Highs and Grindylows

[Solomon Mordaunt]

The first year of Hogwarts was, to put it simply, something of a bitter disappointment for Solomon. His expectations of what to expect in the coming years had been significantly lowered, after coming to terms with just how little practicality he was taught - at least, in the one major field of study he was interested in. Brewing potions of his own was what the young Slytherin had looked forward to the most in coming to the academy and learning how to be a proper wizard, more than the wand waving, or the flying. So much of his time had been wasted learning about stars and history when it could have better been applied toward something genuinely useful in life. Yet even with the time allocated toward potion work, the year merely consisted of theory and mind-numbing note taking, learning about facts and ingredients he either already knew of, or could have just as easily learned from a textbook. If this was the school's idea of "Potions", it was rubbish. He was learning more from his step-mother during the short holiday breaks they were given, than the course of the year spent in class. If it turned out that his second year at the god-forsaken school was just like his first, he'd already made his intentions to transfer out clear to his father. He wasn't having any of this sub-standard education.

Sitting by the edge of the lake's wooden jetty, Solomon allowed his bare feet to dip into the water below, rippling it's surface with the occasional small kick. The metamorphmagus had returned from the Winter Break with a few more items than he had brought with him originally, one of which included a simple fishing pole his parents had bought for him, now resting against one of the slender logs that held the walkway aloft above the water. His father was enthusiastic at the prospect of his son doing more than digging up plants and reading books, unaware of the exact reason why Solomon had wanted to start up fishing in the first place. If he wasn't going to be taught how to make a potion in the classroom, then he'd just have to learn to do it himself, a process which required experimentation and ingredients. From what he heard, the lake was teeming with aquatic magical creatures, some of which were bound to have qualities that could be used to create any kind of interesting concoctions.

Lifting a wriggling flobberworm from a small tin he'd ransacked from the house elves in the kitchens, the Mordaunt boy attached it to the hook at the end of his line, and cast it off into the lake, curious about what, if anything, he might catch.
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[Daylen Wiberg-Rose]

If his first two years at Hogwarts was anything yo go by, his third year was not going to be any different for him. Why the dumb old sorting hat had decided to put in in Ravenclaw, the house of the wise, he would never quite understand. If his poor grades were anything to go by, he really did not belong in the house he was eventually sorted into. he could be smart about some things, sure, but his education was simply not one of them and he had been struggling for some time now. But Daylen was not the type of boy to go and find any of the Professors to help him out, so he was simply left to fend for himself and try to get homework to cooperate with him and just hope that his grades wouldn't drop any further. Lord knows what he would do if anyone got his parents involved and they found out how terribly he was doing. He had been doing quite a good job of keeping his grades hidden from them for the past two years, and he did not want all that hard work to go to waste now. If either of his parents happened to find out then he could probably say goodbye to any of his free time.

Striding down towards the lake, sleeves rolled up and a couple of textbooks shoved hastily under his arms, the Ravenclaw boy was not expecting to bump into anyone. But as he made his way towards the jetty where he liked to sit and read, he stumbled across a boy already sitting there. Daylen had frowned a little at the sight before deciding that it was better if he just found somewhere else to sit, but the sight of a fishing rod had caused him to pause and watch with a new found interest. Fishing was not something he thought most students did, it was one of those Muggle things old guys did, but his eyes were not mistaking him and the boy was, in fact, fishing in the lake.

Frowning he moved closer, trying not to startle the boy and cause him to fall forwards into the water as he finally spoke, "What are you hoping to catch? Anything in particular?"

 

[Solomon Mordaunt]

The tip of Solomon's rod jerked forward, alerting the young Slytherin to a potential catch, but when the boy cranked the winch to reel the line back in, he found nothing attached at the end of his hook - not even the flobberworm he had used as bait. Scowling, he reached into the tin settled by his side, withdrawing another of the worms from inside and repeating the steps he'd originally taken, though this time making more of an effort to hide the glimmering metal that gave away the hook, before casting the line back out into the water for a second attempt. Something was bound to bite, sooner or later. It was only a matter of time, and patience. Patience was one thing Solomon had a lot of. With no other extracurricular activities, he could wait all day if he had to.

The water had been still for a few minutes when a slight movement caught Mordaunt's attention, not from the lake as he had hoped, but from the corner of his peripherals, further down the walkway he was seated on. The movement was followed by a voice, and Solomon tore his eyes away from the resting water, refocusing them instead on the slightly older boy standing nearby. "I'm not sure yet. A lobalug, or a grindylow. I don't know what lives in the lake, but I'm sure there's some sort of magical fish or something like that. I want to make my own potion." He tried to explain, briefly turning his head to glance back at his bobber, floating alone in the middle of the water. "I need to find ingredients to do it."
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[Daylen Wiberg-Rose]

He just stood, watching the boy for a moment longer before he decided just standing around was going to make his legs tired. So he made up his mind, moving forward towards the end of the jetty before slowly sitting himself down, making sure not to disturb the water too much as he didn't really fancy having an argument with the boy for scaring off his catch. Crossing his legs over each other to make himself a little more comfortable, the third year slowly peered over the edge of the jetty, eyes watching the water for a moment before they slowly returned to the younger boy he was sitting next to.

"A grindylow? Aren't they those... uh," he was finding it hard to explain, and so he ended up just wiggling his fingers around a little to try and imitate tentacles. Deciding that was the best he could probably pull off, Daylen shoved his hands into his lap, frowning just a little as he heard why the boy wanted to catch these things. "What kind of potion do you want to make with those ingredients?" He found himself, not exactly being a potions expert who would know about these kinds of things, "I don't remember making a potion with those kinds of things." Mind you, he could barely remember anything they had studied last year, so he supposed that they could have made something like that and he had simply forgotten it. But he was pretty sure he would remember ingredients like that.

 

[Solomon Mordaunt]

Solomon appeared briefly confused as the older boy started wriggling his fingers, before understanding what he was trying to convey. "Yes, they're those." He nodded in affirmation, ignoring the urge to imitate the gesture in case he overthought it, and ended up with tentacles for fingers. Instead he shrugged, turning his attention back to the fishing rod in case he missed a bite. "I don't know yet, I was going to experiment, try different things out. Might create something that lets me breathe underwater, or I might create something that turns me into an octopus. I won't know until I try." He could freely admit he had no clue what he was going to end up creating, but anything was better than listening to a professor talk for an hour. "The potions instructor, Pencington or something, hasn't taught my class a lot about brewing potions, so I thought it was better if I taught myself instead. If I start experimenting now, maybe I'll create something new sooner." Or he'd accidentally blow up half the castle. Only time would tell. "That way, I'll become famous, and then Pencington can talk about me in his classes."
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[Daylen Wiberg-Rose]

Just sitting there on the jetty, Daylen was highly tempted to take off his shoes and socks and dip his feet into the water, but he supposed that gesture was not going to be approved. So he kept his ideas to himself, instead just thinking about what kind of potions you could make with the wildlife swimming around under the water. "Isn't it dangerous to try and make your own potions?" He found himself asking as his eyes flickered back to the Slytherin, "I mean, without supervision and stuff. And you start learning more about brewing and stuff as you get older, you have to start somewhere, anyway." Daylen knew that he probably wouldn't be able to create his own potion, even with a lot of trial and error. Mostly because he had no idea how to do anything in that class correctly without something going horrifically wrong.

"Pendleton," he found himself correcting after a moment to himself just to make sure that e had actually got that right.