On the third Thursday of late September, morning dew condensed into fine droplets on the greenhouse glass.
First-year Herbology class was held in Greenhouse Three, where relatively safe magical plants were grown.
At least, they were safe provided they were handled correctly.
"Today we are going to learn how to handle Bubotubers." Professor Sprout stood before a row of clay pots, wearing thick dragon-hide gloves.
Her round face glowed red in the warm steam of the greenhouse: "Who can tell me the uses of Bubotuber pus?"
A Hufflepuff boy immediately raised his hand: "It's used to treat stubborn acne, Professor, but it must be highly diluted, otherwise it will cause even more severe ulceration."
"Exactly right, five points to Hufflepuff." Sprout nodded: "Now, in pairs, each person will be given a Bubotuber, a pair of gloves, and a glass bottle.
Your task is to safely squeeze out the pus and collect it into the bottle. Be careful not to splash it on your skin or robes."
Regulus was paired with Avery Cuthbert. Avery wrinkled his nose as he took the clay pot: "This thing is really ugly."
Bubotubers were indeed not pleasant to look at; they were blackish-brown bulbous rhizomes covered in lumps, with tiny holes at the top of each lump oozing a thick, yellowish-green liquid.
"Put on your gloves," Regulus reminded him, having already nimbly pulled on his dragon-hide gloves.
He picked up his own tuber and concentrated his magic to sense it.
Matter possesses magic; this was something he already knew.
The magic of porcupine quills was concentrated at the tips, and Moonlight Grass's magic would strengthen under moonlight, but Bubotubers—
His perception seeped in.
The first thing he felt was life.
All plants had a gentle and steady flow of life magic, like a slow heartbeat, but within the life flow of the Bubotuber, something else was mixed in.
His magical perception fed back a stinging sensation.
The Bubotuber's overall magic was stable, but the magic around those lumps was disordered.
The pus itself emitted even stronger chaotic fluctuations, mixed with a kind of… emotion?
Regulus scrutinized the plant in his hand.
*Pain.*
The word suddenly surfaced in his mind.
It wasn't an emotional level as complex as human pain; it was more like a primitive and instinctive reaction of discomfort.
Like the stress response produced when an organism is injured, it was imprinted in its magical characteristics.
"What are you dazing off for?" Avery had already squeezed out half a bottle of pus, the yellowish-green liquid flowing slowly in the glass bottle: "Hurry up, this smell is disgusting."
Regulus nodded, pinching a large lump with his right thumb and index finger, gently applying pressure.
*Squelch.*
The thick pus flowed out and fell into the glass bottle.
In that moment, Regulus captured a change: the disordered magic around the lump weakened, but the pain fluctuations of the entire plant briefly intensified before slowly subsiding.
Like squeezing a pimple, the pain intensified temporarily but then eased.
He squeezed three lumps in a row, sensing this change each time. On the fourth, he looked up at Professor Sprout, who was making her rounds.
"Professor."
Sprout approached: "What is it, Mr. Black?"
"The Bubotubers…" Regulus asked somewhat hesitantly, "when they secrete pus, are they experiencing some kind of discomfort?
I mean, from a magical perspective, this secretion seems to be accompanied by a pain response."
Regulus had always been prone to asking strange questions.
And those questions themselves, to most young wizards, were like reading a book from heaven—they knew every word, but when put together, they were completely incomprehensible.
But the young wizards gradually discovered a pattern: Regulus's baffling questions often hit the mark with the professors, earning him high praise and extra house points.
This had almost become a permanent fixture in Slytherin classes; by now, Regulus's reputation preceded him.
The nearby young wizards almost simultaneously turned their heads to look at him, even subconsciously stopping their actions of squeezing the Bubotubers.
Avery Cuthbert's expression was the most complex.
He frowned, staring at his inscrutable roommate, a familiar mix of bewilderment and faint frustration welling up in his heart once more.
He couldn't understand just how many bizarre ideas were packed into the head of this second son of the Black family.
Had he read these questions in some book, or had he come up with them himself?
But what bothered Avery the most was that every time Regulus asked a question, it seemed to have a clear purpose, never just for the sake of showing off.
