I hope you didn't find that sorting boring.

Because honestly I did lol.

I figured Hermione would pay attention to every aspect of it, but then I realized that she may miss a lot still wondering where her precious idiots were.

I tried, lol

...I'll be so happy to get out of this book.

Had to break this chapter into two parts. It was getting really really long. Or do y'all prefer chapters that are really long? Let me know in a review.

Oh and also...if you have Spotify, I made a Romione centric playlist. Look for The Otter and the Terrier (Ron and Hermione) and it can be nice to have playing as you read your Romiones. It's a variety of songs, capturing not only the love, but also the times where they weren't the kindest to each other, the hurt, the friendships, and everything else.

On with the fic!

Chapter 29: Of Howlers and Mandrakes

The next morning, Harry and Ron plopped down at the Gryffindor table beside me, and I could barely look at them. I was still seething from the whole flying car ordeal, so I buried myself in Voyages with Vampires, propping the book against the milk jug so I could read and eat without engaging with them.

"Morning," I said stiffly, barely glancing up. My tone made it clear I was still very cross. Ron sighed dramatically, but I refused to budge. He deserved my cold shoulder.

Neville, on the other hand, greeted them cheerfully. "Mail's due any minute," he said, sounding far too chipper for such an early hour. "I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot."

Right on cue, the usual flurry of owls swooped into the Great Hall, their wings creating a soft rustling sound that accompanied the clinking of dishes and chatter of students. Letters and packages rained down on the tables. A large, lumpy package bonked Neville on the head, and a split second later, something gray and feathery plummeted into my milk jug, sending a spray of milk and soggy feathers everywhere.

"Ronald, your owl!" I exclaimed, sputtering as I wiped milk off my face and robes. Errol looked half-dead, as usual, slumped limply on the table with his legs in the air and a red envelope clutched in his beak.

"Errol!" Ron groaned, rolling his eyes as he picked up the poor creature by his feet. "What've you done now, you daft bird?"

"It's all right, he's still alive," I said, gently prodding Errol with the tip of my finger, though my curiosity was piqued by the strange red envelope he carried.

"It's not him," Ron muttered nervously, his gaze fixed on the envelope like it might bite him. "It's that."

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, leaning forward with concern.

"She's—she's sent me a Howler," Ron said faintly. His face had gone pale, and I frowned. A Howler? I'd read about those. They weren't exactly... subtle.

"You'd better open it," Neville whispered urgently, his voice shaking as if he were reliving a traumatic memory. "It'll be worse if you don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it. It was horrible."

"What's a Howler?" Harry asked, sounding as bewildered as I felt watching Ron's mounting panic.

"Open it," Neville urged again, looking like he was bracing for an explosion. "It'll all be over in a few minutes..."

With trembling hands, Ron took the letter from Errol's beak and slit it open. Neville shoved his fingers in his ears just as an earsplitting roar echoed through the hall, rattling the plates and shaking the enchanted ceiling.

"RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR!"

I clapped my hands over my ears as Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed through the hall, louder than any Howler description I'd read could have prepared me for. Harry winced, and the entire table froze to listen.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, STEALING THE CAR?! I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU! YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU! I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE!"

Mrs. Weasley's voice rose to new heights, and I couldn't help but glance around. Students were snickering, though some looked as uncomfortable as I felt. Poor Ron's face was the color of a ripe tomato.

"WHEN WE GOT THAT LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME! WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK—IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!"

With a loud whoosh, the letter burst into flames and disintegrated into a pile of ash on the table. I could barely suppress my pity for Ron, even though a part of me still felt like he deserved it.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron," I said smugly, unable to resist. "But you—"

"I don't want to hear it," he snapped, glaring at me.

Before I could reply, Professor McGonagall swept by, looking thoroughly entertained as she handed us our timetables. "Double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first," she announced.

We left the castle together, crossing the vegetable patch on our way to the greenhouses. The fresh air was a relief after the tension at breakfast. Though I was still annoyed, I decided to let it go. His mother's Howler had said enough.

The morning air was crisp as Harry, Ron, and I made our way down. The conversation had Tuesday for the better as Ron tried to forget about the Howler.

"I still can't believe your parents took you to a French restaurant," Ron said, shaking his head as he balanced a stack of books awkwardly on one arm. "What's wrong with something normal like fish and chips?"

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help smiling. "It was supposed to be special. You know, a last fancy dinner before school. But the food—ugh." I wrinkled my nose. "It was all tiny portions of things I couldn't even pronounce. They brought out this dish for my mum, bouillabaisse, and it smelled like the ocean! I just wanted a burger or something simple. Glad it wasn't for me, but mine wasn't none the better."

"Bouillabaisse?" Harry asked, looking slightly amused. "What's that?"

"Some sort of fish stew. It looked awful, but mg mum enjoyed it. Honestly, I kept wishing for McDonald's."

That got Ron's attention. "Wait—what's McDonald's?"

"It's a Muggle fast food place," I explained. "They make the best fries, and their milkshakes are brilliant. My parents don't let me have it often, but when they do, it's amazing."

