Students Currently Attending:

Gryffindor

Grace Eddy :: 2

Hufflepuff

Matty Amherst :: 1 (+2)
Fauna Blake :: 2 (+3)
Eveline Chancelier :: 1 (+2)
Adelia Delacroix :: 2 (+4)
Dion Fayette :: 1 (+1)
Tae-Song Toko :: 1 (+1+2)

Ravenclaw

Waker Nolan :: 1

Slytherin

Fir Cuween :: 2 (+2)

The Seventh Years had gathered into the Defences classroom that Tuesday morning with a look of trepidation. A mixture of curiosity, excitement and dread could be read from their faces. Ignan watched them carefully as they discussed the impending results of their mock NEWT paper they had sat last Thursday's lesson in examination conditions. Ignan had even broken out the anti-cheat quills at Snark's permission.

It had been time to prove their worth as a defences student, even though it was only late January. The Professor was very keen to give them all a wake up after Christmas complacency and a month of questionable behaviour from all the school. Since most of the theory was kept out of the classroom, with short lectures, and a heavy reliance on reading, it would prove whether they had been doing it all. It would be difficult not to given the number of essays he set for homework - one after every lesson with practical and revision of incantations. The more they could relearn and repeat out of lessons the more he could teach them and direct them with the actual practical magic.

There had been some clear examples of lack of work with revision, and some of over revision resulting in parroting the text book on all important definitions and opinions. There were still elements where they had topics to cover, but it gave a clear indication on the areas they would, regrettably, have to cover elements with lectures - though Ignan loathed to do so for very long.

"Good morning Seventh Years, I have your NEWT examinations to return with comment. None of you should be complacent. A mark scheme will not save your life with a lethifold over you, the exam board will not be complacent with you parroting answers from your text book - neither with your future employers." He glanced down at the bundle of parchment papers under his arm.

"Others of you have chosen not to study at all, which is unacceptable. Those of you who have yet to reach anywhere near Acceptable in this examination will sit another in your own time on an evening next week. Failure to bring your grade up for that will result in enforced detentions, which as much as I am loathed to do - will ensure you study. I may have mentioned," Actually he'd mentioned almost every lesson now, "that nobody fails Defences this year unless they deserve such out of lack of application or sheer stupidity. The latter may be demonstrated on frequent occasion in this room, but is not true to any one of you."

Leaving it on that, he handed out each of the papers by hand, letting the grade and the attached sheet of parchment with his comments, inked neatly, but sinisterly in deep purple ink, inform each student on their progress.

Returning to the front of the class, he unlatched the lid of a box which had travelled with him from Germany when he had moved to Hogwarts from Durmstrang. It brought back memories of lessons that he could not teach at Hogwarts, as he lifted out the severed arm from the box. Colour drained from a couple of faces in the front row of the class.

"Today's topic is revision of spells you will undoubtedly have covered in charms and defences during your past six and a half years here, or learned from other adults. Spells to perform basic healing and help to patch up yourself and others if injured in a fight, by accident or creature. There are techniques that do not require magic, and those that do. We complicate matters with spell damage." He flexed the fingers of the very gray, pale, severed hand gently as he spoke, checking it had been stored correctly.

"Breakages, firstly." He began, putting his wand down on the desk of one of the students in the front row. He seized the forefinger of the hand, and promptly cracked it over his knee with a crack that would put your teeth on edge. "Minor breaks, fingers, noses, toes - small bones can be repaired temporarily with episkey." He picked up his wand, clutching the severed arm in his other, the broke finger hanging down at an angle.
"Episkey." He repeated, with the pointed wand movement, his wand tip ending neatly on the tip of the broken finger. With a click, it snapped back into place, as well as possible for a dead arm that had been magically sustained for the past fifteen years.
"Don't try and fix someone's leg with it, larger bones will not heal with minor magic. Even episkey can heal bones incorrectly, so best to see a healer at your next available opportunity." He dropped the hand back down onto the desk with a heavy slap of skin on wood surface. The fingers flickered shortly after.

Pointing to Fauna, he asked:
"Say Blake had broken her leg, what would be the best course of action?"

------

For reference, it looks rather like this but with arm up to the elbow.

