The days at Hogwarts

The stench of fermenting compost mixed with the scent of damp earth hit me in the face. Too much gas had accumulated in the greenhouse after being closed for a holiday, causing a pressure difference between the inside and outside of the greenhouse. Small gusts of wind blew from the inside to the outside, and the stench went straight into my nose.

"Oh~" the little wizards wailed.

Amid the wailing, two outliers appeared. Harry and Ron were laughing with their hands covering their mouths, their shoulders shaking.

"Do you like this smell?" Loren asked strangely.

"No, it's not." Harry chuckled again. "Professor Sprout didn't say anything, which means our paper passed."

Ron snickered again.

Entering the greenhouse, all kinds of strange plants slowly sway their branches and vines. Compared with the beginning of last semester, they move much slower. Many herbaceous plants are even hibernating, with their roots buried in the soil, motionless.

Loren could sense waves of sleepiness from the plants, and only became a little more alert when Professor Sprout came in.

The work of pruning the Abyssian fig seedlings was done in the greenhouse, and the work of collecting fodder had to be done outside on the grass. The stench in the greenhouse drove the little wizards to speed up their work, and they all hoped to finish pruning the branches as soon as possible and go outside to cut grass... and breathe fresh air.

Neville glanced at Seamus next to him, and saw that the scissors in his hand were flying, almost cutting out residual shadows, regardless of whether they were yellow or green, the branches and leaves of the entire fig seedling fell down. Dean didn't have time to pick up the fallen branches and leaves, and the next fig seedling began to be destroyed.

Neville opened his mouth but couldn't say anything.

Turning his head again, Harry and Ron next to him were doing almost the same thing, waving the scissors in their hands, and the branches and leaves of the fig seedlings fell down, regardless of whether they were yellow or green.

Harry noticed his gaze and turned his head slightly to look at him, asking in a puzzled tone, "What's the problem?"

Neville shrank his neck and said weakly, "The professor said to only prune the dead branches."

"I know." Harry answered decisively, and his scissors were even more decisive.

"..."

Neville walked around and found that Hufflepuff was doing better, but most of the Gryffindor team had their heads shaved like fig seedlings.

Only Loren and Hermione were different. Although they also moved quickly, they strictly followed the professor's requirements.

With a long sigh, Neville could only comfort himself in his heart that without the side branches, the fig seedlings might develop better...

He silently made a plan to come often to water and fertilize the fig seedlings.

Next to another platform, Hannah from Hufflepuff was watching from afar. Compared with the fast-moving crowd around him, Neville's cautious and slow movements seemed somewhat out of place.

In short, with the joint efforts of the little wizards, in less than thirty minutes, more than half of the dozens of Asibia shrunken fig seedlings in the two square beds were destroyed. They were all shaved bald, leaving only a bare main branch standing there.

The first task was completed so quickly that the second task became idle. The young wizards from the two academies threw grass leaves into the compost pit from time to time.

On the grass next to the greenhouse, Loren, Hermione, Harry and Ron sat together in a circle, with Rolf next to them. They were working together to look after the Bowtruckle, Little Button.

The little green man, whose body was made up of leaves and twigs, shyly hid behind a blade of grass. The color of his body almost blended with the grass. Loren tried to tease it with fresh grass leaves but it did not come out.

Rolf was helpless: "I remember telling you at the beginning that Bowtruckles eat bugs."

"I know. You also said it is omnivorous." Loren was not giving up. "I have tasted it. This grass is sweet and tastes good."

There was so much information in his words that the crowd of onlookers were all silent.

Hermione looked at him with a complicated expression: "Did you discover this sweet grass right away, or have you tasted a lot of grasses?"

"Um……"

While they were laughing, a fat boy with golden hair and a high nose bridge approached.

Bowtruckle Little Barton was the first to hear the footsteps. He quickly hid in Loren's sleeve, pulled at the cuffs, and poked his little head out to look out.

