Porgy Charmain's face cycled through shades of pale white and bruised blue. He was about to retaliate with a venomous retort of his own, but then he felt a cold, predatory gaze from the sky. He looked up and saw Char, hovering on his broom, the bat in his hand held at a disturbingly ready angle. The brutal power from the game—the image of the shattered goalpost—flashed through Porgy's mind. This little monster from the Sprout family broke a solid steel goal, he thought, a wave of primal fear washing over him. If he hits me with that thing, without armor… I'll be beaten to a pulp.
The words died in his throat. He swallowed hard, the insult turning to ash in his mouth.
At that moment, Dumbledore clapped his hands together, his eyes twinkling. "A magnificent game!" he announced, his voice full of genuine emotion. "I never thought I would witness history being made today. They all played very well, wouldn't you agree?"
The school board members' faces were grim. It felt as though they had been handed a resounding slap the moment they arrived at Hogwarts. They were eager to regain the upper hand.
"Indeed, a wonderful game," one of them said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I think we have felt the… warm welcome of Hogwarts. But Headmaster Dumbledore, we are here to assess academic performance, not to watch sporting events. It is time to get down to business."
Dumbledore just smiled placidly. "Of course. Where would you like to begin?"
Porgy Charmain, seeing his chance, spoke up. "That Char Sprout is certainly an excellent little wizard. Not only is he skilled at Quidditch, but I hear he is also quite unique in herbology. He even has exclusive use of the small greenhouse, a symbol of Hogwarts' highest honor in the subject. Why don't we start there? Let us open our eyes to this supposed genius."
His words hung in the air, a clear challenge. Dumbledore cast an inquisitive look at Professor Sprout. But to everyone's surprise, she didn't explode with anger. She simply sneered, her voice dripping with contempt.
"Then by all means, open your eyes. Let's see what a true herbology genius looks like."
The expressions of the other professors became interesting. Everyone knew that the term "herbology genius" was an eternal sore spot for Porgy Charmain. If he had possessed any real talent in the subject, he might have become a respected herbalist himself, instead of a bitter critic who harbored a venomous jealousy for any rising star. Professor Sprout wasn't just returning his jab; she was twisting the knife.
Porgy's face turned ashen. He took several deep, shuddering breaths before squeezing out a single, hate-filled sentence. "Then I shall wait and see."
He turned and began stalking toward the small greenhouse. Dumbledore watched him go, shaking his head slightly. Then, with a subtle wave of his hand, a line of shimmering text appeared in the air before Char's eyes.
"Char, I believe you are already aware of the review board. Please come to the small greenhouse."
Seeing the message, Char's brow furrowed, the coldness in his eyes deepening. Cedric and the other Hufflepuffs, who were still celebrating their historic victory, saw it too.
"Char?" Cedric asked, his own expression turning serious. "What's this about a review board?"
After Char briefly explained the situation, the celebratory mood vanished, replaced by a surge of collective anger.
"What? That's ridiculous! First the hearing, now this? Do they think our school is so easy to bully?" Cedric clapped a hand on Char's shoulder. "Don't worry, Char. Hufflepuff never lets its own fight alone. I'll go gather everyone right now."
Char was touched by the gesture, a warmth spreading through his chest. But he shook his head. "Thank you, Cedric, but there's no need to make a big fuss. We already caused enough of a stir at the hearing. If it happens again, it will have a bad impact." He gave his captain a small, knowing smile. "You're going to be a Prefect, and then Head Boy. After you graduate, you'll join the Ministry of Magic. That's what your father expects of you, right? You can't get a reputation as a troublemaker. This time, don't take the lead."
Cedric looked anxious, about to argue that a little trouble was nothing, but Char just smiled and waved his hand, his expression full of confidence. "Don't worry. This is Hogwarts. Dumbledore is in charge. Those so-called judges don't have the power to turn black into white."
Reassured by his confidence, Cedric relented. "Alright. But if you have any problems, just ask for our help."
Char waved to his friends and then hurried toward the small greenhouse. By the time he arrived, the review board was already at the door. Professor Sprout stood before them, her expression serious. Despite her disdain for the so-called jury, when it came to academic matters, she was always rigorous.
"What you see now is the newly repaired and reopened small greenhouse," she began. "It was closed for a long time due to lack of funds and the well-known turbulent times. We have replenished the nutrients in the soil, mixing it with pearl soil to restore it as much as possible…"
She was just starting her explanation when Porgy Charmain interrupted, his voice triumphant as if he had found a fatal flaw. "Why pearl soil? In terms of restoring nutrients, it's not much better than diatomaceous earth, but in terms of price, it's at least ten times more expensive. Couldn't you have simply used more diatomaceous earth?"
Professor Sprout stared at him as if he were a complete fool. "The soil in this greenhouse has always been based on pearl soil. Using soil with the same composition ensures that the magic spreads evenly. Introducing a different soil could create a magical fault line and permanently damage the greenhouse's unique properties."
Porgy just grinned smugly. "But I have found a secret recipe in an old book. By mixing a special potion into diatomaceous earth, the resulting soil is even more potent than pearl soil, at only one-third of the cost. Professor Sprout, surely you are not unaware of a secret recipe that even I know?"
