Chapter 2 : Barnabous Sprouts and Potionmaking
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 3|
Background: Font color:
Hot water cascaded down his body as Harry washed every inch of him. It had been a tough day at work:
Old Mrs. Dumelfey had started growing another form of deadly plants. This time it was the Barnabous Sprout. Known for their extreme flammability, the Barnabous sprout is most famous for the role it played in the “Fire of London”. It is also very disgusting plant; as it bursts - spraying its yellow coloured pus over anything and everything around it.
The London Auror’s office had received an owl from a very terrified neighbour after seeing Mrs. Dumelfey leaving the plants out in the sun – where they’re never supposed to be. Being a junior Auror, Harry was first in line to take care of it. To shorten a very long tale, Harry went, Mrs. Dumelfey accidentally sat on one of the sprouts, resulting in Harry scrubbing every last surface of his body.
He couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had he been covered from head to toe in thick, vomit coloured slime, but his partner – Figgins – had resigned to pursue his lifelong dream of potion making, resulting in Harry’s transfer to Holyhead Auror Headquarters, Wales.
Quite suddenly, the hot water supply ran out and Harry’s perfect temperature shower, turned into the hose down from hell... That froze over... Twice...
He jumped out of the shower, and turned to his mirror. “UHG!!! I hate potions! I HATE cold water and I HATE BARNABOUS SPROUTS!!!!!” an enraged Harry yelled at his shivering reflection. He sighed, failing to calm himself and dried himself off with his wand.
This wasn’t how he had expected his day to go. Heck this wasn’t how he expected his life to go! Living in an apartment so small that it made apparation seem pleasant; His dream job turning out to be a babysitting position as all the fun dark wizards (that is - if one referred to dark wizards as fun... Who cares I'm fuming, all right?) had already been covered by Kingsley and the rest of the senior Aurors and the matchbox he called home didn’t exactly excite him at the end of the day.
He walked into his bed-/living room/kitchen and went to his dresser. He got out a pair of comfy blue jeans and his favourite green sweater and dressed quickly. After deciding that there was no way that he was actually cooking that night, Harry walked out the door of his flat, slamming it as he went.
The cold wintry air calmed him down a lot, so when he walked into the closest muggle–food store, he was back to his usual placid self. He sauntered over to the ‘ready to eat’ isle and picked out a few of his favourites. He was busy reading the back of one particular box when she ran into him.
“Oh Merlin! I am SO sorry!” she exclaimed, seeming very out of breath. She continued by muttering “Could this day GET any worse?” under her breath while swatting the fiery red locks out of her face.
“No problem,” Harry said kindly, knowing what this beautiful woman was going through. They both bent down to pick up the dropped packages at the same time, causing their heads to collide. They gasped “OUCH!” and both fell on their behinds in the middle of the isle.
Rubbing his forehead while looking at the girl, Harry started laughing uncontrollably. Initially she looked at him as though he were a mad person to be laughing under the circumstances, but her disbelief quickly turned into her own laughter.
Once Harry was able to stand up again, he helped the red haired girl to her feet. “Bad day?” he asked.
She shook her head in disbelief, “The worst. I was late for my port k... Eh, train this morning” she corrected herself midsentence blushing adorably, “and so I had to wait for the later train in order to get here in time for a family dinner,” after quickly checking the time she sighed and added “which I am now officially also unbelievably late for.” she said all of this very fast and looked at Harry apologetically, “I really am sorry for running into you.”
Harry smiled at her, “Like I said no problem.” He stretched his hand out to her “I’m Harry by the way.” She took his outstretched hand and blushed, “Ginny.”
After about 10 seconds of silence, Ginny still hadn’t let go of Harry’s hand. Not that he noticed, anyway. He was staring at her beautiful bright brown eyes, and hoping that she wouldn’t notice. She cleared her throat and he shook her hand again once he had noticed that it was still in his. “Well it was nice meeting you, Harry.” Harry dreaded hearing that, and answered back politely “As it was lovely meeting you.”
They were the interrupted by a dark man about Harry’s age calling Ginny’s name. “Ginny! There you are! Your mother is going to kill us if we don’t hurry up! We’re going to miss dinner entirely if you don’t...” Ginny quickly dropped Harry’s hand as Dean took him into account. “Harry Potter?”
