𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐝 {𝐇. 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫}

54

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Johnny, Blaise, and Pansy examined their new course schedules at breakfast. On the Gryffindor table, a few seats down, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

"Today's not bad... outside all morning," said Blaise, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Ravenclaw's and Care of Magical Creatures... damn it, we're still with the Gryffindor's...."

At Johnny's look, Blaise quickly said: "Some of them are alright!"

"Double Divination this afternoon with the Gryffindors," Johnny groaned, looking down. Johnny was persuaded to retake the subject after his little moment near the end of last year. Divination was his least favorite subject.

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville and deposited a parcel into his lap - Neville almost always forgot to pack something. Draco's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in his stomach, Johnny returned to his breakfast.

His preoccupation lasted all the way across the sodden vegetable patch until they arrived in greenhouse three, but here he was distracted by Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants Johnny had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus -"

"The what?" said Draco, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Malfoy, pus," said Professor Sprout, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol.

"Merlin, I'm going to be sick," Pansy groaned from the tray she was sharing with Johnny and Blaise. She put her hair up in a high bun and leaned off to the side. Loud gagging noises were heard, making the class wince as Johnny patted her back comfortingly.

They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.

"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."

"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Padma Patil in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

"Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Ravenclaws climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Slytherins heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.