Accidentally being signed up for Care of Magical Creatures, its own arduous story, had marred what had otherwise felt like Philo's year on taking subjects he had always wanted to like Runes or Arithmancy. But the early Wednesdays of double Creatures had been bleary, a majority on days when foul weather brewed. Invariably Philo would forget things at the pens such as his bag or the assignment, if he wasn't being the last in class to finish bow truckle sketches or sort out owl pellets.

It left a smidgen of a rush trying to get to Ancient Runes, few in Creatures had that class following right after. Many enjoyed a study period. But Philo, who had to go back for his dragon hide gloves (it was like Herbology all over again) soon found an impasse as he made his way up from the grounds. The quickest way to Ancient Runes was the take the footbridge over the lake inlet to get to the far corner of the castle. And on that bridge there was a sudden crowd Philo was not accustomed to seeing, a knot of students from many houses but most with Gryffindor or Slytherin trimmed robes. And the air of much excitement compared to the cool strained sun overhead.

"Two sickles per bet! Will she jump, will she survive?" One of the Mastiff brothers, Bruno, the stringy and flighty one was making racket that didn't make much sense. What kinds of bets required blocking off the footbridge--wait, jump?

Philo elbowed through to a space on the rail, a challenge because most in the crowd had their heads pointed towards a single focus as they leaned over the railing. There was somebody past the railing. As in, dangling off the one side with arms and legs braced in support. Still in her uniform though minus shoes and workbag, idly eying the water filled gorge below. Philo's jaw dropped because he knew exactly who the would-be diver was.

Heliotrope LeJean.

A bag of muggle studies and other homework sat discarded with oversized shoes. An odd bag that looked like a pouch made of singular purplish kelp, in actually the magically oversized egg sack from a sea creature. Amongst other things the merfolk culture could be counted upon as thrifty. Said bag and oversized shoes belonging to such a half-mer Heliotrope LeJean.

Whose eyes were currently downwards, sizing up the plunge to the scant water below. Each arm was spread wide, web fingers with a firm grip on opposing ends of the rail, stunted flipper-looking feet having a welcome release from school shoes similarly bent in a tight grip on the under-edge of the bridge planks. A grip with far more flexibility suggested from the average bone count of a hominid's foot.

Who exactly had been the first to suggestion the notion of diving off the bridge had been forgotten, only that the suggestion had come from somewhere in a knot of CoMC students. Maybe it had been derived from a precursory look into aquatic critters, or from the ever critical third year perspective as many wrestled with their own physical maturity noticing the even more bizarre changes in the half-selkie Hufflepuff. By now it was obvious that she wasn't wholly human, some kind of part goblin, transfigured frog or some kind of gillyweed spiked homunculus (avid Quibbler fans still holding out on the latter theory). So, whether it had been meant as a joke or otherwise hypothetical bit of group conversation, the question had been posed if Heliotrope LeJean or someone else of mermish speaking decent could survive a jump off the footbridge.

And it only took Heliotrope giving a small glance over the side to say that she could.

And thus it became as much of her motivation as it had been the whims of others.

In fact she was remaining oblivious to the chatter and jostling of onlookers as if the entirety of the bridge behind her didn't exist. Her instincts and mind were wrapped up in the mental gymnastics of completing the dive. Diving, as in the entering of water from a non-liquid elevation, wasn't that common a practice amongst all kinds of merpeople. Sure, sirens were quick to dive off their sunning rocks after enchanting sailors but the loch bound merrows or selkies didn't have much in the way of elevation. Even for the rare tribes with actual cliff diving practices, they needed incentive to climb the cliff first.

Back on the bridge packed with students there was a collective gasp. Heliotrope had let go of the railing and leaned forward in what looked like the dive. Only she stopped when her hands joined together to grasp the railing again, her body now pitched out the full length of her arms. Her feet were still firmly planted on what little footing there was.

It may not have been her intention but Heliotrope looked to fill the niche of being at the center of a spectacle quite well. At least this time no one was being stabbed with a fork.