PHANTOM FIGURES | harry potter

41. mad-eye moody

     The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter grey swirled overhead as Aspen, Harry, Ron, and Hermione examined their new course schedules at breakfast. Jasmine was sitting with Megan back at Hufflepuff table. A few seats along, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of ageing themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

     "Today's not bad... outside all morning," said Ron, who was running his finger down his schedule.

     "Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down. Professor Trelawney had a habit of predicting his death.

     "You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. "Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy.

     "You're eating again, I notice," said Ron. Aspen furrowed her eyebrows, not understanding where this statement came from.

     "I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," said Hermione haughtily. Aspen guessed Hermione found out that house elves cooked their food and fought against it.

     "Yeah... and you were hungry," said Ron, grinning.

     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 Longbottom and deposited a parcel into his lap - Neville almost always forgot to pack something. On the other side of the Hall Draco Malfoy's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home.

     Aspen noticed Harry's disappointed look, she knew he was hoping Sirius would have responded to him. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly and said, "Hey, don't worry about it."

     The Potter boy nodded his head silently and Aspen went back to eating her food.

     Once they were done eating they crossed the sodden vegetable patch until they arrived in greenhouse three, where Professor Sprout started showing the class the ugliest plants Aspen 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 Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted.

     "Pus, Finnigan, 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 bubotuber was disgusting. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. 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 Eloise Midgen," said Jasmine quietly. "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."