The Herb Club

The next fifty-six hours had to be the most physically challenging marathon of George's life. During Monday's lessons, George had just about been able to hide his degenerating condition. Luckily, no one seemed to notice or care to ask him if he was alright. The fact he had Astronomy on the seventh floor wasn't helping. Since stealing ingredients was a no-go, George made sure to eat well and have an early night. He needed to converse what little energy he had left.

By Tuesday, George's stamina was beginning to wane. Also, his unwell appearance was really starting to show. His hair was clearly thinning, and his skin was beginning to dry out and flake. Out of curiosity, George cut into his dry purple skin and found evidence of pink scales forming underneath. It appeared that he was moulting. The obvious solution was to transform again, but his instincts told him that would only exacerbate the problem.

George's true form was rejecting his human counterpart, like a failed organ transplant. Now that his human body was so weak, turning back and forth within the space of a few days might kill him. So he put up with the pain and dragged himself to his classes. He did get some funny looks and a concerned Sprout offering to take him to see Pomfrey. So that evening, George went to the girl's bathroom to brew a simple hair growth and skin smoothing potion to help hide his disfigurements.

By the time Wednesday had rolled around, the moving staircases were starting to look like mount Everest. George couldn't imagine making it to class by Thursday, he barely made it to the Defence Against the Dark Arts class on the third floor. Even with the help of his potions, he still looked like he had one foot in the grave. Quirrel didn't seem to be the observant type or he might have sent him for treatment. Thankfully, today was the last day George had to put up with this horrifically inconvenient condition.

Later that afternoon, George lay limply outside of Greenhouse One. His head hung low, and a single strand of saliva dripped down from his loose jaw. Its degrading appearance would leave spectators wondering whether he was sleeping or dead.

"George?"

With a gentle push, George was woken from his slumber. He jolted his head up only to regret it moments later. A shooting pain ran down his neck and into his lower back. He carefully raised his head and saw Neville looking down at him. A clear concern could be read on the boy's chubby face.

"Are you alright? You look awful", Neville asked while inspecting George's overgrown pointy fingernails and long thinning hair.

George rubbed his face and wiped the drool off his chin before checking his watch. The time was half five, right as the Herbology club was going to begin. George looked left and right and couldn't see anyone besides Neville standing in the Hogwarts gardens.

He looked back at Neville, "is it just you?"

"Erh…", Neville looked around, "I think so…"

George nodded, "that's fine. We can consider this week's meeting as a trial run."

"Yeah…sure", Neville didn't seem so convinced.

George struggled to get back on his feet only to lose his balance and fall against the greenhouse. Luckily, the massive thin glass panels were enchanted and wouldn't shatter so easily. Neville walked over and helped by putting an arm around George's back.

"Are you sick, George? Do you need me to take you to Madam Pomfrey?"

After regaining his footing, George push Neville away and supported his own weight. He assumed a confident smile and straightened his robes.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm perfectly fine."

"You don't look fine", Neville retorted while watching George's legs shake.

George smiled in response, "Did you ever hear that saying, Neville? The one about throwing stones in glass houses."

Neville's face scrunched up, "what are you talking about?"

"I'm just sayin'", George shrugged, "you're not much of a looker yourself. But you don't hear me complaining about it."

"At least I'm not going bald", Neville retorted.

"Words hurt, Neville."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's alright. Anyway… where is our Prefect president?", George asked whilst looking for Gemma.

Neville suddenly appeared to get a lot more nervous than usual.

"What is it?", George asked.

"She's erh… not coming", Neville answered under his breath.

"WHAT!"

Neville recoiled away whilst George pulled out a vial of Calming Draught and downed the whole thing. Once the boiling-over emotions subsided, George took a deep breath and turned back to Neville with a much more friendly disposition.

"Pardon me, I may have overreacted slightly. What was it you were saying about Gemma?", George asked calmly.

Neville took a second to respond, "she came to the Gryffindor table today and told me she wasn't going."

A little more residual anger flared in George, "did she say why?"

Neville scratched his head, "no... I don't think so."

George didn't need to hear anymore, he immediately began to hobble back into the castle. At the blistering pace of an eight-year-old grandma with arthritis, George arrived at the Great Hall with Neville easily keeping up. In their usual spot, Gemma and Lloyd were seated at the Slytherin table doing what they do best, procrastinating. George made his way over to them and didn't bother to wait for their asinine conversation to end.

"Gemma"

Gemma and Lloyd stopped talking and turned around at the same time. Their movement wasn't the only thing they had in sync, their expressions upon seeing George were equally as grim.

"Bloody hell! What happened to you?", Lloyd exclaimed.

"Just a minute, Lloyd", George turned to Gemma, "why did you tell Neville you're not coming to the club today?"

Gemma looked George up and down, "how about you tell me why you look like a walking corpse?"

"I was tricked into drinking a bad hair growth potion. It did the opposite. Now I'm dealing with the consequences. Happy?", George made up on the spot.

Gemma shrugged, "moderately."

"Are you gonna explain why you weren't at the club?", George repeated.

