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Riding Acromantulas and Understanding Magical Biology (harry potter/worm)

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cyberswordsmen said:
Vegetable has no official definition in the scientific sense because it is a culinary term. Fruits do have a scientific definition in addition to the culinary one which can cause some confusion due to the two definitions not fully matching in all cases.
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Fouredged Sword said:
Try looking up the legal US definition of fruit or vegetable. Many judges over many decades have twisted them into knots to maintain the historic applications of various tariffs and taxes. There are taxes that apply to vegetables but not fruit. Those taxes apply to tomatoes, despite the fact that tomatoes are fruit. The reasoning basically boils down to "because a judge said so" and the whole of the US justice system is now honer bound to uphold that opinion due to the legal concept of precedent.
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To be specific, the Supreme Court ruled that tomatoes are vegetables. And that tomato-shaped pincushions are also vegetables.
 
cyberswordsmen said:
What court case resulted in this insane ruling?
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Nix v Hedden.
Nix v. Hedden, 149 U.S. 304 (1893),[1]​ was a decision by the Supreme Court of the United States that, under U.S. customs regulations, the tomato should be classified as a vegetable rather than a fruit. The Court's unanimous opinion held that the Tariff Act of 1883 used the ordinary meaning of the words "fruit" and "vegetable", instead of the technical botanical meaning.
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Oddly enough, today was the 122nd anniversary of the ruling.

As for the pincushion part, see this newspaper article from 1947. See, the makers of pincushions somehow managed to get them classified as "artificial fruit", except thanks to Nix v Hedden, a tomato shaped pincushion is an "artificial vegetable", and thus has a lower tariff.
 
Erm, Taylor? Amy?
Yes dear?

What the bloody hell are you two doing this time?
Why, can't you tell?

Humor me.
We're learning how to knit of course! *holds up a scarf*
Emphasis on 'learning'.
Hey! Not everyone has spiders to do most of the work for you.
Yes, but THAT is done by spiders, and THIS is done by my own hands.
"My own hands" hah!
... technically.

... knitting.
How are the mandible gloves working out?
They're wonderful! Thanks Amy... speaking of which how is my idea holding up?
Not very well I suppose
*holds up the scarf again*
Back to the drawing board?
Yeah. It seems you can't really upscale a deoxyribonucleic-acid sequence mapper without it falling apart.
Pity.

... knitting, with buckets of... goo all over the place...
Yes, that's another shortcoming we'll have to fix. Oh, and Taylor, can you pass me the needles? The normal ones? I have another idea.
Ok.
*a butler in a tophat, several monocles and a tie holds out a fist-sized hedgehog of knitting needles stuck on a spider-shaped... something, which jumps onto Amy*
And do pick up your drink. You hadn't had anything since we started.
Yes mother.
Don't take that tone with me, young lady.
*giggles* Yes mother
... I walked into that one, didn't I?
Oh so yes. *almost takes a sip of tea from her cup*
.... oh, and forgive our manners. Taylor, can you pass our guess a drink?
Sure.
*the butler turns around, surprisingly agile despite its eight-legged bulk and its huge abdomen. Picking up a cup daintily from a service with its mandibles, it begins to fill a cup*

... Erm, girls, I'll let myself out. I'm not really thirsty.
Nonsense, Mister Wesley, I insist.
And besides, we can use the company. The other students have been avoiding us for some reason...

I wonder whhhhhhaaaaaaahhhhhh!!
*instinctive shout of fear from the Acromantulas suddenly beside him, offering him a delicate teacup*
 
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24. Trouble Bound: Of heart
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    • Of heart​

    A hand shook my shoulder, an insistent "Amy, Amy wake up," disturbing my rest. I wasn't sleeping, I was just resting my eyes for a bit. It was different, damn it.

    "I'm aa..." I tried to stop it, but the yawn ripped itself from me regardless. Traitor. "...wake. I'm awake."

    I blinked the cotton webs away. Taylor was standing in front of me, wearing the black robes of the Hogwarts uniform. The window's blind had been lowered and the books she'd taken out of her suitcase were nowhere to be seen. How long had I been out?

    "A prefect came by." She said, drawing back. "We're nearing Hogwarts. Put on your uniform and get your things ready. I'll step out for a moment, give you some privacy."