Please make up what grade you would like your character to have achieved. Ignan is likely to have marked harshly on this paper, so that they work harder and find the real NEWT within their capabilities. Of course, he's not letting on that, he's just pushing them for perfection as usual.

Fauna accepted her mock NEWT examination with a leery glance at the professor, slapping the exam face-down on her desk before she (or anyone else) could see what she'd gotten. Writing was not her strong point, and the amount of essays in this class often made her feel like she was drowning in parchment, just an inch away from breaking the surface and succeeding. She'd been working hard, and hoped she wouldn't be one of those sorry few who would have to suffer through forced detentions to get her marks up. The thought of another detention with Storm made the breakfast in her stomach rebel.

At least he had said that none of them were stupid. Keeping this in mind, Fauna uncurled the corner of the parchment bit by bit, pausing when she saw the first few strokes of purple ink: a pointy triangle. That could be the top of a letter, or a flourish, or a stray brush of ink. Like ripping off a band-aid, she flipped the parchment over and stared at the 'A'. An 'A'! An Acceptable. She'd managed an Acceptable.

Fauna put the test face-down again, a faint smile on her face. She glanced at her peers to gauge their reactions, then looked back at the professor, letting her smile fade lest he see it and think she shouldn't be proud. But she was.

She knew she still needed to do better. However, with the month she'd had, and the harsh way he judged papers, she took this as a minor success. Her chest felt lighter and her stomach less rebellious.

Her look of relief soon changed to horror when Storm pulled out a severed arm and displayed it like a trophy to the class. She swallowed the gasp that sprang up in her throat, staring at the arm as the professor explained the purpose of today's lesson. When he snapped one of the fingers oh so casually, she jumped in her seat and looked away. Fauna felt like she knew a bit about the subject of healing minor injuries, because she'd asked Tulo, Raynor, and Radley about their experiences a few times. But there was no way to prepare for a professor bringing out a dead arm for show and tell, and watching the pale, chalky fingers twitch before her eyes.

Fauna's gave him a wary look when he used her as an example. In her head she tried to work out a few ideas as she waited for another student to answer.

He liked DADA, and he liked Storm. This made his something of a rarity about the school, apparently. So be it - Dion could cope with that. Dax liked the class too, admittedly - but his twin's off-the-walls nature often put him at odds with the dourness of Professor Storm.

Still, the 7th year class seemed to cause less trouble than the 5th and 1st years and most of 'em showed up on time. That was a point in their class's favor.

Dion took his test paper mutely, glancing at the score, and the disappointed grumble from next to him indicated Dax's score wasn't what his twin had been hoping for. He glanced at his brother's paper - a P. Ouch - but not entirely unexpected with his twin's recent lax in study. Dion smirked at Dax, who glared at him - but then, Dion had managed an A, as a slight tilt of his hand showed Dax. He got a glare and a "I'll get you later, you smug bastard" look. But this was neither the time nor the place to gloat, or to hit Dax for not studying as much as he should be.

The arm was interesting, though, and he dismissed his brother from his mind for a bit as Storm displayed the awful trophy. Dion leaned forward, elbows on the desk, one of his hands cupping his chin. He felt the crack of the bone as Ignan broke the finger, but the spell made him forget any sickness he might have felt as a result - this lesson was going to be actually useful. Well, they all where useful, but this was going to be different useful. He made a mental note to try and talk to Storm after class, if he could.

When Fauna stayed silent, Dion started counting in his head. When she made no move to reply, he raised his hand as politely as possible. "Please, sir," he said. "Depending on the surrounding circumstances, the usual course of action is to keep the patient off of the broken limb as much as possible, and prepare an emergency splint, depending on the severity of the break." He eyed the arm, with its now-fixed finger, and added, "Making a splint from everyday materials is possible in an emergency, and can be effective long enough to get the patient to a proper healer."

"Please, Sir," Dion ventured an answer, "Depending on the surrounding circumstances, the usual course of action is to keep the patient off of the broken limb as much as possible, and prepare an emergency splint, depending on the severity of the break. Making a splint from everyday materials is possible in an emergency, and can be effective long enough to get the patient to a proper healer."

