The Oracle's Wake - Harry Potter

Chapter 8

Laken's body ached with the lingering tiredness of the endless hours spent toiling away under Snape's watchful eyes. She and the two, Harry and Bonny, had been forced to sort and prepare an assortment of unpleasant potion ingredients, from rat spleens and flobberworm mucus to pickled animal parts for their detention.

The trio had been stuck in Snape's office mere hours ago, their punishment doled out without mercy. While Laken had managed to stand straight, the other two couldn't say the same. As the sun rose, Harry and Bonny's weary features betrayed the toll the detention had taken. Laken in the other hand, found herself being completely normal from being murdered from rest, which she always experienced.

The bustling activity of the Great Hall felt muted, her senses dulled by the restless fatigue that had taken hold. Exhaustion clung to Laken like a heavy cloak as her head rested wearily upon the Woden surface, her eyes mere seconds away from shutting down completely.

For three long, arduous days, Laken avoided sleep. The memory of the dreadful encounter with the Demonstrator still haunted her, the feeling of her very soul being torn away leaving an indelible mark upon her. Which she forced not to sleep, she refused to, remembering how it completely left her alone in the darkness with her mind useless. Laken had already been a solitary soul, content to immerse herself in the world of her own company. Her education had been a solitary affair as well, with her Aunt being a primary tutor when it comes to basic knowledge of spells. The more specialized subjects, such as Arithmancy, Potions, Charm, and Transfigurations were taught by herself, since her Aunt often was away at the Ministry.

This self-reliance had become a comfort for Laken since she was little, which she didn't actually have a choice. Her Aunt wasn't really found of her being anywhere since she was a little 'different', in her words. Although, Laken couldn't care less, she was more than happy to live off her days with her books.

Neville, who had become friends with her since the day they met at Umbridge's class, sat in front of Laken. With his brow furrowed, a well worn Herbology textbook open on his lap.

"Erm, Laken?" He began, "Did you, er, happen to know the proper technique for repotting a Venomous Tentacula?"

Laken's head snapped up, her eyes blinking rapidly as she struggled to focus on Neville's words.

"Repotting a what?" She asked, her voice thick with exhaustion.

"The Venomous Tentacula," he repeated, his fingers tracing the worn pages of the text book. "It's a rather tricky plant, you see, and I was just wondering if you knew the proper way to handle it."

Laken blinked owlishly, her mind to process. Venomous Tentacula? Repotting? Not a single word seemed to process in her mind.

"I, uh," she spoke, her eyes darting around the table. "I'm afraid I'm not smart with Herbology at all, Neville. That's not really my area of expertise."

Neville's face fell, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "Oh, I see." He murmured.

Laken looked apologetic, her hand landed on her face as she rested there "Tentacula?, hmm?" she mused, looking at him "Well, I may not be an expert, but I remember my Aunt telling me about specific techniques for handling those rather lively plants"

Neville's face lit up with a hopeful expression. "Really? What is it?"

Laken paused for a moment, squinting her eyes slightly "If I remember correctly, you'll want to approach the Tentacula slowly and carefully, using a pair of thick dragonhide gloves to avoid, well, tentacle-related incidents."

Neville nodded eagerly, his quill scratching away at the parchment. "Dragonhide gloves, got it."

Laken continued, "And before you actually start the repotting, you'll want to use a mild calming drought to sedate the plant. That way, it won't put up as much of a fight." Neville nodded with a smile on his face, his quill moving even faster.