A/N: I'm going to make this clear. I don't own the Harry Potter series or it's characters. That right goes to JK Rowling
If you haven't yet, read before this story:
The Son and Nephew of the Maurders: The Sorcerer's Stone
The Son and Nephew of the Maurders: The Chamber of Secrets
The Son and Nephew of the Maurders: The Prisoner of Azkaban
Also if you haven't please take part on voting for which story you want me to update next month
Malfoy gets Transfigured into a Bouncing Ferret
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 Harry Ron, Hermione, and Neville examined their new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, 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 Ron, who was running his finger down his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures… darn it, we're still with the Slytherins…"
"O.W.L. level Gryffindors always have Care of Magical Creatures and Potions with Slytherin, just as they have Herbology with Hufflepuff, and Arithmancy and History of Magic with Ravenclaw. Muggles Studies is mix with Hufflepuff Ravenclaw and Gryffindor," Harry said. "Once we reach N.E.W.T. level all houses take courses together."
"Double Divination this afternoon for Ron and me," Neville said. "What about you Harry. When do you have Muggles Studies."
"Afternoon Tuesday and Wednesday," Harry said.
"I have Study of Ancient Runes afternoon Friday morning. Arithmancy Wednesday Afternoon." Hermione said as she spread jam on her toast, "Ron, Neville, you two should give up Divination and do something sensible like Arithmancy."
"Muggles Studies isn't too bad," Harry said. "From what I heard, this is the year we go into British Muggle History and how far they have gone without magic."
There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Hedwig came with treats from Andromeda and Mrs. Weasley.
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 Harry 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 several 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—"
"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 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 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 Elois Midgen," said Hannah Abbot, 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."
The 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.
"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this—Blast-Ended Shrewts!"
"Come again?" said Ron.
Hagrid pointed down into the crates.
"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward.
"Eurgh" just about summed up the Blast-Ended Shrewts in Harry's opinion. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a shrewt and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.
"On'y just hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"
"And why would we want to raise them?" said a cold voice.
The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words.
Hagrid looked stumped at the question.
"I mean, what do they do?" asked Malfoy. "What is the point of them?"
"That's the point of this class, Malfoy," Harry said. "To teach us to find uses of Magical Creatures even if others haven't find any."
"You're joking right, Potter?" Malfoy asked.
"This class is among the most dangerous topics taught in Hogwarts, even before Hagrid took over," Harry said. "This isn't anything out of ordinary."
"Right and today won't be any different," Hagrid said. "Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things—I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer—I got ant eggs, an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake-just try 'em out with a bit of each."
"Might be best avoiding contact with the blast end," Harry added.
"Yes, thank you Harry," Hagrid agreed.
"First pus now this," muttered Seamus.
Everyone picks up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the Blast-Ended Shrewts.
"Ouch!" yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. "It got me! Its end exploded!"
"Dean, I just said avoid the blast end," Harry said.
Hagrid hurried over to him as Dean showed him a burn on his hand.
"Eurgh!" said Lavender Brown again. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"
"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," said Hagrid enthusiastically. "I reckon they're the males… the females' ve got sorta sucker things on their bellies… I think they might be ter suck blood."
"In other words avoid the stingers and suckers," Harry stated.
"Yeah, real proactive," Malfoy droned.
After class they made their way back to the castle for lunch.
"At least they're small," said Ron.
"They are now," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long. What's the point of even raising them?"
"It might be for the Triwizard Cup," Harry said.
"You think so?" Neville asked.
"Six feet long magical creature like blast ended Shrewts sound like something they use to use," Harry explained.
"Great, so we're raising magical creatures for the Triwizard Cup," Ron said.
They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began to eat so fast Harry, Neville, and Ron stared at her.
"Er—is this the new stand on elf rights?" said Ron.
"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library.
"What?" said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione—it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"
Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days. Then she leapt to her feet, said, "See you guys at dinner!" and departed at high speed.
When the bell rang to signal start of afternoon lessons, Harry headed off to his dad's room while Ron and Neville set off for North Tower for Divination.
