25 The Second Teacher (1/2)
When Hermione and Luna stopped bickering, the four of them rose and went down the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower.
They walked past muttering portraits and creaking suits of armor, and climbed narrow flights of stone stairs, until at last they reached the passage where the secret entrance to Gryffindor Tower was hidden, behind an oil painting of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
”Password?” she said as they approached.
”Er —” said Harry.
”It's alright, I got it,” said Arth. ”I overheard it from Percy while he was talking. Wattlebird.”
They entered the all to familiar circular common room, the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs.
Arth sighed.
”Damn I missed this place. These chairs were always the best to read a book in.”
”They are pretty comfortable, but Arth. You still haven't made a decision, Loony or me?”
Arth ignored Hermione's look and walked up towards the male dormitories.
They managed to get to the other side of the common room, still hearing the grumblings of Hermione, and gained the peace of the staircase.
”I've never seen Hermione like this,” said Ron, ”she wasn't even this agitated when she was waiting for her exam grades. And to Hermione, grades are more important than life.”
”Yes, she seemed a little too agitated, but the first year girl Luna, I can't believe that she actually fought in equal terms with Hermione. Unbelievable. I never thought that someone who looked so... ditzy could be so fierce.”
”Hahaha...”
They walked up, right to the top, and at last reached the door of their old dormitory, which now had a sign on it saying SECOND YEARS. They entered the familiar, circular room, with its six four-posters hung with red velvet and its high, narrow windows. Their trunks had been brought up for them and stood at the ends of their beds.
Corvus was sitting on the bed frame ledge while cawing at Arth with an excited look. Arth threw the leftovers of a turkey leg into the air, Corvus caught it with delight before proceeding to eat on Ron's bed.
”AHHH! NOOO! MY BED SHEETS!”
”Calm down Ron, it's only a few grease marks.”
”Do you want to trade beds with me then?” Asked Ron with a murderous look on his face.
”Why would I, it's your bed.”
”...”
”Well, it's going to be a hard day tommorow, let's get to sleep Harry.”
”...but my bed-”
”Goodnight Harry, Ron.”
”Goodnight Arth, Ron.”
”...Goodnight Arth, Harry.”
Arth signaled to Corvus, who immediately obeyed and flew towards Arth. After rubbing his head a few times on Arth's face, the Raven hopped on top of the bed frame and began to roost.
Arth closed his eyes and slept, soundly and silently, while ignoring the sound of Ron cleaning his bed.
The next morning, the three of them got out of bed, two of them were apparently still in sleep mode.
Seeing the groggy Harry and Ron, Arth sighed.
”Come on boy's, let's get moving. Early bird gets the worm.”
Ron groaned.
”Early bird dies from exhaustion. Why do we have to get up so early in the morning.”
”It's good for the mind and body.”
Arth led the two sleepyheads down to the great hall where breakfast was being served.
Hermione was already eating breakfast at the table. When she saw the trio, she waved furiously indicating for them to sit next to her.
Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. Arth took his and saw that they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first.
They left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept.
As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart.
Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair. There was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.
”Oh, hello there!” he called, beaming around at the assembled students. ”Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to take care of plants! 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 was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.
There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before — greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door.
Arth caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling.
”Well then, Professor Sprout, I shall take my leave. If you have any questions, please do ask.”
Professor Sprout curtly nodded her head before was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear muffs were lying on the bench.
She said, ”We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”
To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.
”Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative,” said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. ”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?”
Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again. However, Professor Sprout decided to chose someone else.
”Mister Arth, Do you care to explain?”
”The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it,” he answered. ”However, underdeveloped mandrakes will at most knock you out.”
”Precisely. Take another ten points,” said Professor Sprout. ”Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young. As mister Arth has mentioned, they will not kill, only knock out.”
She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows.
”Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” said Professor Sprout.
Arth grabbed a fluffy pink earmuff and watched as there was a rush to grab earmuffs that weren't pink and fluffy.
”I wonder why people don't like pink earmuffs. They are so comfortable.”
”It's because they care about their looks Arth.”
”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.”
Professor Sprout put a pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.
Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled 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 tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.
”I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up. Five to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in the sacks over there — and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething.”
She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.
They were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to.
”Justin Finch-Fletchley,” he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. ”Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter...And you're Hermione Granger, always top in everything, and Ron Weasley, best mate of Harry Potter... and you are?”
Arth sighed. He was getting used to it.
”I'm Arth, Arthur Kingscrown.”
Justin let out a yell.
”You're the guy who figured out that Quirrell was being possessed by You-Know-Who... bloody amazing man. I admire you for it.”
But you didn't know my face until a minute ago, Arth wanted to retort.
That Lockhart's something, isn't he?” said Justin happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. ”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.”
”Really?” Said Arth with an eyebrow raised. ”I found him particularly egotistical, however, most egotistical people have the skill to back them up.”