Harry slid onto the pillows, and Pansy glared again at the owl. Bloody bird! she thought to herself. Worst timing in the world!
Slipping off the bed, Pansy went to the owl, taking the parcel and hissing softly that she should let Hilly boil it for soup. The owl hooted and took off out the open window, one wing hitting Pansy on the side of the head and mussing her hair.
She opened the parcel, looking at the different potions. Then she read the accompanying letter carefully, making sure she knew which potion was which and when to use each. 'It was from Madam Pomfrey,' she told Harry. 'Some potions for you. Do you itch anywhere?' she asked. He hadn't complained of it, but she'd sent one for an itch.
'Tea?' she said. Calling Hilly, she asked for a new pot. She could have heated the one from earlier, but it wouldn't have tasted fresh.