As Wyzett hurried out of sight, Professor Sprout closed the black wooden box with a thoughtful sigh.
"Only two weeks!" she marveled aloud. "Kids these days are truly extraordinary… No wonder Headmaster Dumbledore thinks so highly of him!"
"And to think he could leave Snape at a loss for words—just imagining it is delightful…" She chuckled softly. "Pity I didn't witness it myself. I can only guess what Snape's face must've looked like."
…
The broomsticks Professor McGonagall had requested were finally approved. Though still secondhand, they were in excellent condition, and the previous mishaps were now a thing of the past.
The students seized this rare opportunity to soar freely through the sky—everyone except Wyzett, who was still lost in contemplation of magical circuits.
He replayed the Devil's Snare's transformation in his mind, inspiration bubbling up and threatening to overflow.
When Flying class ended, he bade farewell to his housemates and made his way back to the greenhouse.
Inside, Sprout was alone, finishing up the last bits of cleaning before the weekend.
Wyzett greeted her politely, then drew his wand to help tidy up.
Sprout handed him a cup. "Dittany honey water—you won't find this anywhere else! My own secret recipe."
Wyzett took a careful sip. Beyond the honeyed sweetness, a refreshing clarity spread through him, sharpening his senses.
"Good, isn't it? This year's honey is top-notch," Sprout said, beaming with pride. "Still want to observe the Devil's Snare?"
Wyzett shook his head. "Actually, Professor, I was hoping to borrow a Christmas cactus… Would it be all right if I cast a few spells on it?"
Sprout nodded. "Of course! As long as you don't use any Dark Magic, a Christmas cactus can take quite a lot."
"I want to practice Transfiguration," Wyzett explained quickly. "I've had some new ideas, and I'd like to put them to the test."
"By all means!" Sprout said, flicking her wand toward the far side of the room. The black box floated gently into the air.
"Take your time here," she instructed. "I need to lock away the Devil's Snare—it's still dangerous. When you're done, just make sure the door's shut behind you."
…
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Wyzett murmured, flicking his wand. Several pages of notes rose and hovered around him.
These pages held his meticulous diagrams of the magical circuits of both Devil's Snare and Christmas cactus, capturing their transformations from dynamic to static.
In his mind, The Theory of Transfiguration was ready to be referenced at a moment's notice.
He cast Custodis Meditatio, letting the pages orbit him as he approached a nearby Christmas cactus.
Sensing his presence, the cactus grew lively, its vines swaying in a gentle, rhythmic dance.
With the help of Custodis Meditatio, Wyzett's focus sharpened to a razor's edge, his thoughts darting between his notes and the theoretical framework of transfiguration.
He flicked his wand again, guiding the floating pages to flip as if by an invisible hand, mimicking the act of leafing through a book.
Suddenly, everything clicked. "So that's how it works…" he breathed, eyes shining with realization.
He activated his Oculus Magicae, raised his wand, and pointed it at the swaying Christmas cactus.
Through his magical sight, he could see the plant's intricate circuits—he sent his own magic forth, wrapping the cactus's circuits like a second skin.
"Vineaforma!"
His voice was soft but steady. The magic enveloping the cactus grew sharper, reshaping its circuits to mimic those of the Devil's Snare.
As the transformation took hold, the cactus's gentle swaying ceased. Its bright green vines darkened, shifting toward an inky hue.
Then the vines came alive—snakelike, they writhed and twisted outward, stretching in every direction.
Suddenly, as if following some silent command, the dark green vines surged forward, wrapping around Wyzett and hoisting him straight into the air…
…
The sun was setting as two professors strolled toward the greenhouse.
Sprout turned to Professor McGonagall, worry etched in her voice. "Minerva, are you sure it's safe to leave the Devil's Snare there?"
"At least, that's what Headmaster Dumbledore said…" McGonagall shrugged, her expression a mix of resignation and concern. "After all, he did ask you to make sure everyone knew its weaknesses."
Sprout sighed. "I still feel uneasy. We're talking about… You-Know-Who, after all."
"I doubt this is for You-Know-Who," McGonagall replied, adjusting her glasses. "It's more like… an extra end-of-term test, perhaps?"
"If that's the case, the poor student is in for a rough time…" Sprout lamented. "Even adult wizards would struggle with so many challenges at once."
"Well, if it's Dumbledore's plan, we should trust him," McGonagall said firmly. "He's led Hogwarts through countless storms."
"I'd never doubt Dumbledore," Sprout agreed with a smile. "By the way, he's been working late again, always coming by for more dittany honey."
She shrugged, only half-joking. "I'd set aside a whole jar for you, but now there's only half left…"
"It's the thought that counts. Headmaster Dumbledore does have a lot on his plate," McGonagall said, unable to hide her amusement.
"Nothing beats sweets for stress relief, though he does seem a bit obsessed lately."
They both laughed, but Sprout suddenly stopped, staring at the distant greenhouse. "Oh! Merlin's beard! Why is there still Devil's Snare in there?!"
"That's impossible! I only brought one, and I already put it away… I even told Wyzett—"
"Wyzett?" McGonagall spun toward the greenhouse.
Through the open doors, a massive tangle of Devil's Snare writhed like a nest of snakes, coiling and tightening as if in the midst of a hunt.
Without a word, McGonagall transformed into a tabby cat and shot forward, reaching the greenhouse in a heartbeat.
Sure enough, the Devil's Snare was attacking—a student was completely ensnared, the vines constricting tighter and tighter.
Her heart skipped a beat as she caught a glimpse of the trapped face: Wyzett.
"Incendio!"
She shouted, and a blazing lion leapt from her wand, swelling with fire as it lunged at the plant.
But the lion's jaws snapped shut on empty air—the Devil's Snare vanished in an instant, dissolving into nothingness.
"Professor McGonagall…" came Wyzett's voice, calm and a little sheepish. "It's me…"
"Wyzett!" McGonagall drew a deep breath, her expression stern. "What on earth just happened?"
At that moment, Sprout arrived, breathless and anxious. "Minerva… is Wyzett… all right…?"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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