1pm

Dazmond was setting up the equipment station still as the first students started trickling into the greenhouse.  They'd been warned, she hoped, to dress warmly and for convenience; they would need to have full reign over their own limbs today -- whether that meant forsaking the dress code or not wasn't Daz's concern.  She would really rather not have to deal with torn robes and little girls stuck to flesh-eating prickly bushes by the hems of their skirts.  They were Seventh Years, and they should be proficient enough to handle today's task.  She sincerely hoped they'd been toughened up sufficiently.  After all, her next class was dependent on their success.

She had a long table set before the rest, which carried a vast array of supplies.  Little slips of parchment carried individual dosages of three key herbs.  These were joined by some spare pairs of dragon-hide gloves and goggles, baskets lined with soft cloth, little vials of purple goop, and a tall clear bottle of a murky yellow substance, beside which was a slew of sponges.

Satisfied that she was ready for the teenagers, Dazmond slid into Professor Bombay's chair and kicked her feet up on his table.  She bit her thumbnail and watched keenly as the students filed in from lunch.  The textbook in front of her was open to a page that showed a magicked illustration of a close-up -- a mouth of a flower gaping open and lurching forward with a great deal of spittle in its sharp teeth.  The board read:

Grace entered the greenhouse, used to them being empty as per usual, given Professor Bombay's task of the 7th Years to work on their garden plots throughout the term. She had been enjoying the independent work and particularly the added work that her professor had entrusted her to work on in addition to her own ideas. She was progressing well and her notebook was already filled with feverish notes.

The Gryffindor prefect was dressed in her normal attire for gardening (which for her meant pants, shirts, shoes and sweaters she didn't mind getting dirty) and hugged said notebook to her chest when she saw that it wasn't Bombay who provided the professorial presence. It was someone she had never met before and she peered curiously at the board to put the information into context with the woman before her. A jolt of excitement was sent through the aspiring healer with the realization that they would be doing some work today that likely would have far reaching practical implications.

There was never any doubt that Grace was a dedicated student and spent all the necessary hours pouring over books to obtain the textual information she needed to succeed. But her real forte, even underestimated by herself, came in finding ways to apply all of that.

It was this knack that made her excited for this lesson with Wiedman. She was hoping, nay expecting, that today's lesson would be quite different from Bombay's instruction.

Grace flashed the woman a half smile before she turned her brown orbs to the supplies that had been laid out for the class, her mind already dancing over the possibilities for their uses. She imagined she looked like a child in a candy shop but she didn't care. She found a place to take a seat and waited for her other classmates to arrive.

Fauna was decked out in her usual greenhouse attire as she walked through the door: long, stretchy sweater, old jeans, work boots, and a knit hat with goggles on top, making her look slightly steampunk, slightly homeless. It was Herbology, though. She knew better than to wear anything fancy.

She paused when she saw the unfamiliar face in the front of the classroom. A short, pixie-like woman with hair that reminded her of Bea’s slouched casually in Bombay’s chair, book in hand. Fauna glanced at the text on the board and recognized the last name ‘Briggs’ from somewhere. She smiled shyly at the woman and took a seat next to Grace.

“This is new and different. Should be fun,” she commented, opening her bag to make sure she’d brought everything for today. Fauna enjoyed working on her seventh-year final project, but it was nice to learn something new and have an actual lesson again. Judging by the woman’s posture and her feet on the desk, and the fact that she hadn’t glared at anyone yet, Fauna suspected she’d be nothing like Bombay!

Things had gotten marginally better for George. Even his Herbology project seemed to be advancing, however slow. It had taken some time to choose what he was going to do, and even longer to set up the area for it. For it to really work, he had to have a certain climate and water level. Luckily he had been able to dig down in his little plot. The part that had been tricky was making the environment consistent to its natural growing habitat.

The Mediterranean in the middle of Scotland? Thank Merlin for magic. Regardless, after a good month and a half of working on it during his Herbology lessons, George was proud of his little makeshift pond. The light required had forced him to build a small overhang for it as well—too many clouds in Scotland for the right amount to get down to his little experimental area.