Harry knocked at his dad's door, and James answered. "Oh hey Harry, what are you doing here kiddo? Don't you have class?"
"I have the rest of the afternoon off and we haven't been assign homework yet," Harry said. "Hermione at Study of Ancient Runes and Neville and Ron are at Divination."
"Right, and fourth year Muggle Studies don't start until tomorrow," James remembered. "Well, I'm sure Astronomy would come in handy for Ron and Neville this year. Trelawney starts fourth years on predictions using stars and planets."
"Don't the centaurs use that for predictions too?" Harry asked, remembering his first year when he had detention with Hagrid. Ron Hermione and Hagrid ran across centaurs that kept mentioning danger coming because of Mars being unusually bright. It turned out the centaurs were right as Professor Quirrell was trying to get the Sorcerer's Stone for Voldemort.
"They do, but I doubt even Trelawney use the same method as them even if her seer powers worked all the time. Centaurs have their own way of using Astronomy to make predictions and they don't share it with any wizards and witches," James explained.
James and Harry talked before time came for Dinner and Harry rejoin his friends.
"We got homework in Divination," Ron moaned in complained.
"It was your fault for teasing Professor Trelawney about Lavender having Uranus on her charts," Neville said.
"There, some good news for you guys," Harry said. "Dad said Astronomy should come in handy in helping with the planetary and stars positions for Divination."
"You two got homework?" Hermione asked as she met up with them. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"
"We only got homework because Ron teased the Professor," Neville said.
"Better than detention," Hermione said. "What did you do, Harry?"
"I visited my dad," Harry said. "It helps when all his classes are at midnight."
They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line when a loud voice rang out behind them.
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.
"What?" said Ron shortly.
"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed hall could hear. "Listen to this!
FURTHER MISTAKES AT MINISTRY OF MAGIC
It appears the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."
Malfoy looked up.
"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowded.
Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:
Arnold Weasley was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over several highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refuse to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene."
"And there's even a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house—if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"
"Hey, Malfoy!" said Harry—as Neville and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy— "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"
Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.
"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."
"Then keep your fat mouth shut," said Harry, turning away.
BANG!
Several people screamed-Harry felt something white-hot graze the side of his face—he plunged his hands for his wand, but before he had even touched it, he heard a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.
"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"
Harry spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out, and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.
There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry with his normal eye as the other one was pointing into the back of his head.
"Did he get you Potter?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.
"No," said Harry. "He missed."
"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted pointing at Crabbe, who had just frozen about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out the back of his head.
Moody started to limp toward Crabbe and Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.
"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again—it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.
"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's backs turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"
The ferret flew, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.
"Never—do—that—again—" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.
"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.
Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody, calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.
"What—what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.
"Teaching," said Moody.
"Teach—Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.
"Yep," said Moody.
"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.
"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall weakly. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"
"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock—"
"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"
"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.
Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody, and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.
"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House will be Snape, will it?"
"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.
"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to chat with old Snape… Come on, you…"
And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him toward the dungeons.
Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then wave her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.
"Don't talk to me," said Ron quietly to his friends as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talks on all sides about what had just happened.
"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.
"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret…"
Harry, Neville, and Hermione laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates.
"He could have really hurt Malfoy though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it—"
"Hermione!" said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!"
Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat at top speed again.
"Going to the library again?" asked Harry.
"Yeah," said Hermione thickly. "Loads to do."
"Like what?" Neville asked. "You and Harry haven't got homework."
"It's not schoolwork," she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed.
"She's up to something," Harry said.
Neville and Ron did not argue as they agreed.
Then her seat was taken by Fred Weasley.
"Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?"
"Beyond cool," said George, sitting down opposite Fred.
"Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. "We had him this afternoon."
"I can see why you idolize him, Harry," Fred said.
"Yeah. He knows what it's like to be out there fighting the dark arts," George said impressively.
"His lesson was amazing," said Lee.
"I told you he was one of the best Aurors out there," Harry said.
"When do we have our first class with him?" Neville asked.
Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.
"We don't get him until Thursday!" Ron said in a disappointed voice.