Chapter 10: Snargaluff, Curses, and S.P.E.W.
It was Thursday morning and Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Claire were seated at the Gryffindor table for breakfast.
"We have Moody's class today." Ron said as he looked at his timetable.
"Wonder what he'll be teaching us," Hermione said thoughtfully.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts." Ron said.
"I know that," Hermione snapped. "I meant if he was going to teach us some new spells."
"I guess we'll have to wait," Harry said. "Too bad we have to go to Transfiguration first."
"I have Herbology first with the seventh years." Claire said, looking at her timetable. "Hopefully, we won't have to deal with pus like you did."
After they finished their breakfast, they went to their classes. Claire walked down to the greenhouses for Herbology. As she entered greenhouse seven, she saw there were only six students (seven if she counted herself) in the classroom. Two of them she recognized: Neville Longbottom and Cedric Diggory. She walked over to them.
"Hey, Neville! Cedric!" Claire greeted them.
"Hello, Claire," Cedric said. "How's your term been so far?"
"It's been alright, you?" Claire asked.
"I'm counting the days until the term ends." Cedric said.
"I've been doing the same thing since I woke up the first day." Claire replied. She then turned to Neville. "Hey, Neville!"
Neville smiled shyly at her. "Hi, Claire."
"It's nice to see that I'm not the only fourth year in the class." Claire said.
"Yeah, it's the only class I don't mess up in," Neville said, sadly.
"I'm sure that's not true, Neville," Claire replied. "You were pretty good in Charms the other day. You managed to do the Banishing Charm."
"It took me the whole period." Neville said, disheartedly.
"But at least you did it, several people couldn't even do it. I bet you'd've done it sooner if you didn't think so lowly of yourself. As cheesy as it sounds, you can do anything as long as you put your mind to it." Claire replied.
"Thanks, Claire." Neville smiled.
"Hello, class! Welcome to Seventh Year Herbology! " Professor Sprout greeted them as she walked in. "As I'm sure you've noticed, there is a small number of you. For Seventh Year Herbology, I choose certain students who have the highest grades on their O.W.L.s, N.E.W.T.s, or perhaps their third-year exams (she glanced at Claire and Neville). I also choose students based on their work integrity and their passion for Herbology. This is not an easy class to get into. Consider this an accomplishment for all of you to be here. Now, this class can be dangerous as well as difficult and because of this you will all be assigned a partner for the whole term. Since there are an odd number of students, there will be two groups of two and one group of three."
Professor Sprout pulled out a scroll from her robes' pocket and cleared her throat.
"Hinder and Jacobs," she said, to two Ravenclaw boys, "you two will be partners."
"Riley and McMillian," she said to a Hufflepuff boy and Ravenclaw boy, "you will be partners."
Professor Sprout looked up. "And that leaves Smith, Longbottom, and Diggory as the last group. Your first assignment will be to collect the pods from a Snargaluff. Before you collect the pods, please make sure to read page 12 in your books. It will detail the necessary steps and precautions for collecting the pods. You have until the end of the period."
"We better get to work on this assignment before class ends." Cedric said.
They pulled out their books and began reading.
The Snargaluff is a plant that has the appearance of a gnarled stump, but hides dangerous thorn-covered vines that attack when provoked and is usually best handled by more than one person. It contains green pulsating pods about the size of a grapefruit which can be extracted. The pods' insides when broken open resemble pale green tubers, collected in bowls. They are best when fresh.
"So, who's going to be the one to take the pods from the Snargluff?" Claire said.
"I'll do it," Neville volunteered.
"Alright, then Claire and I will stop the vines from attacking you." Cedric suggested.
Neville nodded and the three of them walked over to the Snargaluff. They slipped on their dragon-hide gloves. Cedric and Claire raised their wands towards the plant and motioned Neville to go closer. Neville stepped closer to the Snargaluff. It sprung to life at once; long, prickly, bramble-like vines flew out of the top of the once seemingly harmless gnarled stump and whipped through the air. Cedric raised his wand and said, "Diffindo!" One of the vines was split in two and the plant whaled in pain and began to whip through the air faster. The vines began to grow sharp thorns.