"Good Fayette," Ignan replied, "Point to Hufflepuff." He added, before picking up the arm again, to demonstrate.
"Keep the injury still, immobilise it." He gestured to Fauna, absentmindedly gesturing with the severed arm, which made a faint attempt to point a grey blue finger at Fauna as he did.
"Blake would be complaining of pain, be almost certainly unable to stand or move the leg without collapse. Her leg would be bruised, possibly at an odd angle, and swollen. You may hear crepitus," He brought his wand down hard on the arm with a horrible cracking noise, and it looked very clear that he'd broken it in the middle with the spell, with the angle it was now hanging at it from his hand. Seizing the arm in both hands, a far worse sound eminated.

"Crepitus, the feeling or sound of bone grating on bone when the broken ends rub each other. Lovely? Blake wouldn't let you believe that if it was her leg. If she's still got her wand, she could have hexed you into next week for causing her leg to do that."

There were several green gray faces in the class now, he doubted many people would be that hungry for lunch later. With broken severed arm hanging from one hand, he used his wand to open a few windows. Despite the freezing weather, at least there'd be fresh air to chase away the feeling that some would soon vomit into their school bags.

"Splints - yes, the incantation for such is Ferula*." He waved his wand in a figure of eight, and out of mid air appeared a wood rod, and a second time to produce two, before affixing them either side of the floppy arm.

"If you can stay put and summon professional help of a qualified healer, then do." He slapped the arm back down onto the front row of desks and turned to the blackboard, choosing to pick up the chalk rather than conjure the writing for once.
"Beware if the suspected injury is to the spine, head or neck. If Blake is having trouble breathing, the break is very deformed, has come through the skin, or is about to, or if the patient is going to throttle you rather than allow you to side along apparate with them." He wrote up the points on the board, and looked about the class to check quills were busily engaged in writing it all down.

"Give me a few examples of accidents that are likely to cause a spinal injury." He asked, retrieving the arm, and vanishing away the splints, before muttering the incantation to reset the bone - not something he could accurately teach the students, he was no qualified healer. Fortunately he just nodded to each raised hand instead of using the severed arm to point at them this time.




-----------
* Ferula (feh-ROO-lah)
"ferule" alt. spelling of "ferrule" Eng. wooden handle for strength or protection, from "ferula" L. fennel plant
Spell that conjures a wooden rod.
   •   Lupin used this spell to conjure a splint and bandages for Ron's broken leg (PA19).

OHMYGAWD. Was Storm serious? The hell was a freaking ARM doing in class. EW EW EW EW EW EW (what would happen if he poked it with a stick?). Hey, just because Daddy Cuween worked in the ER didn't mean Fir had to be okay with severed limbs and breaking bones.

It was almost enough to make Fir stick some earplugs in (his hair would pretty much hide them from view) and go over his exam. NAW.

He had glanced it enough to see an "A" and not care, then shove the thing into his bag. Fir unfrotauntely was one of those students that rested on talent and not much else. Oh he played around with spells and magic plenty outside of the the classroom, but six and a half years of not paying much mind to class wasn't about to change. He had failed Flying as a first year because of it, for cripe sakes.

He flt bad for poor little Fuana, being called out like that for hypothetical fake broken leg and didn't blame her for not answering or speaking up in the slightest. Wasn't the severed arm enough. But really. What would happen if they poked it with a stick?

Thankfully know-it-alls were never far away from a NEWT classroom. Fir liked that about sixth and seventh year classes. Less work for him in class participation. Dion looked only too happy to spew out some answer that Fir didn't really care enough to pay attention to. He yawned and looked around the class, searching for this hour's flirt buddy.

He was only mildly interested in wizard ways of healing. Okay that was a lie. Fir had soaked up a lot of emergency medical know-how from Daddy dearest. In a distracted, not-paying-attention he knew and was following the lesson. It was pretty much the same stuff, just different methods. First Aid yada yada yada.

He was just very, very distracted by the severed arm. And imagining poking it with a stick. So Fir did what he always did when he was creeped out/happy/sad/angry/plotting a global takeover via hair products and cosmetics- looked for a flirt buddy. At least until a new distraction came along. Cue new question from Storm.

Give me a few examples of accidents that are likely to cause a spinal injury.