Compared to him, it seemed everyone else had become fools who only knew how to follow the book and never thought deeply.
However, unlike the distance and bewilderment felt by most Slytherins, the few Hufflepuff students sitting not far away showed more of a pure and curious confusion.
They exchanged glances, communicating silently.
*Discomfort? Pain? Do plants have feelings too?*
Professor Sprout's eyes widened, and she walked quickly to Regulus, her voice filled with surprise: "You noticed?"
"Yes, Professor." Regulus politely nodded to the professor from his seat.
"The magical characteristics in the pus are very chaotic, and the overall magic of the tuber fluctuates briefly when squeezed, similar to…" he searched for a suitable description, "…similar to the magical reaction of an animal when it's injured."
Sprout stared at him for a long while before slowly nodding: "Few people can recognize this level in their first year. Most students only see Bubotubers as a source of raw materials."
She straightened up and faced the class: "Mr. Black has raised an interesting point. In fact, many magical plants do have simple emotions.
Bubotuber pus is essentially a defense mechanism, and the secretion process is a burden on the plant itself.
So when collecting, we should be as gentle as possible to reduce their pain."
She demonstrated a gentler squeezing technique, applying pressure slowly with the pads of her fingers instead of pinching roughly.
"A merciful collector will obtain purer materials," Sprout said. "This is the first lesson of Herbology, and one that many people forget. Ten points to Slytherin, for such meticulous observation."
Avery whispered to Regulus, "How did you feel that? I just think it's gross."
"Concentration, reading books, and a bit of talent," Regulus replied simply, continuing to handle the remaining lumps.
At the same time, he thought to himself: *Plants have emotions, even if they're primitive.*
*What does this mean? If emotions can be imprinted in magic, can magic carry more complex emotions? For attack, or for healing?*
As the lesson reached its second half, the students began cleaning their tools.
Regulus washed the glass bottle, took off his gloves, and walked over to Professor Sprout, who was organizing the flower stands.
"Professor, I have another question."
"Go ahead, child."
"It's about Mandrakes," Regulus said. "I read in a book that the cry of a mature Mandrake is fatal to humans.
I want to know, is this lethality acting on the body or the mind?"
Sprout stopped what she was doing and turned around, her expression becoming serious: "That's an advanced question. Usually, we don't explain Mandrakes in detail until the upper years."
"I know, Professor, but I'm curious." Regulus maintained a polite but firm attitude.
"If simply covering one's ears can prevent death, it suggests the danger comes from the act of 'hearing the sound'.
So, does the sound itself carry some kind of magic, or does the sound trigger some reaction within the listener?"
Sprout didn't answer immediately. She gestured for Regulus to follow her to the rest area in the corner of the greenhouse, where there were several wicker chairs.
After they both sat down, she spoke: "First, to answer your first question: it's both."
"A Mandrake's cry contains a powerful magic of mental shock, which directly interferes with the listener's spiritual stability, leading to a collapse of consciousness. This is death on a mental level.
But at the same time, a violent mental collapse triggers a physical chain reaction—cardiac arrest, respiratory failure, and magical disorder. So, the ultimate death is a dual collapse of both body and mind."
Regulus nodded, quickly digesting the information: "Then what is the principle behind the protective earmuffs? Do they completely block the sound, or do they weaken the transmission of magic?"
"Good question." The appreciation in Sprout's eyes grew stronger: "Standard protective earmuffs have a Sound-filtering Charm applied to them. It filters out specific magic—namely, the lethal factors in the Mandrake's cry.
So strictly speaking, you can still hear the cry, but what you hear is a harmless version that has been purified."
Regulus's brain worked rapidly: "In other words, the lethality of a Mandrake lies in the magic carried by the sound. Then, is it possible to use it in reverse?"
Sprout's expression turned serious: "Child, what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about the possibility of treatment," Regulus said, which was a partial truth. "If a certain magic can destroy, then if it's adjusted, could it possibly repair?
For example, using a similar but reversed magic to treat mental trauma?"
×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×-×
Read Extra Chapter Visit My Patreon
I have only 1 tier
19$ Tier – Access to 30 advance chapters
patreon.com/Lempil
patreon.com/Lempil