— CHAPTER TWO —

The Clabbert


Despite Hagrid's promise to bring a Bowtruckle to the next Care of Magical Creatures lesson, they continued to study Augureys another fortnight. Then one cool Monday morning in mid-September, eight enormous great horned owls sailed into the Great Hall carrying a large wooden crate suspended between them in a net of rope.

BOOM!

The owls dropped their burden at the staff table in front of Hagrid, sending his toast and kippers flying. When Hagrid leant down to inspect the crate, a delighted expression came over his face. Professor Vector, whose breakfast had also been squashed by the delivery, looked considerably less delighted.

After Hagrid finished eating, Harry, Ron and Hermione followed him out of the Great Hall. As they drew closer, Harry could make out the words that were daubed on each side of the crate: Joe-Bob's Auror Surplus Depot, Irrigation Ditch, Oklahoma.

'What's that you've got there, Hagrid?' said Harry.

'Clabbert,' said Hagrid proudly. 'All the way from America. Didn' reckon it'd get here so soon.' He lowered his voice slightly. 'Good thing it did, though. Bin spendin' half me life trampin' through the Forest lately, an' I haven' seen a single Bowtruckle.'

'I'm amazed it got here at all,' snorted Ron.

The crate was addressed to:

Rubious Hargid
The Hut at the Edge of the Forgotten Forest
Hog Wars
England

Hermione giggled. 'The Department of Witchcraft and Wizardry -- that's what the Americans call their Ministry of Magic -- must have sent the box through customs special delivery when they saw what was inside it.'

Harry and Ron were halfway to Divination before it occurred to Harry to wonder: if Clabberts were supposed to be harmless, why had the American Ministry been so keen to get rid of that one?

*

Once the class had gathered for Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid led them round the back of his hut where a cage hung from a small, scrubby oak tree. In it was a creature that appeared to be part monkey and part frog, with horns and a massive white lump in the centre of its forehead.

'Great lesson today,' said Hagrid happily. 'We're gonna find out how dangerous yeh are! This's a Clabbert ...'

He explained that the pustule on the Clabbert's head would turn red and glow when danger approached -- how brightly indicated how much danger.

'Erm -- do you mean dangerous as in magically powerful,' asked Hermione, 'or dangerous as in violent?'

'I mean dangerous as in dangerous,' said Hagrid.

He stood directly in front of Clabbert and glared at it. Its pustule glowed very brightly indeed.

Hagrid had the students take it in turns to step up to the Clabbert, instructing them to 'think dangerous thoughts'. Generally speaking, boys were more dangerous than girls and Slytherins more dangerous than Gryffindors, with Malfoy being the most dangerous Slytherin boy of all. Hermione, however, proved to be nearly as dangerous as Malfoy (Millicent Bulstrode, the former most dangerous girl, cracked her knuckles ominously at this), and Neville Longbottom was nearly as dangerous as Hermione, which Harry would never have expected.

Then it was Harry's turn. He faced the Clabbert, doing his best to mimic Hagrid's frightening scowl. There was a blinding flash of scarlet light; for a brief instant Harry thought someone had cast a Stunning Spell. Something stung at his cheeks. Harry blinked, trying to clear his vision, and realised that his glasses were speckled with drops of thick yellowish white liquid. He lifted his hands to take them off, but Hagrid beat him to it.

'Keep still, Harry,' Hagrid ordered.

He gripped Harry's head between his thumb and forefinger and began scraping his face with what felt like a garden trowel (but was in fact merely a Hagrid-sized penknife).

'What happened?' said Harry, the moment Hagrid let him go.

'Yeh popped it,' said Hagrid. 'Got ter collect the pus.'

He transferred the pus he'd removed from Harry's face to a small jam jar and turned his attention to Harry's glasses.

'Real useful fer potions, see. Yeh drink a potion made with Clabbert pus an' it won' work right away. It'll stay in yer blood, up ter seven years -- until you really need it. On'y it's gotta be popped naturally, an' most things dangerous enough ter pop a Clabbert's pustule'll kill any wizards nearby. Professor Snape'll be really happy with this,' he added in satisfaction, as he scraped the last bit of pus from Harry's glasses and handed them back to him.

'Just what I've always wanted,' muttered Harry, rubbing at his face, 'to make Snape happy.'

'I wanted to find out how dangerous I am,' said Ron crossly -- he had been standing behind Harry in the queue. 'How long will it take for the pustule to grow back?'

'Oh, aroun' seven years,' said Hagrid, offhand. 'Well, I reckon that's all fer today ... next lesson's Bowtruckles!'

'Next time we do anything like this, I'm going ahead of you,' grumbled Ron as they walked up to the castle.

'Fine,' said Harry, annoyed. 'D'you think I made the Clabbert pop its pustule on purpose? I wouldn't've got near the thing if I'd known that could happen!'

He rubbed his face (which was starting to itch rather painfully) again.

When they reached the Transfiguration classroom, Professor McGonagall took one look at Harry and sent him straight to the hospital wing. The Clabbert pus had raised angry welts on his skin; Madam Pomfrey applied a dab of paste that smelled suspiciously of Bubotubers to each one. This stopped the itching, but by dinnertime Harry's face was still noticeably red and blotched. He had to endure being called 'Spotty Potty' by Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins as he crossed the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table.

'But you don't really look spotty, you know ...' said Hermione comfortingly, then spoiled it by tittering, '... more as though you did a really bad job shaving.'

Then she had to explain what shaving was to Ron -- it seemed wizards used Beard Banishing Charms instead.

At the staff table Harry saw Hagrid give the jar of pus to Snape, who did indeed look quite pleased. He looked even more pleased when Hagrid gestured towards Harry, apparently recounting the manner in which the pus had been procured. Snape turned to survey Harry's splodgy face with a nasty smirk.

Harry stuck his fork vindictively into a jacket potato.

'I miss the Skrewts,' he said.

'Look on the bright side,' Ron advised him. 'You're more dangerous than Malfoy.'

Author's Note:

The Clabbert is one of the many terrifying monsters, I mean, interesting creatures, described in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. You should buy this book (and its companion volume, Quidditch Through the Ages). As Albus Dumbledore says on the back cover:

Proceeds from the sale of this book will go to Comic Relief, which means that the pounds and Galleons you exchange for it will do magic beyond the powers of any wizard. If you feel that this is insufficient reason to part with your money, I can only hope that passing wizards feel more charitable if they ever see you being attacked by a Manticore.

You will also learn:

• The decorative uses to which American wizards put Clabberts (what, you thought Martha Stewart was a Muggle?)

• Why the American Ministry is nonetheless so eager to get them out of the country

Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling.