N.B. Characters may be late to this first class if you must, but for later classes, I'm sure Penny will start taking off points. It's better if they arrive on time. If you get behind in posting at the start of the class, feel free to post as if they were already in the room! Thanks!

[Outfit]

The dungeon had grown warm enough during her lesson with the first years that Penny had decided to allow the fire to reduce itself to embers. She had left her wand in her trunk because the thing and her didn't get along well at all. The young professor hurried along the tables where the students would sit, adding a fresh pile of candy to the center of them to replace the ones the first years had eaten. Once finished, she gave another check on the warming tonic to make sure it was brewing properly, and returned to her desk. She tried another Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean and was surprised that it tasted so wonderful: roasted marshmallow! Delcious!

There was talking and loud clogging coming towards the room from the hallway which Penny only assumed to be her students arriving. They all came in and she greeted them with her broad grin. The boys here were definitely cuter than the ones she'd gone to school with back in America and the girls were so lovely. Some of them were plain, but others were gorgeous--and knew it! Once they had all taken their seats at the tables, Penny herself took a seat: on the top of her desk.

"Good morning!" That American accent was notable in her voice. "My name is Penelope Elaine Darling, but you can call me Professor Darling, Penny Lane, Miss Penny, or Miss Darling. You can even call me Miss America for all I care, as long as it's not Penelope Elaine. The candy is for all of you to eat throughout the class, but you have to share."

She stuck a piece of Droobles in her mouth, raised her eyebrows at the taste, and continued to chew to work through the strong flavor. After that, the young American professor hopped off her desk and walked over to the table at the front of the class where five small cauldrons were set.

"We'll start right away. On this table are five different American potions. Potions are brewed all over the world--you're thinking 'duh, Miss Penny'--and I can almost guarantee you that nearly every country has exclusive potions. For instance, this American potion, the Mockingbird Potion, is modeled after the state bird of Texas. It's distantly related to the Polyjuice Potion because it allows a person to copy a sound. If brewed wrong, it can also give the person mocking bird wings and believe me, that is hard to clean up near the end because the drinker will start shedding the feathers."

Penny's amber eyes scanned over the room of fifteen and sixteen year old students. During this pause, she took the opportunity to blow a bubble with Droobles to see how far it would expand. When it got too big for her liking, she reversed her bubble and sucked it back in to chew some more. She grinned at her students and came around from behind the table to walk over to their tables.

"Class discussions are going to be extremely common in this classroom. Debates are welcome, but I don't want you guys to make it personal or negative. This class is supposed to be fun and your attitudes are going to be key to making it that way. If you want to play the Grumpy Dwarf, I'd rather you keep your mouth closed than ruin everyone's fun. Don't get too out of hand, don't bring up drama outside the classroom. I want you to relax and enjoy having a conversation with your classmates."

She paused in both her meandering and talking to peer at all of her students almost sternly. Penny was never very good at being super-stern unless it was a desperate situation, but she was optimistic and hopeful that these students wouldn't get out of hand.

"For this discussion, some of you may need to open your books and that's okay. These books are like any other books: they have words, pictures, and a lot of information. If you want to get information from them to participate in the discussion, take the time to skim over something that might interest you. Your books give lists of potions that have developed in specific areas world-wide. That will be our topic today and I'll start us off! Why do you guys 'n' gals think that each culture developed its own exclusive potions? Anyone! You don't have to know the answer, just take a wild guess!"

The teacher stepped back from the desks towards the table where the five cauldrons were to get a good overview of the show of hands that might shoot up in the air. She smiled at all of them and waited to call upon each to hear their theories.

Figaro was surly coming to Potions.  There had been a delay in their class - just about a week - after Professor Gunnar had left and the new professor arrived.  Naturally the Hufflepuffs had been missing their Head of House, and even though Professor Mainwairing had covered the post for a breif period, there hadn't been anyone like Professor Gunnar.  Figaro had had a tough month and even though he'd heard the new professor was nice, he hadn't given her the benefit of the doubt.

