Sept 2nd, 2:30pm; Greenhouse 3

The floating tower of books hovered for just a moment over the well-used wooden table.  THUD.  The books fell onto its surface, spilling across with some even falling further to the floor.  A small cloud of dust and topsoil spread from the site as Graham merely flicked his wand toward another stack of books lodged in one of the ancient cabinets of the greenhouse.  As the second pile added to the heap of the first, Graham smiled to think of what Madam Pince would say at such a sight.  His lips curled into a smug grin before he returned to weeding the screechsnap patch, occasionally looking over his shoulder to flick his wand at another tower of books.

Once the row of cabinetry was completely devoid of paper, Graham rose, dusting off the knees of his trousers.  The fifth years would be entering soon, and Graham had devised one of the greatest tortures for their first day of class.  It was certain to suck out whatever joy and life might have previously inhabited their precocious little hearts.  The fifth year was usually the time when the immature brats would begin to bud flowers.  But first, it had to be pruned back, and those childish tendencies removed for room to grow. 

He pushed the old chalkboard to the side of the classroom and removed the previous class' notes.  Graham drew a crude line down the middle, then awaited his prey, the myriad of textbooks gloriously strewn to every corner of the cleared classroom area.

It was the last new class of the first year - the last unknown entity.  Even if the class was taught by the same professor as the year before, it was impossible to tell what to expect from each class.  Usually, by the end of the first class, it was possible to guess how the class would go - whether the professor would be strict or more lenient.  With OWLs looming, most professors seemed to be approaching the year with rabid ferocity. 

Books were already scattered across the tables when Sasha stepped into Greenhouse 3 and Professor Bombay was drawing a line on the otherwise blank chalkboard.  A few steps into the Greenhouse, Sasha stopped and watched the Professor at the board, trying to recognize some context clues about the nature of the class or the exercise that awaited them.  But, there were no clues. 

Shouldering his bag again, Sasha slipped into a seat and, with great effort, resisted the urge to dust his spot clean with his sleeve.  Once settled, he turned his attention back to the professor.

Josh was the next to turn up, noticing the textbooks too this isn't going to be pretty he thought. It looked to be a theory lesson, whihc were always boring. but what about? Josh didn't know and he doubted Sasha, who he had spotted in the greenhouse, would know either. Walking to his space, he sat down, getting out parchment, quill and ink.

[Outfit]

If you were to ask Miss Beatrix Dark what she thought about Herbology when she was a fourth year, she'd probably answer "Why would I take that class? Crazy"... This year? Well. Lets just say it's like giving Professor Gunnar a banana. Ever since Beatrix Dark laid eyes on Professor Bombay, her small giggles had become unbearable to those around her. She curled a lock of her pink hair and waltzed into the greenhouse with a batch of freshly baked brownies in her hand for the Professor. She was yearning to get to Herbology for a while now. Bombay NEEDED her there.

There wasn't many students there... Josh Harcroft and Sasha Schlagenweit. Of course THEY would be early to class. If Sasha wasn't always the first to one of her classes, then there had to be a big problem. Maybe Neely finally killed him and stuffed his body in the closet. Wait... What? Since when did Beatrix Dark think like this? She shook her head, slightly, and let her cheeky grin fall back into place. Beatrix waved to Josh and patted Sasha on the head before strutting up to Professor Bombay and holding out the brownies.

"Evening, Professor Bombay!" She smiled, brightly, "Nice day, isn't it? Perfect conditions for... Er... Herbologanizing." Bea's nose wrinkled a bit as she thought about what she just said. "Your outfit is ravishing... Is that a new cologne?" Beatrix's lashes fluttered. If Bea were to be acting this way towards Gunnar, he'd already be falling for her innocent act. Then again... After the little incident in his office last year... Who knows what he thinks.

