After Halloween came November. The weather turned colder, and the mountains surrounding the castle were shrouded in lingering mist. The Black Lake froze over with a thick layer of ice, and in the mornings, the grass outside the castle was covered in frost, which turned into trembling droplets on the leaves as the sun rose.
Since that cold shower incident, Robert had noticed a new sensation. It was hard to describe—like knowing when someone was about to eat or drink, but in this case, he could sense the twins sneaking up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.
Still, Robert pretended to be startled. "Hey, Fred, George, heading out this early?"
"Yeah, we've got practice today," Fred said, waving his broomstick. "Want to join us?"
"Don't joke around!" Robert exclaimed dramatically. "If you take me to the training ground, I swear, Fred, even if you're Charlie's brother, he'll beat you so hard you won't be able to sit on a broom again."
It was a joke, mainly because the new Chaser on the team had been underperforming. Charlie, being the responsible captain, had put the player through intense training. He'd forgotten the time, and by the end, the two new girls on the team could barely stand after dismounting their brooms.
Since then, Charlie had earned the nickname "Devil Captain." Rumor had it that if you dared to mess around during Quidditch practice, the Devil Captain would make sure you'd never ride a broom again. Those who knew Charlie well never missed a chance to tease him about it.
The three of them chatted and laughed as they made their way to the training ground. The twins waved goodbye and ran off, while Robert wandered around the castle before heading to the greenhouse.
"Good morning, Professor Sprout!" Robert greeted, putting on his gloves and earmuffs before helping the kind-hearted head of Hufflepuff tend to the Mandrakes.
This was the second batch of Mandrakes Professor Sprout had acquired. The first batch had all died, with the professor blaming insufficient humidity for their withering.
Professor Sprout waved at him as she gripped the base of a Mandrake leaf and pulled hard. A brown, wrinkled, baby-like root appeared before Robert's eyes. The baby opened its mouth wide and waved its stubby arms.
"Yaa~ yaa~ yaa~ cold~ cold~ cold~"
A childish voice echoed in Robert's ears. He paused, looking around in confusion, but saw no one else nearby.
"Peeves?" Robert thought instinctively, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Peeves only haunted the castle to prank students, and this was Professor Sprout's cherished domain. If the poltergeist dared to cause trouble here, the professor would surely find a way to deal with him.
"So~ hungry~"
Robert's eyes widened in shock. This time, he was certain someone was speaking—and it wasn't Peeves. Especially since he was wearing earmuffs!
He glanced around. Professor Sprout had already stuffed the Mandrake into a large pot and was covering it with soil mixed with dragon dung. The damp soil quickly buried the Mandrake, leaving only its leaves exposed.
"So~ tasty~"
The faint voice continued to reach Robert's ears. He stared blankly, disbelief written all over his face as he looked at the pot in front of Professor Sprout.
Was the voice coming from the pot?
Standing frozen, Robert was utterly baffled. He vaguely remembered that Mandrakes couldn't talk, so what was going on?
A Mandrake spirit? A Mandrake grafted with a wild ginseng from the northeast? Wait, no—the leaves looked more like a money tree!
Was this a Mandrake grafted with a money tree? No, no, those were definitely Mandrake leaves!
Robert's mind was in chaos. He felt like the plant had definitely become sentient because it could talk!
But this was just the beginning.
When he watered a dittany plant, it actually complained, "Too much water!"
Robert felt a headache coming on. What was happening to him? Why had all the plants suddenly started talking overnight?
Yet, when he glanced at Professor Sprout, she seemed completely unaware, as if she couldn't hear the plants' voices.
After helping Professor Sprout tidy up the greenhouse, Robert went for lunch and then returned to his dorm to nap.
Perhaps because the weather was particularly nice, the white tiger lounged elegantly on the windowsill of the common room, basking in the sun, while Opal hopped around, trying to catch the ivy on the roof. Unfortunately, no matter how high she jumped, she couldn't reach it, leaving her pacing anxiously on the sofa.
When Robert entered, both pets glanced at him. The white tiger jumped down from the windowsill, and Opal gave up on the unreachable ivy, floating—rather than jumping—behind Robert.
"You're actually taking a nap?" the white tiger asked, surprised. With his roommates absent, Robert wasn't worried about its unusual behavior being noticed.
Robert climbed into bed, sighing. "Well, I think I might be dreaming. A nap should wake me up."
The white tiger's face twisted in confusion, completely baffled by Robert's reasoning.
"So, what happened?" it asked, hopping onto Robert's pillow and tilting its head to look at him.
Robert pulled the blanket over his head and mumbled, "Nothing much. When I went to the greenhouse today, it felt like the magical plants were talking."
The white tiger's eyes widened. "Isn't that normal?"
Robert threw off the blanket, stunned. "What did you say?"
The white tiger replied matter-of-factly, "In Flower Country, many mountain spirits are transformed plants. Not only can they talk, but some even have residency permits, get married, and have children. Isn't it the same here in the UK?"
It spoke so naturally that Robert began to doubt whether he'd misread his textbooks.
Could all magical plants really talk?
In disbelief, he opened his book and pointed to a picture. "Devil's Snare, a vine-like plant that thrives in dark, damp environments, fears sunlight, and can extend snake-like tendrils to ensnare and injure or kill those who approach."
Robert rubbed his forehead. "This is probably the first magical plant I've encountered that can move."
The white tiger tilted its head, staring at the book for a while before sighing. "What is this drawing? And these things that look like pinyin—why can't I make out a single sentence no matter how hard I try?"
(End of Chapter)