Errand Pocketful of Posies

@Boniface Murtagh MacTavish

Piérre was skipping out to Hogwarts’ grounds, admiring the snow which sparkled gaily on the ground, more than prepared to work at a task that he (I assume) had heard from Mister Bonni in one of his Herbology classes. It was something along the lines of going out to the gardens and collecting herbs before the winter frost completely settled in to ruin the lovely little greens which tentatively poked their verdant heads about everywhere. Well, call him a procrastinator, but Piérre had mulled over doing this task for a while before finally convincing himself as he watched glittering bits of snow fall outside of his dorm window the night before. What if Mister Bonni didn’t have anyone to help him? The plants would be ruined, and then what? No tea!

So, here he was, kicking up clods of snow as he went giggling towards the greenhouses. The snow was just deep enough that it made the entire area look like a flat area, so in order for him to even possess a ghost of a chance to find the herb fields, he would have to get to the Greenhouses themselves and then retrace his footsteps from memory by how many paces it usually took his long legs to reach the area. It was the only way he could remember anything about location, what with the photographic memory and tactile learning methods he possessed.

Pressing to the greenhouse glass, Piérre peered into the area, cupping his hands as he attempted to gaze through the frost and fog that was thick on the inside of the warm area. Exhaling on the glass to warm it, Piérre rubbed at it, looking inside just enough to see the plethora of plans that he knew belonged to his teacher for his lectures. He wanted to see if he could spot Mister Bonni or any other students beforehand he went out. He did see several students, boys and girls, all of different hoses, already inside and beginning to dry and prepare their herbs. From the distance he was at, though, Piérre couldn’t quite make out what kind of herbs they were exactly. In the corner of his eye, He spotted something that he thought couldn’t have been Mister Bonni, and he grinned cheekily, waving quickly and shouting at the window, even though he knew his voice was probably going to be completely muted because of the thick glass, ”Mister Bonni! Hiiiii! I’m gonna help tooooo!”

Some of the students, distracted by Piérre’s excited waving, looked up from the work to see the young first year waving like a lunatic, and they nudged their buddies to have a gander at the excitable boy. There was some pointing and laughing, but Piérre only waved at them too. ”I’m gonna be in there sooooon! Save a spot for meeee!” Without another word, Piérre pulled away form the window, jogging as he counted his paces towards the fields where he knew the herbs were supposed to be

Reducio

Rolled to Determine House Color for the day:

1- Hufflepuff
2- Ravenclaw
3- Gryffindor
4- Slytherin

Number Rolled: 4
Slytherin

With a satisfied sigh, Piérre flopped into the snow, causing countless bits of it to swirl around him as if he was sitting within a snowglobe, throwing his green scarf around his shoulders again. Today he had vouched to dress as a Slytherin. Other than the fact that he rather loved silver and green, he also had a basic scientific knowledge that the darker the color the more he would be kept warm. Well, the darkest color he could find right off the bat had in fact been his forte green scarf and black coat that he had first brought at Madam Malcom’s. He was quite relieved that he had agreed to Mathilda’s urging to take the warm winter coat. Without it, he would have been an icicle already.

Oh well, better start to get to work.

With black gloved hands, Piérre dug at the ice and snow, delicately breaking it away from the green earth beneath to reveal the tiny spuds and herbs which looked deceivingly like grass. Piérre knew better than that however, and so he carefully cleared away the ice fragments in order to get at the tender sprouts.

Picking a couple, Piérre turned them in his hands, trying to recall what kind of herbs they could be. Scratching the green of it, he smelled its insides, and was immediately met with a barrage of sharp scent. A strong herb, either used for medicine or flavoring. Rolling it between his fingertips, Piérre noted its coarseness and ability to fall apart in his hands. It was a tough herb, and it, fortunately, was used to the cold. It was good he was coming across it now, even if it didn’t need to be picked right now.

Something about the way it smelled was familiar, though, and against his better judgement, Piérre nipped the tip of the grasslike herb, willing himself to identify it by taste. It was spicy and yet slightly bitter, and it caused Piérre’s eyes and mouth to water, but he recognized the bite of the plant almost immediately. It was chive. He loved growing chive, especially when he had lived in Italy with its warm climate. Chive grew in abundance in his shady backyard, and he used to eat the grass almost by the handful, using it for flavoring meals and spicing up the appearance of dinner.

Looking around to make sure nobody was watching, Piérre shoved a few of the herbs into his pocket, whether for lunch or for some other occasion, probably the former in order to spice up a meal in the Great Hall, and then tucked the other large clump of them into a satchel at his side, which he had brought in order to perform this task and carry with him a good amount of spices.

Moving on fromt he area and admiring how his footprints sunk into the snow, Piérre ran across several other herbs, including mints, basils, thymes, and even a few others, including a straggling patch of lavender which had somehow been protected by a thin layer of frost covering its petals, and cilantro, one of Piérre’s personally favorite herbs. He loved to play with cilantro, and was even fond of putting it in his hair, tangling it within his thick hair to form the impression of a green crown.

Now he did so, placing a few of the leaves in his hair around his ears, and yet, sparing a couple in order to do some preserving as he made his way back to the Greenhouses. When he got to the door, he opened it, receiving a blast of warm air as he walked in, covered in snow and plant matter, his satchel bulging with herbs and spices. He hoped this was what Mister Bonni was looking for, and if he wasn’t, well, at least he would have some plants to spice his food up with! Maybe some cooking was in order!

”Mister Bonni @Boniface Murtagh MacTavish! I’ve got some herbs!” Piérre called out happily, flashing the satchel in front of him as he looked around at the other individuals, who were snickering under trailer breaths. Piérre smiled, causing his green eyes to sparkle as he glanced around, trying to find something he could use to begin to preserve or dry out the herbs. He, while he had never done it with Hogwarts methods, was quite familiar with preparing, drying, and preserving certain spices and plant matter, since he had lived in an very cook-oriented household in the past. Maybe today he could learn a new, more efficient way of doing it! ”Is there something I should get out? Maybe... um... is there like a kiln or a water basin or something after we tie them together? Do we need to dry them?” Ah, questions. The trademark of Piérre. Today was a good day, today he would bounce off the walls.

He only hoped Mister Bonni would either understand his excitement or would be able to tolerate the energetic boy’s willingness to help out.

1,332 words