As the door of the small greenhouse slammed shut, Porgy Charmain flinched, startled. Then, he heard Char's voice, muffled but clear, from the other side.
"Master Porgy, maintaining a greenhouse is very resource-intensive. It's a waste to keep the door open, so I've just closed it. If you can't handle the Devil's Snare and Shadowthorns inside, just give a shout. I'll open the door and save you."
Porgy snorted, a smug expression spreading across his face. He saw through the boy's trick immediately. He's trying to intimidate me, he thought, to scare me into leaving quickly. What a pathetic little scheme. Ridiculous!
A renewed excitement burned in his eyes. He would find every flaw in this little greenhouse, and the resulting article would be a sensation among his readers. He could even leverage Professor Sprout's reputation to further enhance his own. The Herbology Association is run by fools, he mused. I am the one who should be considered the true master.
"Unnecessary!" he shouted back, his voice booming with false confidence. "As if I couldn't handle a few Devil's Snares and Shadowthorns!"
He looked at the dangerous plants rustling in the soil before him. "Both are plants that fear bright light," he scoffed to himself. "And these have only just been planted. They'll be easy to deal with."
But as he looked at them, a sharp, bitter jealousy pierced through his arrogance. He had tried to grow these same plants in his youth, and every attempt had ended in failure. He had no talent for herbology, and the realization had soured him, filling him with a deep-seated resentment for any young, rising genius. Seeing that Char could cultivate these plants in his first year, after being so thoroughly mocked by him, made the bitterness almost unbearable.
Anger began to cloud his judgment. He changed his mind. Perhaps I shouldn't just use a Lumos Charm to drive them away, he thought maliciously. I should use the Fire Charm.
As Porgy was lost in his spiteful thoughts, a shadow behind him seemed to come to life, slithering silently across the floor. It shot out from the ground, a living whip of darkness, and wrapped itself around the wand in his hand. The next second, with a sharp crack, his poplar wood wand, inlaid with gaudy golden patterns, shattered into pieces.
Porgy, who had spent years doing nothing more strenuous than writing, didn't even have time to react. In the next instant, several Devil's Snare roots shot out and coiled around his body. A powerful force tightened around him, squeezing the air from his lungs, making him feel as if his very bones were about to be broken. It was like being strangled by a nest of pythons.
It took several long seconds for his pampered mind to process his situation. His eyes widened in disbelief. What was that shadow that had just destroyed his wand? What kind of magical plant possessed such a bizarre ability? It was unheard of! And these Devil's Snare roots… they were still so young, yet their constricting force was far beyond what they should possess at this stage.
No matter how uneducated he was in practice, the conclusion was inescapable. Mutants, he realized with a dawning horror. These are all mutated species, stronger than the ordinary kind! And that shadow… it's a different plant entirely!
But he had no time to think. Clusters of Shadowthorn roots were now entangling his legs, their sharp thorns glinting menacingly. The wounds they inflicted were notoriously painful and difficult to heal, sometimes taking years to fully recover. The thought of being pierced by so many of them at once made him feel faint with terror.
"No…" he whimpered. "Don't… Help!"
He turned to shout toward the door, but before he could get the words out, several Devil's Snare roots sealed his mouth, reducing his pleas to muffled, desperate sobs.
Then, the living shadow began to move again. It gathered the Devil's Snare and Shadowthorns together, weaving them into a long, vicious whip covered in spikes. It rose into the air, and then… it struck.
A pain unlike anything he had ever felt exploded through him. A scream tore from his throat, but it was stifled by the vines, emerging only as a miserable, low whimper that echoed in the small greenhouse.
Outside the door, the school board and jury members looked at each other, their expressions full of suspicion.
"Did you hear something?"
"I'm not sure… it sounded like a scream?"
Char, however, just shook his head, his face a perfect mask of innocence. "A scream? Why would it be a scream? There are only a few young Devil's Snares and Shadowthorns in there. They've only just been planted. They're pathetic, weak, and helpless. There's nothing in that little greenhouse that could possibly make Master Porgy scream."
He paused, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. "Ah, he must be talking to himself, thinking through how to improve the greenhouse. It's normal to be a little loud when you're working through your ideas, isn't it? We shouldn't disturb him."
The onlookers, though still doubtful, had to admit it made a certain amount of sense. Surely a man like Porgy couldn't be having trouble with such young plants.
