Herbology was never (Y/N)'s favorite class, but she found herself quite excited that it was her first one of the day. She would be venturing into Greenhouse Three that year, which was home to far more interesting plants than there were in Greenhouse One.

"Far more dangerous, too," Hermione had told her. "We'll need to be careful to pay attention to everything Professor Sprout says..."

By the time class started, the second years were chatting fervently amongst themselves about what was in store for their class, or simply still catching up from the Summer Holidays. Dean and Seamus were quick to find (Y/N) and start up a conversation before anyone else could.

"Did you see the Whomping Willow?" Dean asked. "Professor Sprout covered the whole thing in bandages!"

(Y/N)'s eyes widened. "Really?"

Seamus nodded enthusiastically. "I heard she's been working on it all morning. That's why she's late."

(Y/N) felt a bit guilty that Professor Sprout had to do all that work, but she thought a few bandages served that tree right. She didn't understand what was so special about it anyway, nor why they would keep something so bloodthirsty on school grounds.

"Looks like you could use some bandages, too." Seamus nodded to her bruised cheekbone. "That tree really did a number."

"Oh, this isn't..." (Y/N) stopped herself. If she told her friends she got that bruise from when Ron fell back into his father's flying car, it would not look nearly as impressive. Besides, she found it to be a bit embarrassing as it was, so she simply shook her head. "I can hardly feel it," She said instead.

Professor Sprout came into the Greenhouse, her arms full of bandages that she discarded in a nearby pot. She had a great amount of earth on her clothes and seemingly even more under her nails. She looked cheerful, like she usually did, despite having been working all morning long.

"Good morning, everyone!" She greeted, tapping her wand three times on a pot.

The students quieted down and turned to face her way. "Good morning Professor Sprout."

"Welcome to Greenhouse Three second years!" Her smile was infectious, for (Y/N) found herself grinning along. "Now gather around, everyone! Today we are going to repot Mandrakes. Who here can tell me the properties of a Mandrake root?"

Not to anyone's surprise, Hermione's hand shot straight up in the air.

Professor Sprout nodded at her eagerly. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione smiled brightly, thrilled to be answering the first question of the year. "Mandrake," she said. "Or Mandragora is used to return those who have been Petrified to their original state."

Just when (Y/N) thought she'd finished answering the question, Hermione started on again. "It's also quite dangerous. The Mandrake's cry is fatal to anyone who hears it."

"Excellent!" Said Professor Sprout. "Ten points to Gryffindor! Now, as our mandrakes are still only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet. But, they could knock you out for several hours, which is why I have given each of you a pair of earmuffs for auditory protection. So, could you please put them on?"

(Y/N) reached for the earmuffs in front of her. She didn't want to get knocked out; her year had already been exhilarating enough. She wanted at least a day's rest before another inevitable mishap befell her. So, when she put on her earmuffs, she made sure they completely covered her ears.

"Flaps tight down, and watch me closely!" Professor Sprout pulled a nearby pot closer to her. "You grasp your Mandrake firmly, you pull it sharply out of the pot--" She yanked the Mandrake from it's safe haven, and at once the sound of it's ear-splitting cries invaded the silence of the room.

Even with her earmuffs on, (Y/N) rushed to cover her ears. She hadn't ever heard something so terrible, nor so loud. Suddenly, she was trying to remember what she was so excited about coming to Greenhouse Three. At least their old greenhouse didn't have plants that would scream at them.

The Mandrake, apart from being horribly loud, was horribly ugly. It had leaves growing out of the top of its head and a mouth much too big for its own good. Its skin was the same color as the potatoes that they would serve at dinner time and was just as spotted, but it was covered in more wrinkles than, (Y/N) was sure, even the oldest wizard alive.

"Got it? And now you dunk it down into the other pot and pour a little sprinkling of soil to keep him warm." Professor Sprout took great care to make sure the Mandrake was comfortable, yet it still continued to cry incessantly.

From across the table, poor Neville Longbottom swayed and then collapsed in a heap on the floor. (Y/N) stood tall on her toes and peered over the table to see if he was alright, but her Professor clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"Longbottom's been neglecting his earmuffs."

"No ma'am," Said Seamus, gently nudging Neville's foot with his own. "He's just fainted."

"Yes, well," Professor Sprout seemed to mull it over for a moment, then decisively, and a bit dismissively, she said, "just leave him there."

(Y/N) thought it would be best if Neville was sent to Madam Pomfrey, but as soon as she started to say so, Professor Sprout said, "Right! On we go! Plenty of pots to go around. Grasp your Mandrake, and pull!"

(Y/N) wrapped her fingers around the plant firmly and gave it a harsh yank. She thought one Mandrake's cry was bad; the whole lot of them was nothing short of horrendous. Her Mandrake squirmed in her arms, fought her as she tried to shove it in a new pot, and screamed until she had a terrible headache.