Gemma answered, "what made you think I would go?"

"You're the president, remember?"

"Yep. And?"

"You want me to spell it out?"

Gemma appeared rather smug as she explained, "nothing on that paper I signed meant I have to attend the meeting. It's like you said, I have no obligations."

"But what about the keys to the greenhouses, do you have them?"

"Oh, do you mean these?", Gemma pulled out a set of large rusty keys.

George recognised those keys, he'd seen Sprout with them on many occasions.

"Yes, those keys. Can I have them?"

Gemma threw the keys into the air and caught them again, "nope."

George's brow furrowed, "then what's the point of you having them?"

"My my. You sure do have a lot of questions today. It's a shame your not asking the right ones."

George took a second to rethink his approach before sitting down at the table.

"What do you want?", he asked flatly.

Gemma smiled, "there you go. I knew you'd get there eventually."

"Please spare me the condescension."

"Fine. I only want one thing anyway", Gemma pointed to her left, "you have to take him instead."

George looked over at Lloyd, "him?"

"It's simple. Lloyd will go to your meetings, he'll let you in the greenhouses in my place", Gemma explained.

"When did I agree to this?", Lloyd chipped in.

"About ten seconds ago, do keep up", Gemma answered condescendingly.

"...", Lloyd didn't have much to say after that.

As far as George was concerned, whether it was Gemma or Lloyd, it didn't matter. He just needed those keys.

"Deal", agreed George.

"Do I really have to do this?", Lloyd asked Gemma.

Gemma smirked, "do you want me to tell Joanna about that 'special' potion book you've been hiding under your bed…"

"Well I better get going, I do have a club to run", Lloyd hurriedly said before standing up and snatching the keys from Gemma.

And with that, the plan was back on track. George and Neville followed Lloyd to the gardens. Lloyd looked down the column of greenhouses before turning back to the first years.

"Which do you want to start in?"

George stepped forward eagerly, "Greenhouse Six."

Lloyd scratched the scar on his chin, "Greenhouse Six? That's the one with the Tentaculas in it, right?"

George nodded.

"Erh…", Lloyd looked towards the sixth greenhouse, "I don't know, Tentacula can be pretty nasty. I think we should save that for another day."

George pulled the silent Neville forward, "but that's what I and Neville want to see. Can't you just let us have a peep? We promise to not go touching anything."

"Look… It's not that simple", Lloyd pointed at himself, "I'm not even meant to be here. Holding these keys is enough to get me a week's worth of detention. If one of you gets hurt, then I could get expelled."

Lloyd began to walk toward the third greenhouse, "how about we start at Greenhouse Three and work our way along? I can show you the Mandrakes, they're pretty cool."

Sensing no way of talking his way around this one, George submitted and agreed to go into Greenhouse Three first. Lloyd proceeded to take the boys from one greenhouse to the next whilst offering brief explanations of the unusual plants they passed by. However, Lloyd's lack of knowledge started to show once they reached the more advanced greenhouses where Neville came into his own. That chubby face boy was in his element as he inspected each plant closely and made notes.

Whereas Neville looked like a child in a toy store, George wasn't able to enjoy the tour. His attention was solely on the sixth greenhouse. Just under half an hour into the club, they were currently in Greenhouse Five. George could help but stare at the Tentacula only a few feet away in the neighbouring greenhouse.

Lloyd checked his watch, "would you look at that? It's nearly time for dinner. I guess we'll have to call it here."

He turned to Neville and George, "are you guys ready to go?"

Both Neville and George looked equally disappointed. Begrudgingly, Neville began to leave the greenhouse, but George wasn't so willing. Unlike Neville, he couldn't afford to leave now. When Neville and Lloyd weren't looking, George reach over and picked up a pair of shears resting beside a plant pot. Then he rolled up his sleeve and stabbed them into his forearm. He kept applying pressure until a steady stream of blood began to pour down his arm.

Satisfied with his level of injury, George dropped the shears and ran over to Lloyd with a panicked look on his face. He was careful to avoid any blood dripping on his clothes.

"Lloyd, I've cut myself. Do you think I should go to Madam Pomfrey?"

Lloyd turned around, clearly infuriated, "what did I tell you about touching things, George? This could get me in a lot of trouble. It better not be too bad or…"

He stopped talking once he saw the gash in George's arm. Just like George remembered from a couple of months ago, Lloyd went pale and began to teeter left and right.

"Oh, that's erh… a lot of… blood. I think I need to… sit down."

Lloyd didn't so much as sit down. Instead, he opted for the collapsing on-the-spot method. On his way down, George made sure to reach forward with his uninjured hand to let Lloyd down gently. Well… at least that was what he intended to do. In reality, his muscles gave out again, and he went down with Lloyd. Both of them hit the ground, startling Neville who was halfway out of the greenhouse.

"What happened?", Neville asked in a panic.

George pushed off Lloyd's unconscious body and slowly got back to his feet. Then he held his bleeding arm in the air to slow the bleeding. Even in this terrible state, George knew his body would only take a few minutes to close the wound.

