A Little Help from a Snake // Tomarry

45: The Skrewts Started the Fire

It was always burning
Since the world's been turning...

Anyway, enjoy the repost!

Reposted: December 7, 2021

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It's been almost a full month since the term started. Man, time sure does fly. Except when it doesn't

Two weeks passed. The skrewts, which were now six feet long, had started killing each other, reducing their numbers to ten. Hagrid tried to see if they hibernated by having the class lure them into enormous boxes, but that didn't work.

"Don panic, now, don' panic!" Hagrid yelled as the skrewts ran amok in the pumpkin patch. Most of the class barricades themselves in Hagrid's cabin, but a few— Harry and Tracey included— tried to help restrain the skrewts.

"Don' frighten him, now!" Hagrid shouted as Ron used his wand to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the skrewt, which was advancing menacingly on him, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. "Jus' try an slip the rope 'round his sting, so he won hurt any o' the others!"

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that!" Ron shouted angrily as he backed into the wall of Hagrid's cabin, still holding the skrewt off with their sparks.

"Well, well, well... this does look like fun."

Rita Skeeter was leaning against the the fence, watching the chaos reign.

"Who're you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt's sting and tightened it.

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter," Rita replied, beaming at him.

"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore," said Hagrid.

"What are these fascinating creatures called?" Rita asked, ignoring his words.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," grunted Hagrid.

"Really?" said Rita in feigned interest. "I've never heard of them before... where do they come from?"

By the dull red flush under Hagrid's beard, Harry could guess harbor a guess.

"They're very interesting," Hermione said, "aren't they? Aren't they. Ron?"

"What? Oh, yeah, very." Ron nodded quickly, wincing from the well-aimed kick that went unnoticed due to his robes.

"Ah, you're here. Harry!" Rita said, beaming at Harry as though they have been friends for years when in fact they never spoken up until now. "So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?"

"It's not a bad class," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Quite fun," Tracey added, tactfully leaving out the fact that her robes were badly singed.

"Lovely," said Rita. "Really lovely. Been teaching long?" she added to Hagrid.

She looked over the other students who had stayed behind to help round up the skrewts, taking note of their injuries, then at the rest of the class, who were pressed up against the window.

"This is o'ny me second year," said Hagrid.

"Lovely... I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these— er— Bang-Ended Scoots."

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Hagrid said eagerly. "Er— yeah, why not?"

Harry felt a flash of unease. So far, Rita hadn't written anything that reflected badly on him or his family, but she was obviously dying to write up her own twisted tale. But he could do nothing but watch as they make plans to meet up at the Three Broomsticks that week.