The giant nodded and simply jabbed the umbrella into the air, pointing at the hive. A tiny spark flew from the tip of the umbrella, and as soon as it touched the hive, it literally came alive. Energetic, wide-awake bees poured out of the opening, quickly flying around the flowers and doing their work.
"There we go. Now the main thing is not to bother them."
"Hagrid," I couldn't restrain my curiosity while Neville watched the insects at work with wary interest, "how do you get them back afterward?"
"The same way," the giant shrugged. "The hive is specially enchanted. Professor Flitwick helped me with that—talented Charms wizard, he is. He knows I'm not allowed to do magic, and my wand… isn't in the best shape. So he set up stasis charms, special beacons on the hive and all that. So I can work with them in the simplest way. Yes, talented Charms wizard."
"I see. Listen, Hagrid, you give the impression of being a reliable person."
"Well, of course!" the giant beamed. "That's what I am."
"Could one ask the Headmaster to issue a pass or something to access the Restricted Section?"
"Ask—unlikely. But if you explain and prove that you really need something there, then yes. Under supervision, most likely. Great wizard, Dumbledore," Hagrid sighed.
For about an hour we watched the bees work, and in that time they managed all the flowers on the trees. Hagrid jabbed the umbrella toward the hive again, released a spark, and the bees quickly flew back inside.
"That's that, job done," Hagrid patted his belly and went to retrieve the hive.
After saying goodbye to Hagrid, Neville and I approached the tree, from which flower petals had already begun to fall, as on the neighboring trees.
"Hm…" Neville crouched thoughtfully in front of the pot and touched the tree with his hand. "It still needs something. It's… like it wants to be a good instrument, but it needs… threads? Fabric? I don't understand…"
"But I do!" I exclaimed. "Forward, to Hagrid!"
"Again?" Neville did not share my enthusiasm. Or maybe he did, but simply didn't want to run back and forth again, as it was already getting dark. "We'll miss dinner."
"I'll show you the kitchens. Hurry."
Locking everything again, Neville and I left the greenhouses and inner courtyard at a fast walk, then at no less a pace rushed through the corridors of Hogwarts, exiting through the main doors and heading down to Hagrid's hut.
"Again you?" the giant was surprised. "It's almost dark now. Dementors out there and all that. Stupid creatures, though clever. Might not listen to Dumbledore and attack out of hunger…"
"Hagrid, just a minute."
The giant looked at me with obvious doubt.
"You said 'just a minute' last time too."
"Do you have unicorn hair… and some fabric? Fiber… even spider silk."
"I do, of course."
Hagrid disappeared into his hut again, and a minute later emerged, handing me two skeins—hair, and something resembling silk.
"Oh! Acromantula silk," Neville exclaimed.
"No," Hagrid waved it off after handing me the skeins. "Just a preparation for it. The real web is too sticky. This way it's easy to store. Just… kids, don't tell anyone."
"Of course. And why are you helping us?"
"Why not?"
We didn't linger and now almost ran back to the castle. Not for long, though. For me the exertion turned out to be nothing, but Neville couldn't handle it. Which is hardly surprising—few people in this castle can run any decent distance for their age. We returned to the castle just as the last traces of sunset disappeared from the horizon, stars shone in the sky, and the breeze became truly wintry.
But we did not head to the Great Hall, though dinner was about to start. Instead, we went back to the greenhouses. Interestingly, I didn't know they had autonomous lighting that came on as soon as you entered. Approaching the tree, we thought about how best to give it the unicorn hair and the acromantula silk preparation. In the end we decided to simply place it inside the crown and let the tree figure it out. We placed it. The tree immediately began to wrap its branches around itself, gradually shrinking in size.
"Wow…" Neville stared without blinking, as did I.
It took the tree two minutes to turn into a long, thin spindle sticking out of the pot, with its own twisted branches replacing the yarn. Something was clearly happening, something was changing, and absorbed in watching, Neville even forgot about dinner.
I was already thinking I'd have to forget about dinner too, when suddenly the "spindle" compressed in thickness and almost instantly turned into a bow with a taut string. Fairly large, but still compact enough to carry, of a classic curved shape, the color of dark tree bark, covered with countless tiny plant-like patterns. The string was white—snow-white, I would say.
"You…" Neville was stunned by everything. "You grew… a bow?"
"Well, yes," I approached the pot, touched the grip of the bow, and it seemed to lose its connection to the ground, ending up in my hands.
"I expected anything…" Neville continued to stare at the bow in my hands. "A staff, a wand, some kind of tool… even a chessboard. But a bow?"
"What's wrong with that? It's great," I smiled lightly and imagined an arrow in my right hand.
A moment later my hands, awkwardly but diligently, drew the string, I aimed at nothing, and released. A light click with a ringing note, like a harp string—pleasant. And most importantly, it wouldn't harm the bow at all. It was far from simple. Oh, very far from simple.
We spent several minutes examining the resulting weapon from all sides. Neville even asked to try drawing the string, but he couldn't do it, while I did so easily. Judging by the sound and the feel when releasing, the draw weight was enormous.
"It's probably because," Neville scratched his cheek shyly, "you're the one who grew it. I've heard of instruments reacting like that to their creators. I think Ollivander once even grew the tree for a wand himself…"
"And what happened?"
"He couldn't sell it—it only obeyed him," Neville shrugged.
"Alright, let's go…"
I wanted to put the bow away somewhere, but it quickly shrank and, like a vine, coiled into a wooden-colored bracelet on my left wrist.
"I told you," Neville smiled proudly. "If we'd been pollinating it with cotton swabs, the bow wouldn't really listen to you or indulge you in everything."
"You talk as if it's alive."
"Of course!" the boy nodded importantly. "Like wands, like any other wooden magical instruments. If it had been made from ordinary wood with ordinary tools, then yes, it wouldn't be alive."
In short, we decided to hurry to dinner, which must already have begun. In fact, we arrived among the last, but judging by the students' plates and the appetite with which they were eating, we made it in time.
"Let's go return the key," Neville glanced at me. "Please."
Though surprised by the request, I went with him to the teachers' table, where among many others sat Professor Sprout.
"Here, thank you," Neville nodded shyly, handing the key back to our Head of House.
"Oh, come now, Mr. Longbottom," Sprout waved it off with a chuckle. "You see, I didn't even ask whether you broke anything, because I trust you with the greenhouses."