Once the bleeding stopped, George turned to Neville, "you should go and get Madam Pomfrey. I think Lloyd had fainted and banged his head."

"What about you? Your arm?", Neville asked nervously.

George shook his head, "I'll stay here with Lloyd and make sure he doesn't start choking on his tongue or something. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

Neville nodded soon after and bolted out of the greenhouse. Now that no one was watching, George lowered his arm and pulled out a jug of water and a towel from his enchanted sack. He cleaned his wound and wiped away the blood. Now, only a clotting gash was visible. With his sleeve rolled down, no one would know he'd even been hurt.

Then George bent over and reached into Lloyd's pockets. It didn't take him long to find the rusty keys. As a courtesy, George took off his robes and placed them under Lloyd's head to act as a cushion before he left the greenhouse. Luckily, the keys were labelled, so George didn't have much trouble getting into Greenhouse Six.

George entered what was by far the most humid of all the Greenhouses. The air was so thick with moisture that the far end of the room was obscured by a green fog. There must have been hundreds of potted plants in this room, but only the ones with moving vines caught his attention. George walked over to the row of Venomous Tentacula and inspected them. Fortunately, they were all mature and ripe for harvesting.

These plants weren't for the faint of heart, they could very easily kill and eat a man given enough time. Their most dangerous property is the small mouths on the end of each vine. They were filled with tiny fangs coated in a powerful venom that could paralyse someone in under a minute. To mitigate some of the risks, George put on his dragon hide gloves. Then he walked up to the first Tentacula and pulled out his wand.

He waited for one of the vines to separate from the rest before casting, "Diffindo!"

A small transparent wave flew out of his wand and struck the vine, splitting it in two. The Tentacula's vines squirmed like tentacles before coiling up into a ball. George reached over, picked up the separated vine of the table, and placed it into a preservation jar. He repeated this process across the entire line of carnivorous plants until he reached the largest at the end. It was over twice the size of the rest, and the vines were especially thick.

Regardless, George's Severing Charm was just as effective at cutting the big Tentacula's vines. Just like its brethren, the plant's still attached vines curled up in fear of another spell being thrown its way. But just as George was reaching for the detached vine, the plant unravelled and latched on to his glove. The vines quickly wrapped around his wrist and dug their vangs into the leather before George could react.

The plant's grip was so strong that George's feeble strength wasn't enough to pull himself free. To make matters worse, he couldn't even slip his hand out of the glove. In other words, George was trapped. The only good news was the fact his gloves weren't being penetrated by the fangs. At least the professors weren't going to find him partially digested, but that didn't mean they wouldn't find him nonetheless.

With his window of time ever shrinking, George repeatedly cast the Severing Charm on the stem of the plant. He kept the striking light hoping it would get the message and let him go. Every cut left deep cuts in the stem, and green dew leaked out like blood. Counterintuitively, the vines binding George's wrist only tightened. Now he could hardly feel his fingers, and the fangs were beginning to poke through the dragon's hide.

Then George's keen hearing picked up on the sound of hurried footsteps running towards the greenhouse. Considering where the footsteps were coming from, he could make an educated guess and say Neville had returned. George decided he'd given this plant enough of his time. He sent his most powerful strike yet at the stem and took a chunk the size of an apple out of it.

A fountain of green ooze poured out as the Tentacula recoiled and finally let go of George's arm. Now freed, he hit the floor right as Neville and Pomfrey were rounding the corner. George heard them enter the fifth greenhouse. During this time, he crawled on his hands and feet over to the door. He gingerly opened the door, left Greenhous Six, and locked it behind him.

Only then did George stand up and pull out the half-empty jug of water back out of his enchanted sack. He ran back into Greenhouse five to find Pomfrey and Neville kneeling beside Lloyd. It seemed that the queasy teen still hadn't awoken in his absence. Upon his entry into the room, Neville turned around and looked relieved to see George.

"George, where have you been?"

George held up the jug of water, "getting some water for Lloyd. I thought it would help."

"Good thinking", said Pomfrey, "come here and give me that."

George complied and handed over the jug of water. Pomfrey received the jug and began pouring its content over Lloyd's face. The teen immediately woke up and jolted forward.

"I'm alright!", Lloyd shouted in a state of delirium.

"Yes, you are. Now up you get", Pomfrey prompted.

Lloyd got back on his feet whilst rubbing the back of his head. Pomfrey also stood up and handed the jug back to George.

"I'll have you know, I'm very busy. I can't be wasting my time on such trivial ailments. If he faints again, don't bother coming to me. Just use another jug of water. The colder, the better."

She continued to stare at George for a little longer than he felt comfortable.

"Are you feeling well? You're looking a little... pale."

George formed a carefree smile, "absolutely fine, Madam Pomfrey. Never better."

Pomfrey squinted her eyes, "as you say… If you change your mind, my doors are always open."

She promptly left soon after, leaving the three boys alone. Lloyd still looked a bit disorientated and Neville was still recovering from the shock. George however, was in a great mood. The club had served his purpose and he could at last work on his recovery.

He put his arms around Lloyd and Neville and proclaimed, "same time next week?"