Shocked that the man knew his name (and a little embarrassed at not knowing his), Harry stared at his face. Harry recognised him from somewhere, he just couldn’t place it. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?” he didn’t mean for the phrase to reflect the irritation he was feeling at the moment, but it did.
Ginny then intervened, “Sorry Harry, this is my boyfriend. Dean Thomas.” Harry felt as if the rug had been swept from under him. The one thing that seemed to have turned out fantastically today... Turned out to have an idiotic boyfriend.
Dean then turned put his arm around Ginny’s shoulders, and smiled at her use of the word: Boyfriend. Somewhere deep inside Harry, a monster growled viciously. Hiding his irritation with the man a bit better this time, Harry rephrased his question: “I still can’t seem to place you?”
Dean playfully punched Harry on the shoulder, to Harry’s utter disgust (‘Don’t! Don’t! Don’t.... he did...' were Harry’s exact thoughts), “We were in the same year at Hogwarts!” Dean stated a little too overenthusiastically.
Suddenly Harry remembered. Dean Thomas – Gryffindor. He was seeker and captain for their team as Harry was to Slytherin. “Dean! Now I remember. Quidditch right?” Dean nodded proudly. “You beat Gryffindor 450 – 50 in the final?” Harry smiled at this, “Oh yeah! Sorry, mate. Feels like years since Hogwarts.”
"I know what you mean," Dean answered.
As Harry let the word ‘mate’ slip out of his mouth, he felt instantly betrayed by himself. A moment of awkward silence followed between the trio.
After Harry cleared his throat, Dean took his hand and shook it again. “Well Harry it’s been a blast seeing you again, but we’ve got to run! Ginny dear, I’ll go get the sugar and meet you up front?”
Harry didn’t like the way that Dean talked to Ginny as if she were a child at all. He was sure he could have liked Dean under better circumstances, but the bloke just ruined the best part of the worst day of his life, so any form of friendship was out of the question.
She nodded, accepted Dean’s peck on the cheek and stared back at Harry. “I knew I’d seen you somewhere!” She smiled at him and he automatically smiled back, unable to stop smiling when she did. “Please tell me you weren’t in my year as well? Because I KNOW I wouldn’t have forgotten your face.” she blushed at his flirtatious remark. “No I was in the year just after you, actually. My brother was also with you, though?”
Harry nodded stupidly, although he didn’t even have the slightest clue of who her brother might have been.
She stepped closer to him and hugged him tightly, “Goodbye Harry, and I hope to see you again.” He wanted to say ‘Sure, why don’t I just beat up your boyfriend and I can go with you to dinner instead!’, but all he could manage was an idiotic nod and a mumbled “Yeah.” She smiled at him for the last time and turned around to go to the front of the store in search of the Neanderthal boyfriend: Dean.
It felt as if he were standing there for hours when he finally found the controls to his body. Shaking his head, “Yes Ginny... This day can get worse, in fact, it just did.”he answered her earlier question.
Harry was moving to Holyhead in the morning, so the chances were a billion to one of him ever seeing her again. Add that to the list of tragic things that hit Harry Potter all in one day.
After packing most of his stuff into boxes, he lay in bed that night. He couldn’t get Ginny out of his head. Everything from the way she blushed as she accidentally wanted to say ‘port key’ to her faint smell of treacle tart, a kind of ‘woodiness’ he could only associate with broomstick handle and something flowery was imprinted on his brain.
He had considered knocking on every door in London until he found her, but that seemed rather unpractical, so he wanted to use floopowder and yell “GINNY!” to see if he could see her again, but there could be thousands of ‘Ginny’s’ out there! So he had decided to go to sleep and forget all this nonsense.
She was just a girl. He told himself sternly. A girl with a BOYFRIEND! SO GET OVER IT ALREADY! But though he may try, he couldn’t get her out of his head. So he turned onto his left side, hoping to dream of anything other than Ginny... Oh Merlin, I don’t even know her last name! He huffed and shut his eyes for the last time that day...
He tried, instead, to dream about Barnabous Sprouts and the useless art of Potionmaking.
Hi guys (and girls) !
Just wanted to thank you for reading my second chapter ever! I'm a bit of a novice (well... a lot of a novice) so ANY and ALL reviews are welcome! Hope to have chapter 3 up by the end of the week!
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories