Chapter 90: The Best Day Ever
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 the three of us examined our 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," I announced, as I ran my finger down the Monday column of my schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures...damn it, we're still with the Slytherins..."
"Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down. Divination was his least favorite subject, apart from Potions. Same with me.
"You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast. "Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy."
"You're eating again, I notice," I said as I watched Hermione add jam to her toast.
"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," said Hermione haughtily.
"Yeah...and you were hungry." I said, grinning.
"Shut up and mind your own breakfast."
"Yes ma'am!" I said, happily dunking my spoon into my cereal.
There was a sudden rustling noise above us, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Harry looked up in hopes of seeing Hedwig, but there was no sign of her. 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, Stinko Malfoy's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home.
In Herbology, Professor Sprout showed the class the ugliest plants I had ever seen, worse than the Mandrakes. They looked like 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 us. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus -"
"The what?" said Seamus, 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 completely disgusting. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of that muggle fuel they put in their cars. We 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. "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 bell rung 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 us 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 Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently wanting to investigate the contents more closely. As we drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.
"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Hermione, Harry, and I. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!"
"Come again?"
Hagrid pointed down into the crates.
"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender, jumping backward.
"Eurgh" was an understatement. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no head, at least no head that you could make out at first glance. 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 skrewt, and it would be propelled forward several inches.
"On'y jus' 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 of course was the wanker Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling like puppets at his words.
Hagrid looked stumped at the question.
"I mean, what do they do?" asked Malfoy. "What is the point of them?"
Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds' pause, then he said roughly, "Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. 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."
"First pus and now this," mumbled Seamus.
If it wasn't for the fact that I loved Hagrid so much, I wouldn't have dared picked up handfuls of frog liver and attempt to feed these foreign creatures. I was starting to think it entirely pointless. I still didn't know where their mouths were, if they even had any.
"Ouch!" yelled Dean after about ten minutes. "It got me!"
Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.
"Its end exploded!" said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.
"Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," said Hagrid, nodding.
"Eurgh!" said Lavender again. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"
"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). "I reckon they're the males...The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies...I think they might be ter suck blood."
"These things sound like a science experiment gone terribly wrong." whispered Harry.
"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Malfoy sarcastically. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"
"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"
Harry and I grinned at Hagrid. He would have loves to have another dragon as a pet.
"Well, at least the skrewts are small." I said as we made our way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.
"They are now," sighed Hermione, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."
"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?" I said, grinning slyly at her.
"You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up." said Hermione. "As a matter of fact I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all."
"Oh bloody hell." I said. "Things must be really bad when we actually agree with Malfoy."
We sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped ourselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry and I stared at her.
"Uh Mione, is this the new stand on elf rights?" I asked. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?"
"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?" I said in disbelief that I shouldn't have had. "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 at dinner!" and departed at high speed.
"I swear the library is like a drug to her." said Harry.
"What's she getting high off of? Smelling books?" I laughed.
Harry chuckled. "The sniffing of the binding makes her feel real good."
We broke out in laughter. Hermione was brilliant, but sometimes her obsession with the library was scary.
When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Harry and I set off for North Tower for Divination. The familiar sweet perfume spreading from the fire met our nostrils as we emerged at the top of the stepladder. As always, the curtains were all closed; the circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps, which were all draped with scarves and shawls. We walked through the mass of occupied chintz chairs and poufs that cluttered the room, and sat down at the same small circular table that we and Hermione sat at last year.
Hermione. She wouldn't be here. Kind of felt funny that she wouldn't be in class with me.
"Good day," said Professor Trelawney right behind Harry, making him jump.
Professor Trelawney was peering down at Harry with the tragic and forlorn expression she always wore whenever she saw him. The usual large amount of beads, chains, and bangles glittered upon her person in the firelight.
"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully to Harry. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas, most difficult. I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass, and perhaps sooner than you think."
I rolled my eyes at Harry, who looked back at me as if he was already over it. Professor Trelawney swept past us and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. Lavender and Parvati, who admired Trelawney as if she were their mother, were sitting on poufs very close to her.
"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."