"This class?" Fir muttered, none-to-quietly. Hey, what good were smart-ass comments if the people around him could not hear and appreciate them? And come on, Storm walked right into that one.

"This class?" Fir Cuween suggested.

Ignan's mouth turned up into a rare amused smirk.
"Quite possibly Cuween, especially with such cheek." The look of amusement passed as quickly as it appeared.

"Spinal injuries can be caused by blows to the head, a curse throwing somebody against a wall, or to cause them to fall from height may cause them. If someone dives into shallow water, come off their broom at speed, crushed. Any complaint of pain in the neck or back is an obvious giveaway symptom. If you suspect anything of the sort, summon healer help immediately, reassure the person, but consider immobilus if they become agitated and try to cause injury to themselves by moving."

Fishing the hand back up, he held it by the palm in his left hand above his head, and slashed across it with his wand, opening a wound, which began to ooze blood. The fingers spasmed slightly in his hand, the tricky incantations on the severed limb responding to the magic inflicted upon it.
"Wounds. Call this Cuween's arm, how would you treat him?"

Merlin, Fauna was going to be sick. Did he have to wave the arm around like that? She kept her gaze averted, but even then, she heard the sounds. The popping, the cracking, the arm flopping like a fish on the desk. She used her note-taking as an excuse to keep her head bent so she wouldn't have to look at the thing, and also to avoid the professor's questions.

She smiled very slightly at Fir's comment, then listened to Storm's response, thinking that his suggestions made sense even if the visual aid was completely unnecessary.

Then she made the mistake of looking up.

Fauna's eyes locked on the blood curdling out of the twitching arm. Her face went white. She clapped a hand to her mouth and looked away again, but then the smell hit. Even magic couldn't wipe away every trace of rotting flesh, and with open wounds, it just got worse!

She swallowed as sweat broke out on her forehead and a wave of nausea swept over her, just like that time in Potions her fifth-year when she'd barfed into the cauldron during their OWLs. Merlin, what would Storm do if she ran out of class for a second time that month, Fauna worried, hesitating in her seat.

Suddenly, she bolted up and turned around, managing to take a few steps towards the door before she lost her breakfast.

She lost it all over another student's backpack. Cries of "gross" and "Ew!" filled the room as she stood hunched over, wiping at her mouth and trying not to vomit again.

"Sorry," she whispered, glancing guiltily at the unlucky soul who now had chunks of yucky all over their school things.


(I hope that wasn't too much info, haha. It's completely up to the next poster who that unlucky soul is!)

uniform

Waker's mind raced, the professor's inquiries spreading across her brain like puzzle pieces aching to be put together. On the verge of throwing up her hand, she was beat by another person throwing up their... breakfast. Jumping like a cat who had been doused with water, the Nolan girl went flying back, her stool screeching across the classroom floor, eyes aglow with disbelief. She looked positively electrocuted, her limbs bunching together in one bodily cringe. Usually on guard, she had not seen this coming. She had been too concentrated on Being First, on Answering Correctly, to see Fauna Blake swooning toward her school things like a seasick captive on a pirate plank.

Blinking rapidly, she didn't know where to stare: the professor, Fir Cuween, Fauna's apologetic face, or her ruined bag, the contents of which included but were not limited to a rough draft of a NEWT essay on Genetic Theories in Human Transfiguration.

"Oh god, oh no," she whispered, fingers darting shakily to her forehead as she blanched and gagged and tried not to think of the hours upon hours of work down the drain. Thank goodness she'd remembered to put George's necklace back around her neck after having taken it off for laboratory safety precautions during a Potions experiment. The mess was such a contrast to her usual state of cleanliness that Waker did not think to wave her wand and Scourgify her belongings as she might have done for anyone else. This was... her life's work! This was her graduation thesis! (Or the Wizarding equivalent). Fauna Blake had upchucked all over Waker Nolan's foot-in-the-door to the Ministry of Magic's most coveted branch, the Department of Mysteries. Surely they did not accept resumes prestigiously decorated in teenage bile.

