As Snape reeled from the implications of his own guess, the members of the school board and the jury were frantically checking on Porgy Charmain's condition.
"He's not dead yet."
"But he's only a breath away."
"He's covered in wounds from the Shadowthorns. It will likely take a full year for him to heal completely."
"I'm afraid he won't be writing any reviews this year."
Upon hearing this, Char's face fell into a mask of deep regret. "That's a terrible shame," he said, his voice laced with mock sincerity. "Don't get me wrong. I just mean I feel awful that the herbology world will be deprived of Master Porgy's invaluable insights for the next year. Without his articles, what will I read when I go to the bathroom? The entire field will be so much less entertaining!"
His words were the final spark in the powder keg. The board members and jurors, their faces contorted with rage, rounded on him.
"You did this on purpose!"
"This was all your trap!"
"Insidious and vicious! How can there be a student like you at this school?"
One of the board members, his face purple with fury, shouted, "I'm going to have you expelled!"
The moment the word "expelled" left his lips, Professor Sprout produced a bowl of biting kale from her robes and hurled it at the man's face. If not for a powerful shield charm that shimmered into existence at the last second, the board member's nose would have become intimately acquainted with the plant's angry chomping. As it was, the kale could only snap its leafy jaws at the empty air, clearly furious.
Dumbledore's weary voice cut through the tension. "Pomona, why are you so quick to anger these days?"
Professor Sprout glared at Dumbledore, who had cast the shield. "They're threatening to expel my boy! Am I not allowed to be angry?"
Dumbledore just shook his head, though his tone was firm. "To expel a student, you must have the consent of the Hogwarts headmaster. I do not recall signing such a document. So, Pomona, please put away the biting kale for now."
Professor Sprout let out a cold snort and reluctantly put the plant away. But when she looked back at the board members, there was no hint of concession in her eyes. "You all saw what happened in that greenhouse. That is not something this jury is qualified to assess. You are not welcome in my greenhouses, and my teaching does not need to be evaluated by people who know nothing of the subject."
The board member who had nearly lost his nose was trembling with rage. The other members looked equally furious. First the Quidditch match, now this. Their authority was being trampled, their faces rubbed in the dirt.
One of them clenched his fist, his voice cold. "Fine. Protect them, Dumbledore. But do not forget that the school board retains the power to propose an expulsion process. With a unanimous vote from the board, we can expel a student, even over your objection. We have this opportunity once a year. We have refrained from interfering, but now it seems we must."
His words hung in the air, a final, desperate power play. They all raised their chins, looking to their representative, Lucius Malfoy, to deliver the final blow. If they didn't expel this boy, what power did they have left?
Lucius, however, felt his world crumbling. He was speechless. He had only intended to cause some minor trouble, as instructed. He had never meant for things to escalate this far. If he agreed to the expulsion process, he would make a permanent enemy of Dumbledore and Sprout. But if he didn't, he would be betraying his fellow board members, potentially jeopardizing his family's business connections. And what if the one who had given him his orders blamed him for not taking this opportunity to delay Dumbledore further? Lucius felt trapped between a rock and a hard place.
Fortunately, at that moment, a burst of derisive laughter cut through the tension, diverting everyone's attention. It was Snape, who had finally recovered from his shock.
The board members, who generally held the Slytherin Head of House in high regard, looked at him, confused. "Head of House Snape, what are you laughing at?"
Snape looked at the group as if they were a particularly stupid batch of first-years. "I'm laughing at you idiots. How could you possibly suggest expelling him?"
Before they could react, Snape shook his head with contempt. "Looking at all of you, I suspect you haven't picked up a magic textbook since you graduated. Your minds are filled with nothing but Galleons and your social gatherings. Have you still not realized that the Devil's Snare and Shadowthorns in that greenhouse are both mutated subspecies?"
The term left the board members confused, searching their hazy memories. After a moment, one of them vaguely recalled the meaning. "You mean… they're not the traditional plants? They're herbs with different forms?" He frowned. "So what?"
Snape laughed again, a cold, mirthless sound. "Do you have any idea what it means to independently cultivate three excellent, mutated subspecies of magical plants within half a year? You can make the decision to expel him. But I guarantee that if you succeed, you will have sleepless nights for the rest of your lives."
"Snape, what are you talking about?" a board member demanded. "Why would we lose sleep over expelling one little wizard?"
Snape's voice dropped to a quiet, chilling whisper. "Have you all forgotten about Durmstrang? A hundred years ago, they expelled a student. That student later swept across almost the entire European wizarding world. Durmstrang was vilified for it. Many said that if they hadn't expelled him, perhaps none of it would have happened."
The board members froze. They understood exactly who Snape was referring to.
"You mean… Grindelwald?!"
Even Lucius Malfoy stared at Char, his eyes wide with horror. "S-Severus… you're saying his talent is comparable to… to Grindelwald's?!"
"Not comparable," Snape said firmly. "I dare say Char's talent in herbology may even surpass Grindelwald's talent in the Dark Arts. This century has seen at least three wizards with magical gifts like Grindelwald. But it would be difficult to find even one who could cultivate three mutated subspecies in just six months."
He shrugged, a gleeful, malicious glint in his eyes. "Of course, you don't have to believe me. Continue as you wish. It's just… I seem to have forgotten what happened to the people who expelled Grindelwald after he rose to power. Can someone help me recall?"
