"Hey, Lyra," Anna whispered, nudging her friend in the side. "I don't think this squid likes fish very much." She made a face at the bucket of fish, then shook her head. Mr. Henry Bartholomew, or whatever it was he went by, still, after what felt like forever and ever, hadn't show any sign of desiring to surface anytime soon. Shrugging, Anna sat down on a nearby patch of grass and simply stared down at the lake below. As she watched it, her mind drifted back to the flooded dungeons and kitchens. Was the lake really source of the flood? Or what about the squid? Was he up to no good or something? The groundskeeper hadn't said much in the last few minutes, though, so maybe he, too, was considering the fact that the squid didn't like fish. Wonder if he liked chocolate frogs?