At the beginning of class Matty had been completely zoned into the pieces of parchment Storm had handed to him, his mock NEWT. He had been very confident going into the practice exam the week before and was sure he was going to excel. He knew so much more than he did sitting his OWLs there was no way that he could have done worse than he did a year and a half previous. A horrible looking scowl marred his lips as he looked at the mark put upon his neatly written test. An A? An A?! Clearly the Professor was going blind in his old age, how could he had gotten an A? He had gotten an E on his OWL there was no way he had done worse, it just wasn't possible.

His caramel eyes scanned the attached piece of parchment that accompanied his mock exam. The resounding conclusion was that Matty knew all the material but sounded too much like a text book. He ground his teeth in frustration, an emotion he wasn't all that familiar with and was ready to lay into Storm when the class actually started and Matty found himself thoroughly distracted by the severed arm.

Unlike a lot of his classmates Matty was beyond fascinated by the object. Thousands of questions raced through his mind. How old was it? Who's arm had it once been? How had Storm kept it so well preserved and what kind of lessons had he used it for while teaching at Durmstrang? With the usual detachment he had to most things in his life Matty was unphased by the damage Storm was continually doing to the arm, fascinated every time he repaired it back to it's normal state - or as normal as a magically preserved severed arm got.

Watching the demonstrations Matty felt something flicker inside himself and for the first time he found himself wondering if he had taken the right courses in the past six and a half years to become a healer. He remembered the career pamphlets they had been given after sitting their OWls and had chosen his following school courses based on what he was good at and what he needed to get a job at the ministry, nothing extravagant but he wanted to get involved in politics. Now he was thinking otherwise and made a mental note to talk to Professor Frasier, his head of house, about what his career prospects were.

The only thing that managed to pull Matty out of his reverie was the sound of someone throwing up, then the smell. He searched the room for the culprit and felt a great swell of pity for his close friend. Without thinking much of the consequences he got to his feet and crossed the room to where Fauna was standing over Waker's book bag. She looked as though she were waiting for more bile to rise up. He put his arm around her shoulder doing his best to ignore the smell, "You alright darling?"

Not wanting to actually cause a disruption in class as well as wanting to prove he was actually paying attention Matty turned to Professor Storm and added, "You might want to try either Resarcio or Sigillum. They'll both close up the wound but not fully heal it, it will buy you enough time to be able to get them to a proper healer."

---

resarcio L. mend, sigillum L. seal

Toko squeaked. Yes, squeaked. A tiny noise probably only audible to mice. It wasn't disgust, honestly -- at least not disgust for blood and broken bones and vomit. His face squinched up at all the commotion and noise everyone seemed so set on making. He liked Fauna, really. She seemed pleasant enough, with her strange hats and other such oddities, but that...display forced a barely perceptible huff through his nose.

He'd found the lesson very interesting. He was shy, he was skittish, he was basically wordless, but Tae-song Toko wasn't squeamish. Nobody who had plans of becoming a St. Mungo's healer should be! They were answers he'd known, for once, but Toko had kept his lips sealed tight and his gaze focused on his desk whenever Professor Storm would look out at his class. Nothing set his nerves rattling more than being singled out in class, whether his reply was correct or otherwise.

This being said, Tae-song Toko was about to do something very strange. He braced his bony hands on the edge of his desk for a moment, convincing himself to follow through with the direction his thoughts were flowing. After a volley of mental protests, he stood, albeit very reluctantly. Toko slipped his dark, striated wand from deep in the pocket of his robes and held it aloft, tip pointed at Fauna's mess.

What he said was "Evanesco".*

What he wanted to say was 'You people are over-reacting.' But that would have been a terribly mean thing to say to someone, especially after they'd just vomited. Toko took his seat without another word. He might get snapped at for using magic without academic reason in class, but it was better than sitting around with a bunch of people in a flutter over puke.

"Um. In...in addition to what Amherst said, Professor, ah...c-cleansing the wound properly before closing it would...would also be good, I think. By...using Scourgify, or a spell such as that."

---

_{*Evanesco - The Vanishing Spell; does not make things invisible, it makes them disappear completely.}

Addie had been watching the whole debacle from the beginning & similiar to that of Matty, she was interested in how the Hufflepuff did that hand survive!? She had sketched it, completely oblivious to the parchment waiting for her until she was done giving the final wrinkles & veins. The blue eyes twitched nervously as she picked it up, slowly unfurling it & soon letting out a practically non-existant gasp. An...E!? Well an 'E' with remarks that she needed to elaborate better or she'd be given an 'A,' no questions asked. The parchment was rolled back up & returned to focus on the lesson.