George had expected it to be another one of those ‘work days,’ and had dressed in his usual attire, for the area he worked in. After all, the Mediterranean was warm. Though he had on his trousers and school dress shirt with matching tie, he’d left his sweater in his dorm, his robes being the only warmth he had over his upper body as he jogged down to the now familiar seventh year greenhouses. Still smirking at his luck of making it into them, his good natured grin fell as he stepped in and was greeted not with the annoyingly bitter look that Bombay often cast about, but by someone not… quite… Bombay…

After looking her over, his eyes glanced to the writing before he stepped forward. Not acknowledging Fauna (whether she was friend of his cousin’s or not, she didn’t get along very much with his girlfriend, right?), he nudged Grace. “What’s going on then? Did Bombay get caught up in his Fanged Geranium?” He had actually been looking forward to adding a little more flora to his area, needing certain nutrients for his actual project to blossom.

Clearly it would have to wait until a further date and time. What few notes he had down on his project were stuffed into his back pocket, and after removing them from his trousers, he looked for a clean bit of area to take notes for today. Not that George felt there was a big need to jot down things all the time—hence his aversion to carrying more than the essential page or two of parchment and his quill tucked carefully behind his ear.

Grace's excited attention was ebbed away from everything that had been laid out and all her thoughts about what was to happen as she saw Fauna Blake enter and then take a seat next to her. Under normal circumstances, Grace might have lightly teased the Hufflepuff' about her outfit, even though it was fine in the context of the class (and just in Grace's context in general). She liked Fauna's quirky nature and had found the girl to be one of her more enjoyable classmates from another house.

But instead of jibing about clothing choices, Grace nodded at her comment about new and different. "Indeedy....I can't wait," the Gryffindor mused under her breath. " Her silent rumination was interrupted by the arrival of George, who had managed to arrive to class on time and seemingly prepared (for him anyway). She leaned toward him and said under her breath, "Not sure except that it seems like we have a guest lecturer." That was stating the obvious given what information had been openly provided. Then she ruefully added, "But maybe she's overthrown him or something deliciously dramatic like that.... "

Or, maybe he's recovering from another drunken escapade, the prefect thought to herself. For even though it had happened early on in the month, the strangeness of seeing her professor in such a light as she had in the Astronomy Tower had been indelibly etched in her mind forever.

outfit

Wild plants and her three favorite people? Emmylou sneaked up behind Grace, Fauna, and everyone's favorite trouble-making cousin, Captain George Carter of Gryffindor Quidditch fame. Or was it infamy? "La, la, la," she sung, throwing her arms around George and Grace, and capturing the edge of Fauna's shoulder in the process. "What a beautiful day to not be in the sun," she confided, giving George's cheek a sloppy kiss, Grace's a quick peck, and slipping into a chair between both girls to finally greet Fauna with pursed lips and Lou-ish germs.

"When did Bombay have a sexual reassignment?" She asked the three of them, leaning forward to scrutinize the unfamiliar woman. On looks alone, she quite approved. "Upgrade," she added with a shrug, and then caught the rest of the words on the board. Guest instructor. Ah, that explained it.

It was just as well: Bombay and female hormones were bound to be a bad combination. He was touchy enough as it were. All of those Greenhouse gases... or was that the muggle pollution? Either way, he spent far too much time talking to his rooted friends.

[Outfit]

From the first day of Herbology, Leon could tell Bombay was a bit iffy with him. No matter if he had chosen him for Quidditch captain or Head Boy or if he was probably one of his best students... Bombay wasn't all too... Well, he wasn't awful. But he wasn't that kind to Leon, either. However, the Professor wasn't going to be there that day... Who the bloody devil was Dazmond Weidman-Briggs?

Leon wasn't used to not wearing his complete and proper uniform... So as he slowly made his way to the greenhouse, he kept checking down at his torso and seeing if anyone noticed that he was wearing one of his regular sweaters instead of his specifically assigned grey one. Were they noticing!? WERE THEY!? He was setting an awful example, but Weidman put on a note that they should wear something that wasn't restricting. What happened to just working in their gardens? Leon wanted to continue growing his Daisies and Screechsnap (Which he decided to grow simply because he thought it was amusing). He would have to tend his garden another time.

