Down in the pit, Neville rubbed his aching head, still baffled as to how he'd ended up there so suddenly. Above him, the mouse perched at the edge of the hole, peering down with beady-eyed amusement. Neville gave a determined jump—then another—but both times he fell short.
The cunning little mouse seemed to sense his helplessness and began to circle the rim, squeaking tauntingly.
Frustrated, Neville scratched at his hair. He was desperate not to give up, but for the moment, he simply couldn't think of a way out. The pit was dug straight down, its sides smooth and featureless—there was nothing to climb.
Soon, Douglas's voice drifted over, tinged with gentle impatience. "Mr. Longbottom, why not admit defeat? We can't keep the whole class waiting."
"Professor, wait! Wait, please—I'm sure I'll think of something… just give me a second…"
Sweat beaded on Neville's brow. He'd memorized so many spells—surely one of them would help him now.
"Stay calm, Neville. Calm down. Professor Holmes always says, 'When you're in danger, the first thing you need to do is keep your head…'"
His eyes landed on a clump of weeds sprouting from the edge of the pit. Inspiration struck.
He whipped out his wand and pointed it at the weeds, casting a Growth Charm. If it was a spell related to Herbology, he had every confidence in his skill.
The weeds quickly shot up, growing long enough for Neville to reach. He gave them a tentative tug—still not sturdy enough. He cast the spell again on another patch, strengthening the makeshift rope.
Just as he thought he'd found a foolproof escape, something felt off. He glanced up—and saw the mouse gnawing away at the magically-elongated weeds.
Fury flared in his chest. That was his best shot at climbing out!
Acting fast, Neville aimed his wand at the mouse and fired off a Freezing Charm—a spell he'd practiced diligently last year for Defence Against the Dark Arts.
He'd only meant to scare the mouse off, but the little creature was so engrossed in its meal that it didn't even see the spell coming. Zap! The mouse froze solid.
Overjoyed, Neville scrambled up the grass, hauling himself until his head popped above the rim, half his body sprawled awkwardly at the top. He didn't bother pulling himself out completely—he reached out, grabbed the frozen mouse, and just as he tried to shove it into his pocket, his grip slipped. Both he and the mouse tumbled back into the pit.
But he didn't care anymore. He'd caught the mouse!
"Professor, I got it! I caught the mouse!"
He stuffed the mouse into his pocket and climbed out again, paying no mind to the dirt smeared across his robes. Practically glowing with excitement, he dashed up to Douglas and presented the mouse.
"Professor—!"
The other students burst into applause, grinning at the sight of a filthy but triumphant Neville.
Off to the side, Ron whispered to Harry, "Are you sure you're the professor's nephew and not Neville? Last year he got extra credit in practicals, and this year he gets a cactus as a prize."
Harry thought about it, realizing it was true, but he replied, "Neville really earned it. He was the only one who recognized that plant. Hermione, do you know what that thing actually does?"
Hermione tossed her hair, fixing Harry with a serious look. "No idea!"
With Neville setting such a high bar, everyone quickly forgot about Ron's earlier face-plant.
Soon, other students started trying their luck—some attempted Freezing Charms that missed the mouse and bounced back, freezing themselves instead; others tried luring the mouse into pits, only to fall in themselves.
Of course, there were successes too. Harry leveraged his Seeker's reflexes and the Serpent Glide spell to snatch the mouse with ease. Hermione, using her knowledge of Devil's Snare, dug up a whole tangle of it and lobbed it at the mouse.
Douglas's only real regret was letting Seamus Finnigan participate—he managed to blow several large rocks to smithereens with his "talent."
When class ended, Douglas assigned homework and, as promised, handed over the Mimbulus Mimbletonia to Neville.
Curious classmates crowded around.
"Neville, what's that cactus actually do?"
"It's not a cactus—those are boils, not thorns…"
"Why does it look like a diseased organ? Wait, it isn't actually an organ, is it? Like the 'Wizard's Hairy Heart'?"
Someone reached out and poked the Mimbulus Mimbletonia.
Neville shouted, "Don't—!"
But it was too late.
With a series of wet squirts, sticky, foul-smelling dark green liquid sprayed from every boil on the plant. The noxious goo splattered all over the faces and robes of the surrounding students—some even got a mouthful and doubled over, gagging.
Neville rushed to reassure them, "Don't worry, it's not poisonous…"
The few students who'd dodged the spray turned to Douglas for confirmation.
Douglas smiled and nodded, "Mimbulus Mimbletonia is perfectly safe."
Though, honestly, the stench was enough to make anyone reconsider.
Later, when Douglas returned to his office for dinner, he noticed Dobby was missing. Only then did he remember: after kicking Black back through the fireplace at noon, he'd rushed off to class and forgotten to lift the fireplace's security wards.
At that moment, Wangcai crawled out of the Treasure Bowl, yawning and gesturing in complaint—clearly annoyed at being left alone all afternoon without Dobby for company.
Douglas ruffled Wangcai's little head, then lifted the fireplace's restrictions.
The moment he did, a large black dog came barreling out of the flames.
Douglas jumped—had Black really been trying to force his way through all afternoon? How else could he arrive so quickly?
Transformed as Padfoot, Sirius lunged straight for Douglas. Without missing a beat, Douglas delivered a sharp whip-kick, sending Sirius skidding across the floor.
Wangcai clung tightly to Douglas's robes, determined not to be flung aside.
Just then, Dobby tumbled out of the fireplace, breathless and apologetic. "Master, Dobby failed to stop Mr. Black. He wanted to come straight from London to Hogwarts, but Dobby blocked him. Then Mr. Black kept ramming the fireplace… Dobby couldn't hold him back…"
Sirius's voice drifted over, "It's not Dobby's fault… but you're strong, Douglas. In Animagus form, I could arm-wrestle Moony when he's a werewolf, but you nearly took my shoulder off…"
Sirius was rubbing his shoulder, half in awe.
Wangcai, spotting Dobby, scrambled down from Douglas's shoulder and clambered up onto Dobby's. The little creature patted Dobby's head comfortingly with its tiny paws.
Dobby was so touched he dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, then pulled out a Galleon…
Douglas shook his head, unable to suppress a smile at the sight of the pair.
From the side, Sirius quipped, "Like master, like pet, eh?"
Douglas shot him a glare. "What did you say, Padfoot?"
But Sirius was already waving him off. "Ah, it's Harry time. I'm not here for you."
Douglas snorted, but still hung up the viewing mirror.
"Hmph! Sirius, you're done for. Mark my words—you're destined to be a hopelessly doting dad!"
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