"Oh! Right, the lesson!" Hagrid's booming voice pulled everyone's attention back to the classroom. He patted the gnarled tree beside him with a massive hand. "Today, I've got a treat for you—a bunch of adorable little ones!"
He tapped the treetop twice. "Come on out, you lot. Don't be shy!"
Under the class's curious stares, a few slender twigs poked hesitantly from the trunk's knothole.
"No need to fret, they're harmless," Hagrid coaxed. "All good eggs, they are—they won't bite."
As if reassured by his words, several Bowtruckles emerged fully, their twig-like bodies clutching at Hagrid's fingers like they were trying to hide behind his palm.
Argus had been on edge until then. Magical Creatures class could go sideways fast, especially with Hagrid at the helm. Page seventeen of the textbook listed a dozen tricky beasts, and until the last second, he couldn't pin down what "little ones" meant. If things soured and Hagrid got sacked, where would he source his Hogwarts supplies?
"The Bowtruckle's a timid sort," Hagrid explained, his eyes lighting up as he delved into the topic. "Lives in trees, eats woodlice and the like."
He rattled off their habits and quirks with enthusiasm. The Bowtruckles gradually relaxed, peering warily at the students.
"Right, I've got some fresh woodlice here," Hagrid said, hauling a wooden bucket from under a nearby tree. It writhed with the creepy crawlies, enough to make skin crawl. "Feed 'em up nice, and you'll earn a twig in return—good luck charms, those are."
He scanned the group. "Argus, mate, why don't you kick things off?"
Hagrid wasn't daft; he knew starting with a steady hand like Argus would ease the rest.
All eyes swiveled to him. Argus stepped forward without a flinch, dipping into the bucket. He scooped two woodlice climbing the rim, cupping them in his palm, and extended his hand toward the nearest Bowtruckle.
The creature flinched, ducking behind Hagrid's fingers but peeking out curiously.
"Easy now," Argus murmured, holding steady to show he meant no harm.
"Don't be scared, little fella," Hagrid added. "He's got your favorites—proper feast."
With Argus's patience and Hagrid's encouragement, one Bowtruckle ventured forth. It snatched the woodlice and munched away on the back of Hagrid's hand.
The class erupted in cheers. "Quick, Argus—grab more!" Hagrid urged. "Keep it going!"
Argus drew his wand, casting a silent Wingardium Leviosa on the bucket. A few woodlice floated lazily to his palm. He offered them again, and this time, two Bowtruckles clambered aboard, chowing down without hesitation.
Emboldened, Argus gently stroked their heads. One shook itself irritably but soon ignored him, too focused on its snack. When it finished, the creature tilted its head at Argus, then scampered back into the tree, emerging with a slender twig clutched in its grasp.
Hagrid grinned ear to ear. "See that? Treat 'em polite, and they're your mates. Who's next?"
Hands shot up like fireworks. "Me!" "Pick me!"
The students buzzed with excitement, Argus's success sparking a frenzy.
"Easy now, one at a time!" Hagrid chuckled, holding them back. He knew the Bowtruckles' skittish nature—too many at once, and they'd bolt or worse.
Harry had been itching to join in. Hagrid was their friend, after all, and this was his big debut as professor. Skipping out felt disloyal.
He'd barely moved when Ron yanked him back. "Harry... er, can we skip the bug part?"
Harry blinked. "What, the woodlice? They're harmless."
Ron's face paled, his arachnophobia bleeding over to anything crawly. But with everyone else diving in, he couldn't chicken out alone—especially not dragging Harry into his mess.
Harry sighed. He didn't want to bruise Hagrid's ego; Ron's flakiness had already strained things. "Ron, it's Hagrid's first class. If we bail, who'll back him up? Those Slytherins?"
Ron bristled. "Argus doesn't count—we're Gryffindors! Fine, I'll do it!"
Muttering, Ron stomped to the bucket, squeezed his eyes shut, and grabbed a fistful of wriggling woodlice. He shuffled toward a Bowtruckle, body rigid with dread.
The creature was mid-feast, surrounded by eager, courteous feeders. Ron, eyes still closed, thrust his hand out clumsily.
Hagrid's mouth opened in warning, but the Bowtruckle seemed unbothered—at first.
Blind to the woodlouse inching up his sleeve, Ron scratched an itch at his neck. His eyes flew open just as the critter tickled his skin.
With a yelp, he flung the handful away. The startled Bowtruckle in his other hand tumbled to the ground, screeching.
Chaos erupted. The rest of the Bowtruckles panicked, vanishing into the tree like startled squirrels.
Argus hadn't seen that coming. He'd been mentally plotting a Time-Turner jaunt for later supplies when Ron's fiasco derailed everything. At least no one was hurt—Hagrid's job hung by a thread as it was.
The class shot Ron dirty looks. Their shot at bonding with the creatures? Ruined.
Ron hunched, mumbling apologies, head down in shame. Hagrid, ever the softie, just sighed and shifted to lecture mode, salvaging what he could.
Whispers followed Ron out of class, fingers pointing. He trudged ahead, silent.
Two steps in, a branch plummeted from above, jabbing him square in the eye.
Ron's howl echoed through the Forbidden Forest like a banshee's wail.
"Ahhh!"
---
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