"What the heck did you?" Claire questioned, as she ducked one of the sharp vines.
"I was trying to cut off the vines. I don't think it worked out very well." Cedric replied.
"Really? You think?" Claire said sarcastically.
"Don't you know that spell doesn't work for Snargaluffs?" Neville said, dodging the vines. "It irritates them and makes them more aggressive. We'll be lucky if we aren't eaten by it."
Claire glanced around and saw that they weren't the only ones having problems with their Snargaluffs. Riley's arm was stuck in the hole with the pods and McMillian was trying to pull him out and Hinder and Jacobs both seemed 'wrapped up' in their work (literally).
"At least we aren't the only ones having troubles," Claire said.
Neville, Cedric, and Claire spent the rest of class trying to get the pods. After several cuts from the thorny vines, they managed to get their pods three minutes before class ended. When the bell rang, they handed in their pods and Claire and Neville said goodbye to Cedric before heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
When they reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Claire said goodbye to him and walked over to Harry and Ron.
"Hey! How'd Transfiguration go?" Claire asked them.
"Alright. How was Herbology with the seventh years?" Harry asked, noticing the few cuts on her face.
"Well, besides the fact Neville, Cedric, and I were almost eaten by a plant, wonderful." Claire deadpanned.
"Neville Longbottom?" Ron questioned.
Claire nodded. She then noticed Hermione was missing. "Where's Hermione—?"
Hermione appeared out of breath. "Been in the—"
"Library." Harry finished her sentence for her. "C'mon, class is about to start."
Hermione, Claire, Harry, and Ron found four seats right in front of the teacher's desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.
"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."
They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited.
Moody took out a register, shook his long man of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered. Claire felt a bit uncomfortable when his eye fixed upon her.
"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures—you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindulows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"
There was a general murmur of assent.
"But you're behind—very behind—on dealing with curses," Moody said. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark —"
"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.
Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled—the first time any of them had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was never less good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.
"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago...Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore...One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."
He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.
"So—straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.
"So...do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"
Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Claire's, Ron's, and Hermione's. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.
"Er," Ron said tentatively, "my dad told me about one...Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"
"Ah, yes," Moody said appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."
Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Harry felt Ron recoil slightly next to him—Ron hated spiders.
Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"
The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance. Claire watched as Moody controlled the spider and she felt sick to her stomach as everyone around her laughed. It reminded her of her second year when Voldemort was controlling her and making her petrify the students. How could anyone find this funny? She thought to herself.
"This it's funny, do you?" Moody growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"
The laughter died away almost instantly.
"Total control," Moody said quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."
Claire and Ron gave an involuntary shuddered.
"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperious Curse," Moody said, and Harry knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.
Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.
"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"
Hermione's hand flew into the air again and so, to Harry's slight surprise, did Neville's. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology, which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surpassed at his own daring.
"Yes?" Moody said, his magical eye rolling over to fix on Neville.
"There's one —Cruciatus Curse," Neville said in a small but distinct voice.
Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.
"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.
Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.
"The Cruciatus Curse," Moody said. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"
The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody's desk as possible.
Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"
At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently—
"Stop it!" Claire said shrilly.
Harry looked around at her. She was looking, not at the spider, but at Neville, and Harry, following her gaze, saw that Neville's hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified.
Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.
"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.
"Pain," Moody said softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse...That one was very popular once too. Right...anyone know any others?"
Hermione raised her hand shakily.
"Yes?" Moody said, looking at her.
"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered.
Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.
"Ah," Moody said, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra...the Killing Curse."
He put his hand in the jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.
Moody raised his wand.
"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.
There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air —instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.
Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.
"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."
Claire glanced at Harry as he saw him stare blankly at the blackboard. That was how his parents died. She couldn't imagine what he was feeling at the moment.
"Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it —you could all get your wands out now and point them and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it. Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.
"Now...those three curses —Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus —are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills...copy this down..."
They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang—but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices —"Did you see it twitch?" "—and when he killed it —just like that!"