Inside, Porgy had been whipped five or six more times. Deep, bleeding gashes covered his body, the magic from the Shadowthorns making the wounds burn as if they were being torn open again and again. He felt as if he were dying. He stared desperately at the door, trying to signal for help. "Help… save me!" But the only sounds that came out were rapid, choked sobs and the low, pained grunts as the thorn whip struck his body again.
The people outside grew more and more uneasy. "No, I definitely heard screams that time. And it sounded like someone was shouting for help."
Char shook his head decisively. "For help? How could Master Porgy Charmain, the great herbology expert, be crying for help in such a small greenhouse? There is absolutely no possibility of that. He must be having a surge of inspiration, furiously criticizing everything he sees. We absolutely must not disturb him at such a critical moment."
While the board members looked at each other with skeptical expressions, Dumbledore and Professor Sprout, who knew at least part of the situation, had very different reactions. Dumbledore looked at Char with a strange, contemplative expression. This quiet, unassuming boy… once his family or friends were threatened, he was truly ruthless. Dumbledore found he appreciated it. It meant that if the wizarding world ever faced a great danger, the bonds Char had formed would compel him to act. That was enough.
Professor Sprout's thoughts were much simpler. My Char is so brave and resourceful! With just a little trick, he's made that odious man suffer. He's so smart and cute!
At that moment, a faint thumping sound came from inside the greenhouse. All eyes turned to the door.
Inside, Porgy, covered in blood, had stumbled to the entrance. He held a small, alchemical flint in his hand. He was filled with a desperate gratitude that he was a smoker; this gaudy trinket, which could produce a flame with a simple flick, had been his only hope of breaking free from the Devil's Snare. With the last of his strength, he banged on the door again and again. "Help… let me out… quickly…"
Outside, the board members were now genuinely horrified. "That's Porgy! He's banging on the door! He's really shouting for help!"
"No way," Char said, his face a picture of shock. "How could Master Porgy be unable to handle such minor dangers? He must be testing the greenhouse's safety procedures! Practicing an emergency drill himself! The performance is so realistic. It seems Master Porgy is not only knowledgeable, but also a superb actor. What was that saying? Oh, yes, a veteran performer with both talent and virtue!"
He was stalling for time. Inside, Shadow, feeling embarrassed that its prey had partially escaped, raised the thorn whip again and lashed Porgy three more times. Porgy's eyes went dark, and he collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.
At this, Dumbledore coughed twice and gave Char a meaningful look. "Char, it seems Master Porgy's safety drill has come to an end. I believe he is finished with his review. You had better open the door."
Char nodded, a look of regret on his face. What a pity, he thought. A few more minutes, and he would have been beaten to within an inch of his life. He got off easy.
The door to the small greenhouse slowly opened. The thorn whip uncoiled, and Porgy's unconscious body was unceremoniously tossed out, rolling on the ground like a sack of potatoes, leaving a shocking trail of blood.
The members of the school board and jury, and even Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, stared in stunned disbelief.
Snape, however, was not surprised. Though he didn't know the specifics of Char's new plants, he had anticipated something like this. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He probably understood Char's character better than anyone else present. The boy was vengeful and possessed a cunning mind that was rare in any house, let alone Hufflepuff. That idiot Porgy had insulted Professor Sprout and then dared to walk into Char's territory. He was practically writing his own death warrant.
At the same time, a flicker of professional curiosity sparked in Snape's mind. He knew Devil's Snare and Shadowthorns. How could these young plants have reduced Porgy to such a miserable state? Even a clown like him should have known their weaknesses. A startling guess, one he hardly dared to consider, began to form in his mind.
"Unless…"
Snape's gaze suddenly fixed on the plants that had now retracted back into the greenhouse. His voice was a sharp, incredulous whisper. "This Devil's Snare and these Shadowthorns… are they both mutated subspecies?!"
His pupils contracted, his mind reeling. He knew the value of cultivating a new, mutated subspecies of a magical plant. It was an achievement on par with improving a classic potion formula. A top publication was guaranteed. It could open up entirely new fields of study. It was the kind of discovery that pushed all of academia forward.
And Char… if he remembered correctly, he had already cultivated a mutated Piranha Algae. Now, the Devil's Snare and the Shadowthorns. Three independently cultivated variant subspecies, in just over half a year of school.
Even Snape, who was accustomed to genius, who was himself one of the most talented potions masters of the century, was completely stunned by the scale of Char's achievement. There was only one thought left in his mind.
Sprout never lied to me. Char has… legendary talent.