Professor Sprout's face was a mask of weary disbelief. "The Magic Melting Potion. That is a solution that was rejected in practice decades ago. It has numerous fatal flaws—"
"But it is theoretically feasible, is it not?" Porgy interrupted again, his voice rising with excitement. "There must be a way! Shouldn't you have at least tried? Oh, and I know several other secret recipes as well…"
He began to chatter incessantly. At first, Professor Sprout tried to explain that his "secret recipes" were nothing more than folk tales, theoretically flawed and practically impossible. But soon, she gave up. She realized that explaining anything to this man was a complete waste of time. To argue with someone who had only a superficial understanding of herbology, who had likely not cultivated a single magical plant in decades, was beneath her. To even engage with him would be to admit defeat as a master herbalist.
Porgy, however, took her silence as a victory. He took out his quill and began scribbling on a piece of parchment. "It's alright if you don't understand. I will teach you. Here, I have a list of reference books I often read. You should study more. By the way, I heard you've been working on the Whomping Willow project for years with no results? I've done some research in that area myself. I can certainly give you some pointers. But for now, let's get back to business. This greenhouse cannot be kept as it is. We must use diatomaceous earth…"
Professor Sprout had finally reached her limit. The Whomping Willow project and this small greenhouse were her life's work, the products of countless hours of effort. She would not tolerate an ignorant academic parasite spouting nonsense about them. But she was not a debater. Compared to Porgy, who made his living writing scathing articles, she was not nearly as articulate. His arguments were so fundamentally wrong, so incomprehensibly stupid from her perspective, that she didn't even know where to begin. Her silence only made him more arrogant.
Her expression grew uglier and uglier, her lips trembling with rage. She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her and staggered, almost falling.
At that moment, a strong arm steadied her. She looked up and saw that it was Char. He stared at Porgy Charmain, a cold, sharp light in his eyes, like the edge of a sword. Anger boiled in his chest. Bullying my aunt? Making her angry during the game, and now this? This man is practically begging for a painful death.
He gently guided the furious Professor Sprout to the side. "Aunt," he said, his voice calm but firm, "you are a renowned master of herbology, the author of many books. If you try to discuss academic issues with a fake expert, a 'master' created by fawning readers, will he even understand? It's like a Transfiguration master discussing theory with a first-year. And after a long, pointless discussion, the first-year says, 'I think the Transfiguration I learned from the joke section of the Daily Prophet is more effective. You don't need a wand; you need a quill. A wand can only turn a match into a silver needle, but a quill… a quill can turn a clown into a master.'"
The words hung in the stunned silence. Then, a snort of laughter escaped from Lucius Malfoy. Professor Sprout's expression softened, the color returning to her face. But it was Porgy's turn to be furious.
"What did you say?" he screeched. "Who is the clown?!"
Char just spread his hands and sneered. "Whoever reacts so strongly, I suppose. A true master wouldn't care about a joke. Only a clown would."
Porgy's lips trembled with rage. He spun to face Dumbledore. "Dumbledore! Is this the kind of student Hogwarts is training now? With no respect for his elders? Are you not going to do something? How can you call yourself a headmaster?!"
Dumbledore's brow furrowed, his cheerful demeanor vanishing in an instant. "Mr. Charmain," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "are you speaking to me? Are you attempting to teach me how to be the headmaster of Hogwarts?"
The cold words were like a bucket of ice water over Porgy's head. He shuddered, his anger instantly extinguished by fear. "N-no… that's not what I meant. I meant that the student has a moral problem that should be addressed—"
"What problem?" Dumbledore interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don't see one. I feel the students at Hogwarts are all very virtuous, especially Char. If his moral character is being criticized, I feel it may not be his fault. Furthermore," he added, his voice turning to ice, "are you not here to conduct a review? Then let us get down to business."
Porgy's face flushed a deep, blotchy red. He clenched his fists, his eyes shooting daggers at Char. He had made up his mind. He would find at least a hundred faults with this greenhouse. He would write about all of them, let his readers tear this boy to shreds. He would make sure Char lost his precious greenhouse.
Just as they were all about to enter, Char stopped them. A cold glint flashed in his eyes. "Since this 'Master Porgy' has such profound insights," he suggested, his voice deceptively pleasant, "perhaps having too many of us nearby will interfere with his thoughts. Why don't we let the master enter the greenhouse by himself and investigate freely? He can dig three feet into the ground if he wishes."
Porgy's heart was slightly moved. He was wary of Dumbledore, but if he were alone… he could write whatever he wanted in his report. He could criticize them both as harshly as he pleased. He hesitated for a moment, worried about dangerous plants, but then Char opened the door, showing them the interior.
"The greenhouse has just been restored," Char explained innocently. "And my knowledge is still limited, so I can't grow anything too special. A few Guardian Trees, some freshly planted Devil's Snares, and a few clumps of newly planted Shadowthorns. Master Porgy should be able to handle those, right?"
Porgy looked inside and saw that it was true. The Guardian Trees were harmless. The Devil's Snare was easy enough for any adult wizard to handle. And the Shadowthorns… they had only just been planted. What was there to fear? It wasn't as if the boy could have mutated them into some monstrous alien species.
As if afraid Char might change his mind, Porgy immediately strode toward the greenhouse. At the same time, Char made a subtle gesture toward Shadow, his mutated plant, hidden among the ordinary ones.
Hang him up and beat him senseless. Beat him until he can't remember his own name.
The next moment, the door to the greenhouse slammed shut behind Porgy, trapping him inside.