Leaving the Ravenclaw common room, Wyzett quickly noticed something odd. People kept pointing and whispering as he walked by. Some even doubled back for a second glance, as if they needed to confirm a rumor with their own eyes.
Anthony sidled up, his tone a mix of envy and playful jealousy. "You're basically famous now. I mean, you did take down a troll."
"Exactly!" Michael chimed in, nodding. "I've heard at least three different versions of the story today, and honestly, none of them match what you told us last night."
"Three versions?" Wyzett asked, eyebrows raised. "So what are people saying?"
He was still mulling over his article—maybe these wild tales would give him some inspiration.
Michael turned to Chris. "Do you remember how Ron and the others told it?"
"Hmm, let me think…" Chris scratched his head. "I think they said the troll was no ordinary brute—smarter than Flint, even! It actually threw its club as a weapon."
"Flint…" The name made Wyzett snort with laughter.
As a member of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, he knew a bit about the other houses' teams. Flint was, of course, the infamous captain of Slytherin.
A true Quidditch fan, Anthony immediately caught the joke. He burst out laughing too. "Gryffindor and Slytherin never get along. I've seen Flint a few times—he really does look like a troll, just a bit too short."
"Are you going to let me finish?" Chris grumbled.
"Of course!" Michael said quickly. "Go on, we're listening!"
Encouraged, Chris continued, "So, Wyzett used a Levitation Charm to catch the club, then tossed it right back—smashed the troll's head wide open."
"But then, for some reason, the troll got back up. It turned into an Inferius and tried to drag Wyzett down with it."
"At the last second, Wyzett used some kind of dark magic that made black smoke pour from his body and finished off the zombie troll."
Wyzett rubbed his nose, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He had a sneaking suspicion this version came straight from Fred and George—only the Weasley twins, who'd been there, could know so many details.
"Textbook Gryffindor storytelling," Terry remarked. "They love tales where someone single-handedly defeats the enemy. That's the kind of bravery they live for."
When they reached the greenhouse, several Ravenclaw girls were clustered together, chatting animatedly. Every so often, they'd glance toward the door, then sigh in disappointment before whispering again.
But when Wyzett and his friends finally walked in, the girls fell silent, their eyes curious and bright, some even giggling behind their hands.
Terry nudged his chin toward them. "They've asked about you at least three times this morning. If Prefect Penelope hadn't stopped them, I bet they'd have stormed the dormitory."
"Ugh!" Michael groaned, clenching his fist in mock despair. "When is it going to be my turn to be the talk of the common room?"
"When you get a 'T' on your finals," Anthony teased. "A Ravenclaw with a Troll grade—everyone else could use you as an excuse for their own bad marks."
"I support that!" Chris said with mock solemnity. "Not only would the girls talk about you, we'd never let you forget your 'heroic achievement'!"
The bell rang. Professor Sprout entered the greenhouse, wand in hand, two large chests floating behind her.
"Alright, children, class is starting!"
The two chests were quite different—one was a plain wooden box, the other coated in thick, black paint.
"Let's all open our copies of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi to page seven hundred and twenty-six. Today, we're learning about an extremely dangerous vine: Devil's Snare!"
"They thrive in dark, damp places—dense rainforests, misty swamps, anywhere gloomy and humid."
"Remember! You must be especially careful with Devil's Snare. They're cunning and can disguise themselves…"
She tapped the plain wooden box with her wand and it sprang open.
Inside was a vibrant green plant with vines waving about like crab claws.
"This is a Christmas cactus—a common magical plant, full of life and easy to care for. It'll survive even if you forget to water it for a month."
To demonstrate, she splashed a little water on it. The cactus immediately began to sway, as if dancing in delight.
"Now, everyone, please stand back." She cleared her throat and clapped her hands for attention. "I'm about to open the other chest. This one contains Devil's Snare…"
Sprout retreated five meters and motioned for the students to gather behind her. With a flick of her wand, the greenhouse dimmed, the light fading to a dusky twilight.
The black chest creaked open. The plant inside looked almost identical to the Christmas cactus—lush green vines, the same gentle swaying, seemingly harmless and even a little playful.
Sprout spoke in a grave tone. "This is Devil's Snare, disguised as a Christmas cactus. Watch closely!"
She transfigured a tissue into a sheepdog and sent it padding toward the Devil's Snare.
The students craned their necks, eyes wide with anticipation.
Normally, Professor Sprout was all warm smiles and good cheer. But today, she was all business—her face serious, her voice stern.
Her mood was infectious. The students stood silent, holding their breath, not daring to relax.
Wyzett tensed as well, activating his Oculus Magicae and Custodis Meditatio (Guardian's Meditation), determined to observe every detail.
With the Eye of Magic active, both plants shimmered with faint, blurred magical circuits—similar in structure, but not quite the same.
The basic Eye of Magic let him see the circuits in processed magical materials clearly, but when it came to raw magical plants or creatures, the patterns were much more indistinct.
The sheepdog inched closer to the Devil's Snare.
For a moment, the plant seemed as harmless as the Christmas cactus beside it—a deceptive calm before the storm.
Twelve feet… eleven… ten…
The students silently counted, measuring the distance.
Five feet… four… three…
When the sheepdog was less than a meter away, the moment came.
The bright green vines darkened to a sinister, inky green. Suddenly, like a nest of frenzied serpents, they writhed and twisted together, forming a deadly black net that lashed out and snared the sheepdog tight.
The Devil's Snare began to constrict, slowly crushing the sheepdog, squeezing and grinding it until, at last, it reverted to a scrap of tissue.
Sprout drew her wand and commanded in a low, urgent voice, "Lumos!"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
Explore More Amazing Fanfiction on My Patreon!
Unlock 30+ Advance Chapters and Enjoy Exclusive Stories Early!
��patreon.com/GoldenLong