On the third Thursday of late September, morning dew condensed into fine beads of water on the glass of the greenhouse.
The first-year Herbology class was held in Greenhouse Three, where relatively safe magical plants were cultivated.
At least, they were safe as long as the correct procedures were followed.
"Today, we will 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 steamy warmth of the greenhouse. "Who can tell me the use of Bubotuber pus?"
A Hufflepuff boy raised his hand immediately. "It's used to treat stubborn acne, Professor, but it must be highly diluted, or it will cause even worse sores."
"Correct. Five points to Hufflepuff." Sprout nodded. "Now, work in pairs. Each person will receive a Bubotuber, a pair of gloves, and a glass bottle.
Your task is to safely squeeze out the pus and collect it in 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."
The Bubotuber was indeed unsightly. It was a blackish-brown bulbous root, covered in protrusions. At the tip of each protrusion was a tiny hole oozing a viscous, yellow-green liquid.
"Put on your gloves," Regulus reminded him, having already deftly pulled on his dragon-hide gloves.
He picked up his own tuber and focused his magical perception.
Matter possesses magic, this he knew.
The magic of a porcupine quill was concentrated at the tip; mooncalf magic strengthened under moonlight. But the Bubotuber-
His perception penetrated.
The first thing he felt was life.
All plants had a slow and steady flow of life magic, like a slow heartbeat. But within the life flow of the Bubotuber, there was something else mixed in.
Magical perception fed back a stinging sensation.
The overall magic of the Bubotuber was stable, but the magic around those protrusions was chaotic.
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 a complex emotional layer like human pain; it was more like a primitive and instinctive reaction of discomfort.
Like the stress response of an organism when injured, imprinted into its magical signature.
"What are you spacing out for?" Avery had already squeezed half a bottle of pus. The yellow-green liquid flowed slowly inside the glass. "Hurry up, this smell is disgusting."
Regulus nodded. Using his right thumb and forefinger, he pinched a larger protrusion and squeezed gently.
Squelch.
Viscous pus flowed out and fell into the glass bottle.
In that instant, Regulus caught the change. The chaotic magic around the protrusion weakened, but the fluctuation of pain from the entire plant briefly intensified before slowly settling down.
Like lancing a boil, the pain intensified temporarily, then was relieved.
He squeezed three protrusions in succession, perceiving this change each time. On the fourth time, he looked up at Professor Sprout, who was making her rounds.
"Professor."
Sprout approached. "What is it, Mr. Black?"
"The Bubotuber..." Regulus asked somewhat hesitantly. "Is it experiencing some kind of discomfort when it secretes pus?
I mean, from a magical perspective, this secretion seems to be accompanied by a pain response."
Regulus always asked strange questions.
And to most young wizards, those questions sounded like gibberish, they knew every word, but couldn't understand them when put together.
But the young wizards gradually discovered a pattern: Regulus's baffling questions often hit the nail on the head for the professors, earning him high praise and extra house points.
This had almost become a fixed feature of Slytherin classes, and Regulus was now well-known for it.
The nearby young wizards turned their heads almost in unison to look at him, subconsciously pausing their squeezing of Bubotubers.
Avery Cuthbert's expression was the most complex.
He frowned, staring at his inscrutable roommate, feeling that familiar mix of bewilderment and vague frustration welling up again.
He couldn't figure out just how many bizarre ideas were packed into the head of the second son of the Black family.
Where did these questions come from? A book? Or did he just conjure them up out of thin air?
But what bothered Avery the most was that every time Regulus asked a question, it seemed purposeful, never just showing off for no reason.
Compared to him, everyone else seemed like fools who only knew how to follow the script and never thought deeply.
However, unlike the alienation and confusion felt by most Slytherins, the few Hufflepuff students sitting nearby showed more pure and curious puzzlement on their faces.
They exchanged glances, communicating silently.
Discomfort? Pain? Do plants have feelings too?
Professor Sprout's eyes widened. She took two quick steps to stand before Regulus, her voice filled with surprise. "You sensed that?"
"Yes, Professor." Regulus nodded politely to the professor from his seat.
"The magical signature in the pus is very chaotic, and the overall magic of the tuber fluctuates briefly when squeezed, similar to..." He searched for an appropriate description. "Similar to the magical reaction of an animal when it's injured."
Sprout stared at him for a long while before slowly nodding. "Very few people realize this level in their first year. Most students just treat the Bubotuber as a source of raw material."
She straightened up and addressed the whole class. "Mr. Black has raised an interesting point. In fact, many magical plants do have simple emotions.
The pus of the Bubotuber 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 minimize their suffering."
She demonstrated a gentler squeezing technique, applying pressure slowly with the pads of her fingers rather than pinching roughly.
"A benevolent gatherer will obtain purer ingredients," Sprout said. "This is the first lesson of Herbology, and one that many people forget. Ten points to Slytherin for detailed observation."
Avery whispered to Regulus, "How did you feel that? I just think it's disgusting."
"Focus, reading, and some talent," Regulus answered simply, continuing to deal with the remaining protrusions.
Simultaneously, he pondered in his mind: Plants have emotions, however primitive.
What does this mean? If emotions can be imprinted in magic, can magic carry more complex emotions? For attack, or for healing?
In the latter half of the lesson, 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, my boy."
"It's about the Mandrake," Regulus said. "I read in a book that the cry of a mature Mandrake is fatal to humans.
I want to know, does this lethality act on the physical body or the mind?"
Sprout stopped what she was doing and turned around, her expression becoming serious. "That is an advanced question. Usually, we don't explain Mandrakes in detail until the upper years."
"I know, Professor, but I'm very curious," Regulus maintained a polite but firm attitude.
"If covering your ears is enough to avoid death, it means 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 sat down, she spoke. "First, to answer your first question: it's both."
"The cry of the Mandrake contains intense psychic impact magic. This magic directly interferes with the stability of the listener's soul, leading to a collapse of consciousness. This is lethality on the mental level.
But at the same time, severe mental collapse triggers a chain reaction in the physical body, cardiac arrest, respiratory failure, magical chaos. So, the ultimate death is a dual collapse of body and mind."
Regulus nodded, quickly digesting this information. "Then what is the principle behind the protective earmuffs? Do they completely isolate the sound, or do they weaken the magical transmission?"
"Good question." The appreciation in Sprout's eyes deepened. "Standard protective earmuffs are enchanted with a Sound-Filtering Charm. It filters out specific magic, which is the lethal factor in the Mandrake's cry.
So strictly speaking, you can still hear the cry, but what you hear is a purified, harmless version."
Regulus's brain was working fast. "In other words, the lethality of the Mandrake lies in the magic carried by the sound. Then, is it possible to use this in reverse?"
Sprout's expression turned serious. "Child, what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about the possibility of healing," Regulus said, which was partially true. "If a certain kind of magic can destroy, then by adjusting it, is it possible to repair?
For example, using similar but reversed magic to heal mental trauma?"