"Cliodna is a mythical goddess of love and beauty, according to the Irish."
Max Epper strides down the stone hallway purposefully, with a spring to his step. Today is a big day in his career.
"She, is some ways, is your Irish Little Mermaid. Leaves an otherworldly place driven by love for a mortal, and suffers for it."
He surreptitiously adjusts the front of his long overcoat, and makes sure his weaponry doesn't show.
"Also in Irish myths, she grants wishes to those who earn her favour. She's the one behind the original 'gift of the gab'."
He reaches the far end of the corridor and gets to work climbing the spiral staircase.
"She is traditionally associated with her birds, who had the ability to heal the sick by singing to them."
He finally reaches the upper storey and pretends that he doesn't need to stop and catch his breath. He continues on into the beautiful, high ceilinged hall, which is currently occupied by a few of Ireland's top anthropologists and a couple of Epper's prized students. He sees his favourite among them waiting for him with a smug smile on his face.
"Need a minute?"
"If I need it, I'll ask for it," he replies, faux- testily.
That day, after the lecture, Professor Epper is approached by one of the students in the class. He's not from hereabouts — Australian, Epper guesses, going by the accent.
This guy has a lot of rumours surrounding him. That he gives "loner" a whole new meaning. That the Australian military sent him here. That he's a spy, who's using this as the most paper-thin cover in the world.
Epper jumps straight to the heart of the matter. "Did you find it?"
"I see that you skipped something of importance in your lecture about Cleena."
"I did, Professor, so you had better do your job now."
Epper tries valiantly and fails to hide the smile that is beginning to form on his features. He whispers something unintelligible under his breath.
"And what might that be?"
Slowly, the others milling about in the room start to drift away, seemingly for no reason. Epper waits till they are alone.
Jack smiles. "Your Muggle-Repelling charms are getting better by the day, Max."
Epper waits for the answer with almost a frivolous impatience. But when it comes, the answer shocks him to his core.
"That she was Ireland's first Animagus."
"Let me see it."
Jack hands him the aging parchment, with a quiet reverence. Epper gazes at it and tries to steady his shaking hands.
"The original twelve properties of Moondew. As discovered by the druidess herself," he breathes, in an awed tone.
There is a moment of hushed silence, and then both men burst into excited whispers.
"This could be the biggest break-through in potion making, since Dumbledore's discovery—"
"Imagine the implications, just for the Draught of Living Death—"
"Healers would have a field day with the healing properties alone—"
"And students at Hogwarts would love to hex you into next week for adding another list of properties to memorise for their OWLs," interrupts a soft female voice from the doorway.
Epper's eyes widen, as he sees Jack go for his wand instinctively. He tries to stop him, to get him to stand down, when —
Jack's wand goes flying clean out of his hand, into the hands of the young blonde woman standing a few feet from them, a twinkle in her bright blue eyes and a smirk on her face.
"Hello, Professor. If you're trying to keep a secret, I'd suggest Muffliato."