    It took me a moment to remember what she was talking about. "Ah, okay." Something inane came to my mind out of nowhere. "Did he tell you about the hat?"

    "The hat?" She looked confused for a moment, brows furrowing slightly more, but it cleared up quickly and her expression returned to normal. "Oh yeah, that. She mentioned it. Did you hear her?"

    "No. Hagrid told me." I grunted, getting to my feet. My legs felt half-asleep and my neck hurt. It was such a bad habit, falling asleep sitting up. I stretched my arms above my head. "Back in Diagon Alley. Just remembered it now."

    Taylor nodded and left, closing the door behind her. I sighed. I'd slept too much and now I was tired. And sore. I rubbed my neck and looked up. The light set in the ceiling had been turned on. I'd honestly thought it was ornamental, since wizards didn't appear to even comprehend the concept of electricity but… ah. I briefly saw it flicker and sway, like a candle. Of course. Fire-powered. How silly of me.

    With a bit of struggle, I hauled down my suitcase. A trunk, Hagrid had called it, but it was more like a full blown chest, like those use to travel in the nineteenth century. Wizards seemed to be full of anachronisms like those. Then, I had to dig out my wizard robes. I was familiar with the style but, unlike my uniform, these weren't as large and lacked a hood. It was nostalgic, putting them on. I hadn't worn my uniform, Panacea's uniform in… God knew how long. Leviathan, probably, nearly a couple of months ago. I hadn't bothered with it afterwards. Too much to do, no need for a conspicuously pristine white robe that would only get dirty. Blood, various unpleasant bodily fluids, heck, all the water and mud everywhere.

    I threw the black cloak over my shoulders and quickly checked how I looked using the window as a budget mirror. I looked like a kid, the kid I was, but at least the robes fit me. I was wearing the over-sized, worn secondhand clothes the Dursleys provided me with underneath and I adjusted my collar so that the t-shirt wouldn't be visible. If wizards wanted to go around naked under their robes, in bloody freezing Scotland, that was their problem. Me, I liked being warm.

    The only part of the uniform that I didn't put on was the pointed hat. For ceremony use only, unless you were a first year student at the Start-of-Term Feast. In which case, no hat. The reason for that particular and awfully specific idiosyncrasy escaped me. Why no hats? Not that I was complaining, the hats were quirky, but honestly I'd prefer a hood. Hagrid had said it was tradition. I supposed that made as much sense as anything here.

    I knocked on the door. "Okay, I'm done."

    Taylor entered and sat down. "They say we're less than half an hour away from Hogsmeade Station."

    I hummed. "Okay, so now what? We wait?"

    She shrugged. "What else is there to do?"

    My eyes drifted to the jar of multicolored beans I'd pushed into the corner hours ago. "Well…."

    *​

    "I hate pumpkin!"

    "Sorry! Honestly thought that was orange." Taylor shook her head absentmindedly and said something. I couldn't hear her over the din of the crowd on the platform. "What!?"

    "I said! Doesn't matter! We'll be eating dinner soon anyway!" She repeated, loudly.

    Hundreds of students were pouring out of the train into the small station, dragging their luggage with them. They talked, laughed, cried, and yelled to be heard over the noise. And the first years like us? We were lost in a sea of hysterical teenagers. I'd never really appreciated how small I'd become until then. My height had always been below average, but with the Dursleys' insistence on treating me like a bonsai, keeping me in small spaces and feeding me less than recommended, I was tiny. First years didn't have to take their luggage with them, so we couldn't protect ourselves with that and instead we were being pushed, pulled and squashed between people and suitcases.

    Somebody had bumped me, making me trip right into the corner of a hard square case. My ribs were painfully bruised. Night had already fallen and I couldn't see anything but black robes all around, surrounding me. I couldn't even see my own two feet. Maybe it was a good thing we didn't have to remove our bags ourselves. The crowd would swallow us and trample us under their weight. Not to mention, how would I protect Victoria's fragile cage?

    "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Hagrid's voice boomed like thunder, making itself heard by everybody. At that, the crowd finally started to move with a specific direction. And the press of bodies was moving away from Hagrid, the older students going in the opposite direction and dragging us with them. Who had had the bright idea to make the station this small?