Claire couldn't believe they were talking about the lesson like they had just seen some extraordinary show. It seems she wasn't the only one because Hermione and Harry felt the same way.
"Hurry up," Hermione said tensely to Harry and Ron as Claire spotted Neville walking particularly fast up ahead.
"Not the ruddy library again?" Ron said.
"No, she's talking about Neville," Claire said curtly, pointing her finger at Neville up ahead.
They caught up to Neville who had been standing alone, halfway up a side passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse.
"Neville?" Hermione said gently.
Neville looked around.
"Oh hello," he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm —I'm starving, aren't you?"
"Neville, are you alright?" Claire asked.
"Oh yes, I'm fine," Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner —I mean lesson —what's for eating?"
Ron gave Harry a startled look.
"Neville, what—?"
But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody limping toward them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard.
"It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on...we can have a cup of tea..."
Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry.
"You all right, are you, Potter?"
"Yes," Harry said, almost defiantly.
Moody's blue eye surveyed Harry for a few moments. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending...well...come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."
Neville looked pleadingly at Claire, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but they didn't say anything, so Neville had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, one of Moody's gnarled hands on his shoulder.
"What was that about?" Ron said, watching Neville and Moody turn the corner.
"I don't know," Hermione said, looking pensive.
"Those curses weren't the most pleasant things to watch. I don't blame Neville for freaking out about them." Claire said.
"Some lesson, though, eh?" Ron said as they set off for the Great Hall. "Fred and George were right, weren't they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did Avada Kedavra, the way that spider just died, just snuffed it right —"
But Ron fell silent as Claire sent him a glare and subtly nodded her head towards Harry who had a solemn look etched upon his face. Ron didn't talk until they reached the Great Hall, when he said he supposed they had better make a start on Professor Trelawney's predictions tonight, since they would take hours.
Hermione did not join in with Harry, Claire, and Ron's conversation during dinner, but ate furiously fast, and then left for the library again. The three of them walked back to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry, who had been thinking of nothing else all through dinner, now raised the subject of the Unforgivable Curses himself.
"Wouldn't Moody and Dumbledore be in trouble with the Ministry if they knew we'd seen the curses?" Harry asked as they approached the Fat Lady.
"Yeah, probably," Ron said. "But Dumbledore's always done things his way, hasn't hem and Moody's been getting in trouble for years, I reckon. Attacks first and asks questions later —look at his dustbins. Balderdash."
The Fat Lady swung forward to reveal the entrance hole, and they climbed into the Gryffindor common room, which was crowded and noisy.
"Shall we get our Divination stuff, then?" Harry said.
"I s'pose," Ron groaned.
"Look on the bright side," Claire said, "If we work on it now, then we don't have to do it later."
They went up to their dormitories and collected their books and charts. Claire was the first back in the common room. Harry and Ron soon came down.
"What took you two so long?" Claire asked, as she started to read through Unfogging the Future.
"Neville was in the dormitory," Harry said as he sat down next to Claire.
"How's he doing?" Claire asked.
"Seemed fine." Ron said sitting across from Harry and Claire. "Moody gave him a book about magical water plants or something like that."
"That's good. Neville seems to enjoy Herbology a lot." Claire replied.
The three of them set to work on their Divination homework. An hour later, they had made barely any progress, though their table was littered with bits of parchment bearing sums and symbols.
"I haven't got a clue what this lot's supposed to mean," Harry said, staring down at a long list of calculations.
"You know," Ron said, whose hair was on end because of all the times he had run his fingers through it in frustration, "I think it's back to the old Divination standby."
"You mean make it up?" Claire said.
"Yeah," Ron said, sweeping the jumble of scrawled notes off the table, dipping his pen into some ink, and starting to write.
"Next Monday," he said as he scribbled, "I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter."
He looked up at Claire and Harry. "You know her—just put in loads of misery, she'll lap it up."
"Right," Harry said, crumpling up his first attempt and lobbing it over the heads of a group of chattering first years into the fire. "Okay...on Monday, I will be in danger of —er —burns."
