Naomi was sitting cross legged, huddled with her bag of seashells, and scrunched up beneath a thick, long and heavy coat with the hood pulled up over her head, wrapped snugged with a scarf, to protect her from the biting cold that plagued the Hogwarts nights. It didn’t help that there was also a steady cold mist lifting off of the lake and fogging through the boat house. Besides her long boots, Naomi didn’t have much else protecting her from the cold, since she was going to brave the freezing waters alone (and hopefully with a warming spell,) she’d prefer to metamorph herself in and out as quickly as possible without having to worry much about clothes, which would also be somewhat remedied by the other handy spell Fir was suppose to bring with him, so she wouldn’t have to strip naked—ew.

The Slytherin girl raised a disgusted upper lip at that thought, and pulled at her long, tight braid, and began thinking about how she’d navigate the bottom of the lake. Finding out exactly where would be a good place to stick the seashells wasn’t that easy, because it may take an eternity to fill out and she had never seen the uglier cousins of the mermaids she was more accustomed to, and so wasn’t sure how much alike they were. Despite all that she was sure she could put her swimming experience to good use in a brief underwater investigation/venture/thing to figure out how they work, as long as Fir was a good wingman.

The whole musical thing was brilliant though, and she thought that the students of Hogwarts needed to get a good dose of singing to chase away the morose and dull atmosphere that had been haunting the castle. It was depressing, and she hated it—it made it that much harder to have fun without it being at someone else’s expense.

Finally satisfied with her thoughts Naomi pulled out her wand and started to zap the lamp-light with a little fire spell from her wand. She set their candles aflame and then snuffed them from boat to boat, waiting for Fir to arrive on the scene.

Outfit

Quinn was doing a massive favour for Fir, as per usual. He was her best mate, and whilst she knew he'd do anything for her, the Gryffindor blonde occasionally raised an eyebrow at some of his little plots - and this was one of those moments. He'd had some crisis of identity (a hairstyle wasn't going to plan, or something along those lines) and Quinn had to step-in as reserve last minute. Dressed in all-black, sneaking out after curfew wasn't unknown to McAvoy, although she'd never looked so suspicious in her entire life. An overhaul of black leather, a smudge of black lipstick and some blingy gold jewellery made her look every inch the undercover spy wizard, and even Quinn felt out of place. The outfit was completely unintentional, and simultaneously very amusing. For once, she didn't clash. A monumental event if there ever was one in the Hogwarts calendar.

Huddling her frost kissed hands into her coat pockets, Quinn hurried down the steps to the boat house. She'd been given three vials of some special liquid, 'enhanced gillyweed' Fir had said, and told to meet Naomi Foley who'd knew exactly what to do. She hoped to Merlin that the younger Slytherin would be on-time: another major act of mischief would result in another act of discipline and Quinn was aiming to at least graduate at the end of this school year. Making it to the edge of her secret rendezvous location, Quinn slowed down the pace as she crept inside.

Immediately spotting Naomi allowed Quinn to exhale a sigh of relief. If she was going to get caught, it was always better if done in the company of a friendly face. The two girls were on good terms (often dance partners at the big social bust-ups) and there was a mutual respect; Quinn knew that Naomi liked a good time, and she couldn't blame anybody for that. Trotting over and bundling herself down to the Slytherin, she rummaged through her bag.
"I know you're expecting Fir, mate," she began to explain, her whisper barely audible over the swish of the light harbour waves. "But, he's having a makeup meltdown or whatever he suffers, so, consider me his replacement!" She flashed Naomi a wide, toothy grin before continuing her search for the vials in the scrapyard that was her handbag.  "What's happening anyway? Fir's hardly told me anything!"

As a figure approached from the distance, Naomi flicked her wist and snuffed out the light from a lantern. The figure's walk was a familiar swagger, but not one that belonged to Fir Cuween, so the rangy teen hung over the lapping waves, as she deciphered and plotted out possible actions, until she recognized the saunter of the blond witch that was Quinn McAvoy.

The younger witch erected herself back onto the deck of the boathouse, sticking out her hip and slinking her arms together as Quinn approached and quietly prattled off why she was there instead of Fir. Even though Naomi skeptically eyed the the lack of color in Quinn's clothes, the Gryffindor was also a welcome site. Since Naomi loved sneaking off to dance for fun, Quinn was a regular to step up with her, and was probably more willing to jump in the lake than Fir was too, (since one of the main reasons she was there was to be the swimmer while Fir sat in the boat.)

Once Quinn finished, the Slytherin dug her hand into her bag and craned her view back at the castle, "Pixie," she hummed off in a whisp at Fir's absence.

 "Goin' onna dive," she spoke in a hushed pulse as she procured a slick parchment map and held it up to Quinn. With her wand tip, Naomi pointed out the marks sketching out the shape of a lake and a small pointed oval shape parked in a corner, "Us," she confirmed pointing from the small shape on the map to one of the bobbing boats. The map was devastatingly blank beyond that, "It'll move wit' us, best I could do t' keep track," she confirmed before opening up her bag for the blond to look into.

There was a gaggle of pointed and twisted conch littering the bottom of the bag, courtesy of her cousins,  "We're hiding shells on the bottom of the lake," she closed the bag, and pointed back at the map, "marking 'dem off in spots. They're magicked to catch some mer-songs, and will float up when 'dey get 'em," she then leaned over to abent-mindedly peer into Quinn's bag, "Fi some party the first years' a-cooking."

Naomi wondered what she was rummaging for since she simply told Fir to bring a spell to morph clothes with the body, a spell to keep warm underwater, and a spell to dry off with; she failed to mention that she didn't need gillyweed, but realized Fir may have cooked one up for the trip anyway. "Cuween didn't want nothin' to do with swimming though, didyou bring sometin' to jump in with?" she went on in her quiet hum as a splash licked the deck of the house, "he gave you 'dem spells I asked fer too, right?"