He walked in two or three minutes after the bell in time to hear the last bit of what she was talking about.

He didn't look or acknowledge her as he went to his seat and melted into the chair.  His arms hung limply at his sides and his bag slopped to the floor. She was young, pretty and American.  He didn't bother with the candy yet - he'd learned in his first year not to eat things in Potions class.  (He'd missed the bit about being allowed to eat and wasn't paying attention to his peers to see that many of them were munching away happily.)

She was so bubbly and chirpy Figaro was a little perplexed.  All the other new professors were scary.  And rude.  And mean.  Who in blazes was this number and what was her secret?

When she asked for responses, he mumbled under his breath, faking her Texan accent.

"'Cuz y'all ain't got no dragons down in them there parts..."

Potions wasn't Allie's favorite lesson of the day, but this new professor was proving to be quite nice.  Allie pulled out her book, quill, ink, and a piece of parchment and immediately began scribbling some notes.  Mockingbird Potion...based on Texas state bird...like polyjuice, but gives the user a mimicked sound instead of appearance.

Despite how much Allie appreciated this vivacious nature of this professor, she couldn't help but dislike the accent the woman had--it was horrible.  She spoke slowly and almost slurred her words--drawing out every one.  Allie listened attentively as she took a few more notes, disregarding the candy that was on the table in front of her.  She did, however, grab a chocolate frog from the pile and place it next to her book.

"Why do you guys 'n' gals think that each culture developed its own exclusive potions? Anyone! You don't have to know the answer, just take a wild guess!" said Professor Darling, opening the floor for the class.

'I suppose because ingredients could be difficult to find...' Allie thought to herself as she slowly, tentatively raised her hand into the air.

-- Uniform. --

New Professor? New Potions Professor? When Beatrix learned Gunnar was leaving because of Snark, the Dark girl became inevitably disgusted with the thought of a new Potions Professor. Of course she had no choice but to replace the man, but it felt so wrong to Bea to replace such an awesome Professor. Needless to say, Beatrix was attending class a bit disgruntled. But she was excellent with potions. Herbology and Potions were her best subjects. Of course, having her two favorite Professors teaching the classes helped. But she would give the new Professor a chance.

As the Dark girl stepped inside the class with her twin, the first thing she spotted was the candy. "Yeeesssss!" Beatrix squealed and quickly ran to her usual seat. She grabbed a Cauldron Cake but then paused. Was this a test? Were they going to use the food for some weird ass potion? Beatrix let go of the cake. She would listen to directions first.

Bea's eyes flicked up to see who the new Professor was. And whoa. What the bloody devil was she wearing? Beatrix never saw clothes like that before. Admittedly, it was cool. Different. Strange. The new Professor was pretty and had a nice smile. Perhaps she wouldn't be so bad. Beatrix's hand lingered above the candy. She would be even better if she let them eat the damn things. Speak already!

When the Professor finally started introducing herself, Bea was a bit shocked at her accent. What was this crap? Was this a joke? Since when was Snark open minded about people? She hated Werewolves, after all. Beatrix wondered if she could figure out a way to go to America and buy some of their clothes. Or, at least, find a store in Wales that sold their clothes. Beatrix wasn't aware that normal people from America didn't wear Darling's clothes. But she still liked it.

 As soon as the Professor said that they could eat the candy, Bea's hand closed on the cake and she bit into it. Delicious. Fatty foods were Bea's best friend. She could recall telling Vincent Pennyapple she ate desserts without finishing her veggies. A small smirk formed on her face. Such fond memories...

"Why do you guys 'n' gals think that each culture developed its own exclusive potions? Anyone! You don't have to know the answer, just take a wild guess!"

