost see it arching a non-existent eyebrow as if to say 'yes, and?' Amara smiled, huffing softly, and took another step closer, clasping her hands behind her back.

Ayla was always excited for creatures. It was her third best class when it came to grades but definitely one of her favourites when it came to enjoyment. Professor Donovan was just the icing on the cake these days. Ayla did not have a good track record with her creatures Professors. O'Morain had thought she was an idiot and Hagrid while super nice and enthusiastc but she scared her some. Being only five feet (and not likely to get any taller) having a half-giant for a Professor was intimidating to say the least. If anything Professor Donovan made her homesick. She was American, not Canadian but they spoke the same language, at least in the sense that their accents were closer to each than those of her Bristish and Scottish classmates.

Today however Ayla was feeling apprehensive. She standing with her hands behind her back near the edge of the pen. She liked Hippogryffs, she really did but she found herself staring at their large eagle like talons. The scars along her side tingled. She had never been attacked by a Hippogryff, her own scars had come from a yeti when she was a little kid but it didn't exactly make her a fan of large animals with claws. She had a feeling the creatures would sense her fear and not want her near them any way.

For now Ayla was content to just watch the other students try their hands at winning the Hippogryffs favour. Perhaps if she stayed still long enough Professor Donovan wouldn't notice she was there. Surely she wouldn't make her approach a creature that would know just how scared she was to be near them. That would just be asking for trouble right? Then again she also wasn't a fan of getting a bad grade in one of her favourite classes . . .

Ayla wasn’t the only one wary of the things. Connor, who did pretty well in the class these days (–at least, since O’Murrain’s departure) and normally thrived on danger (particularly when it practically loomed on the horizon wearing a tight, red-lipped smile and even tighter clothes), nevertheless eyed the beasts with a bit of sweat collecting in his palms.

They were huge. And easily offended. He wanted to keep his skin on, dammit!

“You guys go on wivvout me, yeah?” he winked at his friends, from around the busy poke of his toothpick. Trying to make himself as comfortable as he could while he hung back, the Ravenclaw folded his skinny arms, gnawing nervously. If he was lucky the thing would splinter—getting him out of the pen right ‘n proper. “Show us how it’s done while the rest of us look pretty.” He batted his eyes swooningly.

Rolling her eyes at her friend’s cowardice, Esther went on ahead, utterly confident in her own ability. Having been present for the first time the beasts were studied the previous year– and indeed, there had been a herd or two carefully bred back in Shikoku –as well as armed with the notes and questions their professor expected of them, she was more than prepared to face six and a half feet of feathers, claws, and pride.

Fearlessness. Perhaps it wasn’t quite Gryffindor bravery, but then, she wasn’t a Gryffindor, and anyway, to admit fear when it lacked advantage was weakness. Esther Morrell was bold, cunning, and stylish. Perfect. She was not weak.

She was, however, alone, or at least bereft of actually valued company, and that did, however, put a bit of a damper on things. But maybe it was just as well, for at least one of them was safe by the fence and another was with their esteemed, aforementioned teacher, albeit likely for disingenuous reasons. That, at least, meant she had a few less things to worry about, which was fine, because she would always be too young for wrinkles. Wrinkles were for other people.

A cream-colored hippogriff found, approached, and respectfully acknowledged, it took every ounce of control for the Slytherin not to scamper over like an excitable first year. Fingers smoothed over a wickedly sharp beak, before moving reverently over soft, soft feathers. “Oh, you gorgeous thing, you,” she sighed, eyes crinkled and adoring.

Ambrose found himself increasingly looking forward to his creatures lessons, which he attended with a bunch of his classmates including Moira beneath the guidance of Professor Donovan. He could see he pen as they made their way down to their lesson and his heart was already beating a little quicker at the possibility of getting close to a hippogriff. They'd spent their homework writing up their notes and annotating, and Ambrose had triple checked they were in his bag before they'd headed down.

He shuffled amongst his classmates as Professor Donovan showed them how to bow and maintain eye contact. Too aggressive, too timid and you could end up as lunch. It was about finding that middle ground with them.

At their dismissal, Ambrose led the approach to a deep red chestnut hippogriff who was sniffing and tugging at the turf with its large beak. The angle Ambrose initially saw it suggested it was a female, though he didn't consider it much in his approach, other than he approached with gentle but assured motion, and bowed deeply, lifting his chin to maintain eye contact. He hoped the hippogriff couldn't hear his heart beating so quickly and the feeling that lunch was potentially trying to get back up his throat with this bow.