Ernie MacMillan squatted beside Harry, looked straight at him, and took a deep breath, as if he had been preparing for this scene for a long time.

He said very formally, "I just want to say, Harry, I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I apologize for all the bad things I said before, and I sincerely hope you can forgive me."

Ernie held out a short, fat hand, and Harry shook it. "You know what? You picked a good time. I'm in a good mood right now because Professor Sprout didn't scold me for my paper."

After hearing such humorous words, Ernie realized that the matter was over and a relaxed smile appeared on his face.

On the contrary, Ron did not seem to forgive Ernie as Harry did. He said indifferently, "You are quite clever."

Ernie shamelessly ignored the remark and joined his friend Hannah in the circle, leaving the little Bowtruckle with nothing to do but stay in Loren's sleeve while the nasty man kept poking his face with grass.

Although Rolf is from Hufflepuff, he is more mature and doesn't interact much with Ernie, who likes to gossip. Instead, he is more familiar with Justin, but Justin is still lying in the hospital.

The scene was a little awkward for a while.

"What were you talking about just now?" Hannah and Loren were not strangers. They had interacted because of frozen pears.

"It is said that the roots of this grass are sweet and taste good." Loren broke off a brand new grass root, peeled off several layers of grass and handed it to her.

Hannah was a carefree girl. She believed it without hesitation, took the grass root and put it in her mouth, and exclaimed in surprise: "It's really sweet!"

"You try it too." Loren pulled out a handful and handed it directly to Ernie. There was still dirty mud on it.

Ernie's face darkened all of a sudden. He didn't go to pick up the grass. He said dryly, "I, I still have to help with the composting. I'm leaving now."

Looking at his embarrassed figure, Ron let out a few sudden laughs from his tightly closed mouth, but then he realized that Hannah was next to him and held it back.

Hannah smiled softly and didn't take it too seriously: "I want to find Neville, do you know where he is?"

"Over there, he's mowing the grass over there."

After watching the little girl walk away, Hermione turned around and patted Loren on the shoulder, saying angrily, "You're teasing him on purpose, you little rascal."

"After apologizing, you should leave. Harry has forgiven him. There's no point in crowding here." Loren slowly took little Button out of his sleeve and fiddled with its little head.

"That's right!" Ron nodded continuously.

Rolf rescued Little Barton from Loren and asked him about the basilisk.

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The Tales of Beedle the Bard: Babbitty Rabbit and Her Croaking Stump

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a foolish king who thought that the power of magic should be possessed by him alone.

So the king ordered the leaders of his army to form a witch-hunting squad and assigned them a group of fierce black hounds. At the same time, he also posted a notice in towns and villages across the country: "The king is looking for a magic teacher."

None of the real wizards dared to come out and apply for the job. They all hid from the witch hunting team. However, a cunning charlatan who didn't know any magic saw an opportunity to make a fortune. He came to the palace and claimed to be a skilled wizard. The charlatan performed a few simple tricks, and the foolish king believed that he really knew magic. He immediately appointed him as the chief magician and the king's personal magic master.

The charlatan asked the king to give him a large bag of gold, which he used to buy wands and other magical necessities. He also asked for several large rubies, which he said were for healing spells, and one or two silver goblets, which he said were for storing and brewing potions. All these things the foolish king provided him with.

The charlatan stored the treasure in his own home and then returned to the palace gardens.

He didn't know that an old woman who lived in a small hut at the edge of the garden was watching him. The old woman's name was Babitty, and she was a washerwoman who kept the bedclothes in the palace soft, white, and fragrant. Babitty was watching from behind the sheets hanging out to dry, and she saw the charlatan break off two branches from one of the king's trees and then enter the palace.

The charlatan handed the king a branch and swore that it was a magic wand of great power.

"But," said the charlatan, "it will only work when you are qualified."

