"Hogwarts: Why So Nervous? The Little Badger’s Just Planting a Tree."

An unknown liquid, reeking with a foul stench, exploded from the Memory Orb.

It splashed directly onto Malfoy's head.

The instant the smell spread across the flying lesson field, everyone went momentarily blank.

The odor was akin to a dozen public toilets that hadn't been cleaned in weeks—

in the height of summer.

Malfoy, completely overwhelmed by the stench, rolled his eyes and fell off his broomstick headfirst.

Yet, not a single person on the field moved to help him.

It was simply too smelly.

Even Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's ever-loyal lackeys, pinched their noses and fled.

Only Madam Hooch, out of professional obligation, covered her mouth and nose tightly and cast a silent slowing charm to cushion Malfoy's fall.

Thankfully, he hadn't been flying too high.

He broke a leg, but was otherwise physically fine.

Mentally, however, he clearly wished he could vanish from the face of the earth.

The overwhelming stench invading his nostrils was a living nightmare.

"What on earth is this?!" someone cried out.

Up on the tower, Professor Sprout stood watching the scene with a group of Hufflepuff students—the little badgers.

She held two potion vials:

One in her left hand, a rich yellow liquid.

The other, in her right, a pale purple solution.

Professor Sprout explained to the gathered students,

"The liquid in my left hand is the juice of the Troll Arum flower.

It smells worse than an actual troll.

If you get contaminated by it, the stench can last for a full week.

No current deodorizing potion or spell can remove it."

She paused, then raised the purple liquid.

"Except for this—wisteria flower juice.

A single spray is enough to neutralize the foul odor of the Troll Arum."

As she spoke, she misted the juice over the little badgers.

Immediately, they could breathe again.

The relief was visible on their faces—

otherwise, the stench would've been unbearable.

Professor Sprout smiled and carefully put away the still mostly full vial.

"Wisteria flower juice is extremely rare.

Only our Hufflepuff greenhouse produces a small amount.

Unfortunately," she said with a theatrical sigh, "we've now used it all up.

Not a single drop left."

Shire clicked his tongue in admiration.

His aunt was... a bit cunning.

Tsk. Malfoy tried to harm him—

and though he failed, Hannah had gotten caught in the crossfire.

That, apparently, had touched a nerve in Professor Sprout.

The other badgers quickly caught on.

While they may have been a little slow to react, they certainly weren't fools.

Understanding dawned on their faces.

"Yes, yes," they all nodded.

"Used up."

"We all saw it with our own eyes."

A ripple of laughter followed.

And suddenly, their enthusiasm for Herbology soared.

They realized—

you didn't need powerful magic to protect yourself.

By understanding magical plants, you could defeat your enemies just as effectively!

Several students couldn't contain their curiosity.

They eagerly asked Professor Sprout whether there were other magical plants as impressive—or as "powerful"—as the Troll Arum.

Professor Sprout chuckled and nodded.

"Of course.

Devil's Snare, Biting Cabbage... many plants are both dangerous and powerful."

"Alright, children," she added, eyes twinkling, "if you're truly interested, I'll gladly offer you private lessons after our regular Herbology classes."

"But for now," she smiled slyly, "the show isn't quite over."

Her expression shifted with anticipation.

"You see, aside from its horrific smell, Troll Arum flower juice has another effect.

If it touches bare skin, it causes boils and scabs.

And those scabs aren't treatable by ordinary medicine."

Sure enough, Malfoy, lying on the ground, began to feel a terrible burning sensation on his skin.

Red, swollen boils rapidly popped up wherever the juice had touched him.

He shrieked in pain.

The stench, combined with his screaming, caused such a commotion on the field that it drew the attention of none other than Professor Snape.

He swept over like an ominous bat, cloak billowing behind him.

Upon seeing Malfoy's condition, Snape's face turned dark.

"Troll Arum flower juice?" he snarled.

"Malfoy, how did you come into contact with this?"

Malfoy, too consumed by pain, couldn't speak—

he even had a boil forming on his tongue.

Snape turned sharply toward a group of Slytherin students.

Within moments, after piecing together the incident from hushed voices and guilt-ridden glances, he locked his glare onto Neville.

"You dare ambush a classmate with such cowardice?"

"Gryffindor—twenty points deducted!"

The Gryffindor students exploded in protest.

"What?!"

"Malfoy was the one who tried to snatch Neville's Memory Orb!"

"No one forced him! He got what he deserved!"

"Why are we losing points when he caused it?"

Snape's face darkened further, and he opened his mouth to deduct even more points.

But before he could speak, two more professors arrived: Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall.

McGonagall's eyes were sharp with fury.

"Severus."

"I've already heard what happened."

She turned toward the field.

"So Draco Malfoy tried to steal poor Neville Longbottom's Memory Orb, and yet you're punishing Neville?"

"Why?"

Her voice was cold and clear.

"I think the students are quite right to protest."

Then, with resolute authority, she declared:

"Gryffindor, twenty points added."

"Slytherin, twenty points deducted—for Malfoy's actions."

Snape's jaw clenched.

"Minerva!" he growled.

"Can't you see this was a trap to humiliate Malfoy?"

He turned to Professor Sprout.

"Pomona, this was retaliation.

The Mirror Grass, the Troll Arum juice—how could Neville have accessed them?"

Professor Sprout smiled sweetly and replied with the same words Snape had used on her previously.

"Evidence, Severus?" she said smoothly.

"As you said not long ago—without proof, you can't convict someone.

Especially not the last heir of the Longbottom family."

Snape looked like he had swallowed a lemon whole.

Professor Sprout continued,

"So—can you convict me? Or Neville?"

"I would also like to deduct another twenty points from Slytherin."

"Additionally, ten more points to Gryffindor, for the unfair treatment Neville suffered."

Snape took a deep breath, his face pale and drawn.

He could say nothing.

There had been no life-threatening harm—only scabs and odor.

And two heads of house were standing against him.

He was, for once, undeniably in the wrong.

When he finally spoke again, his tone was quieter.

"Very well. I accept the Slytherin point deductions."

Then he looked back to Sprout.

"But your greenhouse must provide Wisteria flower juice and Snow-in-Summer Grass to treat these scabs."

Professor Sprout's expression was one of gentle concern—

but her words were anything but generous.

"Severus, of course.

We Hufflepuffs wouldn't dream of holding a grudge.

Certainly not over a student who tried to kill one of our own."

She smiled, eyes twinkling.

"Our house doesn't know how to hold grudges."

"We're just little badgers."

She paused dramatically.

"But unfortunately..."

She spread her hands with exaggerated regret.

"We've already used up all the Wisteria flower juice."

"And the Snow-in-Summer Grass too."

"So..." she tilted her head,

"I'm afraid we can't help."

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