Fauna's nausea wavered over towards her, but Addie did her best to ignore the illness - it didn't mean though that her nose curled in disgust. Ugh. She only hoped her stepsister wouldn't upchuck again - she hoped so earnestly. Storm's question of mending a wound received excellent answers but Addie figured she would give her own answers as her brain poked the medicinal (and scientific) child within.

"Sir? If we're going along the lines of minor to a less severe slashing or such an inflicted cutting wound, using Tergeo first would clean the blood, keeping a shield, if you will, to repeal the elements? If that should work, then Episkey if it can be effective in the scenario?" she commented, raising an eyebrow before looking back at the notes & the severed hand. Eww. Addie was rather thankful, like Fir, that she had family who practiced or at least had knowledge in medicine. Her gag reflex went off, but she shoved it immediately back down.

Oh, the things to write to her parents about this. Granda Jimmy would surely want this man's autograph - Addie hoped & prayed not. The last thing she wanted or needed in this last semester of her school days was a joining of like minds. The thought alone made her involuntary shudder. Ewwwww.

Like a shot, Blake shot out of her seat, and towards the door, before vomiting, and it looked to be all over someone's bag. Her classmates were repulsed, and she remained hunched over, as shocked as her classmates seemed to be.

Amherst was there in a flash, an arm around Fauna's shoulders.
"You might want to try either Resarcio or Sigillum. They'll both close up the wound but not fully heal it, it will buy you enough time to be able to get them to a proper healer." He offered.

"Evanesco" Toko cleaned up quietly behind.

"Um. In...in addition to what Amherst said, Professor, ah...c-cleansing the wound properly before closing it would...would also be good, I think. By...using Scourgify, or a spell such as that."

"Valid suggestions both of you, though there are actions to be done before."

Delacoix added a suggestion:
"Sir? If we're going along the lines of minor to a less severe slashing or such an inflicted cutting wound, using Tergeo first would clean the blood, keeping a shield, if you will, to repeal the elements? If that should work, then Episkey if it can be effective in the scenario?"

"Another very valid suggestion. Two points to each of you for well reasoned responses. Episkey might struggle with deeper or longer wounds, certainly Delacroix." He was pleased she was speaking up once again. It would be good if Johann would pluck up the courage to actually speak to her, given that she was meant to be joining his department on a temporary basis with a view to a long term career. He'd so far declined to mention the fact to Adelia himself.

Instead, he crossed to where Fir sat, and gestured for the seventh year to stand, placing the hand on Fir's desk instead temporarily.

"Before all of that though, you would need to sit Curween down," He applied light pressure with both hands to Fir's shoulders, as if he were actually carrying out the situation.
"Examine the wound," He leant over Fir's shoulder to the severed arm, making a show of examination.
"There's not on this occasion, but there could be something lodged in it."

He glanced Blake's way again.
"Elevate the wound," He turned the hand upper most, bringing it closer to Fir as if it were the student's own arm.
"Then, your other hand," He asked Fir, moving to reach for the young man's hand on the other side, hoping he'd oblige, but unable to see Fir's face at that angle.
"… apply pressure…" He attempted to clamp Fir's real hand over the oozing wound.

"Sit back down Blake, it'll pass. We'll move on to other elements…" He assured her in a rather too flippant way, and cocked his head to her vacant seat. 
"Thank you Curween." He pulled the severed arm from the student.

"Sigillum." With the arm laid over his palm, he used his wand tip from one end of the wound to the other in a slow motion. The two sides of the wound sealed up before the eyes of those students who dared to look as he stood amidst them.

"Now, amputation. Something one should never, ever attempt to solve without being a qualified healer. Stop any bleeding, keep it cool, but not frozen so that the part can be preserved and reattached before it dies off. Speed is of the essence. Better Blake?" He asked with a smile that made nobody feel at ease.