"You're telling me there's a place that just sells food fast? No waiting?" Ron's eyes were wide with curiosity. "That sounds wicked."

"It is," I said, laughing. "If you ever come to the Muggle world, I'll take you. You'd love it."

"Harry, you've had this Mc-whatever?" Ron asked, turning to him.

Harry grinned. "Loads of times with the Dursleys. Dudley practically lived on the stuff. I would only get it because the Dursleys didn't want to look like they didn't feed me in public. The fries are great. My favorite."

Ron groaned. "Now I'm starving, and we're heading to Herbology. Cheers for that, Hermione."

"Oh, stop whining," I said, smirking.

As we neared the greenhouses we passed by Professor Sprout, whose arms were full of bandages. We spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.

I hadn't ever really noticed that tree until now. By to looks of Harry and Ron's faces, they didn't care what became of it.

Professor Sprout was a chubby little witch who wore a patched hat over her hair. She usually had dirt on her clothes and hands. I secretly would call her Mother Nature to myself.

For some reason, Professor Lockhart was with her as well.

"Oh, hello there!" he said, smiling as the rest of us as if we really wanted to see all 32 of his teeth "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels..."

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who looked like she wanted to throw dirt on his outfit.

Everybody started whispering in curiosity. Greenhouse three had all the interesting and dangerous plants in it. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Ron as I walked inside and stood in like with the others.

It was then that I noticed Harry was not behind me anymore. Odd. He was just there a moment ago.

I tapped Ron on the shoulder. "Where's Harry?" I whispered.

Ron looked back, just as confused as I was "Wasn't he just behind us?"

"He was." I answered. :Maybe we should go and look for him, he couldn't be far."

Let's just stay here." Ron said. " Lockhart probably has him and wanted an autograph or some shit."

"Language, Ronald..." I groaned.

Professor sprout had us take our seats behind colorful pairs of fuzzy earmuffs. Ron and I sat down, making sure to save a seat for Harry.

It didn't take long for my hair to start frizzing up. I groaned. I shouldn't have worn it out today.

"Oh great." I said, holding the ends of my hair and looking at it frizz disapprovingly.

"What's wrong?" asked Ron.

"This place is so humid. Humidity and my hair do not mix."

Ron shrugged as if he didn't know what to say. What could he say, really? He knew nothing about my hair type. He also didn't seem to care much about hair in general.

A couple seconds later. Harry had came in and sat between Ron and I. I decided to cut my losses with having my hair down and stuck it in a quick ponytail.

"Where were you?" I overhead Ron whisper to Harry.

"Bloody Lockhart." snorted Harry. "Trying to tell me how to deal with fame."

"We'll be repotting Mandrakes today." said Sprout. "Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

I raised my hand high into the air. Professor Sprout nodded, giving me permission to answer.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative." I said confidently. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor." said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

I raised my hand once more. I almost careful Harry, but he didn't appear phased.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it." I said, finishing her textbook statement.

"Precisely. Take another ten points." said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young. Everyone take a pair of earmuffs." said Professor Sprout.

Ron quickly shoved the pink ones into Harry's hand and snatched the blue ones up for himself. I rolled her eyes lat their silly antics while putting on some nice purple ones.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered." said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right, earmuffs on."

I snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the plants firmly, and pulled hard.

What she pulled out was only a face a mother could love. Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ghastly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, lumpy skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the leaves on the top of his head were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave us all the thumbs-up to take off our earmuffs, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said casually. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up. Four to a tray. There is a large supply of pots here, compost in the sacks over there, and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething."

Harry, Ron, and I were joined at our tray by some curly-haired Hufflepuff boy that I had only really seen in passing.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said, shaking Harry's hand enthusiastically. "Know who you are, of course—the famous Harry Potter! And you must be Hermione Granger, always top in everything." I smiled politely as he turned to Ron. "And you're Ron Weasley. Wasn't that your flying car?"

Ron's face darkened, and he gave a tight nod, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as we began to fill our plant pots with dragon dung. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if Id been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and - zap - just fantastic."

Both Ron and Harry looked as if they were extremely uninterested.

'My name was down for Eton, you know," continued Justin. "I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family."

I was glad it was time to put the earmuffs on. He seemed okay, but at the same time, he talked too much.

We turned our attention to the Mandrakes, but it quickly became clear that Professor Sprout had made the task look deceptively simple. The little creatures were absolute terrors. Pulling them from the earth felt like trying to wrestle a toddler throwing a tantrum—only these toddlers could squirm, kick, punch, and even nip at your fingers if you weren't careful. My Mandrake screeched and flailed as I tried to lower it into its new pot, its muddy fists thrashing wildly. Harry's was particularly stubborn, a chunky little brute that seemed determined not to cooperate, thrashing so hard that it nearly toppled his pot over.

By the time the lesson ended, we were all thoroughly exhausted. Dirt clung to our robes, sweat trickled down our necks, and the faint smell of compost followed us everywhere. Professor Sprout took pity on us and allowed enough time to head back up to the tower and wash before Transfiguration. I couldn't wait to get cleaned up and rid myself of the earthy grime—and to put some distance between myself and the cranky little plants.