As Crabbe reached out for the Goldfish Vine, Malfoy paused, a smirk spreading across his face as if he were settling in to watch a good show. Goyle, never one to be left out, licked his lips and eyed the plant hungrily. To the two of them, the bright green, goldfish-shaped leaves looked like some kind of magical treat—perhaps a new flavor of Chocolate Frog, juicy and sweet.
"I want some too!" Goyle grunted, grabbing Crabbe's arm to get his share.
Neither Crabbe nor Goyle paid any attention to Char, Neville, or Hermione. After all, hadn't Malfoy just said Char and Neville were barely better than Squibs? And Hermione, well, she was just a Muggle-born. No one here had learned magic yet, so, in their minds, size was all that mattered.
Hermione's face flushed with anger. "Rude! Absolutely rude!" she snapped, drawing her wand. She'd practiced a few spells at home, and though her hand trembled a bit—she'd never actually been in a fight before—she stood her ground. Her heart pounded. Would her magic be enough against these two giants?
Neville, who couldn't cast spells at all, nevertheless stepped forward protectively, shielding the Goldfish Vine behind him. There was a rare look of determination in his eyes. Even if Crabbe and Goyle beat him to a pulp, he wouldn't let them touch the plant his cousin Char had entrusted to him.
Just as the tension in the compartment reached its breaking point, there was a click—the sound of the carriage door locking. Malfoy blinked, only now noticing that Char had quietly locked the door. He looked confused for a moment, but then a chill ran down his spine. Suddenly, the carriage seemed darker, the air heavier.
Everyone turned to Char, who now stood with a cold, stormy look on his face, his fists slowly clenching.
"You come in here, spouting off about Squibs and Muggle-borns," Char said in a low, dangerous voice. "I could ignore that. But you want to eat the Goldfish Vine I grew?"
His expression twisted, as if recalling a memory that made his blood boil. In his mind, he was back in his previous life, leaving his experimental field for just half an hour—only to return and find the local aunties had helped themselves to his precious citrus fruits.
"Why are the oranges you grow so sour?" they'd complained, as if he owed them something. "Young man, I'll give you two pounds for a kilo, how's that?"
The faces of those aunties were suddenly superimposed on Crabbe and Goyle's greedy expressions.
A growl rumbled in Char's chest. "Not this time."
In a flash, Char's fist became a blur. He landed a punch squarely on Crabbe and Goyle's faces, sending the two hulking boys crashing to the floor. Then, with a burst of pent-up frustration, Char unleashed a flurry of stomps.
"I'll let you eat oranges! I'll let you eat! Still complaining they're sour? My thesis! My graduation! Eat, eat, eat—are you still going to eat?!"
Malfoy, stunned and terrified, watched as his friends were flattened. When Char's gaze swept over to him, Malfoy's bravado vanished. He stammered, "I—I didn't eat anything! I don't want to eat it! That thing looks disgusting!"
Char's lips curled into a smirk. In a swift motion, he reached out, grabbed Malfoy by the collar, and hauled him up. "Are you qualified to judge my plants? Are you the one studying Herbology, or am I?"
He tossed Malfoy to the floor, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. "Ahh, that feels better."
Neville and Hermione stared, wide-eyed and speechless. So that was why Char had locked the door—to give Malfoy and his cronies a lesson they wouldn't forget. Hermione's wand hand dropped, and Neville clutched the Goldfish Vine even tighter.
Malfoy, now sniffling and red-faced, wailed, "I'm telling my father! He'll have you expelled! All of you!"
Char just smiled slyly and pulled three small, black seeds from his pocket. Before Malfoy, Crabbe, or Goyle could react, he popped one into each of their mouths.
Malfoy's eyes bulged. "What did you just feed us?!"
Char put on his most serious face. "Devil's Parasitic Grass seeds. Ever heard of them?"
Malfoy shook his head, panic rising. He didn't care for Herbology and had no idea what that meant, but the name alone was terrifying.
Char continued, voice low and ominous, "Devil's Parasitic Grass is a rare and dangerous dark magic plant. It's not even in 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.' Only the Sprout family has it. It's highly toxic, but that's not the worst part. It only sprouts inside the human body, feeding on flesh and blood—especially from young wizards like you. Soon, you'll feel a little strange, but you won't know why. That's the grass taking root. When it's fully grown, it'll burst right out of your chest."
Malfoy's face went as white as his hair. He fainted dead away, followed quickly by Crabbe and Goyle.
Char rolled his eyes. "So much for pure-blood courage."
He dragged the three unconscious boys to the compartment door and heaved them into the corridor. Then, turning back, he saw Hermione and Neville looking pale and shaken.
Hermione found her voice first. "Char, you can't do that! Even if they were being awful, you can't use such horrible magic. You could be arrested!"
Char blinked, then burst out laughing. "You really think Devil's Parasitic Grass exists? Please! I made it up. Even if my family did have dangerous plants, my aunt would never let me near them."
Hermione and Neville exchanged confused glances.
"So what did you actually give them?" Hermione asked.
Char grinned, holding out a handful of roasted watermelon seeds. "Just ordinary Muggle watermelon seeds. I roasted them as a snack. Want some?"
The tension melted away as Hermione and Neville realized the truth. They laughed—nervously at first, then with real relief. The compartment, once filled with fear and anger, was now filled with the warmth of new friendship and the crackle of shared laughter as the Hogwarts Express carried them ever closer to their magical future.