Beatrix didn't no fancy learnin' book to answer this one. The Ravenclaw rose her hand and spoke up, "It's because not every country has certain natural resources. Like, Mimbulus mimbletonia is only found in Assyria. The only way we could make potions out of it is if we imported. Even then, usually potions brew correctly only during certain weather conditions and moon phases and areas," she answered. Like mentioned before, Potions was one of her best subjects. She realized how different their accents sounded... Darling was so American... Bea was so... Thickly Welsh.

And then Bea realized she sounded like a know-it-all. But Beatrix really didn't care. She bit into her cake and glanced around the room, as if saying 'HELL YEAH I SAID IT, WHATCHU GON' DO?'

Callum rolled his eyes as the new professor prattled on. Any professor who would allow their students to use their first name was bound to be a complete and total pushover. It was incredibly improper, and part of him wanted to call her Penelope Elaine just to be difficult. In fact, he thought that he would do just that. He could get grades in her class with the work, but his attitude was not going to be a positive one. The woman was clearly underqualified for a position at Hogwarts. Americans were so... inferior.

When she described to them what their books were, he arched a brow. "Wow, really?" he commented to the Slytherin student beside him. "I never knew what books were!" He picked it up, staring at it as though he had never seen one before. "Information about potions, in a potions text book, I never would have guessed!" He guffawed loudly afterward, elbowing his fhousemate in the ribs.

Then she said they were American potions. "Excuse me, Professor, but I think that you might be misinforming the class. I highly doubt that the potion is strictly American, though it may be American-made and invented. I'm certain the potion has been brewed in other places, and likely is even brewed in other countries by another name. There is no way to really prove that it is exclusive to any one place, with so many magical communities around the world."

"Besides, I would imagine the only cultures that have their own exclusive potions would likely be tribal areas that have little outside contact. For example, the Shuar tribe has developed the original method of shrinking heads and the secret was known to just them for quite some time- but naturally the secret has leaked out. For both muggle and magical ways of making them... Nothing is truly exclusive with so many people on a hunt for knowledge. If it was exclusive, then no one would have heard about it, would they?"

Really, first the Divination professor that was a complete boob, and now this yank. What was Hogwarts going to bring them next? Why couldn't they get strong willed, excellent professors like Professor Storm and the new one for Care of Magical Creatures? The sort who obviously understood what was going on in the world.

Xavier entered the dungeon classroom with his usual air of confidence. Another day and yet another new Professor. Xavier was getting tired of keeping up with all of them, DADA, History, Creatures, Divination and now Potions? This was beyond ridiculous but he wasn't going to let it get to him. The past week had been a defining moment for him. He had come to terms with his feelings for Ayla and took the satisfaction of dumping her flat, it hadn't been the most charming moment for him especially considering the tear fest he had succumbed to afterwards but there was a silver lining in all of it. If it hadn't been for his breakdown he didn't think he'd be sitting next to Bea, waiting upon Bella and feeling like he belonged.

He looked up to the new Professor with a skeptical look, she was young, unprofessional and talked funny, at least she was pretty. It was surprising how much she reminded him of Cuthbert. He eyed the candy and grabbed a few Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. At least she supplied candy, that was points for her right?

He looked sideways at Bea. Xavier had never fully appreciated how knowledgeable the Ravenclaw was in the subject before. It wasn't Xavier's best subject but it definitely wasn't his worst either. It was one of those never stands out kind of things, wasn't good enough to get attention nor was he horrible enough to get attention either.

Xavier put his own hand up to add to Bea's Welsh contrast with his own Scottish Brogue, "It's like our accents, take me an Bea 'ere fer example. We all speak English like ye do, but Bea is Welsh an I'm Scottish, yer Texan. Same wit potions, different countries, different accents, different ingredients."

Josh entered the Classroom and briefly stopped, not having been told they had a new Potions professor.
sitting down, he piped up to answer the Professor's question, which he thought Bea had only partially answered. " As well as what Beatrix said, some countries have different demands for potions, which would influence potion development. for instance, I doubt a cooling potion is common in Siberia, while it would be common in the desert. Not to mention, potions for dealing with different pests. Some pests are exclusive to Britain, so why bother exporting the potions to tackle them?" Josh said.