Figaro entered class, grinning wide, a look of excitement on his face and heresay on his lips.  "Professor Bombay!" he shouted, "Professor, is it true you were in Diagon and helped the Aurors when the giant snakes blew up an apothecary? Man, that was well lucky that wasn't my dad's shop.  He's also got an apothecary in that neighborhood."  Figaro tactfully avoided the detail that Sellaphix Apothecary was a Knockturn Ally shop.

"That must have been wicked cool. Merlin! So did you fight it? Shoot it with spells, summon some insane vine from the nether cleft or something? I was at my grandma's that weekend or I would have got to see it too.  You see Fauna Blake there? And Charlie Robards - Hufflepuff represent! Shite! You where there, Professor - you gotta give me the details.  Did you get bit? Poisoned? That a scar?"

Finally Figaro shut his mouth and raised his eyebrows.  He had been just perflunct to miss such an exciting day in Diagon - he needed the details or he couldn't move on with his life.  The more he knew, the more it would be like he was there.  And the better story he could relay to others.

"Good afternoon," Graham grumbled, his voice a bit lighter than usual, almost cheery.  After his bout with his earlier classes, the first years having struck a higher nerve than usual, Graham was pleased to be back among his upper years.  The years had given them a nice balance of respect while still maintaining Graham's need for control.  In time, he might even become affectionate of some.  It was a lovely image of fraternization that was slightly tangible.  The two young gentlemen gave him hope for the future.  Then in walked Ms. Dark.  

Graham winced at her entry, his eyes adjusting to the new introduction of color that she always brought.  Ms. Dark was one of his most eccentric Ravenclaws, and he still wasn't sure if he should see a bit of himself within her multicolored hair or to simply flee.  Her doting on him made the latter choice nearly impossible.  "Err, no," he replied simply, turning his attention back towards the chalkboard to scrawl 'Team 1' and 'Team 2' on either side of the line.  In need of a distraction, he briefly mumbled his customary prayer to Ceres, "Servo mea." Unfortunately she answered his prayer all too well.

Not only was the boy's father a successful apothecary where Graham had failed, but the boy was a continual thorn in his side.  Graham had only met two other people who talked as much, and one had fortunately died three years ago.  It seemed Felix had taken that place, to Graham's chagrin.  At the boy's praise of Mr. Robards, Graham's eyebrow flicked up into a high arch.  It seemed the boy's tale of heroism was far different from Graham's knowledge of said events.  "Your hero," he spoke coldly, foolishly giving in a playing Felix's little game of jibber-jabber, "Was almost killed for being a fool.  I would be careful who you choose to represent your...esteemed house."  Only a Hufflepuff would think it prudent to kick an engorged, three-headed runespoor.  

The mention of his own scar aroused a small amount of pride in Graham's heart over his own valiant actions, and his success in letting Quincy see his battle wound.  Holding his head up a little, gravity pulled his long hair back and out of his face, making the scar a little more prominent.  The inch long gash was still a slightly mottled purple, but otherwise almost healed.  "If not for the quick action of myself and Ms. Gertrudis, I shudder to think what might have become of your hero."  He hid the small smile aching to bloom upon his lips at having his own tale of bravery rather than the usual shame of cowardice.

"Now, settle into two teams.  We'll be reviewing spells used in Herbology, and there are quite a few more than you think.  If your own knowledge is found lacking, you should be able to find something in the books."  Order prevailed, and Graham was back in his element.  He paused for a minute, letting the students find their new seats with their teammates.

 "Situation one," he stated clearly, his gaze drifting over the greenhouse's inhabitants.  You're fertilizing the screechsnap patch when a cloud of pixies decide to nest in the flutterby bushes.  Nifflers have gotten into the mugwort and the Devil's snare is being rambunctious.  Team one, what do you do? You have one minute to set things right."  While most professors he had spoken with enjoyed prepping students for the fieldwork portion of the OWLS, Graham would die before he ever let them experiment with his garden before he knew they were capable of not destroying his universe.