The arrogant posturing of the board members completely evaporated. What had happened to them? The best outcome was imprisonment in Nurmengard. The more likely one was a painful, brutal death.
They shivered, their minds racing. Snape's word was not to be taken lightly. And they knew his personality; he only ever described young wizards as either idiots or monsters. For him to offer such high praise… it meant something. What if this boy, Char, really did become another Grindelwald? Expelling him would accomplish nothing. A genius like that could grow anywhere. In fact, Grindelwald's power had grown even faster after he was expelled from Durmstrang, freed from all constraints. What if Char did the same? The risk was extermination for their entire families.
And what was the benefit? Regaining a little face? After weighing the pros and cons, the decision was obvious. But they had already made their grand pronouncement. How could they back down now?
For these old foxes from Slytherin, however, when the choice was between face and survival, face was nothing.
The board member who had just been shouting for Char's expulsion suddenly staggered, letting out a pained groan. He crumpled, as if about to faint. The others quickly helped him up.
"My… my apologies," he said, his voice dazed. "I forgot to take my medicine this morning. Did I… did I just have one of my episodes?" He pulled a small bottle from his pocket with an apologetic look. "When I get sick, I become so confused. I have no idea what I'm saying. Did I say something outrageous? I can't seem to remember. Please, don't take it to heart." He then uncorked the bottle and downed its contents in one gulp, the distinct aroma of whiskey momentarily lingering in the air.
This performance stunned even Dumbledore. He tactfully ignored the smell of alcohol. "Is that so?" he said, his face a mask of concern. "You must take care of yourself. The Board is the backbone of Hogwarts. If you are not well, how can Hogwarts be?"
The other board members nodded sagely. "Headmaster Dumbledore, you yourself seem more haggard than before. You are so busy. You must take care. The wizarding world cannot do without you."
In a moment, the tense, hostile atmosphere vanished, replaced by one of warm, mutual concern. If not for the pained groans of Porgy Charmain, who was still lying in a bloody heap on the ground, one might have thought Dumbledore and the old foxes were about to reminisce about their school days.
The board members then looked at the unconscious Porgy with embarrassment. "That… that must have been Porgy's own carelessness. To be unable to handle a few young plants… a truly regrettable incident, wouldn't you say, Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "It was indeed his own carelessness. But…" He changed the subject, his expression becoming serious. "As the person in charge of the small greenhouse, Char failed to assess the risks. He neglected Porgy Charmain's cries for help. And he planted dangerous plants without permission. He must be punished as well."
Severe punishment! The board members looked at each other, relieved. They had thought this would end in a complete loss of face. Dumbledore was giving them an out.
Professor Sprout looked anxious. "Dumbledore!"
He gave her a subtle wink, then fixed Char with a stern glare. "Pomona, it is useless to plead for him. You have been too lenient in his discipline. Luckily, nothing more serious happened today. Punishment is also a form of education." He turned his cold gaze on Char.
"Char Sprout, I hereby declare that you will be confined to the greenhouse for the entire next week. Except for necessary food and water delivered by the house-elves, you are not allowed to step out!"
Char was stunned for a moment, genuinely confused. He had not expected this. A full week of confinement? That meant a full week to do nothing but grow plants and research spells? Was there really such a good thing in the world? An excited smile almost broke through his carefully controlled expression.
The board members saw his crestfallen look and felt a surge of satisfaction. For a first-year, being locked up for a whole week was a severe punishment.
"Char," Dumbledore said, his voice sharp, "are you dissatisfied with this decision?"
Char, understanding his cue, immediately put on a look of indignant outrage. "Headmaster, a week of detention?! That's not fair!"
"Unfair?" Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "You are right. A week is too little for your negligence. Two weeks!"
"Two weeks?!" Char gritted his teeth. "Headmaster, this is too much!"
Dumbledore slammed his hand on a nearby table. "Three weeks! And you will serve patrol duty in the Forbidden Forest at the end of the semester! If you continue with this attitude, Char, the punishment will be far worse."
At that, Char's defiant posture seemed to collapse. He sank to the ground, covering his face with his hands, his shoulders trembling. "Understood, Headmaster," he choked out. "I don't dare anymore. Three weeks is three weeks."
The board members, including Lucius Malfoy, were filled with a surprised satisfaction. They had expected Dumbledore to let him off with a slap on the wrist. But three weeks of confinement, plus a patrol in the Forbidden Forest… that was a severe punishment by any standard. Dumbledore had given them face after all. Their anger subsided, and they finally left, satisfied, to conduct their review elsewhere.
Only Lucius Malfoy lingered behind. He looked at Char's shaking form, a strange expression in his eyes. He was just a child, after all, terrified of his punishment. But if Snape was right, this boy's future would be remarkable. Lucius's mind began to calculate. It was time to make an investment. He had brought a gift, intending to use it to smooth things over after the review. But now, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to make a preliminary connection.
He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to Char. "Do not be afraid, Mr. Sprout. The Forbidden Forest is dangerous, but if you can learn this spell, you will be much safer. This is a rare item from the Malfoy family collection. If you wish to consult any ancient books in the future, the Malfoy family would be happy to help."
With that, Lucius slowly left the greenhouse. The moment he was gone, Char lowered the hands that had been hiding a triumphant, irrepressible grin. After learning his "punishment," he was finding it very difficult not to laugh out loud. He looked down at the parchment Lucius had given him, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. And when he saw what was written on it, his expression changed to one of pure, unadulterated surprise.
"This is…?"