"Make sure it goes back in the tank, Heliotrope," Danielle LeJean told her daughter.

Whether the grindylow had been escaping, or vindictive about being captured and trying to mutilate Heliotrope's arm, it was hard to tell. Grindylows were not generally considered to have much in the way of psychology just nasty attitudes. Growing up in a loch the size of Loch Lomond meant the half-mermish Hufflepuff hardly considered grindylows a bother. Avoiding gnashing teeth and the clawed hands Heliotrope pinched the aquatic beast behind its head. The tentacles wrapped around her other arm loosed their grip.

Heliotrope had caught all five of this grindylows over the course of an afternoon. It was rare that her mother Danielle LeJean ever strayed far from the loch these days. Rarer to sell grindylows but there was a market to be had for them this season. Heliotrope did not pay attention to money matters.

With a push she moved the temporally dazed grindylow off her arm where it splashed back into the uppermost tank, water spilling out over the sides. Nearby critters in other cages hooted, snorted, barked, cawed or bleated in indignant fashion at that.