    A hand grabbed my arm and started pulling me along, back the right way. It was Skitter, tethering me, moving so that I was in front of her and no longer in danger of being dragged away by the human currents. I had to look up, over my shoulder, to see her face. She was about half a foot taller than me. Her eyes were pointing in front, but she wasn't looking through them, certainly not seeing another black robed back. Her bugs?

    We made it out of that mess and it was like coming up for air. And it was, because between elbows and Taylor glued to my back, breathing had been hard. This was why I hated crowds. And concerts and night clubs. Without Victoria they were sweaty mess and with her...

    "Amy?" I snapped my head back. Taylor was a couple of steps ahead, looking expectantly at me.

    "Yeah, yeah. Just bruised." I waved her off. "Usually, my sister does crowd control."

    She nodded, a faint smile on her lips, and we joined Hagrid and the dozen kids huddled around him. The giant greeted me overenthusiastically, nearly making me collapse when he rested, read slapped, his heavy hand on my shoulder. And my arm and half my back. I introduced him to Taylor, who asked if he was the one who'd take care of her dog, and they had a short chat as the lost first years started gathering near us. When Hagrid finally managed to do a complete headcount, since kids kept crawling out of the woodwork, he raised his lamp and took us down a narrow, winding path. The trees blocked the little light that came from the moon. I started by tripping on the path's stones and ended up slipping on them. The only reason I didn't end up sprawled on the floor with skinned knees and hands was Taylor, who stayed by my elbow and not only managed to keep her balance in the dark, but also somehow knew when I was going for a faceplant and held me up.

    Around a bend, the steep path tapered off into a small quay, with numerous rowboats lined up in the water. The lake, black-watered at this hour, was big and surrounded by fields and forest. But it was nothing compared to the rest of the view. On our right rose cliffs, and on those cliffs there was a castle.

    A castle that felt magical, even from a distance.

    "Wow!" I gasped and wasn't alone in that. Besides me, Taylor was actually smiling for once. It was dark, we were tired and a bunch of the kids had slipped and gotten their dresses wet, but the morale was at an all-night high. We were going to live there for a year. Awesome.

    After another headcount, as we were fifty-something kids and I doubted Hagrid was supposed to lose a single one of us, we split into groups of four, one for each boat. One of two guys in the boat with us seemed to know Taylor, nodding shyly at her, but the other didn't utter a word. The rowboats didn't have oars and just glided across the lake. The dark water was still enough, and like a mirror, it reflected the castle on the cliffs. I couldn't help but compare this to the last time I'd been on a wooden boat. But now I wasn't worried about falling, or better, being pushed off board. I was safe, headed into a big castle, lit by thousand of torches, with more towers than I could count blocking the stars. It didn't look like a fairytale, princess castle. It was more down to earth, more real and solid, like a fortress. Far more solid than a little shack on a rock.

    Next to me, Taylor leaned over, whispering in my ear. "There's a city underneath us, underwater. I think it's inhabited. There are also a lot of crustaceans I don't recognize. Probably magical animals."

    "Hah. That's... interesting." It was but….

    Taylor nodded and sat straight again, leaving only our arms barely touching. I pushed away the disappointment I had no reason to feel. For a moment, her body pressed against mine, I had thought that it'd be nice to cuddle with her. Given the cold, wintry air and all that. Cuddling with Skitter. That was hilarious. And sad, but also hilarious. And ironic.

    *​

    "It's bigger on the inside." Taylor whispered to me.

    "It looks the same size to me." I said, thinking about the absolutely massive entrance hall with the giant staircase rising deeper into the castle. What it must be like to have classes in this place….

    Taylor shook her head. "The entrance hall maybe, but this room and the rest of the castle definitely aren't. There are some weird things going on here."

    I looked at her, searching her face and finding traces of strain around her eyes. "How do you even know this?"

    "My bugs." She said simply and I nodded. She could feel through them after all.

    "So," I began, seeing as the kids around us were panicking, "should we aim for the same house?"

    Taylor let out a breath, controlled. "Can we? Aim for a specific house, that is? All that we know is that this Sorting isn't harmful and even that… could be wrong." Because we couldn't be certain of anything. Great, remind me of how fucked we may be again, don't you? I clench my right hand, feeling my fingers twinge again. Taylor looked me in the eye. "We'll manage, either way we will find a way to get through it."

