Chapter 59. I Really Want to Give Him a Beating
"G—good afternoon, Professor Flitwick, Mr Kettleburn, and P—Professor Wesson," Professor Quirrell stammered, his voice a little shaky, his eyes darting about.
Professor Flitwick smiled and replied, "Professor Quirrell, what a surprise to run into you here. Care to sit down for a drink? We were just discussing some interesting things."
Professor Quirrell quickly waved his hands. "Oh, n—no… no need, thank you. I… I've got things to do, m—must hurry back to the school. I have something to attend to."
He forced a smile, then turned on wobbly legs and hurried toward the door.
Watching his receding back, Professor Flitwick frowned slightly and murmured, "Quirrell wasn't like this before. He used to be an excellent student—very clever, especially in theory."
Kettleburn nodded in agreement and sighed. "Yes, people do change. Quirrell was indeed a very outstanding student. I heard that after he returned from the Forbidden Forest, he became like this..."
At this moment, Adrian Wesson wasn't paying attention to the two of them.
He kept feeling a gaze fixed on him; that sensation of being watched made him a little ill at ease.
Instinctively tightening his grip on his Butterbeer, Wesson looked toward the door.
Sure enough, not long after Quirrell went out, another person—head to toe in black robes, face covered—followed.
Mm, that had to be Snape.
That cold look he'd sent Wesson earlier—he couldn't be more familiar with it.
"What's the matter, Wesson?" Professor Flitwick noticed his expression and asked with concern.
Wesson came back to himself and shook his head. "It's nothing, Professor."
The Three Broomsticks was certainly lively today.
...
Over the following week, apart from teaching and preparing lessons, Wesson spent the rest of his time training those Chinese Chomping Cabbages.
As it turned out, Chinese Chomping Cabbages weren't intelligent—that was only natural; after all, they had no brains.
Training creatures that acted almost purely on instinct was not easy.
Of course, directing them to attack or to stop went very smoothly; the difficulty was that, without a clear command to attack a specific target, they would go for almost anything in front of them—even a pair of shoes.
Wesson deliberately made the training dummies in two colours, telling the Chinese Chomping Cabbages to attack the red dummies and protect the green ones.
Unfortunately, every time—red or green—none escaped being torn to shreds.
In the end, Wesson had no choice but to think of something in terms of "mutating" the Chinese Chomping Cabbages.
For example, letting them acquire the "intelligence" trait of Devil's Snare.
So Wesson borrowed some vines from the Devil's Snare and used them to brew a large cauldron of growth potion.
...
Thursday afternoon.
Still by the Black Lake.
"The last one."
Wesson crouched on the grass, holding a vial of potion that gave off a faint green glow, and poured it into the mouth of a Chinese Chomping Cabbage.
The cabbage opened its mouth full of sharp teeth and gulped the potion down.
Seeing that it still looked unsatisfied, Wesson casually tossed the empty vial into its mouth as well.
"Professor, are you sure this kind of potion can make them smarter?" Harry asked from the side. His glasses caught a weak glint of sunlight, curiosity on his face.
Harry had run into Wesson half an hour earlier. With no classes that afternoon, he had been watching Wesson train the Chinese Chomping Cabbages.
"Who knows?" Wesson shrugged. "There's no harm in trying."
After all the Chinese Chomping Cabbages had drunk the potion, they all fell silent, snoring away where they were.
"All right, let's be patient and wait a bit." Wesson wiped the sweat from his face, sat down by a tree, then turned to Harry and asked, "Right—Harry, how's your pot of Chinese Chomping Cabbage doing?"
"I'm keeping it on the dormitory windowsill. It seems to love sunbathing; it just lies there without moving every day," Harry sat down beside Wesson and replied. "Except on the first day, when it bit a hole in Ron's robes."
Wesson nodded. By the looks of it, Harry's Chinese Chomping Cabbage was far cleverer than the ones here.
After all, when he planted these Chinese Chomping Cabbages, he'd been much more attentive with Harry's.
You could say Harry's was the "favourite child."
"And then?" Wesson pressed.
Harry gave a helpless shrug. "Ron was hopping mad and nearly threw it out the window. Fortunately, in the common room, Percy helped him mend the robe."
"I suggest you spend more time with your Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Once it gets familiar with you, it'll do as you say," Wesson advised.
"Okay, Professor." Harry nodded.
In fact, that was exactly what he had been doing, and the Chinese Chomping Cabbage had already started to grow fond of him.
After this, Harry reported to Wesson some of his situation in class, and…
"Slytherins are a nasty lot," he complained to Wesson. "Malfoy often bullies other students."
"Malfoy?" In Wesson's mind appeared the image of a child with pale blond hair.
"Just this morning, Malfoy snatched Neville's Remembrall—he's awful. Luckily, Professor McGonagall stopped him," Harry went on.
A Remembrall is a tool that lets you know you've forgotten something.
When you hold a Remembrall and it turns red, it means you've definitely forgotten something.
Unfortunately, it can only tell you that something has been forgotten, not what exactly you've forgotten.
A dreadful invention...
"Sounds like a troublesome student," Wesson chuckled, then continued, "Every House at Hogwarts has its own culture and character. Slytherin students may seem a bit arrogant, but that doesn't mean all of them are like Malfoy. What matters is learning how to deal with them, rather than letting their behaviour affect your mood."
"I really want to give him a beating." Harry's brows drew tight.
"..."
Wesson was taken aback.
Trust a Gryffindor—always such a direct way of solving problems.
"What did you say, Professor?" Harry seemed not to have caught Wesson's words.
"Ah." Wesson ruffled Harry's hair, knocking his glasses askew. "That's one possible way to handle it, but you have to think about the consequences."
"Professor McGonagall might dock points, or give me detention," Harry thought for a moment, then added, "But I think Malfoy probably can't beat me..."
"That's not the point..."
...
After chatting with Harry for a while, he left—he still had his Flying lesson.
As for Wesson, he stayed where he was, continuing to observe the Chinese Chomping Cabbages.
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