Bellatrix was in a rather grumpy mood that morning thanks to some idiot chewing her out in the hallway for the incident at Ayla's birthday party. Oh, this stupid Hufflepuff had been there all right. This ol' bloke had enough smarts to corner her alone after breakfast, but no common sense: he tried to insult Bellatrix. What moron did that? Honestly! He was right in the middle of telling her that she got what she deserved, Bella clicking her tongue the whole time, and seconds after the bell rang--which pissed her off that she was late to DADA that morning--the Slytherin hauled off and decked him right in his mouth with her fist before taking off down the hall to class.

No one caught her, thankfully. He'd probably go whining to Snark or his Head of House. The whole rumor of a new Potions professor had been pushed from her mind since then. She was in a really foul mood and it wasn't until they got to potions that she saw the American chick. Sour-faced Bellatrix damn near started shrieking her head off until she saw the candy. Cauldron Cakes?! Like her twin, Bella made a bee-line straight for the candy, opened up a package, sat down, and began nibbling even before the woman said they could eat it.

That was when Bellatrix got a good look at the woman. She was so young and her accent boggled the younger Dark twin's mind. Her outfit was adorable, but it was definitely something her sister would wear. At least, the skirt was. Bella considered stealing that jacket for herself. The cauldrons at the front of the room were introduced as a American potions. Bella was so glad that notes were optional, but it had to be a trick. There had to be something awful about this woman!

"Cuz y'all ain't got no dragons down in them there parts..."

Bellatrix felt a prick of annoyance somewhere in there. Callum even made his usual snide comments about books being filled with information. He even carried on, but at least this was something Bella could argue against.

"Excuse me, Professor, but I think that you might be misinforming the class. I highly doubt that the potion is strictly American, though it may be American-made and invented. I'm certain the potion has been brewed in other places, and likely is even brewed in other countries by another name. There is no way to really prove that it is exclusive  to any one place, with so many magical communities around the world. Besides, I would imagine the only cultures that have their own exclusive potions would likely be tribal areas that have little outside contact. For example, the Shuar tribe has developed the original method of shrinking heads and the secret was known to just them for quite some time- but naturally the secret has leaked out. For both muggle and magical ways of making them... Nothing is truly exclusive with so many people on a hunt for knowledge. If it was exclusive, then no one would have heard about it, would they?"

"She didn't explain it very well if you didn't catch her meaning, Knight," Bella said loudly and harshly, rolling her eyes. "What she was saying was that there a lot of countries that only have potions in that one particular area and while the ingredients may be imported, the way the potion is brewed is different. There's the chance that the Polyjuice Potion was brewed in South Africa--same ingredients, same brewing, everything--but it's only exclusive to that country because every other place in the world has its own uses and names for them. There could even be another Callum Knight in the world just like you, same name and everything, but it's the background and way that guy lives his life that makes him different from you."

Her sister, Xavier, and the Harcroft guy all teamed up to answer the question. Bellatrix repositioned herself in her seat to stare at the teacher. She studied her for a bit longer while remaining silent. The reason she hadn't raised her hand earlier was because the teacher said it was a class discussion which meant they could have a conversation as long as they didn't get "out of hand"--thus, why Bellatrix kept from adding 'slimey git' to describe Callum. She wanted to actually enjoy this. This was one of the few where they were allowed to talk to each other in class and about the subject, too. Though how long it would take them all to digress was waiting to be seen.

 Another new professor. Somehow, Fergie didn't think this one would be able to make potions any more tolerable than the last one had, at least for him. Tied with Herbology, this was his least favorite class. He just didn't... for some reason, he just couldn't get the hang of it. He could follow instructions to the letter, but somehow his potions never turned out quite right. It was frustrating and annoying. And usually ended in a mess. Fergie disliked messes.