When Professor Bombay proceeded to set the record straight about the Night of the Runespoors, Figaro's face fell.  And for the first time all day, he shut his mouth.  He wandered away from the front and back to his seat.

He muttered under his breath.  Charlie wasn't Fig's hero  - they were just mates.  It had been a great story, too.  Exciting and written up in the paper and everything.   He rolled his eyes.  That and Figaro got the distinct impression Bombay might not remember his name.*  Sighing deeply with a newly wrought scowl, he didn't pay attention who he'd sat down next too.

His eyes glazed over when Professor Bombay launched into what Figaro would know was a very challenging scenario if he had been listening.  Instead he was glaring at the professor and muttering about washed up teachers who couldn't cut it in the world of real witches and wizards with real jobs.


*

 Fergie entered the herbology classroom with visible reluctance. This was another of those classes where messiness could be counted upon. Couple this with the fact that he definitely didn't have a green thumb, and it was most assuredly in the lower ranks on his list of class preferences. Plants didn't like him, he didn't like plants. Frankly, he would have preferred to leave the gardening up to the gardeners. It was something you paid people to do, not something you did yourself.

 However, he didn't have much of a choice, did he? And so he had entered, and later found himself aligned with the nearest group. In most classes, he disliked teams and partners. It meant the effort, actions, and thoughts of others would influence his grade. Now, however, he considered it a blessing, and yawned, leaning against a table and deciding to let the other members of his team answer. It wasn't like he cared enough to know, anyway.

The bodies in the classroom had fallen, relatively, into two separate groups.  Once settled into his spot amongst his fellow group members, he turned to his notebook, copying down the question as the Professor presented it.  Fertilizing screechsnap - pixies in the flutterby bush.  Nifflers in the mugwort.  Devil's snare planted nearby.  Glancing up from his notebook, he glanced around at his teammates.  Content that no one seemed to be on the verge of answering and that he wouldn't be stepping on anyone's toes, Sasha raised his hand and shifted in his seat before providing an answer for his team.

"To start with, I'd want to make sure the Screechsnap really needs the extra fertilizing, as it is often made uncomfortable by excess dragon dung.  If it has grown especially still and has lost some of its wriggling, it may need more.  But, not too much.  And, I might reconsider having the Devil's snare planted so near the Screechsnap, since it does require more fertilizing.  Of course, you can't use any sort of pixie repellent to get rid of them since it might burn the flutterby bushes." 

Again, Sasha shifted in his seat before answering the root question.  "If I had a minute, I'd stop fertilizing the Screechsnap, since it may not need the extra dragon dung.  I'd immobilize the pixies and let them hang tight while I use my trowel to lead the nifflers out of the pen.  In all honesty, I wouldn't do anything about the Devil's snare - it's normal for the plant to be rambunctious.  Once the situation is under control, I'd get rid of the pixies and contemplate moving the Devil's snare to a spot where it might be happier."

It seemed as if the theme of messy classrooms was starting to emerge at the beginning of the school year. Or, at least, that was what Meg noticed as she entered the Herbology Greenhouse for the day's lesson. Sure, she didn't mind the mess, but it wasn't hard to notice at all. But, that didn't change how she felt about any of her classes. Herbology was always a class that she managed to study a lot for, and the conditions of the classroom wouldn't change that even at the slightest. Thus, right after entering the room, she took a seat at the table that the rest of her fellow classmates were already sitting at.

Upon taking out the required materials for the class, Meg looked up at the Professor, and then at the board. Apparently they were doing something with teams for the day. But, as Professor Bombay began the lesson with situations, she paid attention to the different circumstances that he was placing together. On a piece of parchment, she took a few notes on the information. Whether or not it would be on the OWL exams wasn't a question that even needed to be asked. The exams would probably cover a great deal with what was going on in the class, and it was bound to keep her studying for it for time to come.

Meg looked up from her note taking as Sasha answered the situation rather quickly. She smiled to her friend. She found it surprising when he seemed to downplay his own intellect just last year when they both were studying in the Greenhouses. His answer clearly supported what she said. It probably would've taken her longer to even think of a response about half as good as that.

