Chapter 186
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That night, many ambitious students had wonderful dreams.
In their dreams, they stood on the podium holding the Triwizard Cup, the symbol of honor, while thunderous applause echoed all around them.
But dreams and reality were always different.
The next morning they woke up to face their regular classes.
Because the gap between dream and reality was so large, many students looked rather dispirited.
In their dreams they had been glorious champions.
In reality, they were standing in a greenhouse dealing with disgusting plants.
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Inside the greenhouse, Slytherin and Hufflepuff students were attending a Herbology class.
The plants in front of them were easily the ugliest things they had ever seen.
In fact, they barely looked like plants at all.
They resembled large black slugs, sticking straight up from the soil.
Their bodies wriggled slightly, and many shiny swellings bulged across their slimy surfaces as though they were filled with liquid.
"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout explained cheerfully.
"You need to squeeze them with your hands and collect their pus."
"Merlin's beard!"
A Slytherin girl cried out in horror.
"This thing is already disgusting enough—and now we have to collect its pus?"
"Bubotuber pus is an excellent remedy for severe acne," said a bespectacled girl seriously, as if reciting from a textbook.
She calmly put on gloves and began squeezing the plant.
"That is correct," Professor Sprout said approvingly.
"Ten points to Ravenclaw."
"…Then I'd rather have acne," the girl muttered, about to remove her gloves in surrender.
"I think this is actually quite good practice," Malfoy said calmly.
He was already seated beside a low stool, carefully squeezing the plant with gloved hands and collecting the yellow-green pus into a glass bottle.
When the other Slytherins saw him working without hesitation, they reluctantly followed suit.
Even the girl who had complained earlier picked up the gloves she had thrown aside and found a Bubotuber to begin working on.
Sometimes, a leader's actions carried more influence than words.
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A deep bell rang from the castle across the damp fields.
Class was over.
Students immediately scattered.
The nauseating lesson had finally ended.
Those who still had classes hurried across the wet grounds.
Those who were free rushed back toward the castle, desperate to wash off the horrible smell clinging to their clothes.
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Their next lesson was Care of Magical Creatures.
Unlike Hagrid, who often brought dangerous or unpredictable beasts to class, Professor Grubbly-Plank preferred creatures that were both useful and safe.
Today she had prepared a special creature.
On the grass lay what looked like a pile of twigs arranged neatly together.
But these twigs were alive.
They were Bowtruckles.
Normally they disguised themselves as branches.
Their true appearance, however, was surprisingly adorable.
They looked like tiny wooden elves with long twig-like arms and legs.
Each hand had two slender twig fingers, and their flat bark-like faces held bright brown eyes.
When they noticed the students watching them, the little creatures slowly began to move.
"This is a Bowtruckle," Professor Grubbly-Plank explained, pointing to one.
"They usually live in trees whose wood is suitable for making wand cores or wand wood."
"They eat insects."
"If you want to attract them away from their tree, you can use woodlice, which are their favorite food."
"In that way, you may safely collect leaves or branches from their trees."
"This is way more interesting than that Hippogriff class," a student shouted.
Many others nodded in agreement.
Last year, Grubbly-Plank had only temporarily filled in.
Now that she was teaching properly, she had clearly prepared much better lessons.
"Look! It's nodding at me!" a girl said excitedly.
Girls in particular found it hard to resist such cute creatures.
"Don't touch them."
Professor Grubbly-Plank immediately tapped the girl's hand away with her wand.
Sometimes a wand worked just as well as a pointer.
"They don't trust you yet," she explained.
"If you touch them without permission, they will defend themselves."
"Even the most gentle creature will fight back if its home is threatened."
She continued seriously:
"Their fingers are extremely sharp."
"They can easily slice through your robes—or your skin."
"In the worst case, they might even stab your eye."
"Recovering from that would take quite some time."
"…Alright," the girl sighed.
"Looks like we have to befriend them first."
She rubbed her wrist and blinked repeatedly.
Just hearing the warning made her eyes hurt.
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"If Pansy were here, she'd probably insist on keeping one as a pet," Malfoy thought.
For a moment he drifted into thought.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
Perhaps he had simply grown used to her presence.
Now that she was absent, the silence beside him felt strange.
"I hope you recover soon."
Malfoy decided that later he would write her a letter and ask the owl to deliver it to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
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"Ah-choo!"
Far away at St. Mungo's, Pansy suddenly sneezed.
She lay quietly in her hospital bed, confused.
"Did I catch a cold?"
She touched her forehead.
Her temperature felt perfectly normal.
"Miss Parkinson, it's time to take your medicine."
A healer entered the room carrying a steaming potion.
The moment Pansy saw him, her face turned bitter.
The reason was simple.
Wizarding medicine had no capsules and no sugar coating.
Most potions were unbearably bitter.
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Back at Hogwarts, Malfoy was spared the sight of Pansy's battle with the healer.
His attention returned to the lesson.
"Very good," Professor Grubbly-Plank said.
"I've explained everything you need to know."
"Now it's time for your assignment."
"Each group of three students must draw a diagram of a Bowtruckle, labeling every part of its body."
The students were given Bowtruckles to observe.
They carefully examined the tiny creatures and began sketching.
After some time, the bell rang again.
Everyone had finished their drawings—though the level of detail varied widely.
Another class was over.
And that meant they were one step closer to Professor Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
However, the Slytherin students had no idea what kind of lesson awaited them.