"You can be first perhaps, get it over and done with." He flung the arm back down on the desk, and resliced a wound. Gesturing his actual arm out to her, to chivvy her closer, rather than the severed limb twitching on the desk before them both.

EWWWWWWWWW.

Oh this was So. Not. Fair. Why did it have to be his arm? Why couldn't it be Dax's muscly arm or Tae-Song's delicate one? Why did it have to be Fir's perfect, beautiful arm? It didn't matter if it was just a label and not his actual appendage. Fir Cuween was not comfortable being forced to endorse and associate with by name a oozing, bleeding, gushing wound. Hell to the no.

And then everyone was just giving out answers! Like that was the most important thing in this class! Like they didn't even care that Fir's reputation as the most attractive male or female at Hogwarts was one the line. Why wasn't he given any love? He didn't understand. Was everyone willing to go along with this for the sake of a few measly house points? Tear. Dramatic Tear. That would be left in his brain until the best opportune moment.

But apparently he wasn't alone. A slightly sick-looking Fauana stood up though instead of spewing how that arm was not nearly attractive enough to belong to Fir she just...spewed.

EWWWWWWWWW.

Fir actually made a face, cringed and lifted his lesg off the floor, waving his arms and legs in a mini-flail. Getitaway. Getitaway. Getitaway.

"Can we just stop now, please?" Fir said, raising his hand, ignoring the traitorous point-snatchers that were cleaning up the mess. Not the point. What if that had gotten on his bag? His clothes? Or worse- his HAIR.

Apparently raising his hand was a bad idea. Because apparently in Stormland, that meant he had just volunteered to be tortured.

Fir stood while executing a simply perfect dramatic sigh (if he said so himself) ad tried really hard not to look at the freakish hand LAYING ON HIS DESK. And then Storm- sat him back down? Fir blinked and looked up at the professor with a confused from. The hell was that?

If he had to play patient, healer whatever and you make me touch that, he was demanding a scantily clad nurse. He don't care what gender, there just needed to be a suggestive uniform with fishnet accents. S'all he was saying.

"Oh gross," Fir moaned as Storm all but thrust the arm in Fir's face while standing behind him. BEHIND HIM! Agaah. This was so not good for his blood pressure. He wasn't going to break out a scalpel while he was standing behind Fir, was he? Aaaaa.

EWWWWWWWWW.

Fir was about to gag from the arm in his face. "Gross. Gross. Gross. Gross. Gross."

And just when Fir thought the demonstration couldn't get worse, Storm grabbed his hand and lifted it up like it was also bleeding cut up and ugly. Which it wasn't. He had very pretty limbs, okay?

The only advantage Fir had here was that he was pretty sure Storm couldn't see his face. Which meant Fir could make his best and more dramatic horrified, disgusted, crazy and mocking faces. It was the little things that helped him stay sane during difficult and trying times like these.

And oh thank everything holy, Storm was moving the arm and himself away. Fir clutched his own arm to his chest, checking it for signs of contamination or residual curses. Because you never knew with a guy like Storm.

"You are demented, you know that?" Fir said. "Can I get like 50 points for all that please?"

Oh sure now Fauna was Storm's next victim demonstration. But Fir was still scared her. Fir's name was still libelous attached to the ugly arm. And okay Fauna probably wasn't feeling so hot either. But he'd just buy her a really ugly hat and everything would be better. But who would give a psychological bandage to Fir?

Oh Merlin. Of all the things she could have thrown up on, it had to be Waker's things. Fauna kept her head bent and sucked in a breath, trying not to puke again. She heard Waker's horrified whispers and couldn't even meet the girl's eyes. After Devlin, this mess was the last issue they needed between them.

She nodded when Matty asked if she was alright, not trusting herself to open her mouth. Someone was kind enough to cast Evanesco and at least get rid of the vomit, which helped ease her nausea. When Toko's voice sounded again, suggesting Scourgify for the class discussion, Fauna decided Scourgify wasn't such a bad idea, and casted it over any clothes that had been affected. Now she just really needed a drink of water.

However, she wasn't going to get one. For the second time that class period, Fauna made the mistake of glancing up, wincing when she saw the arm on Fir's desk, and the arm... oh shite. She clapped her hand over her mouth and looked away, feeling not only sick but embarrassed that she seemed to be the only one affected so much. Fir, though looking thoroughly disgusted, didn't look like he was about to barf (though if he did, she hoped he would do it on Storm).