 So as he entered the potions classroom just before the clock struck 9:30 (no reason to be early for this class), it wasn't with very high expectations that he would enjoy the next hour and a half. He took a seat near the back and let his bag slide from his shoulder to the floor as the surprisingly young and eccentrically dressed woman at the front of the class introduced herself. Wait, her name was Professor Darling? How...quaint. He wasn't sure he could call a professor by something so informal as Miss Penny, and certainly not by their first name, so Professor Darling it was going to have to be, no matter how odd those two words sounded together.

 Oh, well, if he had to sit here for an hour and a half, at least there was candy. Fergie eyed the bowl on the table in front of him and, after a few moments of debate, picked up a package of sugar quills. Yum. So...potions exclusive to certain areas. Specifically, America. Personally, Fergie didn't understand the need for a mockingbird potion, especially if it only made you mimic the sound of the bird. Did mockingbirds even have a distinct call? He'd thought they merely...well, mocked. But she was the expert, he supposed.

 Although he was beginning to doubt they would learn anything useful, especially if she took up so much time blowing bubbles with her gum. It was an impressive feat, blowing a bubble bigger than her face, but it wasn't exactly teaching him anything, was it? And she certainly talked a lot. But hey, if she wanted to make friends with her students, Fergie could do that. Maybe she would be more understanding when it came to handing out grades and he could pull his marks up from A's to E's. So as far as he was concerned, little Miss America could talk all she wanted. He couldn't help but let out an amused snort, however, at Callum's sarcastic comments about his potions textbook.

 Deciding not to get involved in the discussion, at least for now, Fergie settled back in his chair and nibbled the end of his sugar quill and simply listened as the conversation continued on.

"Oi, shut your big mouth, Callum!" Figaro called from his slump. 

Callum was so freaking belligerent and just went on and on, like he will do with Professor Storm (in a couple of days... ouch time paradox.)  He scowled over at the Slytherin.  Figaro had been giving the professor a hard time himself, but had the decency not to outwardly defy her.  He suddenly felt for her when the nasty Slytherin bully spoke out right to her face.  She was new here! She probably didn't know many people here at Hogwarts and if Callum had his way her whole first day would be ruined.

He sat up from where he'd been moping and leaned forward in his desk with more interest and confidence.  "No call to be a pratt.  Just answer the question.  Shit."

Turning away from calling Callum out, he faced front and threw out his two cents.

"What Josh said.  And Beatrix."

Peyton's mind was completely elsewhere when he stepped into the Potions dungeons. It was still disturbing going to bed every night knowing that Sasha's would be empty. He had never thought that he had taken his best friend for granted before but now that he was gone everything felt wrong. He knew that he was serving time for a ridiculously long suspension but as his conversation with Jacoba had proved only days before no one seemed to know where the tall handsome blonde went after leaving school. Peyton was feeling deeply concerned about his friend not to mention a truck load of other emotions he was battling around with.

He had taken his usual seat, popped some drooble's in his mouth and tried to pay attention in the class as best as his overly distracted mind could let him. He had no qualms about having a new Professor and Miss Darling seemed nice, if not very stereotypically American. He supposed she was pretty and could tell that there were other males in the class that thought so but he just wasn't the type of guy to have a thing for his teachers, or any girl for that matter.

Peyton watched the exchange of opinions and shocked even himself when he spoke up to add his own two cents, "I think Callum has a point." Did he seriously just say that? "When you look back in History, not just wizarding History, the Americas were originally just colonies of other countries, so whatever knowledge came to the new world would have been learned from wherever they had come from. That's not to say that once they got to the new world they didn't discover new things. Think about food for instance, stuff like spaghetti or wine, they were originally invented in Italy and Greece but nowadays they're made across the world but there are also foods that originated from America." He chanced a glance in Callum's direction, "But that's not to say these aren't American potions, if they were made from ingredients found only overseas and the methods of brewing them are unique to that region then why not call them American?"