He hesitantly slid through the door and eyed the room. Not many people were there... His eyes glided over to the professor, who seemed rather small and had wild hair and a wild look in her eyes. She reminded Leon of the short, pink-haired beater on his Quidditch team. Leon could only hope she wasn't as... Ah... Violent. He didn't know whether he should join the group that was already forming around Grace, or awkwardly find a spot on the table a little away from the rest. Would they mind if he joined them?

The tall boy reluctantly joined the group and gave them all an unsure smile. George Carter, if Leon could recall, could be a bit iffy with Leon... But that was only because of Quidditch, right? And he was, after all, Waker's boyfriend. Which Leon always enjoyed because George didn't seem too bad of a guy (Though he definitely wasn't a genius, no) and he wasn't Edmund. Which was a major plus in Leon's book. He could deal with George... Edmund, though? Not so much. And, of course, Grace was always a blessing to the timid Ravenclaw. She was a sweet girl, good friend, knew how to hex someone in impressive ways... The other two girls, though... Leon never talked to them much. Fauna was Waker's backstabbing ex-friend, and he just hadn't gotten around to talking to Lou. He didn't plan to at that moment, either, with George right there. George could be quite intimidating even though he was short.

After he finished analyzing the crowd like the freak he was, he turned his gaze down to the table and bit his lip. He just wanted to tend his Daisies. Sometimes even a genius like himself needed a break.

Grace's lips curled into a smirk as Lou arrived and proceeded to corral them all into an embrace and proceeded to lament about the weather. With it being fall and swiftly approaching the winter, it was just a matter of time before it was completely freezing and unsuitable for doing anything but play Qudditch. So surprisingly, Grace agreed with her dormmate and actually quietly lamented their being stifled to a classroom.

Lou's comment about Bombay had her snickering and she intuitively brought her hand up to cover her mouth, lest their infamous Herbology professor was lurking in the shadows somewhere and would be compelled to deduct points for them poking fun. But given the intrigue surrounding the guest lecturer, Grace could not disagree with the 'upgrade' part.

Grace turned her attention to the arrival of Leon Monroe and saw that he made his way to sit with them, though she sensed that he was reluctant to do so. Were the four of them that intimidating for the Head Boy?

From her place between the two Carters, Grace flashed Leon a friendly smile before making the playfully challenging comment she hoped would break the ice, "So Mr. Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain....are you ready to be beaten by Gryffindor when we compete in December?" To say that she was competitive like her teammates was an understatement. But Grace actually liked most of the members of the Ravenclaw team (as opposed to loathing every single Slytherin when they played them. And she had a soft spot for Leon because he was a decent guy and they occasionally flirted. So she didn't want him to do horribly, but she still wanted to win. Grace quirked a brow questioningly at him. "I hear you have a new lineup...."

When it seemed that everyone who was coming had arrived, Dazmond dropped her feet from the desk with an abrupt thump that signaled the beginning of an unconventional class.  And old leather-bound book in hand, she quit her perch and strolled to the front of the group of students, handing a goggle-clad girl the text to peruse and pass along.  It was open to a page on the Dhatura Veneficus, showing an image of the gaping mouth of a purple trumpet flower fixed with spittle and claws.  The flower on the page was magnificently beautiful, despite its clear voracity.  Beneath the bewitched photograph was a concise summary of the plant's properties and characteristics. 

Dazmond smiled at the quirkily-dressed girl before turning back to sit on the edge of the desk.  "As you've probably noticed," she began amusedly.  "Today's class will be a touch out of the ordinary.  And, just to get the formalities out of the way -- I'm Dazmond Wiedman, a former student and now colleague of Graham's.  I'm a freelance potionsmaker and herbologist, and I work out of Knockturn and Diagon.  I know you've been working on your personal projects this year, and that's ace, right -- but today's workshop will get you out of the garden and into the woods.  It's important to remember that Herbology is not confined to the controlled environment of a greenhouse -- after all, the plants have to come from somewhere, don't they.  And often Herbologists forget that the forest is the source of our teachings.  It becomes too simple to merely go to the nursery and pick up your starters, or to order seeds by owl from Greenwands.  But if you want to be an excellent Herbologist, you have to be willing to wildcraft, else you lose the connection and the strongest sense of trust with your plants."

