For the first time in his whole school career Damien was actually thankful for his school robes, thankful that they were being exposed to this freaking manure and not something he actually enjoyed wearing. Damn it all to hell, this was the literal, actual worst.

well, okay, it wasn't that bad, but this was disgusting and the look on his face showed exactly that, and he thought regular Herbo classes were unpleasant, cracking his jaw, the Gryffindor looked through the listed materials, picking and choosing based on whatever caught his eye rather than any particularly logical method.

But first, Cutting the twigs? did he put in the manure after? Damien hadn't been much paying attention during Professor's Mayer's talking and now he was standing there without a damn clue. He peeked up at the black board, trying to read through it all quickly but none of the words were sticking in his mind.

He let out a little frustrated noise, glancing back to his twigs and cutting them up carefully as he admonished himself. fudge, fudge, freaking fudge it all. Damien knew that he needed to be doing well in this class, failing would mean no job, and no job would mean living an empty, meaningless life, and living an empty meaningless life would lead him to a life of crime and desperation. HE DIDN'T HAVE IT IN HIM TO BE A COMMON CROOK, HE WASN'T MEAN ENOUGH.

Potato peels... Tea bags... Melon rinds...

He didn't need another, but he supposed the more materials the better the smell might be masked, which lead him to grab a handful of the dried flowers and placed them into a bucket, doing the same with the other three component.

Four buckets, now he just needed the stupid, bloody disgusting, merlin-forsaken Knarl Manure. BLERGH. He reached in, hands safely hidden beneath the Dragonhide gloves he wore, and grabbed a clump of the stuff, all the while, down his best not to breath through his nose.

This is so freaking gross. Damien thought before putting the clump into the bucket. He had all five, not bad, not really, the worst was yet to come, he knew that, but he would begrudgingly deal with it when it came. Taking the buckets in hand Damien wandered back to his crate and awaited further gross instruction.