Harry swallowed again and nodded, though he didn't really trust it to not trample him or anything. It was bigger than Dudders! "Okay."
"Come, look," the elephant-tiger said, and moved its lithe body closer to a nearby shrub. The shrub was a bit taller than Harry, with tiny white flowers and very long leaves. Harry could just make out tiny purplish-black berries tucked under the leaves. "This is the Devils' Walkingstick. See the gnarled trunk, and how it doesn't branch at all?"
Harry leaned closer and said, "Yes, sir," very softly.
"That's why it's called the Walkingstick, or sometimes, Hercules' Club. You may touch it, child, go on, but mind your fingers on the trunk, as it's covered in spines. When the leaves are young, you can cook and eat them like spinach. Do you like spinach, child?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Do you know what potions you might use this plant in?"
Harry shook his head. "No, sir," he said and knew he was a failure. Father would know. Father knew everything about potions.
"That's quite all right, child," the elephant-tiger said, and didn't yell at Harry for being stupid, so he relaxed some. The creature leaned into the plant to nibble on some of the leaves. Still chewing, he said to Harry, "The bark, shredded, has been used in fever reducers, and the berries when steeped, can be used in pain relief potions. You don't want to eat them raw, however. They'll upset your tummy."
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, and put all the information to memory, best he could.
The creature chuckled softly. "I'm no 'sir'," it said. "You may call me Apples."
Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. "Apples?"
The elephant-tiger-rhinoceros thing sighed. "Apples, yes. Alas for me, Molly Weasley chose to name me when she was only four years old, and her children refuse to call me different."
"I . . . I could call you different," Harry offered shyly. "If you want."
With a gentle smile, Apples shook its head. "It's all right, child. I've gotten used to it."
"I'm Harry. You could call me that."
"I shall then, Harry." Apples inclined his head slightly, almost a bow, and Harry felt his face heat. "Do you need more information, or will that do?"
"That's all, 'cept for another three plants," Harry murmured.
"Very well, let us find another, then."
"Yes, si . . . I mean, Apples."
"Thank you, Harry. Now along this tree, you can see a climber known as European Honeysuckle, otherwise known as Woodbine . . ."
---
The sun was higher in the sky, and the Weasley children were sitting in their places, chatting, and waiting for him when Harry finally turned around to face them, with the plush Apples in his lap. Treacle jumped into his lap a moment later, and he scritched her ears just how she liked it. In addition to showing him plants, Apples had told Harry he was actually a Baku, an ancient being from Japanese folklore which traditionally ate nightmares. Harry wished he could take the soft creature to his own bed, so his nightmares could be eaten.
"Hello, Harry. All done dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he said. He looked at the other children. "Sorry. I din't mean to take so long."
Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly. "That's quite all right. The objects sometimes take a bit of getting used to, but you can always take as long as you need. Did you get along well with Apples?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He didn't tell her the Baku would have liked a different name, since he knew that would be rude. "He's nice."
Her smile deepened. "Indeed." She looked at Ginny. "Ginny, dear, why don't you tell us what plants you learned about."
"Yes, Mum." Ginny closed her eyes and her brow furrowed for a moment before she said, "Shrivelfigs are used in Shrinking Solution, fluxweed is used in Polyjuice Potion, lovage is used in Confuddlement draughts, and so is sneezewort."
"Excellent, Ginny. Thank you." Ginny turned bright red with her mother's praise, and Harry grinned at her, glad she had done well. "Harry? Would you like to go next?"
The bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach, and he chewed on his lower lip as he nodded. It wasn't like he had a choice. But now they would all know he was stupid and shouldn't be 'lowed to go to school with them. "Yes, ma'am," he said, barely a whisper.
"Go ahead then, dear."
Harry stared at her, and couldn't think of a thing to say. His stomach turned over, and he was sure he was going to throw up his breakfast. His palms were all sweaty, too. Why couldn't he remember?
"Harry," Ron whispered beside him. "Just think about one plant, a'right? That way it's not so big a deal. Where did you go? Was it the woods? Did you see any trees?"
"Um, yeah, I mean, a shrub?"
"What did it look like?"
Harry described the Devils' Walkingstick to Ron, and by the time he got to what the berries and bark were used for, he had forgotten how nervous he was supposed to be. It helped that he had both Apples and Treacle in his lap, giving his hands something to touch and play with while he described his findings.
"Excellent, Harry dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed when he had finished going over his plants. "You did a marvelous job."
Harry felt his face redden, just like Ginny's had, and ducked his head. Surely Mrs. Weasley knew he wasn't meant to be praised? That he was stupid? Father didn't call him stupid, he knew, and said that Harry was very bright and was learning his writing and reading and maths really well, but, well, Father had to say that, didn't he? Because he was Father.
But Mrs. Weasley didn't laugh at him or take back her words, and none of the other Weasleys did either, so Harry didn't tell her not to say such things to him, and instead listened – though with his head still down – as Ron talked about the plants he had found, and then the twins came next, each one speaking every other line as Harry was starting to get used to. They provided even more information about their plants, including having a color display appear, of the Mediterranean island where the Rock Rose – used in a common sleeping draught – grew. It was very pretty. Even Mrs. Weasley said so.
Finally, they were done, and Mrs. Weasley let them get up and stretch their legs – encouraging the twins, particularly, to run about and work off some energy – for a few minutes before the next lesson. When she called them back, she posed another problem, this one about magical creatures, and added, "Try a different object this time. I want each of you to get used to using all of them, over time."
Harry knew she was talking to him, especially, as he had not let go of Apples yet, and had been hoping to talk to the Baku again in the next lesson. But he nodded like he was supposed to, and when she said, "Go!" he put Apples down reluctantly, and went to try out one of the other objects instead. To his surprise, the Funderbus was just as helpful as Apples, but different in its own way, and it actually made Harry laugh with the story it told about a tribe of rude and mischievous Cornish Pixies.
Once again, the children shared what they learned, and Harry was starting to feel not quite as stupid as he had before. After this lesson was over, Mrs. Weasley let them play gobstones if they wanted, or swivenhodge, a game where the players hit a ball – it had used to be an inflated pig's bladder, Fred told Harry, until that was deemed downright mean to pigs – back and forth over a hedge – in their case, a hedge conjured by Mrs. Weasley for the purpose – with brooms.
It was loads of fun.
Harry, Ginny and Fred were on one team, with George and Ron on the other. The game was played to a hundred points, but though Harry tried to keep close count, it seemed like no one else was, really, so he gave it up after a while and just enjoyed the swing of the broom and the thunk of the ball, the sight of it flying over the hedge, and trying to figure where it would come back to next. By the time Mrs. Weasley said they needed to break for lunch, they were all hot and sweaty and giggling like mad.