This was great! A lot of the fifth years were participating and around half of them were eating the candy. The atmosphere was definitely relaxed for the American professor. She didn't become fully aware of how judgmental these teenagers were because of her birth country until she listened to Callum Knight. He made snide comments about the textbook; it was discouraging. He went on to further disagree that potions were exclusive to particular countries and a rebuttal came from one or two students followed by a Ravenclaw who partially agreed with him. During the whole time they carried on, Penny searched through her roster to try and fit names to each person. Alas, she gave up rather quickly because none of the names on her roster had pictures. How was she supposed to identify students if there wasn't a picture beside their name?

Penny smiled, strolled over to her desk, and took a seat. This was radical! Absolutely awesome! They weren't shy at all about expressing their opinions. Well, some weren't involved, but she imagined that class discussions didn't come around very often. Potions might not exactly whip a conversation up with the less talkative. Despite his earlier comment and sarcasm, the professor insisted on keeping the cool atmosphere alive; she wouldn't get upset and add tension to the mood. That would be pointless.

"I'm glad you said something, Callum," she'd have to thank his classmates for throwing his name out there for her. "You and your peers are right: there isn't a way to distinguish one potion from another in the world or any way to prove that certain potions are 100% exclusive to one country. There truly are too many unknown factors. And you," Penny set her eyes on Peyton unknowing of his name, "are right as well. American origins did in fact start out as colonies from other countries such as our own mother: England. Whose to say, though, that we didn't have our own culture before then? Does anyone remember the Native Americans? They weren't as uncivilized as the new English people thought."

She slipped off her desk to wander around the room a little. This may have been a gross invasion of personal boundaries for them, but for her it was getting to know them better. Penny made her way to the Warming Potion to glance at it and smiled back at all of the students.

"There were thousands of tribes of Native Americans already settled down by the time the colonies arrived. They had harvested the land, created irrigation systems for their crops, built tents, and had their own magic and rituals. Many of you may or may not know this, but the Native Americans' culture even called for potions. These potions aren't as complex as the ones we use today. They were about as simple as they were--and I don't mean simple-minded. For example, they would use the herb Boneset, an herb native to South America and, the West Indies, and Mexico. The herb's leaves and flowers were steeped in a pot of boiling water to create an infusion or a sort of tonic and drunk as hot as possible as a relieve frmo indigestion, rheumatism, snakebites, pneumonia, malaria, typhoid, and other problems."

This little tidbit of information was leading up to her point. By the time she was ready to make it, the teacher gradually progressed backwards to reclaim her seat on her own desk. Another scan around the room at all the fifth years' faces was taken before she continued.

"You've all said that you either do or don't think a potion is exclusive to one country because of origin, ingredients, and culture. Here's another question for you: if each country is different because of origin, the people in it, and the culture they develop yet the potions in them aren't different, why do they do it? Why does Siberia make a cooling potion when there's one right here in England, perfectly effective? Why not simply import and export ingredients to one country, give them the duty of making potions, and have them import and export those potions all over the world? In short, if there are no exclusive potions, why do countries make their own and try to come up with their own original potions?"

Her eyes browsed the room yet again, paused at the sight of hands flying up, and she laughed.

"You don't have to raise your hands for this. It's a class discussion, not a game show. Talk, debate. If you have something you want to say, say it out aloud. Disagree, come up with an alternative point of view. As long as you discuss and talk nice," her eyes settled on Figaro who had said 'shit' earlier, "you can keep on. Like I said: you don't have to raise your hands."

Kitty had been running late all morning. She'd risen out of bed half an hour late, in her tiredness had got dressed half an hour late, and sneaking off for a cigarette rather than breakfast caused her lateness to spiral out of control. Despite this somewhat muddled morning however, Kitty looked immaculate as always. A white neck-bow shirt with puffed sleeves was tucked into a high-waisted grey pencil skirt, a pair of black stockings on her legs. To get away with this infringement of school uniform, Kitty had ordered the family maid to stitch the Slytherin crest onto the breast of the blouse. An unbelted navy blue mackintosh trench coat was worn over this, and Kitty had forgiven her own lateness when seeing her own reflection earlier that morning. She may have been behind schedule, but as long as she looked chic then there were no complaints.