Sasha dropped an academic bomb with his response and Figaro was left looking at his team mate.  Figaro sat up, and nodded vigorously. 

"Immobilize would work on the pixies, but I think while Sasha was messing with dung, I'd try a Smell Spell.  If you can use that enchantment to put a scent of oranges and rotting milk under the flutterby bush, the pixies will relocate on their own.  And that smell might even attract butterflies.  Which, you know, makes sense for that bush."

The Smell Spell enchantment was something they'd touched on their second year as a way to enhance flower arrangements and as gnome repellent.  (Garden gnomes were allergic to pepper, but actual pepper did pretty terrible things to actual garden plants.)  Figaro had found the enchantment to be so useful, he'd spent some extra time on it and found he could make one thing or another smell like just about anything.  He'd had some misses though - there was as a time that spring where he smelled like burnt chocolate and wet Labrador for a week.

Satisfied enough by Bombay's less than satisfactory response, Beatrix set down the brownies and turned to find a place to sit. She could either sit with the Slytherins who didn't want her or the others, whom she didn't particularly want. Well, Sasha and Megan were fine. But sitting next to Fig sometimes made Bea want to shove a quill in her ear. Bea still decided to settle down with the rest, listening in on Sasha's ideas.

Of course, Bea didn't exactly know what was going on. She was a bit new to Herbology, after all. "Why would there be Devil's Snare in our green house...? And how could it live there? It hates sunlight, doesn't it?" If Bea were Devil's Snare, she'd hide herself away in... Oh... Sayy... Bombay's sheets. Since, after all, they were dark and mysterious and hardly anyone ever looked inside them.... Right? Bea bit her lip and stared over at the Professor. She didn't doubt the ladies were after Bombay. She glared around the room before digging her heels into the closest object (which just so happened to be her table) and it lurched and squeaked a couple of inches away.

If Bombay had any lady friends, Bea would surely know of them... And they wouldn't be friends for long. Nor would they be ladies. This thought settled her down a bit and she pulled out her notebook. That's exactly what would happen. They wouldn't get in her way, no sir.

Herbology was one of the classes he abhorred most. A lot of the times it meant getting your hands dirty, which in turned mussed up his impeccable appearance. Playing with plants was not something that Callum considered to be part of a good education. If he wanted to grow plants he'd just hire someone to do it, he'd never do it himself. Much like History of Magic, he considered the information in this class to be superfluous and unnecessary for every day survival as a wizard. Anything important about herbology was learned in potions.

There were stacks of old, disgusting looking books laying about. Certainly these were not to be their text books. He'd not touch them unless he was wearing gloves, and he did not intend to wear gloves in order to do homework. It would be ridiculous.

After sidling into the room and making himself as comfortable as humanly possible in such an environment it was announced that they were to be on teams. There was no easy way around this. So he settled for joining the team with the least amount of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, and with some Ravenclaws who looked like they might know a thing or two. He certainly knew a lot about one thing- and that one thing, most obviously, was nothing. So he allowed others to prattle off answers while he daydreamed of being anywhere but where he currently was- stuck in a filthy classroom with disgusting classmates and a particularly dreadful professor.

Figaro leaned forward in his seat to scowl at Beatrix.  She was so weird!

"Ugh, Beatrix, shut up! It's just a dumb word problem! And stop being such a frothy mad freak! He's a professor!"

It had only been a week of school, and already Figaro's mates were driving him kind of crazy.  Not to mention he was still pretty sore about Professor Bombay shooting him down.  Grouchy old man.  And look there, Beatrix was flirting with him? It ransacked the mind.

He slouched back in his chair and shot a look over to Callum Knight.  Oh, miracle of miracles - he was still awake.   Callum was a thug and from what Figaro knew, he was nearly flunking out.