By the time she finally repotted her Mandrake, she was covered in dirt, she was sore, and she was sweaty. She had to help Dean force his Mandrake into a pot and all the while cursed the Hogwarts curriculum for subjecting her to such a task.

Once class was over, they only had a few minutes to get cleaned up before rushing off to Transfiguration. Luckily, (Y/N) found that class period to be much easier; all they were meant to do was turn a beetle into a button. After Harry encouraged (Y/N) to pay attention more often in class while being held at the mercy of a bloodthirsty troll the year prior, she did exactly that, so she was very easily able to complete the assignment. For the period, she and Hermione made many varying buttons and showed them off to one another when they made one they really liked. By the end of it, her headache had nearly gone away.

After Transfiguration, it was time for lunch. Even though her last class was simple, she was still very tired from Herbology and was grateful for a break.

Though she was able to relax, Ron spent the great majority of lunch trying to mend his wand. He decided to start practically with a wad of tape and a lot of hope, but it didn't seem to be doing him much good.

"Say it," He said gloomily. "I'm doomed."

From across the table, (Y/N) met Harry's eyes. There was mischief shining behind his round glasses, and she knew at once they had the same idea.

"You're doomed," They said together.

Ron didn't look nearly as amused as they were. (Y/N) and Harry shared a laugh, but he looked like he wanted to say something snarky. However, before he got his chance, there was a blinding flash and a click of a camera.

(Y/N) blinked away the spots in her vision just in time to see a little blond boy who was not at all familiar. He stood behind his camera with a wide smile and big round eyes that gazed upon Harry as though he was transfixed.

"Hi, Harry!" He greeted. "I'm Colin Creevey. I'm in Gryffindor, too!"

"Hi, Colin," By Harry's tone alone, (Y/N) could tell he was uncomfortable. He shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Nice to meet you,"

They didn't get very far in their conversation, for Dean leaned over from a few seats down. "Ron, is that your owl?"

(Y/N) looked up to what he was pointing at: a mass of grey feathers tumbling through the Great Hall. She could barely make out the red envelope clutched in his beak before Errol crashed right onto the table, sending food flying everywhere.

"That can't be good," (Y/N) whispered.

Hermione reached across the table and prodded Ron's owl with the tip of her finger. "It's alright," She assured her. "He's still alive."

But Ron's owl was not what (Y/N) was worried about. She'd heard of Howlers before, but she'd never had to hear one herself. And from what Ron told her about his mother, she knew that he, along with the rest of the Hogwarts student body, would be in for quite the earful.

Errol hopped up as Ron plucked the Howler from his beak and made haste for an open window. He had enough sense about him; (Y/N) very well considered getting out of there herself.

"Look!" Said Seamus, not doing anything to help the peering eyes. "Weasley's got himself a Howler!"

A few of the Gryffindor boys laughed, and if Ron weren't her friend, (Y/N) might've laughed, too. But instead, she gave them a quelling look. "Not funny, Seamus," She tried, but they were having too much fun.

Harry looked from Ron, to (Y/N), and then to the red envelope. "What's a Howler?" He questioned.

But no one answered. (Y/N) hardly even heard him speak, she was so busy dreading the wrath that would soon be unleashed.

"Go on, Ron." Neville encouraged him. "I ignored one from my gran once! It was horrible!"

Ron swallowed a lump in his throat, and then, with shaking hands, peeled open the envelope. Neville had enough sense to cover his ears, but (Y/N) hadn't even thought about it. So, when Mrs. Weasley's booming voice echoed around the Great Hall, she was so startled, that she dropped her fork onto her plate.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" Her voice was so loud, that dust from up in the rafters fell to the ground. (Y/N) was sure the table was shaking. "HOW DARE  YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!"

Ron managed a hurried nod, his face nearly as red as his hair. The Howler swiveled around itself, turning on Ginny Weasley, who sat a few seats down with Fred and George.

"And Ginny, dear," It said, much quieter, but still loud enough for the entire hall to hear. "Congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud."

Ginny shrunk into her seat, smiling sheepishly. Her face reddened just a bit, too.

Finally, the Howler had said it's piece. It promptly tore itself up and fell in scraps onto the table, leaving poor Ron stunned, and (Y/N) silently thanking Mrs. Weasley for not mentioning her name. From the look Harry gave her, she could tell they were thinking the same thing, but neither of them said a word about it, and tried to finish the rest of their lunch.

Soon, the Great Hall picked up on it's usual chatter, but for the rest of the period, Ron was unusually quiet. (Y/N) kept eyeing the windows in search of any more owls. She didn't expect the Malfoys to send her a Howler, but she was very afraid of what they would say once the inevitable letter came.

However, lunch ended without any more deliveries, and they were free to go to their next class. All the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione was gushing about what class with Gilderoy Lockhart would be like. (Y/N) doubted it would be anything more than him talking about himself, and she was certain that by the end of it, her headache -- made leagues worse thanks to Mrs. Weasley's Howler -- would be much more prominent.