"Yeah, you will be," Ron said, darkly, "we're seeing the skrewts again on Monday. Okay, Tuesday, I'll...erm..."
"Lose a treasured possession," Claire said, who was flicking through Unfogging the Future for ideas.
"Good one," Ron said, copying it down. "Because of...erm...Mercury. Why don't you take care of a dangerous plant?"
"Sure, why not," Claire said, writing it down. "And it'll be because of Saturn's moons."
"And Harry," Ron said, "why don't you get stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend?"
"Yeah...cool..." Harry said, scribbling it down, "because...Venus is in the twelfth house."
"And on Wednesday, I think I'll come off worst in a fight."
"Aaah, I was going to have a fight. Okay, I'll lose a bet."
"Yeah, you'll be betting I'll win my fight."
The three of them continued to come up with more and more insane predictions for another hour, while the common room slowly emptied as people went up to bed. Crookshanks wandered over to them, leapt lightly into an empty chair, and stared inscrutably at them, rather as Hermione might look if she knew they weren't doing their homework properly.
Staring around the room, trying to think of what other misfortunes she hadn't used yet, Claire saw Fred and George sitting together against the opposite wall, heads together, quills out, poring over a single piece of parchment. She was sure they weren't working on homework the way they acted all secretive. She suspected they were trying to figure out how to enter the Triwizard Tournament.
As Claire watched, George shook his head at Fred, scratched out something with his quill, and said, in a very quiet voice that nevertheless carried across the almost deserted room, "No—that sounds like we're accusing him. Got to be careful..."
Then George looked over and saw Claire watching him. Claire grinned and quickly returned to her predictions— she didn't want George to think she was eavesdropping. Shortly after that, the twins rolled up their parchment, said goodbye, and went off to bed.
Ten minutes had passed since the twins left as Hermione climbed into the common room carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a box whose contents rattled in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, purring.
"Hello," she said, "I've just finished!"
"So have I!" Ron said triumphantly, throwing down his quill.
Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron's predictions toward her.
"Not going to have a very good month, are you?" she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap.
"Ah well, at least I'm forewarned," Ron yawned.
"You seem to be drowning twice," Hermione said.
"Oh am I?" Ron said, peering down at his predictions. "I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff."
"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" Hermione said.
"How dare you!" Ron said, in mock outrage. "We've been working like house-elves here!"
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"It's just an expression," Ron said hastily.
Claire and Harry laid their quills down too, having just finished their last prediction.
"What's in the box?" Claire asked, pointing at it.
"Funny you should ask," Hermione said, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed them the contents.
Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.
"'Spew'?" Harry said, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What's this about?"
"Not spew," Hermione said impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."
"Never heard of it," Ron said.
"Well, of course you haven't," Hermione said briskly, "I've only just started it."
"Yeah?" Ron said in mild surprise. "How many members have you got?"
"Well—if you three join—four," Hermione said.
"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew', do you?" Ron said.
"S-P-E-W!" Hermione said hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status —but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."
She brandished the sheaf of parchment at them.
"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."
"Hermione—open your ears," Ron said loudly. "They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!"
"Our short-term aims," Hermione said, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."
"And how do we do all this exactly?" Claire asked.
"We start by recruiting members," Hermione said happily. "I thought two sickles to join—that buys a badge —and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron —I've got you a collecting tin upstairs—Claire you'll be the campaign manager and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting."
There was a pause in which Hermione beamed at them as Ron stared at her dumbstruck and Harry and Claire shared a look with each other that read 'Is she serious?'.
"Hermione," Claire said. "What gave you the idea all of sudden to do all this?"
"Well, actually, it was you Claire." Hermione replied.
"Me?" Claire questioned.
"Yes, you were telling me the other night to stop complaining and take action and that's exactly what I'm doing." Hermione said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do for S.P.E.W. Good night."
Hermione took the box and parchment with her as she headed up to the girl's dormitory. When Hermione left, Claire noticed Ron glaring at her.
"What's your problem?" Claire questioned.
"You just had to give Hermione this idea, didn't you?" Ron said.