I started to tune her out. The perfumed fire always made me feel sleepy and dull-witted. I began instead to daydream about when Hermione and I were swimming, and how soft her skin felt under my fingertips. How when we were laying out in the sun, her curls formed a fan of chaos and beauty (I had always fancied Hermione's hair, and the sun made her brown skin glow.
A tinkling of one of her stupid chimes snapped me out of my fantasy. And very well so. I did not need to start fantasizing about my best friend. I must be going mental.
"Harry my boy, you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn, am I right?" asked Trelawney to Harry, who looked just as out of it as I was moments ago
"Harry!" I muttered.
"What?" he said, snapping out of his thoughts. I nodded my head and he looked around; the whole class was staring at him. He sat up straight and cleared his throat
"I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," said Professor Trelawney, a faint note of resentment in her voice at the fact that he had obviously not been hanging on her words.
"Born under - what, sorry?" said Harry.
"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" said Professor Trelawney, sounding irritated. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth. Your dark hair, your mean stature, tragic losses so young in life. I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"
"No," said Harry, "I was born in July."
I quickly turned my laugh into a cough.
Half an hour later, each of us had been given a complicated circular chart, and was attempting to fill in the position of the planets at their moment of birth. It was dull work, requiring much consultation of timetables and calculation of angles.
"I've got two Neptunes here," said Harry after a while, frowning down at his piece of parchment, "that can't be right, can it?"
"Aaaaah," I said, mimicking Professor Trelawney's mystical whisper, "when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry."
Seamus and Dean, who were working nearby, sniggered loudly, though not loudly enough to mask the excited squeals from Lavender.
"Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"
"It is Uranus, my dear," said Professor Trelawney, peering down at the chart.
"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" I asked, without even thinking. Lavender stared daggers at me. Unfortunately, Professor Trelawney heard me as well, and it was this, perhaps, that made her give us so much homework at the end of the class.
"A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped, sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than herself. "I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!"
"Miserable old bat." I groaned bitterly as we descended the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will."
"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with us. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"
"Well, bully for Professor Vector." I said, sticking my tongue out at her.
"Oh that's mature, Ronald."
"Thank you. I do what I can."
"Don't start." moaned Harry.
"Start what?" said Hermione and I at the same time.
We reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people entering for dinner. We had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind ua.
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"
I turned around to face Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.
"The bloody hell do you want?"
"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 entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!
FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
It seems as though 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 a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.
Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:
Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of 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 refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.
"And there's 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?"
I felt my temper rising and I began to shake with fury. Everyone was staring at me, more than likely wondering when I was going to snap.
"Fuck off, Malfoy," said Harry. "C'mon, Ron."
"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"
"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry - both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of my robes to stop me from launching myself 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."
"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away.
BANG!
"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"
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.
My jaw dropped. There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry - at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.
"Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.
"No," said Harry, "missed."
"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.
"Leave - what?" Harry said, bewildered.
"Not you - him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder 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 of the back of his head.
Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, 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. Everyone watched as he bounces the ferret back and forth, from wall to floor, to table, to ceiling.
"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."
The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. My eyes were locked onto it as I watched it flail around as if it were swimming in the air.
"Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.
"Professor Moody!" shouted McGonagall, who 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, Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his normally neat and pompous looking 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 wealdy. "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 up at Moody and muttered "My father will hear about this!"
"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'll be Snape, will it?"
"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.
"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape...Come on, you..."
And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.
Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.
"Don't talk to me," I said quietly to Harry and Hermione as we sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later.
"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.
"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," I said, closing my eyes to lock in the memory, an uplifted expression plastered on my face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret."
Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of our plates.
"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it -"
"Hermione!" I said furiously, snapping open my eyes, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!"
I had never seen something bring me so much joy in my entire life. That had topped when Harry first let me ride his Firebolt. When I had seen Krum do the Wronski Feint. It ALMOST topped Hermione's legs.
Hermione had sped through lunch and gone. Fred took her place.
"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," he told Harry and I.
"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly.
Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.
"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.
"He knows, man," said Lee.
"Knows what?" I asked, leaning forward.
"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said George impressively.
"Doing what?" said Harry.
"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred.
"He's seen it all," said George.
"'Mazing," said Lee.
I reaches into my messenger bag for my schedule and looked over it.
"Shit. We haven't got him till Thursday!" I said in a disappointed voice.