Anchor~ Harry James Potter

4.9 - Ferrets and Skrewts-

"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. Instinctively, Harry looked up, but there was no sign of white among the mass of brown and gray.

The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were ad- dressed. 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. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment in his stomach, Harry returned to his porridge. Celeste knew he was still waiting for the letter from her father.

She placed a hand on his and whispered to him lowly, "He sent the letter I promise," referring to her father, "told me so himself." Harry smiled at her, his mood instantly picking up again, knowing a letter will arrive.

They made their way to the herbology classroom. They went into the classroom and Professor Sprout was showing the class the ugliest plants Celeste 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. Celeste began to laugh loudly at what Seamus was thinking, he began to laugh with her. Harry shoving Celeste and Seamus slightly at their dirty minds, which made them giggle harder.

"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."

"The pus Finnigan," Celeste repeated, "did you get that, Seamus?"

"I sure did Celeste." He winked at her which sent her into another fit of giggles. Harry smiling fondly at her.

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. Celeste could only compare it to popping a nice bug spot, which is a habit she needs to stop.

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 Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, 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
Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.