Millicent was glaring at the Bubotuber to her left, which had an air of anticipation around it, and seemed to her to be heaving slightly. Millicent did not trust it. She was fairly certain that it was only a few more shuddering movements away from bursting Bubotuber pus over everything—-which really shouldn’t be something at risk, but it looked like it needed to be squeezed out at least a week ago. She glanced longingly at the Screechsnap she’d come down to the greenhouse to care for, and then shuddered at the idea of the poor thing being attacked by the pus.

“Fay,” she called over her shoulder, “how do you feel about pretending this Bubotuber is Pansy or one of the Carrows and squeezing the hell out of it?”