For a particularly unsettling day, it seemed to be ending well.  He was fortunate the scheduling called for ending the day with his more mature students.  The seventh years had been lovely, and fortunately he had a favorite in the class as well.  As the blonde boy raised his hand, Graham called upon him in a somewhat pleasant voice, knowing that of all the students, his would more than likely be the soundest of answers:

"To start with, I'd want to make sure the Screechsnap really needs the extra fertilizing, as it is often made uncomfortable by excess dragon dung.  If it has grown especially still and has lost some of its wriggling, it may need more.  But, not too much.  And, I might reconsider having the Devil's snare planted so near the Screechsnap, since it does require more fertilizing.  Of course, you can't use any sort of pixie repellent to get rid of them since it might burn the flutterby bushes."

Graham nodded along, glad to have one intelligent student for all his hard work.

"If I had a minute, I'd stop fertilizing the Screechsnap, since it may not need the extra dragon dung.  I'd immobilize the pixies and let them hang tight while I use my trowel to lead the nifflers out of the pen.  In all honesty, I wouldn't do anything about the Devil's snare - it's normal for the plant to be rambunctious.  Once the situation is under control, I'd get rid of the pixies and contemplate moving the Devil's snare to a spot where it might be happier."

"Well spoken, Mr. Schlagenweit," Graham concluded, interally a smudge proud that he was one of the few professors that could properly pronounce the boy's surname.  

"Immobilize would work on the pixies, but I think while Sasha was messing with dung, I'd try a Smell Spell.  If you can use that enchantment to put a scent of oranges and rotting milk under the flutterby bush, the pixies will relocate on their own.  And that smell might even attract butterflies.  Which, you know, makes sense for that bush."

Graham's lip twitched slightly at Figaro's voice, but he listened despite the instinct to tune out the young man's drivel.  And for once, the boy came up with a creative solution.  Mr. Sellaphix could be quite the wizard if he ever set his mind to it, which was one of the things Graham hated most about the young man.  He had worked his own arse off to get to wear he was, and it wasn't even his own dream.  Sellaphix was wasting his talent, only for one day to magically get all he wanted as if it were only right or fair.  "I suppose," he grumbled in response, not wanting to acknowledge the boy as correct but bound by oath to encourage all growth.  

"Why would there be Devil's Snare in our green house...? And how could it live there? It hates sunlight, doesn't it?"

"Ugh, Beatrix, shut up! It's just a dumb word problem! And stop being such a frothy mad freak! He's a professor!"

While some professors might think gladly of a student that raced to defend their honor, Graham bristled at the comment.  "These 'Dumb Word Problems," he growled, miming the scare quotes with his fingers, "Are the difference between you passing and failing your Owls!  And rest assured, Ms. Dark, that you have a Herbology Professor competent enough to grow Devil's Snares in a greenhouse.  Or have you merely been drawing hearts in your notebook all these years!" He cried, not really knowing what girls did or didn't write on their parchment but assuming it was some symbol of femininity all the same.  He grabbed a brownie, taking a bite while wishing dearly it were a rum and fizz instead.  Or even just rum.  

He swallowed, unable to note the small bits of brownie that clung to his teeth as he returned to teaching.  "Five points to Ravenclaw for Sasha's answer," he spoke while adding a tally mark under Team One.  He hesitated briefly for a moment, whether to count out Figaro's remark as penance for the wisecrack, or to briefly acknowledge critical thinking.  "And one point to Mr. Sellaphix," he added, drawing half a tally on the board as well.  

"Situation Two," he announced, briefly formulating one in his mind, "You need to harvest the Chinese Chomping Cabbage but lost your pair of dragon-hide gloves.  The leaping toadstools are migrating towards the pond and you see a stray cat lurking near the door."  He paused briefly, wondering if the variables sufficed.  "Oh yes, and," he started and waved his wand towards the honking daffodils.  With a flick, Graham removed the silencing charm and placed another:  "Sonorus."