Every morning, the charlatan and the foolish king walked out of the palace and into the garden, waving their magic wands and shouting nonsense to the sky. The charlatan carefully performed a few tricks to convince the king that his great magician was indeed a great wizard and that the magic wand he had bought with so much gold was indeed powerful.

One morning, as the Charlatan and the King were waving their branches, and skipping about in circles, and muttering some meaningless verses, a great burst of laughter reached the King's ears. Babbitty, the washerwoman, who was watching the King and the Charlatan from the window of her little cottage, laughed so hard that she could not stand, and soon disappeared from the window.

"I must have looked very undignified to make the old washing woman laugh like that!" said the king. He stopped jumping up and down and waving his branches and frowned. "I am tired of practicing! When will I be able to perform a real spell in front of my subjects, wizard?"

The charlatan tried to comfort his student by assuring him that he would soon be able to perform amazing feats of magic, but little did the charlatan know that Babidi's cackle had deeply stung the foolish king.

"Tomorrow," the king said, "we will invite all the courtiers to watch the king perform magic!"

The charlatan knew the time had come and he had to escape with his fortune.

"Oh, that's impossible! I forgot to tell your Majesty that I have to go on a long journey tomorrow—"

"If you leave the palace without my permission, wizard, my witch-hunters will use their hounds to find you! Tomorrow morning you must assist me in performing magic for my princes and nobles; and if anyone laughs at me, I'll chop off your head!"

The King went back to his palace in a rage, and the Charlatan was left there in a state of panic, for all his cunning and cunning could not save him now, either from running away or from helping the King to perform a magic trick that neither of them could do.

To vent his fear and anger, the Charlatan went to the window of Babbitty the Washerwoman. He peered in and saw the little old woman sitting at the table polishing a wand. Behind her in the corner, the King's sheets were washing themselves in a tub.

The charlatan immediately realized that Babidi was a real witch who caused him terrible troubles but also saved him from danger.

"Withered old woman!" roared the Charlatan. "Your laughter is killing me! If you cannot help me, I will expose you as a witch, and it will be you who will be torn to pieces by the King's hounds!"

Old Babidi looked at the charlatan with a smile, and assured him that she would help him to the best of her ability.

The charlatan tells her to hide in the bushes and perform all the spells for the king when he performs magic without letting the king know. Babidi agrees to the plan, but asks a question.

"Sir, what if the king wants to perform a spell that Babbitty can't do?"

The charlatan sneered.

"Your magic is more than enough to counter that fool's imagination," he assured her, and then he returned to the castle, congratulating himself on his cleverness.

The next morning all the princes and nobles of the kingdom gathered in the palace gardens. The King mounted a stage before them, and the Charlatan stood beside him.

"First, I'm going to make this lady's hat disappear!" the king shouted, pointing his branch at a noblewoman.

In the bushes nearby Babbitty pointed her wand at the hat, and it disappeared, to the great astonishment and admiration of the spectators, whose cheers were so deafening that the King was delighted.

"Next, I'm going to make that horse fly!" the king shouted, pointing his branch at his warhorse.

Babidi hid in the bushes and pointed her wand at the horse, which flew high into the air. The audience became even more excited and amazed, and loudly expressed their appreciation for the king's superb magical skills.

"And now—" The king looked around for his target, when the captain of the witch-hunting team ran up.

"Your Majesty," said the captain, "this morning, Saber ate a poisonous mushroom and died! Your Majesty, use your magic wand to bring him back to life!"

As he spoke, the captain brought the body of the largest hound of the witch-hunting team onto the stage.

The foolish king waved his branch and pointed it at the dead dog, while in the bushes Babbitty smiled but did not raise his wand, for no magic could bring the dead back to life.

Seeing the dead dog motionless, the people first began to whisper, then burst into laughter. They suspected that the king's first two magic tricks were just magic tricks.

"Why doesn't it work?" the King shouted at the Charlatan, who remembered his only remaining trick.

