A new week had arrived. After a week of classes, the students at Hogwarts had gradually adapted to the teaching methods at Castrobruzau and the professors' accented English. With that adjustment, everyone had begun to choose the classes they wanted to attend, and students of the same grade were no longer required to attend in fixed groups.
Naturally, Daphne from Slytherin went to class alone, while Ryan chose to go to Herbology with Hermione.
Herbology, being one of Castrobruzau's specialties, naturally held some unique features. Unlike the greenhouses used at Hogwarts, their classes were held in tunnels located beneath the park. The Castrobruzau students around them explained that their greenhouse system was built entirely underground.
After walking deep into the tunnels for more than ten minutes, the students finally arrived at a massive subterranean space, large enough to accommodate a standard football field.
Suspended in the air at the center of this cavernous room was a magical light source that emitted both warmth and illumination. Furthermore, the entire space had been divided through magic into multiple zones, each with different water, heat, and magical conditions to support the cultivation of various magical plants.
This was no ordinary greenhouse—it was an ecological dome. Ryan was stunned by the sheer scale and ingenuity of the setup. Castro had clearly spared no expense.
At the entrance to this ecological dome, the Herbology professor was already waiting. Ryan quickly recognized him as the professor he had previously encountered in the Emerald Dream. The professor also recognized Ryan and greeted him with a subtle nod.
The content for the third-year Herbology course wasn't particularly difficult. Today's lesson focused on understanding a small but unique symbiotic relationship formed by three special magical plants.
The leaves of a tropical tree called Wusala could treat various magical ailments. However, for the plant to have optimal medicinal effects, it had to exist in symbiosis with the moss growing on its trunk and the parasites found at its roots. Neither the moss nor the parasites could produce nutrients independently. They could only survive by absorbing nutrients from the tree.
Today's lesson would be about identifying the optimal number of these two symbiotic organisms—moss and parasites—for each tree to thrive effectively.
Ryan was immediately intrigued by a specific concept the professor discussed. Back in the radiation world, he had faced numerous challenges in re-greening the environment, and the knowledge shared today directly addressed one of those persistent problems. Even Dave and the academy's top experts had been stumped by it.
As the saying goes: "There is an order in learning, and specialization in skills." No one in this world is truly omniscient—especially when considering completely different knowledge systems. The approach to a problem may differ vastly. It's like extracting memories from Voldemort's Horcrux—something even Dumbledore couldn't accomplish. But Uncle Nine could retrieve some memories. That didn't mean Uncle Nine was more powerful than Dumbledore; he simply operated within a different power framework.
The same logic applied to Voldemort himself. Within his own magical system, his defense was virtually impenetrable. However, he still had no resistance to another unfamiliar magic system, such as the one Uncle Nine had mastered.
Taking this opportunity, Ryan eagerly began asking questions. The professor answered them, at first simply out of politeness and camaraderie—having previously met in the Emerald Dream. But when Ryan started pulling out heaps of observation data, the professor became genuinely interested. Coincidentally, this was an area the professor was deeply researching. However, unlike the devastated ecosystems of the radiation world, the magical world's natural environment hadn't suffered such widespread destruction.
As a result, the professor could only simulate ecological degradation through artificial micro-ecosystems, which often fell short of representing the complexity of real-world scenarios. Thus, many of his findings lacked depth or applicability.
Ryan's observations were different. The data he brought were gathered over long periods, often at great cost. Some had even been maintained and observed for over a hundred years. When the professor realized the depth and quality of the data, he quickly signaled the other students to begin their independent observations and invited Ryan to his office for a more in-depth discussion.
After a brief walk, they arrived at the professor's office, where he immediately began writing complex symbols and formulas on the blackboard. His explanations came with great enthusiasm. Ryan, in turn, would chime in with questions, support his arguments with concrete data, and sometimes even challenge the professor's viewpoints. Occasionally, Ryan pointed out flaws in the professor's conclusions and suggested alternative theories, all based on confirmed experimental results.
The two of them would even engage in spirited debates. But once a problem was solved through argument, they quickly returned to their collaborative discussion. Both had entered a sort of academic frenzy, completely absorbed in their intellectual exchange.
Although they had previously met in the Emerald Dream, they were barely more than acquaintances. Ryan typically spent time with students his age, while the professor had his own responsibilities and couldn't afford to interact much with younger students. But during this meeting, the collision between the professor's magical knowledge and the two unique knowledge systems Ryan had brought with him from other worlds produced a dazzling burst of insight.
Whenever someone becomes fully engaged in something they love, it's easy for time—and self-restraint—to slip away. This discussion was a prime example.
Ryan obtained knowledge that, in some traditional pure-blood families, would be guarded like an heirloom. It's much like how a scientist might condense their life's work into a single morning's conversation—if they omitted details. Sometimes, a single formula is enough. Wizards are no different. Ryan felt as though he had tapped into the depths of the professor's accumulated wisdom in just a few hours.
Of course, the benefits were mutual. Faced with Ryan's vast trove of detailed data and novel insights, the professor realized that a project he had expected would take a lifetime could now potentially be completed within a few months.
As the discussion finally reached a pause, the lunch bell rang. Ryan was surprised to realize it was already noon. He had spent the entire morning engrossed in this conversation.
Still, it was worth it. In the magic world, educational institutions were scarce and highly concentrated. A single professor might influence the next generation of all local students. Naturally, such professors were always among the best in their field. Therefore, a professor's lifelong research was bound to be profound.
It was precisely because Ryan's data was so rare and clearly derived from massive long-term resource investments—something even top-level magical families would envy—that the professor chose to discuss the subject so deeply and privately. If the data had seemed shallow or untested, the professor never would have engaged to this degree, let alone dismissed the rest of the students to have a one-on-one discussion.
As Ryan prepared to leave, satisfied with what he had learned, the professor suddenly stopped him and asked him to wait a moment.
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