Usually Declan was an excellent note taker. He had been taking notes for years now, about things that had nothing to do with his lessons. The amount of personal studying he had gotten done over the past four to five years were surely enough to impress any Ravenclaw. It was just perchance that he really wasn't out to impress anyone only out to understand himself a little more.

An apron was put on to keep him clean in case he was clumsy and a pair of goggles covered what he deemed mostly useless eyes. He grabbed the needed materials and returned to his desk.

The healer had told them they were allowed to have a taste of the pickled murtlap tentacles. Declan was, frankly, not that tempted and he busied himself making his hands clean before putting on gloves. He picked a tentacle up and gave it a good look, squishing it between his thumb and index finger to get a main feel for it.

He worked meticulously--maybe slower than others-- and squeezed every drop into the vial. Declan didn't rush himself and didn't look to the side in order to compare his progress to others. He wasn't interested in competition either. It wasn't in his nature which he knew was a disappointment for his Mama. She was good and she loved him, he knew, but she was honest and blunt. Once the vial was full, he carefully stuck the label on it and wrote his name in a tight scrawl on the line.