"It is so, sire, it is so!" he cried, pointing to the bush where Babbitty was concealed. "I see plainly that a wicked witch has blocked your magic with her foul spell! Seize her, come, seize her!"

Babidi escaped through the bushes, and the witch-hunters set out in pursuit. They let loose the hounds, which barked and followed Babidi's scent. But the little witch ran to a low fence and disappeared, and when the King, the Charlatan, and all the courtiers went around the other side of the fence, they found the witch-hunters barking and scratching around an old crooked tree.

"He has turned himself into a tree!" cried the Charlatan, and fearing that Babbitty would reveal his true nature when she turned into a woman again, he added, "Cut her off, sire, that is the way to deal with a wicked witch!"

The axe was immediately brought, and the old tree was felled, to the loud cheers of the charlatans and courtiers.

However, just as they were about to return to the palace, they suddenly heard loud croaking laughter, and they stopped.

"Fool!" Babbitty's voice came from the stump of the tree that had just been chopped down.

"You can't kill wizards by chopping them in half! If you don't believe me, take an axe and chop the great wizard in half!"

The leader of the witch-hunting party was eager to try the experiment, but no sooner had he raised his axe than the charlatan fell to his knees, screaming for his life and confessing his crimes, and as he was dragged toward the dungeon the tree stump began to laugh even louder than before.

"By chopping a witch in half, you have brought a terrible curse upon your kingdom!" the stump said to the stunned king. "From now on, every harm you inflict on our wizard will be like an axe hitting you in the back, and in the end you will feel worse than death!"

At this the King also knelt down, and told the Stump that he would at once issue a proclamation protecting all witches and wizards in the kingdom, and allowing them to practise magic in peace.

"Very good," said the Stump, "but you haven't made amends to Babidi yet!"

"Anything, anything!" cried the foolish King, wringing his hands before the stump.

"You will erect a statue of Babitty over me in memory of your poor washerwoman, so that you will never forget your folly!" said the stump.

The king immediately agreed, and promised to invite the most famous sculptor in the country to make the statue out of pure gold. Then, when the ashamed king and all the princes and nobles returned to the palace, the tree stump was still laughing behind them.

When the garden was empty, a fat, bearded old rabbit emerged from a hole at the base of the tree stump, holding a magic wand between its teeth. Babbitty bounded away from the garden. A golden statue of a washerwoman has stood on the stump ever since, and no wizard has ever been persecuted in the kingdom.

Chapter 233 Hairy Heart and Horcruxes

The composting task was completed quickly, and the smell in the third greenhouse was greatly reduced after a period of ventilation.

When Professor Sprout gathered all the students and lined them up at the door of the third greenhouse, the little wizards suppressed their excitement and had expectant smiles on their faces.

It was the last class on Friday, and they were just waiting for Professor Sprout to announce the dismissal. They could have a great afternoon here and then welcome a refreshing weekend.

Professor Sprout, wearing a gardener's uniform and a large brown wizard hat on his head, stood at the door of the third greenhouse with his hands on his hips. "Some of you have been diligent in composting and collecting fodder. Here, I want to commend Longbottom and Abbott."

Applause broke out and everyone looked at Neville and Hannah. Neville felt the gazes of others and his entire area from neck to ears became red with blood.

Hannah had a delighted smile on her face.

Ron tilted his head slightly, covered his mouth with his palm, and whispered to the side: "Harry, Seamus, do you think Neville is more shy than before?"

"I think so too. He seems to have turned back into first grade." Seamus's mouth opened to one side, and his voice came out from the gap.

Loren looked at Neville and Hannah standing together with a kind of teasing smile on his face.

Hermione tilted her head...not understanding what this person was laughing at.

"But! There are also people who are lazy among the crowd. You know who I am talking about!" Professor Sprout's eyes swept over Loren and others, with a bit of Professor McGonagall's look, full of oppression.