Chapter 127: Mandragora
Professor Sprout strode over, her eyes narrowing as she took in the tense cluster of students. A mental alarm blared in her mind.
“What are you all doing? Why aren’t you in class?”
She fixed them with a stern expression.
Pansy immediately stepped forward. “Professor, Gray used a Dark Curse on Draco—he can’t speak now!”
Professor Sprout’s eyes widened in surprise. She glanced at Malfoy, then turned sharply to Wade. “Is this true, Mr. Gray?”
Padma shot her hand up, shouting, “It was Malfoy who insulted the other students, Professor! Wade did nothing wrong!”
Pansy insisted, “It was Michael who mocked Draco! He deserved it!”
Padma shot back, “How exactly did he mock him? He just asked how Malfoy contacted his parents!”
Pansy faltered, caught off guard.
Professor Sprout winced—two girls squabbling like this was giving her a headache. She pointed at a random student. “You—explain what happened, Gray—”
No, that wasn’t right. Wade Gray was the central figure today.
Her finger stiffened, then pivoted sharply toward Anthony Goldstein.
“…Mr. Goldstein.”
Anthony blinked, then stepped forward and calmly recounted the events:
“…In the end, Gray used a Silent Spell to silence Malfoy. That’s all.”
“A Silent Spell?” Professor Sprout looked at Wade, her tone softening.
The class period had already started. Without hesitation, she lifted the spell from Malfoy.
“Regardless, insulting a classmate—or casting a spell on one—is unacceptable. I’m deducting five points from each of you… and assigning three days of detention.”
Wade accepted the punishment in silence.
Malfoy glared, furious—but under Professor Sprout’s sharp gaze, he said nothing.
Beside him, Michael stared coldly at Malfoy.
“Now, to the Third Greenhouse.”
Professor Sprout led the students to a greenhouse they’d never entered before. She pushed open the door.
Inside, over a hundred Mandragora seedlings filled the space—half still in nursery pots, the other half already transferred to larger containers. A bench stood nearby, piled with more than twenty pairs of ear protection muffs in various colors.
“Today, we’re transplanting Mandragora seedlings. You can see that Gryffindor and Hufflepuff have already completed half the work in the first greenhouse. I expect your group to do just as well.”
She scanned the class. “Now, who can tell me what makes Mandragora unique?”
Several hands shot up. Professor Sprout picked one at random.
Wade studied the seedlings—greenish-purple in hue, their tiny forms delicate yet unmistakably alive. He felt a flicker of excitement.
Mandragora was a powerful restorative potion. In the original timeline, it had even revived a ghost petrified by the Serpent’s Stone.
Moreover, it was essential for advanced Transfiguration practice—specifically, for becoming an Animagus.
Transplanting Mandragora was no simple task. Their root systems resembled tiny, writhing infants. When pulled from the soil, they screamed—loud enough to knock a person unconscious for hours.
An adult Mandragora’s cry could be fatal.
Wade donned his ear muffs, dug a hole in the large pot in advance, then swiftly uprooted a seedling and shoved it in. Michael was quick to follow, packing the soil tightly around it.
Before the leafy infant could even stretch its arms, it was already buried.
Their efficiency was impressive.
By the time they’d finished planting the third seedling, Michael glanced around—and saw most of the others still wrestling with their first plant.
The pale green seedlings writhed in their hands, kicking and flailing, fists punching the air. Students gripped them like wild rats, terrified to let go, yet too afraid to bring them near their ears. Three or four students worked together, drenched in sweat, struggling to hold on.
Especially Malfoy’s group.
Crabbe and Goyle were clumsy as ever—half a minute trying to restrain a single seedling, nearly losing their ear muffs in the process.
Malfoy raged in frustration, but no one could hear him—everyone wore ear protection.
Michael smirked.
It took longer than usual to finish all the transplanting. The bell rang late, and the students staggered out, utterly exhausted.
As the others left, Professor Sprout held Malfoy and Wade back.
“Mr. Malfoy,” she said, “your detention begins at nine o’clock tonight. Report to the Great Hall and find Mr. Filch—he’ll tell you what to do.”
Malfoy shot a venomous glare at Wade, then turned and left.
“Mr. Gray,” she said, her expression softening. “I’m very pleased with your conduct today.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
She smiled gently. “Have you mastered the Silent Spell?”
It wasn’t favoritism—just a quiet observation. In her eyes, Slytherin students had been glaring at Wade with open malice since last term.
The reason?
No one needed to say it.
Slytherin students rarely needed a reason to target a non-Magic-born child.
She was certain there had been a serious confrontation between them.
The staff knew—last year, several first-years from Slytherin had burst into the Infirmary in tears.
After that, tensions had eased… but Malfoy still carried a grudge.
Even setting House loyalties aside, Professor Sprout found herself instinctively siding with Wade.
“The Silent Spell is quite advanced,” Wade admitted. “I can only perform a few spells silently… and even then, it’s barely manageable.”
He raised his wand.
Instantly, the ear muffs and trowels scattered on the shelves flew into the air and settled neatly back into place. Dust and compost vanished from the floor—smooth, effortless, without a trace of strain.
“Excessive humility is arrogance, Mr. Gray,” Professor Sprout laughed. “That was a beautifully executed Silent Spell. I’m adding ten points. And… well… your detention also starts tonight at nine—this time, at the second greenhouse.”
“Understood, Professor.”
They both knew—this wasn’t punishment.
It was an invitation. A private lesson.
As they left the greenhouse together, Wade added, “Professor… when these Mandragora mature, could I apply for one leaf?”
“A leaf?” Professor Sprout understood. “You want to practice becoming an Animagus?”
“Yes,” Wade said without hesitation.
“That’s exactly what I’m aiming for.”
“An Animagus transformation is among the most advanced forms of Transfiguration,” she mused. “Minerva would be extremely satisfied with your academic performance in Transfiguration—but she’d likely not approve of you attempting it this early.”
“I have an excellent private tutor,” Wade said with a smile. “Could you please keep this confidential, Professor? The preparation takes years… and until I’m certain of success, I’d rather not have anyone else know.”
Some Animagus preparations lasted years. Starting now, and succeeding by seventh year—far from impossible.
Professor Sprout nodded. “Of course. But I must insist—you complete the final step only under my supervision.”
“I promise,” Wade said seriously. “I won’t act recklessly.”
He wanted to master the magic of transforming from human to animal—but he didn’t want to become some mindless beast.
(End of Chapter)
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