Even though Melissa protested vehemently that she was cured, Madame Pomfrey made her stay overnight in the infirmary in case of a relapse. She rejoined Beth and Bruce at lunch, complaining about the cots in the hospital wing.
"At least you're out," Beth said patiently. "You missed Charms and Potions. It's our first class with Kettleburn today. We can get a better look at his hand then."
"Ever find out who did it?" Bruce asked through a mouthful of sausage and bagel. "The curse, I mean."
Melissa shook her head, as if unwilling to talk about it.
"Think we'll have to take our books to Kettleburn's class?" Aaron Pucey asked anxiously from across the table. "Mine's back in the common room."
"In the common room?" Melissa laughed. "You weren't studying already -- were you?"
"Needed a flat surface for Gobstones," Aaron confessed brightly. Gobstones was a wizard game with rules similar to that of marbles, except that these marbles squirted smelly liquid into the loser's face.
"Look, his classroom's indoors," Bruce said, sounding disappointed. "I thought all of the Care of Magical Creatures classes were outside."
"Maybe in a few days," Melissa said soothingly.
They collected their books and headed down the hall. Bruce stumbled forward suddenly, as if he had tripped. He righted himself and whirled around angrily.
"Pardon me, are you going our way?" a red-headed boy inquired in mock prissiness. His twin brother and their dreadlocked friend laughed beside him.
"Eat pus and die," snarled Bruce, turning back around and strode away.
The Weasley twins hurried to catch up to him. "Bletchley can't take a joke," one of them commented sadly.
"Going to get him in trouble some day," the other one mourned.
"Would you two shut up?" Melissa demanded. "Just for once."
The boy with dreadlocks, Lee Jordon, stroked his chin. "What a welcome. And after I pined for them every day this summer."
After three years, they had no problems finding Kettleburn's classroom; it was right next to the Charms room, and although no one had ever been inside, they had all seen the older students streaming in and out. Still bickering, the Slytherins and Gryffindors filtered into the classroom.
Then they stopped dead in their tracks.
The walls of Kettleburn's classroom were lined with shelves and glass-fronted cabinets, and there was a new wonder in every one. Enormous eggshells filled the walls -- some gray and rocky, some scarlet and gold, some shimmering opal. Horns, many broken and chipped, filled a whole bureau, and from the differences in size and shape it was obvious that they came from a vast variety of animals. A stuffed Augurey presided over one corner of the room, a Fwooper in another.
"Quite a collection, eh?" a gruff voice barked.
The class jumped. They had been so involved in the decorations that they had totally missed seeing the man at the front of the room. Murmuring incoherent answers, they took their seats without looking away from the walls.
Beth was just as interested in Kettleburn as anything else in the room; after all, Mr. and Mrs. Scamander had quite a collection themselves. Professor Kettleburn was tall and broad-shouldered, and bald in a way that made him look mean. His clean-shaven face showed signs of stubble, and the way that he stood proved that he knew how to take and keep command. It looked like he was tightly clutching his wand -- but no, the rumors were true. His wand projected from a wooden cylinder strapped to his right wrist, in place of a hand.
"There it is!" she hissed to Melissa.
"All right, take your seats and settle down," said Kettleburn. His voice was as rough as his chin. "You'll see 'em all in time. We need to get started. I'm Professor Kettleburn, and this is Care of Magical Creatures for the third-years. Everybody in the right place?"
Nervous laughter.
"Good, we can get started. Fletcher!" he barked, and Mervin sat bolt-upright in his seat, eyes huge. "Ever heard of a Dugbog?"
"N-no," Mervin stammered, preferring a quick answer to one that would save face.
"Jordan!" Jordan trembled. "What's a Clabbert?"
"Dunno."
"Parson!" Beth jerked to attention. "Know what a hippogriff is?"
"Half horse, half eagle," she blurted without thinking.
Kettleburn slapped the desk heartily with his left hand. The class jumped again. "Now we're gettin' there," he growled approvingly. "When I get through wit' yeh, y'll know 'em all. But we'll start small. Everyone got your Tarantella?"
The class gaped until they realized he meant their textbook, by Erasmus Tarantella. There was a rush to pull them out. Beth saw that Aaron still didn't have his, so she slid her Charms text over to him and hoped that Kettleburn wouldn't notice.
He didn't. Kettleburn faced the blackboard. As the class watched, his wand shimmered and shrunk until it became a piece of chalk, still affixed to his arm. He scrawled an unintelligible word on the board, then turned around and slammed his hand down again. The chalk turned back to a wand. "Billiwigs."
"Billy Wiggs is a Ravenclaw, sir," someone ventured.
Kettleburn looked impressed. "Really? Well, I don't want him -- I want to talk about the animal. Billiwigs. Page, er, seventeen. Spinnet, read us a line or two."
Alicia Spinnet, one of the Gryffindors, squirmed smugly. "'The billiwig, an Australian creature classified as an insect, secretes a type of venom which induces levitation in those whom it stings,'" she read off in an infuriatingly superior tone. "Radially symmetrical, its power of flight is derived from its ability to spin very quickly with outstretched wings. See Figure 2-13."