    I nodded and lowered my head. Those weren't exactly the words I'd wanted to hear, but if nothing else, at least Skitter could inspire some confidence. She sure as hell didn't look as scared as I was feeling. Another stupid feeling too, for a variety of reasons, number one of which was the very reason I was scared.

    A shriek cut through the chatter and we whirled around. My heart had jumped to my throat and… I exhaled, bewildered. Floating a foot off the ground, a pair of translucent figures stopped arguing between themselves and looked at the gaggle of eleven year olds that were staring at them.

    "Oh, the new students!" One of them clapped his hands happily. "Welcome, welcome to Hogwarts!" He fluttered down excitedly, trying and failing to mingle with the kids. The other remained at a respectable distance, also smiling, but looking vaguely exasperated.

    "Ghosts?" Proposed Taylor in a low voice.

    "I guess." I said, keeping my eyes on them. Had one of the school books mentioned ghosts? I thought they had, but I hadn't been expecting to actually meet any. I hadn't paid much attention to what the books said. They had been interesting, nice to read but… I hadn't really seen the point of it all. "They remind me of Crusader's projections." I extended a hand to touch one of the transparent beings as he passed by and it went right through his body. My body felt cold, like I'd just been doused with a bucket of ice, but there was nothing else. Whatever they were, they weren't biologically alive. "Less solid."

    This was kind of creepy, I thought as I saw the other prospective students start to talk back to the ghosts, asking questions about the school, the Sorting. These were dead people. Had they gone to the other side and decided this was better? Was something tethering them here? Some unfinished business, some deep regret? And wasn't it really odd, seeing as this could still be some sort of purgatory or hell or whatever, a possibility I hadn't completely dismissed yet, that there were sort of dead people here? Like one of those Russians dolls, stacked up inside. Layers upon layers.

    McGonagall, the old-style teacher that had greeted us at the castle's door, had said it would only be a few minutes and she delivered on that promise, appearing through the door that separated us from the entrance hall. She shooed away the ghosts and, after instructing us to form two lines, took us back to the entrance hall and through the great doors to the Great Hall.

    It deserved the capitalization. It was as cavernous and majestic as the name would suggest. There were four tables running the length of the hall, one for each house, each marked by their giant tabard on the front wall. They were wide, longer than any other table I'd seen, seating at the very least a hundred people, each with their own set of golden plates. One last table was set perpendicularly to those four, up on a raised platform at the end of the hall, and there sat an eclectic mix of adults. Teachers, I supposed. Behind them, there was a giant window, and in the smooth stone walls of the hall, other windows were set at regular intervals. Candles floated around and, between the windows, winged gargoyles holding torches in their hands, providing the illumination. And above... there was no ceiling. The walls rose and rose, opening to the nearly cloudless, star-speckled sky outside.

    Which made no sense because I'd seen the castle from outside and this part of the building definitely had a roof. A high, very much there roof, with a little tower and everything.

    "It's an illusion." Taylor must have noticed me gaping like a fish out of water. "There's a ceiling, it just looks like it isn't there." Did she have bugs everywhere?

    "A bloody invisible ceiling." Wizards took skylight to a whole new level, but you couldn't argue with the results. It looked, once again, magical.

    We followed McGonagall down the center of the hall between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, being stared at by hundreds of eyes, living and not, all around us. We lined up in front of the staff's table, our backs facing the faculty plus Hagrid. I resisted the urge to tuck my errant curls behind my ear. If I did, everybody would see the scar. They were all peering up at us, waiting. I could see it in their faces: curiosity, excitement, boredom, schadenfreude…. It felt just like being at the podium for a press conference. And I hated press conferences.

    Then McGonagall went and placed a stool in front of us, and a ratty witch hat on the stool. All the students sitting on the tables quieted down and anticipation filled the atmosphere.

    The world had stopped making sense again. Was this a pageant to determine who was worthy of looking fabulous with a pointy hat on? Would we have to show our sense of style to the whole school? Just, what?

