Chapter 23: Herbology Class
On the third Thursday of late September, morning dew clung to the greenhouse glass in tiny beads that caught the light.
First year Herbology was held in Greenhouse Three, where the plants were considered relatively safe.
At least, they were safe if handled correctly.
"Today we are going to learn how to handle Bubotubers," Professor Sprout said, standing before a row of clay pots. She wore thick dragon hide gloves, and her round face glowed pink in the warm steam of the greenhouse. "Who can tell me the uses of Bubotuber pus?"
A Hufflepuff boy shot his hand up at once.
"It's used to treat stubborn acne, Professor," he said quickly, "but it has to be highly diluted, otherwise it can cause much worse ulceration."
"Exactly right. Five points to Hufflepuff." Professor Sprout nodded, pleased. "Now, in pairs. Each of you 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 not pleasant to look at. They were blackish brown, bulbous roots covered in lumps. At the top of each lump were tiny holes, oozing thick yellow green liquid.
"Put your gloves on," Regulus reminded him. He had already pulled his dragon hide gloves on with practised ease.
He picked up his own Bubotuber and let his magic settle, reaching out with perception rather than force.
Matter held magic. That was something he had confirmed again and again.
Porcupine quills carried concentrated magic at their tips. Moonlight Grass strengthened under moonlight.
But Bubotubers
His awareness seeped into the plant.
The first thing he felt was life.
All plants carried a gentle, steady current of life magic, like a slow heartbeat.
Yet within that current, something else was mixed in.
His perception returned a faint sting, the magical equivalent of touching a nettle.
The Bubotuber's overall magic was stable, but the magic around the lumps was disordered, tangled and uneven. The pus itself carried even stronger chaotic fluctuations, and beneath the chaos was something else.
Something that resembled emotion.
Regulus studied the plant in his hand.
Pain.
The word rose in his mind with sudden clarity.
It was not human pain, nothing so complex, but something primitive and instinctive. A discomfort response, the stress pattern of an organism under strain, imprinted into its magical characteristics.
"What are you staring at?" Avery had already squeezed half a bottle of pus. The yellow green liquid crawled slowly into the glass bottle. "Hurry up. This smell is disgusting."
Regulus nodded.
He pinched a large lump gently between his thumb and forefinger and applied pressure with care.
Squelch.
Thick pus flowed out and dropped into the bottle.
In that moment, he caught the change. The disordered magic around that lump weakened. The pain fluctuation across the whole plant spiked briefly, then began to settle.
Like squeezing a spot. A sharp, short sting, then relief.
He squeezed three lumps in succession and sensed the same pattern each time.
On the fourth, he lifted his head. Professor Sprout was moving between the benches, checking work and correcting grip and posture.
"Professor."
She stepped closer. "Yes, Mr. Black?"
"The Bubotubers," Regulus began, choosing his words carefully. "When they secrete pus, are they experiencing discomfort? From a magical perspective, the secretion seems to be accompanied by something like a pain response."
Regulus had a habit of asking questions that sounded strange to most students.
To young witches and wizards, his questions were like a page from a book written in another language. They recognised every word, but the meaning refused to assemble into sense.
Yet over the past weeks, the pattern had become obvious.
Regulus asked baffling questions.
The professors lit up.
He earned praise.
He earned points.
It had become a familiar rhythm in Slytherin lessons, and his reputation now arrived in the room before he did.
Nearby students turned their heads almost in unison. Several even stopped squeezing their Bubotubers without realising they had done it.
Avery Cuthbert's expression was the most complicated of all.
He frowned at his roommate as that familiar mix of confusion and faint irritation rose again. He could not understand how many bizarre thoughts fit inside Regulus Black's head.
Did he read these questions somewhere, or did he come up with them on his own?
What bothered Avery most was that Regulus never sounded like he was showing off. Every question had purpose, as if he were reaching for something specific.
It made everyone else feel like fools who only followed the book.
Across the aisle, a few Hufflepuffs exchanged glances, their confusion more open than hostile.
Pain. Discomfort. Do plants feel things too?
Professor Sprout's eyes widened. She hurried to Regulus's bench, surprise plain on her face.
"You noticed that?"
"Yes, Professor." Regulus nodded politely. "The magical characteristics in the pus are very chaotic, and when the plant is squeezed, the overall magic fluctuates briefly. It is similar to the reaction of an animal when it is injured."
Professor Sprout stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"Very few students can recognise that level in their first year," she said. "Most only see Bubotubers as ingredients."
She straightened and addressed the class.
"Mr. Black has raised an important point. Many magical plants do have simple emotions. Bubotuber pus is essentially a defence 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, changing her grip. Instead of pinching sharply, she applied pressure gradually with the pads of her fingers.
"A merciful collector will obtain purer materials," Professor Sprout said. "That is the first lesson of Herbology, and one many people forget. Ten points to Slytherin for such careful observation."
Avery leaned closer and muttered, "How did you feel that? I just think it's revolting."
"Focus, reading, and a bit of talent," Regulus replied simply, returning to the remaining lumps.
At the same time, his mind continued to turn.
Plants had emotions, even if they were primitive.
If emotion could imprint itself into magic, could magic carry more complex emotions?
Could it carry them for attack, or for healing?
As the lesson moved into its second half, students began washing bottles and cleaning tools.
Regulus rinsed the glass bottle, removed his gloves, and walked over to Professor Sprout, who was sorting a tray of potted seedlings.
"Professor, I have another question."
She looked up, amused. "Go on, child."
"It's about Mandrakes," Regulus said. "I read that the cry of a mature Mandrake is fatal to humans. Does the lethality act on the body or the mind?"
Professor Sprout stopped what she was doing. Her expression sharpened into seriousness.
"That is an advanced question. We usually do not go into detail on Mandrakes until upper years."
"I know, Professor," Regulus said, still polite but unyielding. "But I'm curious. If covering one's ears can prevent death, it suggests the danger is tied to the act of hearing. Does the sound itself carry magic, or does the sound trigger a reaction in the listener?"
Professor Sprout did not answer immediately.
Instead, she gestured for him to follow her to the small rest corner of the greenhouse, where a few wicker chairs sat beside a low table.
Once they were seated, she spoke in a quieter tone.
"First, to answer your first question, it is both."
She folded her gloved hands.
"A Mandrake's cry contains powerful magic that shocks the mind. It interferes directly with the listener's spiritual stability and can cause consciousness to collapse. That is a kind of death on a mental level."
She paused, then continued, measured and precise.
"But the mind and body are connected. A violent mental collapse triggers a physical chain reaction. Cardiac arrest, respiratory failure, magical disorder. So the end result is a dual collapse of both mind and body."
Regulus nodded, absorbing every word.
"Then what is the principle behind protective earmuffs?" he asked. "Do they completely block the sound, or do they weaken the transmission of magic?"
"A good question." The appreciation in Professor Sprout's eyes deepened. "Standard protective earmuffs have a Sound Filtering Charm applied. It filters out specific magical factors, namely the lethal component of the Mandrake's cry. Strictly speaking, you may still hear something, but what you hear is a harmless version that has been purified."
Regulus's mind accelerated.
"In other words, the danger lies in the magic carried by the sound," he said. "Then could it be used in reverse?"
Professor Sprout's posture stiffened. "Child, what are you thinking?"
"I am thinking about treatment," Regulus said, and it was only a partial truth. "If certain magic can destroy, then if it is adjusted, could it repair? For example, using a similar but reversed magic to treat mental trauma."