, thoroughly irritating Harry. Anyone would have thought Hagrid had never shown them impressive creatures; admittedly, the Flobberworms had been a bit dull, but the salamanders and
hippogriffs had been interesting enough, and the Blast-Ended Skrewts perhaps too much so.
‘Kindly keep your voices down, girls!’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. ‘So—anyone know the names of
these creatures? Miss Granger?’
‘Bowtruckles,’ said Hermione. ‘They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees.’
‘Five points for Gryffindor,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank. ‘Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?’
‘Woodlice,’ said Hermione promptly, which explained why what Harry had taken to be grains of brown rice were moving. ‘But fairy eggs if they can get them.’
‘Good girl, take another five points. So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if
angered they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle—I have
enough here for one between three—you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labelled by the end of the lesson.’
The class surged forwards around the trestle table. Harry deliberately circled around the back so that he ended up right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank.
‘Where's Hagrid?’ he asked her, while everyone else was choosing Bowtruckles.
‘Never you mind,’ said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up for a class, too. Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized
the largest Bowtruckle.
‘Maybe,’ said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him, ‘the stupid great oaf's got himself badly injured.’
‘Maybe you will if you don't shut up,’ said Harry out of the side of his mouth.
‘Maybe he's been messing with stuff that's too big for him, if you get my drift.’
Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Harry, who felt suddenly sick. Did Malfoy know something? His father was a Death Eater after all; what if he had information about Hagrid's fate that had not yet reached the
ears of the Order? He hurried back around the table to Ron and Hermione who were squatting on the grass some distance away and attempting to persuade a Bowtruckle to remain still long enough for them to draw it. Harry
pulled out parchment and quill, crouched down beside the others and related in a whisper what Malfoy had just said.
‘Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid,’ said Hermione at once. ‘It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried; it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore him, Harry.
Here, hold the Bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face ...’
‘Yes,’ came Malfoy's clear drawl from the group nearest them, ‘Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on sub-standard
teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straightaway.’
‘OUCH!’
Harry had gripped the Bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped, and it had just taken a great retaliatory swipe at his hand with its sharp fingers, leaving two long deep cuts there. Harry dropped it. Crabbe and Goyle, who
had already been guffawing at the idea of Hagrid being sacked, laughed still harder as the Bowtruckle set off at full tilt towards the Forest, a little moving stick-man soon swallowed up among the tree roots. When the bell
echoed distantly over the grounds, Harry rolled up his blood-stained Bowtruckle picture and marched off to Herbology with his hand wrapped in Hermione's handkerchief, and Malfoy's derisive laughter still ringing in his ears.
‘If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time ...’ said Harry through gritted teeth.
‘Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy, don't forget, he's a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you ...’
‘Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?’ said Harry sarcastically. Ron laughed, but Hermione frowned. Together, they traipsed across the vegetable patch. The sky still appeared unable to make up its mind
whether it wanted to rain or not.
‘I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that's all,’ said Harry in a low voice, as they reached the greenhouses. ‘And don't say that Grubbly-Plank woman's a better teacher!’ he added threateningly.
‘I wasn't going to,’ said Hermione calmly.
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