    There was a fluttering sound, loud in the silence, then another. The hat wiggled in place and with a loud rip, a seam opened. Then it hunched into itself, actually hunched, and twisted. In between the folds, the shadows and that rip, I recognized the shape of a face. It looked at us, over its… brim. Was that the hat equivalent of looking over one's shoulder? The world really wasn't making much sense at all. Then it cleared its throat. Except hats don't have throats to clear. Or lungs to breathe or anything. They were made of fabric and... I was overthinking this, wasn't I? It was magic. It didn't need to make sense. Powers didn't make much sense either and I'd lived with powers my whole life, hadn't I? The hat started to sing a cheerful song. It sounded male, so maybe it was a he instead of an it?

    I was too nervous, my guts felt like they were tied into a knot. I surreptitiously took a deep breath, focusing on the hat's catchy tune. I glanced at Taylor by my side. It was difficult to be sure, with the uniform and all, but she looked tense to me too. The thought that I wasn't alone in my nerves actually relaxed me, never mind the company. A month ago, I would have punched somebody if they had dared suggest that Skitter's presence would be even remotely relaxing.

    After the students had finished clapping for the Hat, Professor McGonagall took a step forward and addressed us. Somewhere along the line she'd picked up a scroll. "When I call your name, you will put on the Sorting Hat and sit on the stool. Understood? Very well."

    It was really just putting on a hat, I thought as the first student, a girl, was sorted into Hufflepuff. It was ridiculous but certainly fit with everything that had happened so far. A tug on my hand broke me away from my thoughts. Taylor. She leaned slightly towards me and I copied her. "What is it?" I whispered.

    "Be prepared." She warned, lowly. "This could get ugly, fast."

    Many things had changed between Skitter and I, but apparently her ability to ties my insides into increasingly complicated and painful knots wasn't one of them. "What the hell do you mean by that!?" I stopped and shot a look around us, but it didn't seem I'd spoken too loud.

    "That hat," hissed Taylor. "It can see our minds. And we're different. We're not eleven, for one. And that's not counting everything else that it could find out rummaging in our heads."

    Shit. I glanced at the Hat. It seemed to mutter to himself a lot, and hum loudly, but the only words that came out of his mouth, seam-rip-whatever, loudly enough to be heard were the names of the Houses. Maybe she was being too paranoid about this. I hoped. "But if this is an illusion, do you really think that will happen?" I whispered rapidly to her.

    "Good time to break the charade. It'd be chaotic." Ah, fuck. The boy by my other side startled. Fuck, I'd say that out loud, hadn't I? Taylor grabbed my hand more firmly this time and I snapped my gaze forwards, just in time to see one of Malfoy's body guards being called up. Goyle. We were already at the G? "Anyway, I'm getting my swarms into position just in case."

    I stopped myself from looking up. That was probably where she had her creepy crawlies gathering. "What should I do?"

    "Just be prepared."

    And the professor called out: "Granger, Taylor!"

    With one last squeeze of my fingers and without a trace of hesitation, she walked to the stool and put the Hat on. I waited. And waited.

    *​

    Hmmm…. Well, this is different. And difficult, very difficult.

    I'm going to Sort you, of course. I'm a Sorting Hat, that's what I do.

    Well, you need to be a Thinking Hat to be a Sorting Hat. I'm also a Singing Hat. I'm glad you noticed, not many do. But let me-

    No, why would I? I'm the Sorting Hat, and it's nobody's business but mine where I Sort students and why. Any more questions? I am not an Answering Hat.

    So what do we have here… A sharp mind, quick and hardy. Very, very willful. Bravery, plenty of it, and daring… Oh I see, determination! You have something to do. Very important to you. Perhaps Slytherin would suit you...

    No? I see, and no patience at all. Hufflepuff would do you good, perhaps…

    Hmm….

    That may not the House for you. There is Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor, either would aid you in your quest.

    Hm- hmmm… Difficult, difficult. You could fit in Slytherin… if you wanted, he would approve of you.

    I still say Hufflepuff would take you in. But, well.

    No, no, it just isn't there. Hm....

    Gryffindor has a place for you, and Ravenclaw too. She would welcome a girl as bright as you….

    Too distant for Hufflepuff…. Too sharp for Ravenclaw... and not Slytherin. Yes, yes, that is it! I think that would be for the best that you be-
     
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