Daintily delicate, Kitty opened the classroom door, a few inches added to her height by her signature pair of killer black patent heels. Her black hair was pinned up, and she bowed her head to the teacher, her scarlet lips painted with a falsely apologetic smile.
"Excuse my lateness, Professor," she said in her rather eloquent tone. "I do apologise." Kitty had heard there was a no Potions professor, and she was intent on making a good impression. She had a knack for charming teachers with her false bittersweet tactics. "Killer skirt," she added, her tone becoming a lot more like the Kitty Li everybody knew; her compliment this time was sincere. If there was one thing Kitty gave credit for, it was personal style.

Her heels clicked as she trotted over to her usual seat next to Bellatrix, throwing her handbag under the table and removing her coat swiftly. Trying not to make a scene of her bad timing, Kitty patted the underneath of her hair to check it was intact before nudging her best friend and whispering:
"Have I missed anything important?"

"Same reason they do it with food, music and other stuff like that," Figaro said from his seat.  He was distractedly picking at his sweater now.

"All that trading is just a bunch of extra work and there's no way countries would cooperate that much.  It's cheaper and easy to do for yourself like you've always done.  And the potions probably got invented before you could even get from Siberia to England."

And then he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up.

"And what the hell do Siberians need a cooling charm for...?  It was an afterthought that had suddenly struck him as epicly redundant.

There was an oversized boy in the back with messy, long blonde hair and round brown eyes, who looked innocent and mischievous. He was playing with his potions kit, which he had remembered to bring this time, and occasionally staring wistfully at the dungeon walls.

It was so suffocating with no windows, couldn't they just make one? Somewhere? Just a small one, even a fake one? There weren't many things this boy disliked, but being underground was one of them, he felt extremely restless.

At least the professor was cute.

The first part of the class he had been occupied with looking at her. He liked her accent, for some reason, American accents sounded clumsy to him, and he found that extremely charming. Her cheerfulness was nice and sunny, and most of all he loved her name. Of course she was Miss Darling, how could she not be?

The boy sitting in the back of class was named Rain Alistair Miller, he was known for not being the brightest of students and for the fact that he sometimes did, in class, things that should not be done in class, (like spill beetle essence down someone's shirt or jinx someone's shoelaces to keep getting tied to each other).

It all depended on how bored he was.

And he was getting there. He was always the sort of person who preferred the practical part of any lesson; the talking just wasn't for him. It was all drone, drone, drone, talk, talk, talk, nothing ever came out of it and everyone usually forgot what they had talked about once exams came. Why else would they have to write everything down? You didn't have to write down conversations that you wanted to have.

After dying a little in his seat, he noticed a little way off, on the floor, a lone creature. Without thinking twice, or, for that matter, without thinking once even, he darted off his seat and scooped it off the floor, pretending as if he had dropped his quill and had picked it up again. He slipped back into his seat and let the creature wander on his desk, taking care to block it with his arms whenever it ventured too far.

Drone, drone, drone… went the lesson.

It had six legs and two antennas; it was dark brown in color, looked rather energetic and very unwholesome. Rain knew his cockroaches; he had adopted several over the years and the old grubby castle was loaded with. But this wasn't the sort of cockroach he'd seen anywhere.

It had green and orange swirling spots on its back, for one thing, and it also had a rather fuzzy tail. Was this perhaps some sort of magical creature he had acquired? Was he the first one to discover it? If so, he would call it a Swirlbug for now, until he could think of something more suitable for it.

Perhaps it had drunk on of the potions down here? Was it dangerous? He couldn't see a sting, but maybe the hairs on the tail? He looked at his hand, no rash, maybe it didn't give you a rash? Maybe you just died after ten minutes of touching it?

Rain was fascinated. The options were endless…