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—THE STORM HAD BLOWN ITSELF OUT BY THE FOLLOWING MORNING, THOUGH THE CEILING IN THE GREAT HALL WAS STILL GLOOMY. Rigel, Blaise, and Draco compared their fourth year schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, they could hear all sorts of stories about how to get into the tournament.
"Today's not bad... outside all morning." said Draco, who was running his finger down his schedule.
"Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures... damn it, we're still with the Gryffindors." grumbled Blaise bitterly, angrily biting into an apple.
"Double Divination this afternoon," Rigel groaned, looking down. Divination was his least favorite subject, apart from Herbology— he simple hated to get his hands dirty, which happened everytime in Herbology.
Divination, however, he hated because Trelawney kept predicting his death, which he found extremely annoying.
"You should've given it up and joined me in Ancient Runes, shouldn't you?" Blaise pointed out.
"But Ancient Runes is so confusing!" Rigel complained, earning a nod from Draco, who agreed.
••
Rigel grimaced. Professor Sprout was showing the class the ugliest plant Rigel had even 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?!" asked Draco, sounding revolted. Rigel had the same horror-stricken expression on his face, which was unusual to see on the usually-emotionless boy.
"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, bubotubers 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.
They caught it in 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, bubotubers pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."
"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbot, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."
"Silly girl—" Professor Sprout shook her head. "—but Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."