Fauna sat down in her seat shakily when the professor told her to, self-consciously continuing to wipe at her mouth and inspect her clothes.

Amputation, the professor went on. She'd barely been able to pay attention to the suggestions and spells that were flying around the classroom, useful information that she would have liked to retain. So when the professor said her name, she stared at him blankly for a few long moments.

"You can be first perhaps, get it over and done with."

Wait, what? The first to... what? No! Her facial expression turned incredulous, then pitiful, and then finally resigned. Leaving class was not an option. Not if she wanted to improve her marks, or learn anything.

Slowly, miserably, she stood up and trudged over to the arm like it was a death sentence. Its fingers twitched at her in greeting. What was she supposed to do? Stop the bleeding, cool the arm. Right.

Fauna thought for a moment, swallowing hard and pursing her mouth. Her face paled as she looked at the wound. Think. She'd heard of Vulnera Sanentur, a spell that slowed bleeding the first time around, but she had never practiced it before and wasn't even sure how it was pronounced. She did, however, remember a simpler spell that she hoped would be good enough.

She waved her wand at the nearly severed arm and spoke the spell out loud, sending Storm an anxious glance when the blood didn't slow. Trying it again, she said the spell a little louder (if Storm got puke-breath in his face, that was his problem), and to her relief, the blood began to congeal. Which was gross. But it worked.

"Frigus," Fauna attempted a cooling spell next, watching in dismay as her desperate attempt caused the arm to turn blue. Oops...

Since her the run in with Storm earlier in the month, where she had come to begrudgingly respect the professor, Grace had set about with purpose to prove that that one incident should not define his image of her.

Luckily for her, the series of strenuous essays offered the perfect avenue by which to make a better impression. Grace was a meticulous study of her textbooks, primarily because she knew that her deficiency in the class often came in the practical application of the spell work.

Still, even with her overachieving ways, it was not equating to the grades that she had been hoping for on these mock NEWT exams. Staring at the most recent grade, she tried to discern if the score was justified or not. She eyed Storm as he passed by her desk, wondering if there was any lingering bias on his part towards herself, Fauna and Chance. The 'Acceptable' was fine and would be accepted by many of her classmates who struggled with writing, but Grace routinely aspired higher.

Setting the test aside with a semi-frustrated sigh, Grace folded her hands neatly on the desk and turned her brown orbs towards the professor who had begun the day's lesson.

The topic for this one --breaking bones--did not seem as offensive to Grace as the one that had caused her to run out of the classroom weeks prior. Storm might still be skeptical that she had the stomach for such things, much less becoming a healer, but Grace knew in her heart of hearts that the reason the previous lesson had been so touchy for her was because of how fresh it was to learning of her mother's condition. Though the situation was still emotional for her, enough time had gone by for her to be able to come to terms with it, at least for the time being. And she was confident that she could return to being her productive, overachieving self in no time.

As the discussion progressed, Grace kept her urges to comment at bay, mainly because as a future healer, she prided herself in knowing most of what they were talking about already. But,  that didn't mean she wanted others to see her as a know-it-all. If no one else answered correctly, then she would chime in.

Grace noticed Fauna nearby looking a little green and reached out to give her arm a quick squeeze, as if letting her know that in a moment's notice, she was ready to hightail it out of there again, for old time's sake.

But her sympathy was too late. Grace watched on in horror as Fauna became sick. And all over Waker's things! Grace covered her eyes with one hand in disbelief.

After the initial commotion had subsided, she slowly pulled her hand away from her eyes and watched as the class progressed, clearly skeptical of where this was headed. She almost felt sorry for Fir upon seeing his forced interaction with Professor Storm. The poor Hufflepuff looked like he was being tortured.

His torture was nothing compared to what Fauna looked to be enduring as she was called up to the desk to do as Storm instructed. Grace could barely help the pained expression on her own face as she watched. Grace's empathy for her friend ran quite deep and she made a mental note to herself that after class she would shower Fauna with dozens of cheering spells to hopefully help make her feel better.