"As I'm sure you're all hyper aware, tonight the moon is full.  We'll be going out this period of course, and it's far too early to worry about Werewolves -- but we will be preparing ourselves as if this wasn't the case.  For even as we enter the woods to wildcraft and gather the tools of our trade, we go in with the aid of a few good plants.  Actually, potions."  Dazmond hopped down off the desk and moved to the supply table, picking up a basket full of purple-filled vials and walking over to the group of students.  "This we will take in with us and sort of -- slurp -- when the time is right.  Everyone take one vial and hold onto it until it's time to -- well, slurp.  What it is is a thick slurry of plants and berries, predominantly belladonna, that will allow us easier communication with the live Dhaturas that we'll be collecting today.  That'd be your guy there," said Dazmond, indicating the book.

"They are extremely wild and tempestuous plants, and they have the ability to transfix and lure you in with their sweet smell -- but this is their defense mechanism.  Their trumpets are as big as your heads, and they do bite.  They also spit poison and, yeah, they tend to aim for the face.  It becomes a matter of communication.  Can you still the heart of a wild plant?  Can you cause it to trust you.  Plants are extremely sensitive to the green thumbed and proper minded.  But the purple goop there, that's a bit of a cheat.  It will make it a lot easier to woo the plants before they have a chance to woo you." 

"So, to sum, we'll be communing with, uprooting and transporting the Dhaturas back to the greenhouse for the fifth years to transplant in garden beds.  Along the way, we'll also be collecting some clippings of herbs which can only be gathered on the full moon.  I will show you examples in a moment.  You have your vials to hold onto -- and I'll bring a few extras, just in case -- and so that leaves --"  Dazmond chuckled.  "I can imagine some of you aren't going to like this."  She picked up the tall bottle filled with some murky yellow substance and, holding it up in one hand, fitted the other with a sponge.  "This is another potion brewed to cover your scent -- which should keep us safe for our time in the forest and throw off any creatures who might be lurking about.  You'll want to get a fair bit on your sponge and wipe it over your face, arms, and hands before we head out.  So, we can get started on this task and if you have any questions, now's the time to ask."

 

Fauna took the book that the guest professor had handed her and stared at the page, raising her eyebrows at the - she peered at the text - Dhatura Veneficus. What impressed her, along with the flower's savage appearance, was the quality and detail of the photograph. She loved it when textbooks had pictures in color, especially for Herbology, as it could sometimes mean telling the difference between one harmless plant and another that appeared similar but was poisonous to the touch.

She passed the book along and listened to the woman with interest, resisting a smile at her informal language and gestures. Into the woods! Wildcrafting! Fauna's eyes widened in surprise and she nudged Grace's arm. This was definitely different. Suddenly she felt grateful that she'd already ventured into the Forbidden Forest with Covadonga Gertrudis at the beginning of the month, so the experience of wandering into the forest wasn't entirely new to her.

Yes, Fauna was very aware that the moon was full tonight. Tonight would be the night that Knox Greyfriar would transform for the first time, something Fauna had been thinking about today. The idea that they were venturing into the woods even in the daylight hours made her nervous, reminding her of the attack in October. What if there were more werewolves hiding out in the forest, and what if someone got lost?

Trying her best to push her worries aside, she took the vial (what they were told to slurp when the time was right), and put it in one of the compartments in her bag. She raised her eyebrows in alarm and shifted in her seat when Dazmond listed the long list of attacks this plant could do. Biting and spitting poison? Luring them in? Lovely.

But the woman's cheerful, direct approach was infectious, and Fauna continued listening, intrigued by the prospect of communing with wild plants and collecting things that they could only collect during the full moon. Bombay had never allowed them to do something like this before! The fact that he was letting them do this now might have been revenge for the time they'd painted his nails... or he might actually trust them not to get themselves killed.

Fauna grinned when Dazmond said they'd have to put a potion on their hands and face to cover up their scent. That sounded pretty harmless to her, especially considering what they'd be doing next.

She hopped up and set to the task, coating the sponge with the yellow liquid and covering her arms first. It didn't smell great, but that was probably the point, and she decided that she didn't want to know what was in it.

"Lou," she said, waiting for her to turn around and look at her. As soon as she did, Fauna reached out and drew a yellow stripe down the bridge of her friend's nose.

"Gotcha," she giggled, unconcerned that the teacher would scold her. Bombay might have, but Dazmond seemed much more relaxed.