Shooing was not an option for Bastian. Instead, he began to sidle slowly closer to Professor Donovan, keeping a watchful eye on the beasts they were supposed to be approaching at all times. Professor Donovan made it look like it was nothing, but it was her job, and Esther made it look like it was nothing, but she was a perfect human being. Meanwhile the mere mortals were far more sensibly cautious, apart from everyone’s least favourite deranged psychopath, dear Batty, for whom even the curative powers of adorable creatures would do nothing.

And it wasn’t like he thought he was less loveable than darling Batty, or even (dare he say it) their wonderful professor, but… hippogriffs could be tetchy and Bastian wasn’t so great with that sort of thing. “Professor Shona,” he said, only slightly whiney and in a low voice so as not to spook the hippogriffs, “Professor Shona, do we have to approach them? My second cousin has scars.” Bastian had lots of second cousins, so presumably several of them had scars. If he was lucky, one of them might even have scars from a Hippogriff, but it didn’t really matter either way.

He paused, aware that his excuse wasn’t terribly convincing and he would probably have to do better to make sure he didn’t end up being that second cousin who got mauled by a hippogriff. Every family had one. “Can you help me? I’m too pretty to have scars.” He smiled hopefully, sure that if Professor Donovan was helping him he would be much less likely to be maimed.

Watching the students head off (–or not, as it were), Shona settled against Stormwing’s side a little more comfortably, content to leave them to their own devices, or at least enough to let them fend for themselves. It wouldn’t do to leave them completely unsupervised, of course, but it’d be good for them to get a genuine feel of the experience. After Hogwarts the chances of finding themselves in a similarly controlled situation both dropped and increased, and it was her job to see them prepared. Even if they wouldn’t be her students by then–

Well, that wasn’t a remotely valid argument, in her eyes.

Stormwing butted her hand, jolting the witch from her musings; sometime during them she must have stopped her ministrations, the petting and scratching that had the stallion surveying all with lidded eyes, and that just wouldn’t do, would it? Smiling slightly – sheepishly, even – Shona resumed, fingers mindfully burrowing into the sooty feathers. And she began paying the students a little more attention, too.

The children, she saw, were showing a mixed number of results—some were doing well, others not so well. Some had chosen to hang back, and perhaps rightly so; others, such as Ambrose, were still trying. Slytherin, she noted as she scanned the area, had clearly met with success, but not all. In fact, one inched towards her now.

Lips pursed as she listened, trying very, very hard not to let her amusement show. Sebastian Desrosiers was a… special kid, or so she had heard, but in her class he behaved well enough. Ish. The gods knew he did better on the written work rather than the practical side of things (not to mention disruptions) but he certainly tried, and well—he certainly made her laugh. As fond as she was of watching people squirm, she wasn’t actually a sadist (or cruel, as certain dramatic siblings would sometimes point out), and she didn’t want to see any student of hers getting hurt on her watch. Straightening to attention, Shona gave Bastian hers, lips tugging into a grin despite herself. “A valid reason,” she nodded gravely– the lilt in her tone only slightly mocking, but she was already scanning the pen, picking out the more even-tempered beasts from the difficult ones.

Ambrose’s hippogriff– a handsome chestnut lady with dappled flanks –was one of the former, eyeing the Gryffindor as he slowly approached. Zeroing in on him, Shona could pick out his heartbeat out of the rest, rabbit fast and pounding. It didn’t look bad, or that it would be, but…

The hippogriff cocked her head, eyeing the fourth year watchfully as he bowed—and then bowed herself, swooping gracefully on a bent knee.

Exhaling sharply, Shona looked away.

“How about that one?” She pointed out another by the eastern fence. Pinkish roan and barred with white, a young, sleek male idly pawed at the ground. When that proved boring, it began to nibble on the fence, leaving scratches into the wood. “He’s a bit young– about your age, actually– but that only means he’s less reserved than the adults. Shall we?” She was already drawing away from giant hippogriff beside her, shooting the Slytherin an expectant smile as she passed—hardly waiting for him to follow.

Stormwing stared at him balefully.

It took quite a bit of self-control for Ambrose not to let a 'yes!' slip from his lips and a small fist pump as the chestnut hippogriff bowed and allowed Ambrose to approach.

He took a deep breath and eased up slowly, eyes keenly on the hippogriff more out of curiosity and awe of being so close to the magnificent animal. A couple of cautious steps forward, he allowed the hippogriff to investigate his hand before reaching to pet it very gently and then a little more firmly once he'd got a feel for how the feathers sat. He didn't want to pull any out or bend any until he was sure.

Ambrose's grin was enormous as he came to stand beside the hippogriff properly and marvelled at the wingspan. He'd got so wrapped up in his own he'd barely noticed the progression of his classmates until he looked round to see if anyone would like to join him.

"Professor, which of the herd has the biggest wingspan? They all look like they're as long as the staff table in the Great Hall!"