Beth looked down at Figure 2-13. The moving sketch showed a billiwig in flight; the insect buzzed around inside the picture, spinning madly, bouncing against the margins.
"Weasley, carry on."
One of the Weasleys -- Beth had no idea which -- read almost two paragraphs aloud about how young wizards tried to catch billiwigs and induce them to sting. Beside him, Aaron stared at his Charms book and acted desperately like he was following along. The Weasley ended at Figure 2-14, which showed a young wizard in dungarees hovering cheerfully above the ground.
"Ollivander, finish her off."
Silence.
"Ollivander!"
Melissa sat staring at Kettleburn with trembling eyes, her lips tightly clamped. She shook her head tremulously and raised her shaking palms in a gesture of helplessness: I can't. Beth's mouth fell open.
"She's cursed again!" she said aloud. Melissa nodded tearfully.
Kettleburn strode over. "This happened before?" Nod. "Did Madame Pomfrey see you?" Nod. "Want to go see her again?" Vehement nods. "All right, get you gone. Don't stop to talk to anyone in the halls."
Beth's classmates smothered their laughter. Melissa burst into tears and ran out the door.
Kettleburn stroked his chin. "Well -- moving on --"
"We're still having class?" called Aaron from the back. "Last time Quirrell let us out early."
"Do I look like Professor Quirrell?" Kettleburn barked. There were various meek denials. "Ollivander can handle herself, and we need to get moving. Go on, Warrington, finish off the chapter."
Warrington, a Slytherin, bent over his book in concentration. "While the ... billiwig ... is not a pest in the ... traditional ... sense ... the effects of its sting can be ... disorienting ... and in -- in --"
"Inconvenient," Aaron Pucey hissed quietly.
"Inconvenient. Anyone planning to travel to ... Australia ... should be tested for a possible ... allergy ... or risk ..."
Warrington's laborious reading was hard to listen to. Beth let her eyes roam around the classroom. She knew everyone in the class pretty well by now, after two years of classes together and sharing a common room with half of them. Antigone Von Dervish, a haughty Slytherin girl, sat beside Aaron Pucey and tried to look fetching. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, both Gryffindors who always sat together, rolled their eyes at Warrington's slow speech. Behind Warrington was Lee Jordan. He had a cigar box on his desk. As Beth watched idly, he opened it slowly and reached in, pulling out a fist-sized ball of fuzz with long, hairy legs. The legs twitched, and Beth realized with dawning horror that he held a large, black tarantula. Very carefully, Jordan leaned forward and placed the spider on the back of Warrington's robes, where it blended in almost perfectly.
" ... permanent ... levitation," finished Warrington triumphantly. "See Figure two dash -- aah!" He leapt out of his chair, fingers scrabbling at the back of his neck. The tarantula flew across the room, where Angelina Johnson snagged it from the air and handed it discreetly to the Weasleys, who threw it into a similar box and sat there laughing at Warrington. Realizing that the danger was past, Warrington sat back down, scowling fiercely, and giving a little twitch every once in a while.
Kettleburn stared at Warrington and stroked his stubbly chin suspiciously. "All right there?" Warrington grunted angrily. "Good. Let's all write an essay on billiwigs for next class, eh?"
"If you say so," sighed Antigone languidly.
There followed a discussion on why magical pest control was useful to learn, and a review of what they would be doing for the rest of the year. Melissa had been right; while it was mostly book work for a few weeks, the class would be meeting outside for most of the year. "Can't learn about animals without seein' 'em," Kettleburn reasoned gruffly, before the bell rang and he dismissed them from class.
Bruce couldn't help commenting on the decorations as they poured out the door.
"'Quite a collection', he says. That stuff's worth a fortune!"
Beth laughed disbelievingly. "What, broken eggshells and old antlers?"
"I mean it," Bruce said with a frown. "You can't just get dragon eggs at the corner market. Those are some powerful items -- and tip-top potion ingredients," he added slyly.
"Potions ..." Beth grinned. "That's good to know, Bruce. Just in case."
"Just in case of what?" Jordan grinned as he strode past. "In case you get cursed like your friend?" He and the Weasleys hurried on, holding the tarantula's box between them.
Bruce clenched his fists. "Why do they put them with us every year?"
"Never mind them. Let's check on Melissa."
Melissa was, in fact, still in the infirmary and looking furious.
"Someone's got a lot of nerve," she griped, as Madame Pomfrey took her pulse. "The worst is, I've got an inkling who it is, and can't tell you."
"Who?"
"Bruce, don't be an idiot. The question you're looking for is 'Why not?'"
"Well?"
"That's what triggered it, both times," Melissa said matter-of-factly. She paused to let Madame Pomfrey peer down her throat. "I was going to tell Bruce about what happened last time, and it went off. I think I handled it better, don't you?"
"Definitely. Are you well enough to go study?"
Melissa stretched out on the cot. "Shouldn't overexert myself, sorry. Besides, I'm getting used to this place. I think I'll live in the infirmary."
"Think again, missy," said Madame Pomfrey.